Lisa hung her head; the Zentraedi had just destroyed a planet merely to make a point. Is this what they had planned for Earth? But then, why were they holding back? What had Exedore said about "a new weapons system utilizing Protoculture"? She made up her mind to try a bluff.
"You don't have enough power to destroy the SDF-1, Dolza." "Impertinence!" their interrogator yelled.
Ignoring Rick's plea for caution, she continued: "The SDF-1 has powers you've never dreamed of."
Dolza brought his fists down on the table, throwing the Terrans off their feet. He then reached out and grabbed Lisa in his right hand. He brought her close to his face, warning Rick and Ben to stay put.
"Now, my feisty female, I want to know by what process you become Micronians." He tightened his grip around Lisa, demanding an immediate answer.
"Stop squeezing her!" said Rick. "We're born this way. We're born...Micronian!"
"Born from what is the question," said Exedore. "Huh? Well...from our mothers. What else?"
"What is this thing you call 'mother'?" one of the Zentraedi behind Rick asked.
Ben swung around to face the red-uniformed trio.
"Mother. You know, like the parent that's female." Ben turned to Rick, twirling his forefinger against his temple.
Exedore was startled. "You mean that you are actually born from the females of your kind?"
Breetai was incredulous.
"Hey," Ben continued. "It happens, you know. You put a man and a woman together and...well, it just happens." He laughed. "It's love."
Breetai looked over at Dolza, then fixed his gaze on Ben. " 'Love,' yes, I have heard that word mentioned in some of your transmissions. But what is it? How do you express it?"
"Oh, brother," Ben said under his breath. "You field this one, Commander."
Rick shot him a look and chuckled, in spite of himself, in spite of the gravity of the situation. "It can start with a kiss, I guess."
Dolza wasn't buying it: If Micronians could be produced by kissing, then he wanted living proof of it. He ordered Rick and Ben to demonstrate.
"Demonstrate this kissing or I will crush all of you!"
Rick was stammering an explanation of the facts, when he heard Lisa agree to volunteer. Released from Dolza's grip, she staggered weakly over to Rick, leaning against him as though regaining her strength and taking advantage of their proximity to explain her plan: She wanted Rick to kiss her...so she could record the aliens' reaction on her microcamera.
Rick stepped away from her. "Do it with Ben, Commander."
She turned and looked over at the corporal briefly. "Listen, Rick, I'd rather do it with you, all right?"
"You'll have to make it a command, sir." "Proceed at once!" said Dolza.
Lisa held Rick's gaze, softening his anger somewhat by the hurt look he thought he saw in her eyes.
"I'm giving you a direct order, Lieutenant Hunter: Kiss me."
Rick made a silent appeal for Minmei's forgiveness and stepped into Lisa's arms. They kissed each other full on the mouth, and for several seconds the two of them were far away from it all. It was, however, difficult to sustain that romantic mood while six giants were making sick sounds
behind their backs. They broke their embrace and stepped apart.
"What is happening to us?" said Dolza. "This results from Protoculture?"
"It is their weapons system at work," said Exedore.
Dolza was on his feet, glaring at the Terrans. "Take them out of here at once! Get these Micronians out of my sight!"
Rick turned to Lisa as the three of them were being herded onto the hover-table once again. "Are we that bad at it?"
She looked at him and said, "I guess we are."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"Ya gotta picture it, gang: I mean, here's Rick, Lisa, and Ben, surrounded by these six giants, Hunter and Hayes step into each other's arms, liplock, and these big, bad hombres begin to freak! I mean...[laughs shortly], 'magine if Lisa's microcamera had been set up to show X-rated movies? The war woulda been over on the spot!"
Unnamed VT pilot, as quoted by Rick Hunter
"What's love got to do with it?"
Late twentieth-century song lyric
Dolza and his advisory group remained in the interrogation room after the Micronian prisoners had been taken away. The Zentraedi commander in chief was disturbed by the reactions he had experienced when the female and male had kissed each other. Breetai stated that he had felt weakened after witnessing a verbal argument between these same two Micronians; and apparently, similar feelings had plagued the three operatives of the surveillance team that had been dispatched to monitor transmissions from Zor's ship. Now, as Dolza listened to the recon team's report, he asked himself whether Exedore's suspicions about the Micronian use of Protoculture might not be justified, after all. Perhaps he should have killed Zor when he had had the chance, or simply destroyed the dimensional fortress, instead of seeing in it a road to freedom for himself and the rest of his warrior race.
"...and Konda here had the same reaction when he saw the unclothed female," Rico, the commander of the team, was saying.
"It's true, sir," Konda affirmed. "Although I didn't agree at the time." "This could only be done with Protoculture," said Dolza. He folded his
arms and addressed the group. "What I'm about to tell you must never leave this room. Is that understood?"
Breetai and Exedore nodded their assent. In unison, Rico, Konda, and Bron said, "Yes, sir!"
"Protoculture, as Breetai and Exedore are aware, is the essence of Robotechnology developed by our ancestors. Yes, ancestors," he emphasized for the sake of the recon team. "In the beginning, members of the Zentraedi race were the same size as these Micronians. And at one time we, too, lived together, male and female, in something that was called a 'society.' But through the use of Protoculture we were able to evolve to our present size, strength, and superiority. However, a series of events that must even now be kept secret from you led to a loss of our understanding of Protoculture."
Dolza put his open hands on the table and leaned forward.
"I have every reason to believe that those lost secrets are to be found aboard Zor's ship." He allowed this to sink in for a moment. "This is why the Micronians present such a potential threat. And this is precisely why we must take that ship back undamaged."
"We have not been able to determine to what extent the Micronians have applied their understanding of Protoculture," Breetai added. "But it is obvious to me that they know enough to effect repairs on Robotech equipment and perhaps enough to be experimenting with a new weapons system."
"Sir," said Rico. "We have demonstrated our power to them. Why not hold their planet hostage for the return of the ship?"
It was a generally unheard of notion, but Dolza was willing to entertain it. He stroked his chin and turned to Exedore.
"You have made a thorough study of this race. You appear to have an understanding of their language and culture. Would such a threat be effective?"
Exedore weighed his words carefully. "Sir, it is not the Zentraedi way to speak of past defeats, but may I be permitted to remind this table that these Micronians have already demonstrated an uncommon determination to survive. In response to our initial attacks on their homeworld, the
commander of the ship, with no regard for the lives of tens of thousands of his fellow creatures, executed an intraatmospheric spacefold to escape us. This same commander detonated a reflex furnace on the fourth planet in their system, endangering the ship and the lives of all aboard rather than surrender to Commander Khyron's mechanized division. Even though crippled in space and without radar, they simply ignored our most recent demands for surrender...In response then to your query, my lord: No, I do not think that such a plan would work."
"We cannot risk losing those secrets," said Dolza. "We must infiltrate the ship and determine what the Micronians know about Protoculture."
Breetai, who knew Zor's ship inside and out, had a plan he b
egan to relate to Dolza. Rico, Konda, and Bron, meanwhile, hatched a plan of their own: They made a joint decision to volunteer to go through the cellular transformation process which enabled a Zentraedi to assume Micronian dimensions.
Dolza and Breetai would find the trio's proposal acceptable, and later, even commendable. And fortunately for Rico and the others, they were never called upon to give reasons for their sudden dedication to the cause. Because if the truth were known, all this talk about Robotechnology and Protoculture was way beyond them. They were simply anxious to have another look at those partially clothed Micronian females and experience again those curious feelings that were the result.
In a holding cell elsewhere on Breetai's ship, Lisa, Rick, and Ben, sitting in a patch of corridor light which poured through cellular windows in the chamber's double doors, were comparing their own reactions to the Zentraedi interrogation. It was a little like being locked in an empty airliner hangar, but at least there were no giants on the scene.
"It was the weirdest thing I've seen in a while," Ben was saying. "You two kiss, and the big guys go nuts. I don't get it."
"They have enough power to atomize the Earth, but simple contact is too much for them to handle," said Rick.
Lisa was deep in thought.
"And what about this 'Protoculture' business? What do you think, Commander?"
Lisa looked at Ben. "Do you realize that we haven't seen any female Zentraedi? No children, no civilians, not even any techs or maintenance crews. Only soldiers."
"We haven't exactly been given the grand tour," Rick reminded her.
"I realize that, Lieutenant. But it could be that there are no females of their kind."
"No, that can't be. They know you're female. They had some kind of knowledge about mothers and birth."
"Lieutenant, we gotta get outta here," Ben said, looking around.
"I know. I've been giving it some thought. We might be able to use our new weapon on them."
"What new weapon? What are you talking about?"
Rick smacked his lips. "The kiss. Don't you get it? We wait till the guard comes with our food, we confuse him with our, uh, weapon, and we make a break for it."
Ben was already on his feet. "Great! Any place'll be better than this."
Lisa looked at the two of them. "Are you joking? You mean that every time a Zentraedi shows his face we're going to put on a show for him? Forget it, Lieutenant. I've heard some lines in my day, but that one beats them all."
Rick's mouth dropped open. "Just hold it a minute, Commander. Whose idea was it in the first place? Besides, if you think I'm doing this because I want to, you've got another-"
"That'll be enough, mister! I only kissed you to get their reaction on tape." She patted the camera. "We've got it now; we don't need to do another take."
Ben stepped forward, "Hey, listen, I'm perfectly willing to volunteer to be your partner, Commander Hayes."
"At ease, Corporal," Lisa told him.
She turned her back on the two of them, angry but wondering: Was there anything about strategic osculation in the officers' manual?
Help was on the way.
In what was certainly the most complicated set of mecha-motions executed to date, Max Sterling had managed to clothe his Battloid in the uniform he had taken from the Zentraedi private. That he had succeeded so completely in wedding his mind to the mecha controls was justification enough for the many articles later devoted to the feat, but the fact that he had accomplished this within the confines of the utility closet was what ultimately led to his legendary status as a VT hero.
Making certain the Zentraedi was neatly tied up and stowed away, Max checked the corridor, eased out of the closet, and began to follow his instincts. The Zentraedi uniform was well suited to the Battloid's purpose, the high-collared jacket especially so. And even with the round cap pulled low, the cockpit wide-angle and longrange cameras and scanners had enough clearance for operation.
Not ten paces down the hallway, Max encountered one of the massively built, armored shock troopers, who luckily paid him little notice. Now having passed the test, he began to move with increased confidence, and not long after he spotted two of the enemy guiding a hover-table through the ship. Max upped the magnification on his cameras, locked in on the table, and found Lisa, Ben, and Rick, looking none the worse for wear but in no condition to do battle with their giant captors.
Max trailed the guards at a discreet distance and watched as Lieutenant Hunter and the others were deposited in some sort of double-doored holding cell. A single sentry was posted outside.
Max was not inclined to wait much longer; besides, the sentry was already betraying his boredom with yawns and general inattentiveness. Max primed the Battloid for action and moved in.
When Lisa heard the commotion in the corridor outside the cell, she had a change in heart: Maybe Hunter's plan would work. There wasn't
much to lose at this point, so she convinced herself that kissing him was just part of the mission. She told him so, and the two of them readied their "secret weapon" while Ben waited by the door.
Though Max's reaction to throwing open the cell door and finding his commanders locked in a loving embrace was more pure surprise than anything else, his temporary paralysis convinced the prisoners that they had made the right move. The three were ready to bolt for the corridor when Max opened the external com net and called out to them.
"It's me-Max!"
They stopped in midstride and stared up at him. "M-Max?" Rick said tentatively.
"Yeah, I'm in here all right."
"God, Max, we thought you were dead," said Lisa. "Yeah, well, long story."
Ben wanted to know where the uniform had come from.
"Later. We better get a move on." He lowered the Battloid's gloved left hand. Rick and Lisa climbed in, and Max raised it up, leaving Ben on the floor.
"Hey, man!"
"Hang on, Ben, I want you in the other hand."
Ben climbed into the lowered right. Now Max brought both the Battloid's hands level with the uniform's breast pockets. Lisa and Rick grabbed hold of the insignia-pocket and pulled themselves in; Ben did likewise on the other side of the jacket.
"I don't want you to interrupt the lovebirds, Ben."
"Now wait a minute, Corporal," Lisa protested. "We only did that to escape."
"Kissing each other to escape, huh? I understand." "Listen up, Max-"
"Save it, Lieutenant. You've got my word that I won't spread this around Macross City. Although I must say you had me fooled. I thought you preferred younger women."
"Max!"
"Get yourselves down in there. We're moving out."
Rick held in his anger and slid down into the pocket alongside Lisa. The Battloid parted the double hatches of the holding cell and began to take long, stiff strides down the corridor.
It wasn't long before they heard Max utter a sound of alert. A Zentraedi soldier, armored and armed with a hip blaster, was approaching them. Soldier and disguised Battloid passed each other seemingly without incident, and inside the pocket Rick and Lisa breathed a premature sigh of relief.
But the soldier had stopped and was calling for Max to halt.
Max was in no position to defend himself or his passengers; launching his few remaining rockets would have fried Rick and Lisa. So he took the only course available: He ran-straight into two more shock troopers who were coming down the corridor. Max tackled one of them, lifting him and swinging him into the other as he continued on his way, but by now the first soldier was chasing him and opening fire. He was quickly joined by his comrades.
The Battloid sustained blasterbolt after blasterbolt to the back as it flew through the ship, pieces of burned and tattered cloth flying in its wake. At Rick's urging, Max reconfigured the VT to Guardian mode, ripping open the uniform jacket as he hit the aft thrusters. In that hail of lethal fire, the Guardian looked like some sort of caped bird of prey fighting its way to freedom.
Corridor l
ength, however, was suddenly in short supply, and Max knew the VT wouldn't be able to pull off a ninety-degree turn in such limited space. Set in the bulkhead at the top of the corridor T, however, was a control panel which could probably be pierced without undue damage to the fighter. Max opted for it and pulled the thruster lever home.
The bulkhead surrendered too easily, and by the time Max realized that the VT had broken through a large circular viewing screen in a control room, the Guardian was way beyond it, tearing through a series of projecbeam astrogational charts free-floating in an immense central chamber of the ship.
An open rectangular port at the far end of the room delivered them into another serviceway, at the end of which was a sealed elevator. They were still taking rear fire when the elevator doors parted. A surprised Zentraedi soldier saw them coming and leaped out into the corridor, narrowly escaping impalement on the radome of the VT.
Once inside the cubicle, Max blew the canopy and clambered out onto the arm of the craft, clutching his laser rifle.
"The circuits are fried! This thing's gonna blow!"
Rick left the pocket and catwalked the extended arm of the Guardian to the elevator closure lever. He jumped up and grabbed hold of it, riding it down as the doors closed. The fighter was temporarily sealed off from enemy fire, and the elevator began to descend.
One, two, three, four, five levels and they were still going down, the Guardian giving off predestruct noises and smoke now, Max and the others offering up silent prayers for the doors to open.
At level six the elevator stopped. The doors parted, and the four defenders were off and running. But out of nowhere a Zentraedi shock trooper made an airborne grab for them, landing facedown and miraculously empty-handed in front of the elevator. The soldier got to his feet, his quarry long gone, and stared at the smoldering uniformed thing inside.
He had perhaps a second to contemplate its crouched birdlike form before the ensuing explosion blew him away.
Battle Cry Page 16