Doomsday: The Macross Saga

by Jack McKinney

  And they chanted: “Stagefright, go’way, this is my big day.”

  She was grasping the mike tightly in both hands, though she was certain that the power had gone off. But her face betrayed no fear. Kyle was standing stiffly by her side, his fists clenched, urging her to go on. From what she could tell, the city beyond the amphitheater rim was engulfed in apocalyptical flames; thick black smoke was billowing toward the ceiling of the hold, and a light rain seemed to be falling from the overhead water-retrieval system. Electrical power had shorted out in most areas of the stadium. The spots were off. The band had fled. And those in the audience who weren’t singing were crying. It felt like the end of the world.

  Then, all at once, two Battlepods appeared on the upper tier of the amphitheater, their cannons aimed ultimately at the stage, and she dropped the mike.

  Kyle stepped forward and raised it again to her mouth.

  “You’ve got to continue singing, Minmei. Give it all you’ve got!”

  He put his arm around her, and she found the courage to pick up where she’d left off. The audience followed her; she believed they would have followed her anywhere.

  “Now, don’t be afraid,” Kyle was saying into her ear. “They’re not going to hurt us.”

  And it truly seemed that way for an instant—as if the pods were just part of the audience—until a bolt of blue energy flashed overhead and struck the upper reaches of the stage canopy. It had not been launched by either of the pods and was in fact a stray shot from outside the amphitheater. But that made little difference. The crowd panicked. And worse still, the blast had loosened one of the large overhead spotlights. For a second it looked like it wouldn’t fall. Then something snapped and gave way, and down it came.

  Kyle spied it in the nick of time and moved in to cover Minmei. He succeeded perfectly, taking the full force of the impact on his back, the spotlight driving both of them violently to the floor.

  Outside the fortress, things were not much better. The SDF-1 had managed to put some distance between herself and the Zentraedi warships, but furious space dogfights were continuing. Rick was locked into the vacuum equivalent of a scissors finesse with the Officer’s Pod that had been hounding him since the word go. Each time he tried to break or jink, the pod stuck to his tail, loosing cannon fire, and now here was Lisa on the right commo screen vying for his attention. Fortunately, Max had been monitoring the aircom net and was coming in to give Rick some relief. Sterling came in low under the Officer’s Pod and chased it off with Stilettos; Rick angled himself out of the immediate battle arena and went on the net to the fortress bridge.

  “In the ship?” Rick repeated in disbelief.

  Lisa reaffirmed it. “They’re destroying everything, Rick. Return to base immediately!”

  Minmei! Rick screamed internally. “Lisa, have they hit the amphitheater? You’ve got to tell me!”

  “I don’t have a status report, Rick. Just get back here on the double.”

  As she signed off, Max appeared on the left screen.

  “I’m with you, Commander,” said Sterling. “I’ll follow you home.”

  Which was easier said than done.

  First the two Veritechs had to navigate a web of pulsed fire laid out by the Officer’s Pod and its three cohort ships, then direct themselves through the continuous bombardment the fortress was receiving from the enemy warships. Rick raised the bridge and asked Lisa to see to it that one of the SDF-l’s ventral docking ports was opened for their entry; it would have been not only a longer route to Macross via the Daedalus or Prometheus but a more dangerous one as well. No one in fact had ever piloted a VT through the arms of the fortress.

  Rick rehearsed his moves as he closed on the air lock; he visualized a map of the city streets and began to plot a course, almost as if allowing the mecha to familiarize itself with the plan.

  Skull One and Skull Two zoomed into the fortress, unaware that four Battlepods had followed them in, Khyron’s Officer’s Pod in the lead.

  * * *

  Miriya was as surprised as anyone to see Zentraedi mecha in the streets of Macross City, and just now she was possibly the only person alive in those streets. Most of the Micronians had taken to the shelters long ago, but many had remained in the amphitheater to witness the workings of some sort of psychological weapons system. For some unknown reason the Battlepods had also chosen to concentrate their might there, and as a result the Micronians had sustained heavy personnel losses. In addition the pods had laid waste to much of the surrounding city. Fires continued to burn, explosions could be heard and felt from all quarters, and a steady rain of embers, soot, and debris fell from the ceiling of the enormous hold.

  Miriya had been one of those who remained unsheltered in the amphitheater. She had been trailing the long-haired Micronian warrior ever since the populace had turned out in such force to honor him at the trans-vid screening of his battle records. It seemed likely that the female warrior shown in those trans-vids was the same one who had drawn such a fanatical following to the amphitheater. The vocal noises she emitted had been discomfiting; they had left Miriya feeling debilitated and ill at ease, much as she had felt upon recognizing that the female warrior was in some way the consort of the long-haired male!

  Until moments ago Miriya had been convinced that the male warrior was the one who had defeated her in battle, but something had happened to alter her thinking. She had seen him crushed by the falling illumination device and, while working her way down the aisles toward the stage, had spied a blue-trimmed Micronian fighter streak overhead. Certain that she recognized the mecha, she had taken to the devastated streets to watch the pilot of that ship in action against her allies.

  The fighter was reconfiguring to bipedal mode now as she watched, fascinated, from her place of concealment. The pilot was about to bring the gatling into play. Surrounded by pods, he twisted and trap-shot one from the air, then spun around and took out a second that had landed behind him. Agilely sidestepping the blast of the exploding pod’s foot thruster, he utilized the earned momentum to position himself for a bead on a well-situated third. Yet another pod mistakenly thought that height would be advantageous and lifted off, foot thrusters blaring and top guns blazing away. But the Micronian merely sent his mecha into a beautifully executed tuck and roll and came up shooting as the pod came down beside him. Again the foolish Zentraedi pilot tried to leap and fire, but the blue ace had already decreed his fate: Bolts of lightning striking around him, he raised the muzzle of the cannon, fired, and holed the pod with a shot right through the front viewscreen. While the mecha blew to pieces in midair, the Micronian set off in search of greater challenges.

  Miriya was depressed by the Zentraedi pilots’ poor showing—it was no wonder Breetai’s troops were losing!—but elated at having at last discovered the object of her long search. Now she simply had to hunt him down and confront him.

  Elsewhere in Macross Rick had also set Skull One down in Guardian mode and reconfigured to Battloid, shooting his way to the Star Bowl area of Macross, where the fighting was thickest, charging down city streets he knew so well and closing on the amphitheater. He had literally just bowled over two stationary Battlepods when Max raised him on the tac net.

  “How bad is it where you are?” Sterling wanted to know.

  Rick panned his external cameras across the burning cityscape to take stock of the scene: There wasn’t a storefront left undamaged—it looked as if some of them had been looted! The streets were torn up from explosions and the hooflike feet of who knew how many enemy mecha. EVE’s “sky” had taken a beating—most of it had in fact fallen—and few of the deadly fires had been brought under control.

  Rick went on the net: “It’s worse than I even thought, Max.”

  “Any civilians about?”

  “None that I can see,” Rick answered, calling for zoom on the scanners. “Looks like most of them made it into the shelters.”

  Static crackled through Skull One’s speakers.

&n
bsp; “Same out here. What’s your next move?”

  “I’m going to check the Star Bowl. See that everybody got out of there all right.”

  “Minmei …”

  “Right, Max.”

  “All right, Skull Leader, I’m signing off. Rendezvous with you at the Star Bowl. Over and out.”

  Rick took a deep breath and relaxed back into alpha. He hit the foot pedals hard and began to think the mecha back into a jog. Enormous explosions erupted behind him as he started out, the gatling in the Battloid’s right hand, metalshod left clamped on the cannon for added stability.

  Rounding a corner at a good clip, he ran smack into heavy fire. Several pods had taken to the rooftops here and were throwing blue bolts at anything that moved. Up ahead a grounded pod sustained a hit in the back and keeled over as Rick approached. Rooftop rounds were impacting all around him, and he was forced to dive Skull One sideways to the street, left arm straight out for counterbalance as he went into a double roll. The muzzle of the gatling was up before he completed the move, just in time to sear off the right leg of a pod that had leapt from an upper-story support. The enemy mecha rolled over on its back, flame blazing from what was left of its leg, and exploded.

  Meanwhile Rick was back on his feet again and already resuming his pace. But not fifty meters down the street a pod stepped from the shadows of a department store doorway and almost succeeded in nailing him. At the last minute, Rick saw it and launched the Battloid like a high jumper over blinding flashes of cannon fire. As he rolled into a front flip, he opened up with the cannon and caught the pod between the legs, transuranic slugs lifting it off the street before it burst to pieces in a ball of orange and purple flame.

  Skull One landed hard on its back, smoking gun still clutched tightly in its right hand.

  Inside the cockpit Rick shook his head clear and found himself staring straight up at a gaping hole in the hold overhead and two more rooftop pods that were now pouring rounds at him. He thought his mecha into a roll and twist to the right, which ultimately brought it to a kneeling position, the muzzle elevated and armed. Trigger finger on the Hotas, he squeezed, bringing the media’s left hand up and around to fasten on the forward section of the gatling. The street quaked as explosive-tipped projectiles spiked into the area around him.

  Rick sprayed the pods right to left seemingly without effect, the gun sputtering and overheating in the Battloid’s grip. Then it gave out completely. But after a moment of dramatic stillness, the pods fell headfirst from their ballet poses on the building ledge. Trailing fire, they crashed on either side of Skull One, fulminating.

  Thinking the Battloid erect, Rick shouted, “Minmei!” and continued his charge on the amphitheater.

  CHAPTER

  ELEVEN

  I can’t imagine what he was thinking when he grabbed me like that, pinning my arms and forcing himself on me. Why do they all have to fall in love with me? Why do they all need to possess and control me?… All I could think about was what happened on Thursday, when Kyle saved me from falling into one of the modular transformation troughs and I looked up and saw Rick’s face in place of his.

  From the diary of Lynn-Minmei

  A kiss is just a kiss.

  Mid-twentieth-century song lyric

  Khyron and six of his finest swaggered their pods down Main Street, mopping up what was left of the civil defense patrol Battloids and Gladiators. The Backstabber couldn’t have been happier. The fortress’s population center was in flames, Zentraedi mecha were overrunning the last few remaining pockets of resistance, and soon the heart of the ship would be secured. It would only be a matter of time before they moved against the ship’s command centers.

  “Victory will be mine!” he shouted from within his Officer’s Pod.

  But something was about to occur that would rob Khyron of this false apotheosis, something that would give new meaning to his nickname …

  “Destroy everything in sight!” he commanded his troops. “We can do anything we want this time!”

  Two Battloids suddenly appeared in the distance; they had taken up positions on either side of the street a few blocks ahead and were now leaning out from behind buildings, directing pulsed cannon fire against Khyron’s methodical advance. But the Zentraedi commander never even broke stride; he casually took out both of them with hand-gun hip shots.

  He was beginning to increase the pace somewhat when three Battlepods darted out across his path from a perpendicular side street with an obvious purpose in mind. Khyron signaled his own troops to halt and opened his comlink to the preoccupied pods.

  “Just a moment,” he said, stepping forward, his voice full of suspicion. “Where in the name of Dolza are you three going? Answer me at once!”

  The three pods stopped and turned to him. Vocal salutes and sounds of surprise came across the net.

  “Respond!” Khyron repeated.

  After a moment one of them said, “We are hoping to find Minmei, Commander.”

  “Minmei?” Khyron said uncertainly. “I’ve never heard of a Minmei. What are its ballistic capabilities?”

  “She’s not a missile, sir,” said another. “She’s a Micronian female!”

  All at once the three of them were laughing with delight. Several other pods had skulked out of the side street to watch the exchange.

  “The most incredible creature in the universe!”

  “We’ve got to meet her in person. Hear her sing—”

  “Silence!” Khyron cut them off.

  The pods snapped to, but muffled laughter continued. Khyron narrowed his eyes. So the rumors Grel had reported were true, he said to himself. Defection: It was unheard of.

  Khyron’s voice dripped menace when he spoke again.

  “I presume you plan to tell me what you’re laughing about.”

  “I’m sorry, m’lord,” one responded, attempting to stifle his laughter, seemingly unaware that Khyron was bringing one of his hand-guns to bear on him. “It’s just that I’m so overcome with joy at the possibility of finding Minmei—”

  Khyron fired once, his round entering the pilot chamber through the central viewscreen and exploding.

  “He’s out of his mind!” Khyron heard over the comlink as the pods ran for cover. “Run, run!”

  “Stop!” he commanded them, looking around and realizing that even members of his own crack unit were abandoning him. “All of you, come back!”

  Khyron threw his pod into pursuit mode, hooved feet pounding along the city streets. Not one of them would live to see the end of this day, he promised himself. Already he had one of the deserters centered in his top-cannon reticle.

  “Come back here, soldier, and face me like a Zentraedi! You can’t run from me forever!”

  “I’m sorry, my lord,” came the meek reply over the net, “but I—I can’t explain what joy it is to be among the Micronians.”

  “What?” Khyron shouted. “I’ve never heard anything so crazy in my life! You’re completely mad, do you hear me? You’re telling me that you’d prefer to be with them?!”

  Khyron heard an exclamation of fear but no explanation. He shook his head knowingly and pronounced sentence as the chase continued: “Well now, my little friend, I’m afraid I must deal with you in the same way I dealt with your companion.”

  The Officer’s Pod right hand-gun fired once. The pod took the hit in the rear end, was lifted up as though goosed by fire, and was blown clear from the street.

  Khyron fired again and again, pursuing the Battlepods through the ruined streets into the city’s night.

  Minmei summoned her strength, heaved once, and managed to drag herself out from under Kyle’s dead weight. She felt bruised and mangled, and her red gown was in a sorry state. The large canister spotlight that had beaned her cousin was several feet away, tipped over on its side amid plaster chips, shards of plastic, and other bits of fallen debris. The amphitheater appeared to be deserted, but there were flames and thick smoke in the distance and the sounds of siren
s and explosions.

  Wondering just how long she’d been out, she began to tuck stray hairs back into their bunlike arrangement. Kyle made a groaning sound, and she went over to him, helping him to his feet and walking him to the wings, where they both sat down. He was breathing hard, and his forehead was cut. Minmei took a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the blood. As he came around, she said, “I’ll make it better,” and started to make funny faces for his benefit. She crossed her eyes, stuck out her tongue, puffed out her cheeks, uttered some strange sounds, and in a minute had him laughing.

  “There. All better,” she announced in a motherly tone, stroking his face with the kerchief.

  Had she been less concerned about what was to prove to be a very minor injury, perhaps she would have noticed the look that began to surface in his dark eyes and would have been able to avoid the awkward scene that followed.

  Kyle was so used to taking care of himself that Minmei’s attentiveness overwhelmed him. In his still weakened state he found his feelings for her confused but undeniably powerful. She was so much stronger than he had ever thought possible, so talented, such an amazing presence in the lopsided world they inhabited together …

  So he expressed these thoughts and feelings the only way he knew how: He reached out for her and kissed her full on the mouth.

  They were kneeling face to face on the stage; it was dark, and maybe he didn’t see her eyes go wide with bewilderment and fear—or maybe he just didn’t care. Perhaps he somehow misread her attempts to push him away. But it is more likely that he pinned her arms in the hope that his love for her could silence her fears, much as his mouth was stifling her protests. He needed to make her understand how he felt. Once she was made to understand his needs, she would surely give herself freely to him …

  But ultimately Minmei pushed him away and told him in no uncertain terms that he was never to do that again.

  Kyle did not understand.

  And neither did Rick, who had arrived at the amphitheater in time to witness the kiss but who turned his Battloid around too soon to see the rebuff.