Dana, sitting on a rock, was stripping off the armor that she hoped never to have to wear again. The spores still drifted everywhere. A sudden loneliness had come over her; there was so very much to do yet, and no one could possibly share her knowledge and her responsibilities-no one could ever understand her longing. She let go a long breath.
Something blocked the low, orange rays of the sunset from her. Angelo Dante stood there, stretching and scratching, having ditched his own armor, wearing a pack made up of most of the usable things he had managed to scare up in the assault ship. The weight of it didn't seem to bother him. He was adjusting his rifle sling.
He didn't seem to have a care in the world. "Lieutenant-Dana-you're still callin' the shots. I got 'em ready; you move 'em out."
Before she knew it, she was on her feet, arms thrown around him. About her had spun the symmetries and vectors of the Second Robotech War; she alone had the powers of mind that would let a leader perform the job she had to do now. But her nineteenth birthday was still three weeks and three days away.
Angelo patted her back and spoke more softly than she had ever heard him. "There, there, now, ma'am: we can't all be sergeants. But as officers go, I've seen worse than you. Dana, all we need is someone to show us the way." She knew he didn't mean the way to Monument; the flames would do that. She surprised herself as much as him by pulling his head down to her
and kissing Angelo Dante hard.
Then she let him go, took the sidearm from his belt and stalked off to the front of the disorderly mob while he was still recovering and turning to glower at the ATACs, who had seen what happened but kept discreet silence.
Dana saw that the 15th had gotten all the emergency supplies and lights, water and rations from the assault ship and even from her own little escape capsule. She tucked Angelo's pistol into her belt and noted with approval the order of march, weakened or older refugees surrounded by stronger ones who could help at need.
Not that she thought there would be much call for it; the route was pretty straightforward and unobstructed, and the clones who had been so lethargic before now seemed somehow more vital.
She was about to call for a start when there was a little yipping sound
nearby. Dana had put Polly down while stripping off her armor; she had assumed that he had disappeared. But he was practically sitting on her feet.
"Polly. In for the distance, are you, hmm?"
The Pollinator showed her a red postage stamp of tongue. She looked back to see that the 15th had the refugees formed up for the march. Angelo winked and gave her a look she hadn't seen from him before. She wondered whether or not she would, at some point, return it; she had a feeling she might.
Later.
First Lieutenant Dana Sterling, 15th squad, Alpha Tactical Armored Corps, gave hand and voice signals, and all the rest began moving. The Pollinator fell in to waddle along beside.
ATACs and TASCs, GMP and clone refugees followed her down the slope and the Pollinator capered around her feet, as darkness came across the sky. They looked for her to point the way.
End RTUCN.COM
The Final Nightmare Page 24