Doomsday

by Jack McKinney

  "Minmei!" one of them shouted again.

  And then she knew. Disguise or no disguise, new Minmei or old, these three would always recognize her!

  She jumped up from the swing seat and began to run for the street. Rico, Konda, and Bron gave chase, but encumbered by the toy sacks,

  backpacks, and such, they couldn't keep up with her. "Minmei!" Rico called again, out of breath.

  Aggressive sales tactics had gotten them thrown out of the mall-they'd actually been grabbing kids and forcing toys upon them-and so they had wandered over to the park in search of fresh quarry.

  "Maybe she didn't hear us," Konda suggested mildly. "Maybe it wasn't her," said Bron.

  Rico nodded. "Couldn't've been. We're her best fans."

  Rick was in the kitchen of his quarters, waiting for water to boil, when he heard the television announcement.

  "Last night we reported that famed singer and movie star Lynn-Minmei had been taken ill. But we have since learned that she is listed as officially missing, following her hasty departure from Monument City three weeks ago. Official sources believe that this has something to do with the disappearance of Miss Minmei's longtime friend and manager, Lynn-Kyle. There has, however, been no mention of foul play..."

  Rick listened for a moment more. He was certain that the two of them had wandered off somewhere together. After what he had witnessed in Chez Mann, it was obvious that Minmei was completely under Kyle's spell. Rick didn't dwell on it, though; people made their own choices in life. Besides, he had problems of his own to dwell on: Lisa would talk to him only over the com net, and even then her tone left no doubt about how she felt toward him. She refused to talk about it, wouldn't so much as have a cup of coffee with him.

  The newscaster was saying something about a discovery in the Amazon region when Rick heard the doorbell ring. He threw off his work apron and went to answer it.

  It was Minmei, although he almost didn't recognize her. She had a forlorn and downcast look about her, snowflakes like a network of disappearing stars in her dark hair. She asked to come in, not wanting to impose, apologizing for not having called first.

  "My friends don't have to call," Rick said, offsetting his initial

  stammering.

  She began to cry, and he held her.

  Inside, he put his wool officer's jacket over her shoulders and made some coffee. She sat on the edge of his bed and sipped at her cup, happier by the moment.

  "I feel so tired of everything," she told him after explaining her fight with Kyle and her flight from Monument. "I'm sick of being fussed over all the time...Now, when I think about my life, I remember the things that I've lost instead of being grateful for what I have. I just don't have anyone to turn to for support anymore."

  She was standing by the window now, her back to him, staring out at the snowfall. Rick, on the other hand, was staring at her long bare legs; even while he tried to listen to her complaints, he wondered if she was going to spend the night.

  "You've still got your music," he said after a moment, not sure what he meant.

  "If that's all I've got, then I don't want to sing anymore." "Your songs are your life, Minmei."

  "My life is a song," she demanded, lower lip trembling. Rick made a face. "You can't be serious."

  "I can't perform anymore, Rick." "It's Kyle, isn't it?"

  She frowned at him. "That's not it! I don't care if I ever see him again! We spent all our time together, whether we were working or not. He smothered me with his stupid attempts at affection, then yelled at me when he couldn't control me." Minmei looked hard at Rick. "I have nobody who understands, nobody who'll take the time to listen to me."

  Rick resisted a sudden impulse to run. He was aware of what she was leading him into, and even though he'd played this scene through a hundred times before, he didn't want to win her from weakness. As much as he desired her, he didn't want to get her on the rebound from Kyle.

  At about the same time Minmei showed up at Rick's door, Lisa was enjoying a holiday eggnog with Claudia, Max, and Miriya at the Setup, a health spa-pub on the boulevard. Later, she cabbed over to Rick's place, told the driver not to wait, and headed for his quarters, leaving footprints in the thin layer of snow.

  She had a present for him-a shirt she had shopped long and hard for, yet another peace offering in the seemingly constant war they waged with each other. She had considered drenching it in her own favorite scent ("SDF No. 5," Claudia called it) but thought Rick wouldn't appreciate the joke. He had been calling her every other day with one suggestion or another-coffee, a movie, a picnic!-and she had turned him down each time. But with some distance from the battleground (her hours at the outdoor table forgotten), and this being holiday time, she decided that the time was right for forgiveness. Rick had been inconsiderate and all, but it probably wouldn't be the last time; and if she was going to make this thing work, she would have to learn not to hold on to her anger.

  As she approached the house, she noticed that the front door was ajar. She neared it just as Minmei was saying: "I have nobody who understands, nobody who'll take the time to listen to me." The voice was as recognizable as the perfume.

  "None of my friends in the business really know who I am," Minmei continued. "You see, Rick, you're the only one who cares. That's why I came: I was wondering if I could stay here for a while."

  Lisa sucked in her breath and almost shoved her fist into her mouth. She knew she had no right to eavesdrop, but her legs refused to put her in motion.

  Minmei was pleading with Rick: "I don't have anyone else to turn to!"

  Lisa's life seemed to be hanging in the balance. Then she heard Rick give his okay and felt herself going over the edge. Silently she pulled the door closed and began to run, crying harder with each step. A short distance down the block a man stopped to inquire if she was all right. She turned on him like a harridan, telling him to mind his own business.

  Claudia, meanwhile, had been hopping from bar to bar, party to party. Her brother, Vince, and his wife, Dr. Jean Grant, had invited her over for Christmas drinks, but she had declined. Likewise, she had no desire to return to her quarters and confront the intense loneliness that plagued her on each holiday. For all his bravado Roy had had a traditional side that revealed itself on holidays, and they had passed many wonderful moments together: quiet dinners, walks through the snow on moonlit evenings, midnight exchanges of gifts and affection. She saw this same shared magic in the eyes of each couple that passed her on the street, and it wasn't long before she found herself back at the Setup, hoping she would run into a friendly face or two.

  The last person she expected to find there was Lisa, but there she was, draped over the bar, an almost empty wine bottle in front of her. She was singing-trying at any rate-one of Minmei's songs, "Stagefright," by the sound of it. Claudia's face dropped, then she gave a small shrug and took the adjacent stool.

  "Misery loves company," Lisa slurred, and smiled.

  Several hours and countless drinks later, after toasting everyone they knew or had known and solving all the world's problems, they kissed each other good-bye just as the sun was coming up over Lake Gloval. Claudia had the day off, but Lisa had put in for the morning shift. A young staff officer who had been a frequent visitor to their private party ran Lisa over to the SDF-2 in his open-air jeep.

  Surprised at how sober she was-figuring she had somehow pierced the hangover envelope-she tried to let herself enjoy the ride, the cold air rushing at her face. But all that seemed to do was sober her to the point where last night's problems had little trouble creeping into her consciousness once again. It was time to give up, she told herself, give up and let Minmei have Rick once and for all.

  As Lisa was approaching the command center, she heard Kim and Sammie discussing her-a common enough occurrence these days-so she

  waited outside the door until they were finished, wondering how much more of this she could stand.

  Apparently, word of her all-nighter in the Setup
had spread fast.

  Sammie was saying:. "Well, you shouldn't believe everything you hear." "You'd do the same thing if you wanted to forget him," said Kim,

  making Lisa think back on the evening to ascertain if she had really done something to be ashamed of. If only she had come into this a little sooner...

  "Lisa's too nice a person to do something like that!" "Of course-she's not as perfect as you," Kim teased.

  That seemed to take the conversation in a different direction entirely, and a minute or so later Lisa felt safe to enter. Kim, Sammie, and Vanessa were, of course, all smiles by now, but Lisa didn't hold anything against them. Vanessa mentioned a Christmas party, the first Lisa had heard about it.

  "You mean no one told you? It's for the bridge. Why don't you invite Rick-I'm sure he'd love to come."

  Was Vanessa goading her? Lisa asked herself. "Ah, I don't think he'd be able to make it."

  "But he's off today."

  "Yeah, but he's at home with a miserable little..." "Oh," said Vanessa. "Sick, huh? Too bad."

  Just then the bridge PA came alive. A female voice said:

  "This is ground base security! Zentraedi forces are attacking the industrial section! Emergency communiqu?to all sectors!"

  Khyron's Officer's Pod ran through the streets of New Macross, five tactical pods alongside it. They had entered the city before dawn, submerging themselves in the cold waters of the lake before the early-morning surprise attack. Grel's Battlepod had taken the point, but something was wrong: He had led them past the same storage tanks three times now.

  "What are you doing?!" Khyron screamed into his communicator.

  "You're leading us around in circles!"

  "The Protoculture has got to be here somewhere," Grel returned. "My agents-"

  "Your agents are idiots! Now listen to me: Your incompetence may end up costing you your life! Now, find it!"

  Jeeps and CD vehicles sped through the city announcing the attack and instructing the early-morning crowds to seek shelter immediately. Thus far the Zentraedi were restricting themselves to the storage facilities and factories across the lake, but there was no telling where their blood lust and thirst for destruction would lead.

  Max and Miriya were opening presents for Dana when the alert sounded. They left the baby with their neighbors, the Emersons, and headed for the base, awaiting further instructions from Admiral Gloval's headquarters. It was like old times, after all.

  Gloval had been roused from sleep and was now putting in a rare appearance on the SDF-2 bridge. Exedore, recently returned from the Robotech satellite to continue his study of Micronian customs, was by the admiral's side. Surveillance cameras located throughout the industrial sector had captured the Zentraedis' curious movements. Both Gloval and Exedore were in agreement that the Officer's Pod was manned by Khyron.

  "They seem to be looking for something," Gloval commented. "There has been very little destruction. Several sentries were killed when the pods made their first appearance, but nothing since."

  The micronized Zentraedi adviser nodded his head solemnly. "Correct, Admiral. If this were an attack, he would be concentrating on military targets. Or whatever suits his fancy, as you say. It would be my guess that he is here to obtain the Protoculture be needs for his battlecruiser."

  "We'll concentrate our defense in the industrial sector, then."

  Exedore concurred. He then glanced about and added in a conspiratorial tone: "May I be permitted to make a suggestion, Admiral?"

  Gloval's brow furrowed. "Of course, Exedore."

  The Zentraedi said: "Let him find what he's looking for."

  Frustrated by Grel's failure to zero in on the storage facility, Khyron left his mecha behind and went into the streets on foot to reconnoiter. He was armed with a single autocannon and his own brand of reckless abandon. He held his ground calmly as Veritechs dove in for strafing runs, picking them from the skies with hardly a lost step.

  Across the lake Azonia headed up a diversionary force consisting of powered armor units and Quadrono Battalion Invid scout ships. Someday Earth would see many more of these in the skies...

  She directed her squadrons against the city proper, successfully drawing off the Veritech teams that were going in after Khyron, The opposing forces met above the lake, filling the chilled air with furious exchanges of heat, harnessed lightning, and swift death. Max was at the center of the sudden hell storm, his blue Veritech reconfigured to Battloid mode, juking and dodging volleys of enemy missiles while his gatling cannon retaliated, spewing transuranic slugs against the invaders. Miriya went wing to wing with him, dropping one, two, then three scout ships and wondering which of the remaining mecha might hold her former commander, Azonia, now Khyron's consort!

  Rick, ever the gentleman, had taken the couch. He was aware that Minmei had stood over him in the middle of the night while he pretended to sleep; she had fixed his blankets and smiled at him in the dark. But he hadn't slept well at all; his neck was cramped, his left arm was tingling, and some sort of fireworks had roused him much earlier than he wanted to rise-always the case on a day off.

  He went to the window and saw thick columns of smoke in the clear skies above the lake. Quickly he switched on the television, conscious of Minmei's rustling around in the kitchen. Rick was already pulling on his clothes when he heard the announcement from the MBS newscaster, Van Fortespiel, "the Boogieman":

  "This special bulletin just in: The Zentaedi attack force is believed to be concentrated in the industrial section of the city. Casualty reports are expected in at any minute now..."

  Rick was stunned. "Why wasn't I notified?!" he shouted to the screen, pulling off his V-neck sweater and reaching for his uniform. "Lisa's on command watch-she knew where to find me!"

  Minmei waited nervously by the front door. Rick saw her troubled look and tried to reassure her.

  "Don't worry-this is routine."

  Her eyes were wide with a sudden fear. "If something happened to you, I don't know what I'd do!" She held him. "Please don't let me lose you now that I've finally found you!"

  Rick took her face between his hands and kissed her lightly. "I'll be back soon," was all that he said.

  Khyron's years-long familiarity with the Invid Flower of Life had imbued him with senses above and beyond the ordinary, especially when it came to homing in on the Flower itself, or in this case its repressed matrix-Protoculture.

  He ripped away the metal chamber's tarpaulin cover and smiled to himself, his heart pounding and blood rushing through his system. "The storage matrix," he murmured aloud.

  The cylinder was easily half his height and perhaps twice his weight, but he lifted it easily onto his back nevertheless. Returning to his mecha, he attached servoclamps to the chamber and winched it tight against the underside of the pod.

  A savage battle was raging throughout the sector between Battloids and giants, but he put an end to it now by issuing a recall order to his troops. They regrouped and headed out in formation to the southwest.

  Airborne in Skull One, Rick received an update from Max and signaled his team of Veritechs to follow his lead.

  "Prepare to block their escape route in sector November! We can't let

  them get away with that Protoculture!"

  Max broke off to join Skull, leaving the rest of the scout ships to Miriya and her fighter team.

  "It's getting bad back there," he was telling her. But just then his eyes fixed on the Veritech's topographic display. Something massive was putting down in sector N..."A Zentraedi escort ship," he yelled.

  Rick saw it land, the escort's four polelike legs spearing through the roofs of buildings and settling deep into tarmac roads. A bizarre-looking ship, shaped like the body of a bloated walrus, with legs that could have been an architect's compass and an enormous rear thruster like some outsize megaphone. Khyron's Battlepods and attack mecha were ascending into its open steel-trap belly, while Battloids and Excaliburs poured ineffectual fire against its armored hull.r />
  "Attention, Micronians!" Khyron's voice suddenly blurted out as the ship began to lift off. "Khyron the Destroyer wants to wish you a merry Christmas, and I send you a special greeting from Santa Claus. May all your foolish hollow-days be as bright as this one!..."

  New Macross didn't know what had hit it, only that the entire city seemed to go up in flames. Later, piecing together what passed for facts-Khyron's cryptic remarks and the observations of people in the street-evidence would point to a certain sidewalk Santa, an uncommon Santa with empty eyes and skin like polluted clay, a Zentraedi who might had been in radio contact with "the Destroyer" and set off the myriad bombs his agents had planted throughout the city...

  The Veritechs abandoned their pursuit of the escort ship and returned to Macross to battle the blaze, diving into the citywide inferno again and again with fire-retardant bombs.

  By the end of the day, the fires were brought under control and the city began to count its dead. The hospitals were filled to overcrowding, and whatever Christmas spirit remained was more funereal than festive. Still, by nightfall, most families had been reunited and a strange postholocaust calm

  prevailed. So often destroyed, so often reborn, the people of Macross were hardened survivors, nothing if not adaptable, and well accustomed to death. Church bells sang to one another from distant sectors, carolers took to the streets, and the SDF-2 crew went ahead with its preplanned surprise, lighting the ship with garlands of light, a sacred tree grown from the navel of the world...