And there was a voice in Marlene’s mind—one that she could not identify but that at the same time seemed to be her own:
“Reach into the cosmic consciousness of your race, Ariel,” the voice told her. “And although you feel you are dreaming, watch and observe the beauty of your home. For we are a race of powerful beings destined to control the universe with our intellect and power, and you, Ariel, are a part of that power. Come back to us, my child; come back, Ariel, and rejoin the hive …”
Marlene stared at Sera as her face took form once again, the journey through space-time concluded, and thought: I know her: we’re like sisters somehow …
Then without warning, explosions were rocking the ledge and erupting around the base of Sera’s command ship. Scott and the rest of the team had positioned themselves on the ridgeline above the gully and were firing bursts against the command ship and its sole minion.
Momentarily confused by the renewed fighting, Sera broke off her contact with Marlene and returned to the cockpit of her ship, lifting off at once and joining her charge on the opposite side of the chasm. But no sooner did she touch down than the ledge gave way and the two dropped together, impacting rocks and outcroppings as they fell.
Lunk and Rand pulled Lancer and Marlene to safety. It seemed unbelievable that they had all survived and that all their crazed plans had worked. But even more unsettling was the Human pilot who had once again demonstrated a bewildering ambivalence. Scott refused to believe that the woman had purposely stayed her hand; he pointed out how she had fired on him earlier without compunction. Lancer, however, knew better than to accept Scott’s explanation that the woman had been distracted by their sudden fire. And he also saw that something inexplicable had transpired between the woman and Marlene. Both Rand and Annie had been touched by the Invid consciousness in the past, but their psychic encounters had been brief and transient. Marlene, on the other hand, had been profoundly affected.
“I don’t belong with you,” Marlene told Lancer later, when the others had moved off in the direction of the buried mecha. “Please, Lancer, I’ll just bring trouble for all of you.…”
He tried to comfort her as best he could by offering himself as her protector. And that did seem to calm her a bit. But it brought him little succor.
Who would be next to feel the enemy’s mind probe? he wondered, shivering as he led Marlene away from the abyss.
CHAPTER
THREE
In quieter moments I find myself wondering about the men and women I have served with during these long campaigns. I think about the ones left behind, like Max and Miriya, and the ones sent away, like John Carpenter, Frank Tandler, Owen, and the rest. The list goes on and on. Would I have joined that crew had it not been for the Sentinels; abandoned these dark domains for even a chance at seeing Earth’s blue skies once again? I think: Absolutely. But what can my homeworld offer me now? Certainly not peace, that endangered species. Retirement, perhaps. How Lisa would laugh!
Admiral Hunter, as quoted in Selig Kahler, The Tirolian Campaign
Freeing the Veritechs and Cyclones from the snowslide proved to be a greater challenge than anyone had expected. The team brought the collective heat of their MARS-Gallant H90 hand blasters to bear against the massive chunks of ice that had been loosed during the avalanche, by sunrise they had succeeded in defrosting the Alpha Fighter. Tango-9 explosive and the VTs thrusters did the rest of the work in a tenth the time, but Annie and Marlene sustained mild cases of frostbite nonetheless. And despite Scott’s optimistic projection, it took the team several false starts and another two days to cross the Sierra range. But waiting for them was the desert with those warm highland winds, and with it came a renewed sense of purpose and determination.
This was the same arid expanse crossed by pioneers and adventurers during North America’s push toward its western horizon, but few would have recognized it as such. Over the course of the last two decades the region had seen periods of devastation to rival those of its geo-formative years. Dolza’s fleet of four million had not overlooked the cities that had grown up here, and neither had Khyron after New Macross had risen to the fore. Vast stretches of the territory were cratered from the thousands of annihilation bolts rained upon it, host still to equal numbers of rusting Zentraedi dreadnoughts, thrust like war lances into the ravaged land. Just north of the team’s present route were the remains of Monument City, which had played such a pivotal role in the Second Robotech War.
Population centers had grown up in some of the craters, but most of these were abandoned now, their onetime residents returned to life-styles more befitting the territory’s original nomadic tribespeople than the Robotechnologists who had once tried to breathe new life into the wastes.
Scott had listened intently to Lancer and Lunk’s information; he of course had read and heard accounts of Macross and Monument, and the team’s propinquity to those legendary cities filled him with an awe usually reserved for sacred places and archeological power spots. It made him think about the long road that had taken him back to this land of his parents’ birth and the treacherous one that lay ahead. The team was close to Reflex Point now—the presence of an Invid tower assured him of this much—but he had to wonder how many more twists and turns they would have to negotiate before they stood at the portal of the Regess’ central hive, how many Invid stood in their way, and how many more deaths their journey would entail.
There were many such communication towers placed around the hive complex, and Scott knew from past experience that the team’s further progress toward Reflex Point would depend on how many of these they could circumvent, or better still, destroy. Options were discussed while the team made temporary camp near a meandering river where cottonwoods and conifers provided a narrow green ribbon of safety and shade. In the end it was decided that Scott and Rand would recon the outlying area; nearby were the ruins of a deserted city and what appeared to be an inhabited town. Annie insisted on tagging along, hoping they would run across a cowboy or two.
The three freedom fighters set out on Cyclones, Annie in her customary place on the pillion seat behind Rand. Only Scott was suited up in battle armor. Rand had tried to talk him out of it but soon recognized that Scott fancied himself the only law and order between here and Reflex Point.
A short ride brought them into the town they had glimpsed from the Veritechs, a curious combination of high-tech modular buildings and wooden structures fashioned after centuries-old designs, complete with elaborate facades, shaded boardwalks, and hitching posts for horses and pack animals. The dirt streets were empty, but this no longer came as any surprise. Scott was certain the townsfolk were well aware of their arrival and were merely concealing themselves until the proper moment. As they powered the Cyclones down the town’s main street, he could almost feel the weapons being trained on them from upper-story windows.
The one thing he hadn’t figured on was getting arrested.
But that’s just what the residents of Bushwhack had in mind when they finally did show themselves, twenty or so strong, dressed in Twentieth-century garb and armed with antique rifles, shotguns, and revolvers. They formed a broad circle around the rebels and ordered Scott and Rand away from their mecha. Scott was willing to comply—even to go as far as removing his battle armor—until he saw the ropes come out. But by then it was too late to do much about it. He and Rand were stripped of their weapons, tied up, and led by the jeering mob to the sheriff’s office.
He was a short, stocky man with curly black hair and a handlebar mustache. He was wearing a beat-up felt fedora and a sheepskin coat. Scott didn’t see any badge displayed, but when the sheriff pointed a six-gun at him, he stopped looking.
“Anybody who goes around dressed like that is just lookin’ for trouble,” the sheriff told him, gesturing to the heap of Cyclone armor Scott had piled in the street. “I reckon you’re under arrest, strangers.”
“But we haven’t done anything!” Rand protested, struggling against the rope c
oiled around his arms. Silently he cursed himself for having listened to Scott’s harebrained logic about uniforms and earning respect.
“Well, you look like you might do something,” the sheriff answered him, putting the muzzle of the revolver close to Scott’s head.
“It’s illegal!” Scott argued, trying to step away.
“Yeah, you can’t arrest us without charges,” Annie added.
The sheriff’s dark eyes narrowed. “Z’at so? Well, I reckon I’ll be the one to decide that, young ’un. You renegade soldiers and your catch try to take over everything. But we’re not lettin’ you take over this town.”
“Who’d want to, anyway?” said Annie.
“But we’re not renegades,” Scott argued. “I’m from Mars—”
“From Mars?!” The sheriff laughed and turned to the crowd. “Here that, folks? He’s from Mars!” The crowd started whooping it up. “Reckon you better tell it to the judge, robby.”
“Fine,” Scott said through gritted teeth. “Lead us to him.”
The sheriff flashed a smile and pushed his hat back on his head. “You’re lookin’ at ’im.”
Again the crowd got into the spirit, laughing and jeering. One dangled a noose in front of Rand’s face, while a second began to inspect Rand’s boots with an evil glint in his eye. There was what amounted to a festive atmosphere brewing, so much so that no one took notice of the two strange figures who were watching the scene from nearby. One was perhaps two feet shorter than his companion, but both were clothed alike, in bottletop goggles, helmets, cowls, and full-length cloaks.
“Looks as though these strangers are going to be occupied for a spell,” said the taller of the two.
“Then I guess they won’t be needin’ their Cyclones, huh, Roy?”
“I feel it only right that we see to it that no harm comes to them.”
“The Cyclones, you mean.”
“Now what else would I mean?”
“Well, you coulda meant the strangers.”
Roy made a face. “Now, have you ever heard me express any concern for strangers before?”
“No … but—”
“And is it likely that I would be concerned about the strangers?”
“Well, no. But—”
“Then I think it would be prudent for you to adhere to our original plan.”
“Adhere, Roy?”
“As in ‘stick to.’ ”
“I should get the truck?”
Roy let out an exasperated sound. “Yes, Shorty, you should get the truck.”
Back at the camp on the outskirts of town, Lancer, Lunk, Rook, and Marlene were doing what they could to camouflage the VTs with strategically placed branches and bunches of sagebrush and tumbleweed. They had moved the fighters to a kind of natural shelter Lancer discovered, a rock outcropping with plenty of surrounding scrub. It seemed a senseless task, but at least it was keeping everyone busy.
Lancer hadn’t been in favor of Scott’s heading off into town; whenever Scott disappeared, it usually spelled trouble for the rest of them. It was some comfort to know that Rand and Annie were with him, but not enough to keep Lancer from worrying. The major source of his concern, however, was Marlene. She had said little these past two days, and it was obvious to Lancer that her confrontation with the Human pilot of the Invid command ship had had a devastating effect. Was it possible, he asked himself, that Marlene herself had once been used in a similar fashion? Perhaps she had escaped after her own command ship had been destroyed. There was a certain logic to it, since, like the blond pilot, Marlene seemed to have no recall of her past life.
I don’t belong with you, Lancer could hear her say. I’ll just bring trouble.
Marlene was aware of Lancer’s concerns and smiled weakly at him as she continued to tug handfuls of tall grass from the sandy earth. Then suddenly she was down on her knees, moaning and clutching her pale hands at her temples. Lancer jumped down from the radome of the Alpha, but Rook beat him to Marlene’s side and was already stroking the tortured woman’s long hair and speaking soothing words into her ear by the time Lancer got to her.
“She must be sensing the Invid again,” Rook told Lancer and Lunk. “I told Scott this would happen if we camped too close to that communications tower.”
Lunk shook his head. “We’re not that close to the thing. But maybe there’s a Protoculture farm around here.”
Lancer knelt down to take Marlene’s hand. “Marlene, can you tell us what you’re feeling? Can you tell from the pain whether it’s a patrol or a hive?”
Marlene pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead and made an agonized sound.
“You’re asking a lot of her, Lancer,” said Lunk.
“Look,” Lancer said, turning around. “I know what I’m asking. But it could be that Scott and Rand are in danger, and Marlene might be able to lead us to the source of it.”
Rook looked at him as though he had just sentenced Marlene to the rack. “The closer she gets, the more unbearable the pain becomes. I don’t have to tell you that.”
“No, you don’t. But all of us are at risk here—not just Marlene.” He touched Marlene’s cheek with his fingertips, and she opened her eyes. “The decision’s yours. Do you think you can lead us to the source of your pain?”
“I can … try,” she responded weakly.
Lancer tightened his mouth and nodded. “Then we’re going out together,” he said, getting up.
Rook and Lunk were dead set against it, but Lancer convinced them that there was really no other choice. Marlene was part of the team, with strengths and weaknesses just like the rest of them. And it only made sense to exploit her strengths, especially when that early warning system of hers was kicking in. So an hour later Lancer and Marlene were cruising out over the wastes, side by side in the APC that Lunk had reluctantly given up.
“Are you all right?” Lancer asked her after they had been driving for some time.
She nodded without saying anything.
“Is the pain still there?”
“Not now. It’s like someone just switched it off inside me.”
“It would help if you could remember something about your past.”
“I feel like I was born on the day you people found me, Lancer. There’s nothing beyond that—I’m empty.”
He looked over at her. “Still, you had a life. We just need to find out who you were.”
Marlene shrugged. “How much do you remember about the day you were born?”
“Not very much,” he started to say. Then all at once there were two men on horseback positioned in front of the vehicle. Lancer brought the APC up short, instinctively extending his right arm across Marlene; the horses reared, their riders leveling rifles.
“One false move and I’ll make a lead mine outta yer innards!” warned one of the men. “How’s that fer threats?” he asked his partner.
The second rider repeated the warning to himself and shook his head. “I don’t like it. Too … cryptic” He brought his rifle to bear on Lancer. “Supposin’ you tell us what yer doin’ in these here parts, Lavender Locks.”
Lancer suppressed a grin. The man had on a bandanna and a tiny pair of tinted goggles. His voice sounded like sandpaper on cement. “We were just out driving around, and we got lost,” he told them sheepishly.
“Yeah?” said the first rider. “Tears to me you had sumthin’ on yer mind ’sides yer drivin’.” He began to laugh knowingly, leering at Marlene.
Lancer smiled and put his arm around Marlene, pulling her close. “Well, shucks,” he mimicked the rider. “Iffen you have to know, we’re newlywed honeymooners.”
“Well, no wonder yer all distracted,” the rider exclaimed, lowering his weapon. “I would be, too!”
“Stop cackling and tend to business, Jesse,” his cohort told him. “You folks might not know it, but there’s an outlaw gang operatin’ out here, an’ yer lucky ya didn’t go and git yer car ’n’ everythin’ stole out from under ya.” He disarmed his wea
pon.
“Worse’n that, yer headed right smack dab straight into Invid territory.”
“Garldarn,” said Lancer, playing it up. “Me and my little bride ’preciate yer bein’ so neighborly as to warn us like that.”
The gruff-voiced man seemed to offer a grin beneath the bandanna. “Seems we speak the same language, stranger, so I tell ya what we’re gonna do: We’re gonna show ya where you can buy some mighty fine weapons to defend yerselves.” He tugged at the reins to bring his mount about. “Ya jus’ follow us.”
The two riders began to gallop off. Lancer kept the APC close behind. Their trail angled east along the remains of a once-broad highway.
“Why are you trusting them?” Marlene asked.
“I’m not. But I’m curious about these weapons. Maybe there’s a resistance group operating around here.”
The highwaymen led them down into one of the devastated crater cities Scott and Rand had flown over earlier that day. Its once-tall towers were nothing but empty shells now, burned and collapsed like fallen layer cakes. Some time ago a river had altered course and turned most of the crater into a polluted lake. But adjacent to the resultant waterfall, practically beneath its thunderous flow, was a massive tunnel that led to an arena of some sort, and it was into this that the riders disappeared. “Hole in the wall,” they called it. Inside, however, was an even greater surprise: the rusting remains of a Robotech battle fortress. It had put down on its belly and somehow seemed to be fused to its ruined surroundings.
Lancer couldn’t help but register his astonishment. The ship was nothing like the cruisers developed during the Second Robotech War; it had more in common with the organically fashioned Zentraedi battlewagons of the First. And yet it was not quite Zentraedi, either. The sleek sharklike bow and massive triple-thrustered stern were closer to the hybrids he had heard about—ships constructed on Tirol and sent home under the command of a certain Major John Carpenter. Lancer said as much to the two riders. They had dismounted and doffed their helmets and cowls; in place of the techno-outlaws who had stopped the APC stood two silver-haired old-timers with thick mustaches and faces aged from a myriad of suns.
Invid Invasion: The New Generation Page 40