Battle Cry

by Jack McKinney

  If the soldier's last grasp failed to capture the four, it had at least succeeded in dividing them.

  Rick and Lisa ran for quite a while before realizing that Ben and Max were no longer with them. They searched for a while, but the explosion of the VT had drawn more Zentraedi to the scene, and it seemed a wiser move to push on.

  They entered an area where several corridors converged. It was a vast, domed chamber crowded with generators, computer terminals, conduits,

  and ductwork. There was an overpowering smell to the place, as alien as anything their senses had yet encountered, and a sonic roar that reminded them of pressure-cooker sounds, amplified and low-frequency-enhanced. They secreted themselves behind a long console covered with switches and control knobs. Then, cautiously, they peered over the top.

  What they saw was a cluster of thirty-meter-high vessels, like medicinal capsules stood on end, transparent and filled with a purple viscous, churning fluid. In at least six of these vessels were half-formed, featureless Zentraedi. Rick was totally bewildered and vaguely upset by the sight, but Lisa's sharp intake of breath told him that she recognized something here.

  "So that's why so many of the Zentraedi soldiers look alike-they're all clones!"

  Lisa risked a better view: Now she could see a second cluster of human-size capsules positioned in front of the larger ones, also churning, also containing some half-formed shape. It took her a moment to make sense of this, and when she turned to Rick with an explanation, she scarcely believed her own words: The Zentraedi were reducing their soldiers to human size.

  Rick looked at her like she was crazy, and she didn't blame him. But there it was, happening right before their eyes, and no other explanation was forthcoming.

  They pulled back as more soldiers entered the chamber searching for them and resumed their conversation some distance away in a dimly lit weapons room.

  "You remember how Dolza kept asking us how we became Micronians?"

  "Yeah, so?"

  "They're wondering if we have similar clone chambers and reduction devices. That's why they can't understand any closeness between the sexes, because, well, love and sex wouldn't be necessary in a society of clones."

  "Incredible."

  "You're not kidding, incredible. And it wouldn't surprise me to learn

  that Zentraedi and humans are genetically related. In the beginning they were probably the same size as us!"

  "So what are they, human giants or giant humans?"

  She looked at him blankly. "I guess it's too early to say. Maybe after we analyze the videos we'll know. But right now, I'd say they can go either way. They've found some way of rearranging their molecular structure-big for hostile environments, small for..." Lisa shrugged.

  "Yeah," said Rick. "Small for what? Why are they reducing some of their troops? And how are they doing it?"

  "Protoculture," Lisa said evenly.

  The word had scarcely left her lips when Rick heard the growl. Suddenly a giant hand reached into the room and took hold of Lisa. She screamed. Rick yelled and gave chase, mindless of the consequences.

  The giant had straightened from his crouch by the time Rick hit the corridor; he was holding Lisa near his face, growling at her. As Rick ran into view, the Zentraedi soldier simply extended his foot-not a kick, really, but more than enough to lift Rick off the floor and send him careening into a rack of upright laser rifles. Why every bone in his body wasn't broken, he had no idea (adrenaline, he'd tell himself later), but at the moment all he knew was that he was buried under the weapons, stunned and crushed but alive and angrier than ever.

  Rick allowed the fear and anger to get hold of him; he positioned himself on one knee and heaved one of the rifles over his shoulder like a bazooka-a five-meter-long bazooka. Putting all his meager weight to the trigger, he managed to yank off three rapid blasts. The Zentraedi caught all of them-one through the fish eye faceshield and two through the pectoral armor-and went down like an oak. Rick dropped the weapon and rushed in to find Lisa still in the soldier's hand, crying.

  He stopped in his tracks, then moved in slowly, afraid to touch or move

  her.

  "Jeez, Lisa...how bad are you hurt?"

  "I dropped the camera, I-I...it shattered."

  "Forget the camera! You mean you're not hurt?" "No, I don't think so. But the mission..."

  "Unbelievable," Rick muttered as he helped her from the slack hand. "Sometimes women just don't make any sense, even when they're officers."

  It wasn't in any way meant to bring her around, but it surely did: She threw him off and ran a hand over her wet eyes. "Don't start with me, Hunter."

  Rick felt the footsteps coming. He grabbed her hand, and the chase was on again. This has got to be the way mice feel, he told himself while they were running.

  The Zentraedi soldiers were right on top of them, forcing them into left and right turns indiscriminately. Ultimately they found themselves in a dark and deteriorated corridor, with stress fissures in the walls and great gaping holes in the floor. Explosive bolts of energy threw light and short-lived shadows all around them as they ran. And suddenly the world dropped out from under them, light and sound beginning to fade as they plunged toward emptiness together...

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The list of players was still incomplete when Miriya took to the stage; but was there ever a harder act to follow?

  The Collected Journals of Admiral Rick Hunter

  The best they could do was clean up the mess.

  Breetai looked on as two lower-echelon soldiers carted fragments of the broken viewscreen from the bridge. The front shield of the observation bubble was also in ruin. Much as Breetai's career.

  Dolza, Breetai, and Exedore had been on the bridge when the Micronians' mecha had punched through the wall. Only seconds before, they had been informed of the prisoners' escape, and Breetai was promising their speedy recapture. Then, suddenly, the transformed Battloid had exploded into their midst and soared belligerently out across the astrogation hold. Breetai had glimpsed the look on Dolza's face then, and now that look was being leveled against him.

  "So, Breetai, have the Micronians been recaptured?"

  "I'm sorry to report that they haven't. Their size presents difficulties." The Zentraedi commander-in-chief cocked his head to one side.

  "Indeed. And further difficulties are the last thing we need at the moment. Do you understand?"

  "M'lord."

  "The responsibility was yours, and this failure will have to be entered into the record." Dolza turned his back to Breetai. "I am relieving you of active duty for the time being, Commander."

  He turned around and motioned to the shattered observation bubble. "You can hardly continue to operate in this...condition, in any case."

  It was even worse than Breetai had expected. But he thought there might still be a way out. Exedore stepped forward to speak for him.

  "But sir, the infiltration-who will assume responsibility for the

  operation?"

  Dolza considered this. "Breetai's knowledge of Zor's ship has been an invaluable aid to us in this matter. It will be duly noted. However, Azonia will now be in charge of our three agents."

  "Azonia?!" Breetai and Exedore exclaimed. "But Azonia isn't briefed-"

  Dolza held up his hand to silence Exedore. "Commander Azonia is a loyal subject who has never failed me. Once more, I am assigning our finest pilot to her charge."

  Just then two soldiers requested entry and conveyed the hover-table onto the bridge. Grouped together on the tabletop and clothed in the only suitable garments available-sleeveless sackcloths cinched at the waist by rough cords-were the three now "micronized" operatives, Rico, Konda, and Bron.

  Dolza looked down on them soberly.

  "You understand the gravity of your mission?" "Sir!" three small voices shouted in unison.

  "Miriya will oversee your insertion into the dimensional fortress." The agents exchanged looks and expressions of excitement.r />
  "Succeed and you will each have a cruiser to command upon your return."

  Three arms were raised in salute: "For the glory of the Zentraedi!"

  Dolza returned the salute and turned to Breetai as the hover-table was taken from the bridge.

  "This time we will not fail."

  Ben remembered having hurdled the giant alien's spread fingers, but Max assured him that he'd done nothing of the sort. They'd both taken a dive off to one side of the corridor when the Zentraedi pounced and found cover behind an open hatch just as the VT exploded. They saw Rick and the Commander make their escape, but neither Max nor Ben was able to pick up the trail. While enemy soldiers poured into the area, the two corporals

  had moved swiftly through a serviceway that ran parallel to the ship's central corridor. They had made good progress for several hours, until Max had inadvertently tripped a scanner alarm reset to detect movement along the floor of the passageway.

  They had three shock troopers on their tail now and a deadly flock of projectiles overhead. The soldiers were herding them toward a waiting elevator, hoping to corner them inside. But perhaps the enemy hadn't identified the weapon one of the Micronians carried, or perhaps they hadn't even seen it? In any case, no sooner did the two enter the car than Max swung himself about face, trained his laser rifle on the elevator controls, and fired. The intense beam soldered the proper circuits; the doors slid closed, and the car began to descend...

  In that liquid dream, Minmei was leaving him and Rick was calling out to her, over and over again...

  Then Lisa's face floated into focus, and the dream faded. She helped him sit up and asked if he was all right.

  He began to take stock of himself and these new dark and wet surroundings. They were in an area of huge pipes, containment chambers, baffles, valves, and regulating devices, seated near the edge of a system of channels and reservoirs that stretched out into the darkness. Shafts of light filtered down from far above them, and the thick air was filled with the sounds of mechanized pumps and filtration units, running water, and the clank and hiss of fluid control conduits.

  They were both soaked to the skin; Lisa's uncoiled long brown hair hung in wet waves halfway down her back.

  She said, "We must be in the water-recycling chamber. It's in terrible disrepair." She laughed at her words. "Great time to be judgmental, huh? This pool saved our lives. We must have fallen a hundred feet."

  With effort, Rick got to his feet. "Maybe the water broke our fall, but something else saved me from drowning."

  Lisa averted his gaze. "I wasn't about to have you die on me, Hunter."

  Then she looked directly at him. "Let's just call it even."

  Rick's vision was adapting itself to the dark; he began to take notice of the refuse and debris all around them.

  Nearby there were hatchways and elevator platforms, and somewhere in the distance, faint light.

  "They do let things get run-down, don't they?"

  "I've been thinking about it, Lieutenant. Even with all their technical knowledge, maybe they only know how to use the equipment but not how to repair it. No techs, no maintenance personnel. Just soldier clones, every last one of them."

  "All this destructive power...I wonder how many worlds they've ended, how many lives they've taken. It's sickening to think about: an entire civilization dedicated to war."

  "I guess I should feel right at home." "What d' ya mean?"

  "My father had a favorite saying: 'Only where there is battle being waged is there life being lived."' She sighed. "My family has been connected with the military for the past century...The only life I've ever known is the Defense Forces. 'The mission,' that's all I can think about." She gestured. "You heard me up there."

  "Yeah, but, that's why you're an officer. You're a leader. Head of the class and all that."

  Lisa's eyebrows knitted. "How did you find that out?"

  "It's common knowledge." Rick laughed. "Some of the VT pilots call you Supergirl."

  "Wonderful..." She looked hard at Rick. "You know, I don't mean to intimidate anyone. It's just that..." A sly smile replaced her grim expression. "Forget it. But I'll bet Miss Macross isn't a bit intimidating, is she?"

  Rick was taken off guard. "Minmei? What makes you think-"

  "You were calling her name: 'Minmei! Minmei!"' Lisa playfully mocked

  him.

  "All right, all right. What of it?"

  "You tell me."

  "Nothing to tell. We're friends, that's all. You know how it is. She's a celebrity. Public property. We don't have time for each other anymore."

  "A major talent, I'm sure."

  Rick gave her a look that signaled she'd gone too far.

  "Listen, Lieutenant, I'm only kidding. At least you have someone to return to. All I have is another mission to look forward to."

  "There's no one in your life?" "Just call me Miss SDF-1."

  "That's just a matter of time. You're a beautiful woman. Most guys would give..."

  "Yeah?"

  "What I mean is, you're a brilliant officer, and..."

  Lisa didn't say anything for a minute; then she cleared her throat and stood up. "Well, I'm not going to meet anyone sitting around here, am I?"

  She took hold of Rick's hand. "Let's get out of here, Lieutenant." They walked toward the light.

  Engine rooms, storage rooms, empty holds, a second recycling plant, more storage areas-all in the same shabby, unwashed, and unmaintained state. But something had changed: The air had begun to lose that overpoweringly dank smell and thickness. A slight breeze played through Lisa's long hair.

  They moved toward the source of the wind.

  At the far end of a supply room filled with Battlepods and ordnance of every conceivable type, they found their exit: a rectangular port in the hull of the ship. They ran toward this, the wind no longer gentle but chilled and full of sound, and stopped short of the edge, awestruck.

  So wrapped up in finding a way out, they had forgotten that they were actually onboard a ship within a ship!

  If you could call it a ship.

  Beyond the portal was a sight their senses were unprepared for: hundreds of Zentraedi ships anchored weightless in the seemingly sky-blue

  docking chamber of the command center. Overcome by a sudden wave of vertigo, Lisa took a step back. Was it possible? Dolza's ship would have to be the best kept secret in the universe-a thousand miles long-to accommodate all these vessels! Her mind wrestled with it, her thoughts spinning out of control.

  Rick had taken hold of her arm. "Someone's coming!" he told her.

  They concealed themselves behind some crates near the portal. Rick tuned in to the sounds he had heard and realized at once that no Zentraedi was capable of making so little noise. It had to be...

  "Ben! Max!" Lisa yelled.

  The four of them reunited in a group embrace, and capsule summaries of their respective adventures and ordeals were rapidly exchanged. Max complimented Lisa on how lovely she looked with her hair down, and she congratulated him on having been able to hang on to his "thinking cap" all this time. Ben was in his usual good humor.

  "So what's next on the agenda, friends?"

  The intrusion of reality cooled their warm reunion somewhat; what was next, indeed? From the edge of the portal they could see a cruiser taking on supplies through a transfer tube at a neighboring port in the flagship.

  "We could get aboard easy enough," said Max, "but where do you think she's bound?"

  "Does it matter?" Ben asked. "Let's go."

  "Hold on a minute, Ben," said Lisa. "We were brought here on this ship. I think we'd stand a better chance of getting back to the SDF-1 by remaining aboard."

  Max didn't like the idea. "Not if the Zentraedi capture us. We've seen too much by now. They won't take any chances with us."

  "He's right," Rick agreed. "You're in charge, Lisa, but I vote for the cruiser."

  Lisa crossed her arms, then relaxed and smiled at them. "All right, let's do it
."

  They set off at once.

  Finding their way to the adjacent port was more difficult than they'd imagined, but once there it was a simple matter to conceal themselves from the guards and at the right moment jump aboard the cargo conveyer. Rick thought about mice and rats again as the team was carried out of Breetai's flagship and into the purple-armored cruiser.

  Azonia was the commander of the cruiser and her all-female crew. Highly skilled, respected, and powerful, she had earned a reputation for succeeding where others had failed. Her attractiveness and magnetism had helped secure a brilliant career, but her soft eyes and small features belied the arrogant, self-absorbed megalomaniac many knew her to be. Here was one who would sacrifice half her fleet to fulfill that all-consuming passion for victory-a fact that had endeared her to the Zentraedi Command but one that instilled fear in the hearts of anyone of lesser station. In fact, among all the Zentraedi there was only one who would have defended her to the finish and whose respect for her some said was tainted by an atavistic lust for sensual experience. That one was Khyron, the so-called Backstabber.

  Azonia was joined on the bridge of the cruiser by the ace pilot Dolza had promised her to carry out the infiltration-Miriya Parino of the Quadrono Battalion.

  If Miriya was not as ambitious as her superior, she was certainly as respected. Where Azonia lived for self-glorification, Miriya fought for personal perfection: to rank first in this game called war the Zentraedi had been born into. Ever on the alert for new challenges, new tasks to master, new worlds to conquer, she was possessed of an intensely curious nature well suited to the extraordinary level of her talents, a trait that set her apart from the other pilots. But she was loyal to a fault and never failed to carry out her orders to the fullest. In this way she was much like her commander, but where Azonia would seek out ways to promote herself, only Miriya could rightfully judge Miriya. She had earned her own command a dozen times over but had rejected it on each occasion. Promotion would have placed her