[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
of the battle fortress took only a few minutes. Very shortly they were in the
engineering section, just forward of the huge reflex engines that were the
ship's power plant.
They were in a large compartment that had once held the ship's spacefold
apparatus. Now there was some leftover machinery from the pin-point barrier
Page 55
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
system that had been the ship's main defensive weapon on its precarious trip
across the solar system. As there had been for years, there were also the
lights.
"When the Zentraedi first attacked Earth, we made our spacefold jump to
get to safety," Lang was explaining. "We had no time to experiment, no time to
test. A jump that was meant to take us beyond our moon's orbit took us instead
to the orbit of Pluto."
"I remember well," Exedore said, scratching his cheek, staring at the
giant, almost-empty compartment.
"You made the jump too close to the planetary surface; we were convinced
that you were suicidal."
"You gave us no choice," Gloval said in a low voice, thinking back to
the appalling devastation and loss of life that day. He did his best to put it
from his mind.
"But in the wake of the jump," Lang went on, "the spacefold apparatus
just...disappeared. Utterly! Simply faded from view and was never seen again.
And in its place were those."
Lang meant the lights: darting, glowing sparks, fireflies and tiny
comets that swarmed and drifted through the space where the spacefold
apparatus had once been. Exedore turned to him. "May I borrow some of those
instruments you've brought, Doctor?"
It took only a little time to prove his suspicions. "Ah, yes: definite
residual Protoculture signature here, but the Matrix is gone. And I detect no
other great manufacturing mass, only the lesser animating charges of your
weapons and the reflex furnaces."
Exedore lowered the detector numbly. "The secrets of Zor, gone! This
long war fought for nothing!"
Lang patted Exedore's shoulder commiseratingly. "Perhaps someday we will
find it again; who can say?"
Gloval was shocked to see how quickly the two had become easy in each
other's company. "I think we'd better get back to the hearing room," the
captain said. "We still have a great deal to talk about."
Deep within the sealed fastness of the mighty reflex engines, something
stirred and then was quiet again. It could not be detected by Lang's
relatively primitive instruments, was capable of hiding itself even from the
Zentraedi's scanners at this range.
As Zor had provided, the last Protoculture Matrix was safe, biding its
time, waiting until his great Vision should come to pass.
"It does appear we've made a great mistake," Exedore confessed when they
were all back in their places. "But! You cannot possibly deny the power of the
female's singing!"
"I wouldn't dream of it," Gloval responded simply, drawing a doubtful
look from Colonel Maistroff.
But Bron was on his feet. "He won't deny it because it's true!"
"Minmei's song has incredible power!" Rico added, jumping up too.
Minmei, for her part, gave a shy smile that seemed to have some secret
wisdom behind it.
"This is not the first time the Zentraedi have encountered something
like this," Exedore told them all. "A very long time ago we were exposed to a
culture like yours, and it nearly destroyed us."
"How do you mean that?" Gloval was quick to ask.
Exedore's protruding, pinpoint eyes roamed the room. "To a Zentraedi,
fighting is a way of life. Our entire history is made up of nothing but battle
after glorious battle. However, exposure to an emotionally open society like
yours made our soldiers refuse to fight.
"This, of course, could not be tolerated, and the infection had to be
cleansed. Loyal soldiers and the Robotech Masters themselves came in to
exterminate all those who had been exposed to the source of the contagion."
Page 56
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
The three spies in particular were pale and silent. The rest looked at
one another. Exedore went on. "Dolza, our supreme commander, will do
everything in his power to avoid making the mistake our ancestors did. When
and if he reads my report, he will certainly launch an all-out attack on
Earth, especially in light of the fact that the Protoculture Matrix is no
longer on the SDF-1."
Gloval's eyes shifted to Rick. "That's the same one mentioned in your
report?"
Rick licked his lips. "Yes, sir." Almost five million warships!
Exedore nodded. "I know what you're thinking. But you see, these new
developments-the defections, the Minmei cult, the mating of our greatest
warrior with one of your pilots-change the entire picture."
He looked around at them, the center of their riveted attention. "For,
you see," Exedore said, "unless some solution can be found, we-Breetai's
forces-are in as great a danger from Dolza and the Grand Fleet as you."
Breetai sat in his chair in the command station overlooking his
flagship's bridge.
A projecbeam drew a two-dimensional image of Azonia in the air, the
woman who had replaced him in the war against the humans, failed to bring it
to a successful conclusion, and been replaced in turn by Breetai.
"Commander!" she began. "How long do you intend to allow this situation
to continue?" She was a mediumsize, intense Zentraedi female with a quick mind
and high aspirations. Her short, frizzy hairstyle puffed within the
confinement of her high, rolled collar.
Breetai, arms folded on his great chest, answered in his rumbling,
echoing bass, "Any continuation of hostilities would be unwise in light of
recent events."
She sneered at him. "Well, I expect a different solution when the Grand
Fleet arrives!"
He leapt to his feet. "Grand Fleet? What have you done?"
She gave him a smug smile. "I've reported my findings to the supreme
commander. And his Excellency Dolza has decided to set the fleet into motion."
"So Dolza has decided the Micronians are a threat, has he?"
"He has," she said triumphantly.
Breetai's anger welled up like a volcano, but suddenly he found himself
laughing like a grim god at the end of all worlds. It was the last thing
Azonia expected; she watched him, his head thrown back, roaring, light
flashing off his metallic skullpiece and the crystal eye, and she felt a
sudden sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.
"You imbecile!" he managed when he could talk again. "You know nothing
of history, do you? No, no self-respecting Zentraedi cares! Well, know this,
my scheming friend: We're doomed along with the humans! We have been infected,
and all of us-all-are now considered plague carriers."
"You're certain of this?" Exedore asked quietly, holding the handset
tightly in trembling fist.
The communications patch had been set up hastily, with no chance for the
aliens to encrypt their exchange. Exedore would certainly know that human
techs had monitored whatever Breetai had said. Therefore, the captain bent
forward, certain that he would hear whatever it was at once.
"You know what this means, then," Exedore said. "I understand." He
returned the handset to its cradle and looked at Gloval.
"Captain, you must prepare yourselves to escape this star system. We
will help you."
Gloval's face hardened. "And leave the Earth defenseless?"
"Yes."
Gloval squared his shoulders. "Out of the question! We are sworn to
defend our planet."
Exedore was nodding wearily. "Yes, I understand. We Zentraedi would not
Page 57
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
act any differently. What's more, without your help, escape for us would be
all but hopeless. The Protoculture Matrix was our great hope for success; the
armada's supplies are all but exhausted." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
of the battle fortress took only a few minutes. Very shortly they were in the
engineering section, just forward of the huge reflex engines that were the
ship's power plant.
They were in a large compartment that had once held the ship's spacefold
apparatus. Now there was some leftover machinery from the pin-point barrier
Page 55
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
system that had been the ship's main defensive weapon on its precarious trip
across the solar system. As there had been for years, there were also the
lights.
"When the Zentraedi first attacked Earth, we made our spacefold jump to
get to safety," Lang was explaining. "We had no time to experiment, no time to
test. A jump that was meant to take us beyond our moon's orbit took us instead
to the orbit of Pluto."
"I remember well," Exedore said, scratching his cheek, staring at the
giant, almost-empty compartment.
"You made the jump too close to the planetary surface; we were convinced
that you were suicidal."
"You gave us no choice," Gloval said in a low voice, thinking back to
the appalling devastation and loss of life that day. He did his best to put it
from his mind.
"But in the wake of the jump," Lang went on, "the spacefold apparatus
just...disappeared. Utterly! Simply faded from view and was never seen again.
And in its place were those."
Lang meant the lights: darting, glowing sparks, fireflies and tiny
comets that swarmed and drifted through the space where the spacefold
apparatus had once been. Exedore turned to him. "May I borrow some of those
instruments you've brought, Doctor?"
It took only a little time to prove his suspicions. "Ah, yes: definite
residual Protoculture signature here, but the Matrix is gone. And I detect no
other great manufacturing mass, only the lesser animating charges of your
weapons and the reflex furnaces."
Exedore lowered the detector numbly. "The secrets of Zor, gone! This
long war fought for nothing!"
Lang patted Exedore's shoulder commiseratingly. "Perhaps someday we will
find it again; who can say?"
Gloval was shocked to see how quickly the two had become easy in each
other's company. "I think we'd better get back to the hearing room," the
captain said. "We still have a great deal to talk about."
Deep within the sealed fastness of the mighty reflex engines, something
stirred and then was quiet again. It could not be detected by Lang's
relatively primitive instruments, was capable of hiding itself even from the
Zentraedi's scanners at this range.
As Zor had provided, the last Protoculture Matrix was safe, biding its
time, waiting until his great Vision should come to pass.
"It does appear we've made a great mistake," Exedore confessed when they
were all back in their places. "But! You cannot possibly deny the power of the
female's singing!"
"I wouldn't dream of it," Gloval responded simply, drawing a doubtful
look from Colonel Maistroff.
But Bron was on his feet. "He won't deny it because it's true!"
"Minmei's song has incredible power!" Rico added, jumping up too.
Minmei, for her part, gave a shy smile that seemed to have some secret
wisdom behind it.
"This is not the first time the Zentraedi have encountered something
like this," Exedore told them all. "A very long time ago we were exposed to a
culture like yours, and it nearly destroyed us."
"How do you mean that?" Gloval was quick to ask.
Exedore's protruding, pinpoint eyes roamed the room. "To a Zentraedi,
fighting is a way of life. Our entire history is made up of nothing but battle
after glorious battle. However, exposure to an emotionally open society like
yours made our soldiers refuse to fight.
"This, of course, could not be tolerated, and the infection had to be
cleansed. Loyal soldiers and the Robotech Masters themselves came in to
exterminate all those who had been exposed to the source of the contagion."
Page 56
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
The three spies in particular were pale and silent. The rest looked at
one another. Exedore went on. "Dolza, our supreme commander, will do
everything in his power to avoid making the mistake our ancestors did. When
and if he reads my report, he will certainly launch an all-out attack on
Earth, especially in light of the fact that the Protoculture Matrix is no
longer on the SDF-1."
Gloval's eyes shifted to Rick. "That's the same one mentioned in your
report?"
Rick licked his lips. "Yes, sir." Almost five million warships!
Exedore nodded. "I know what you're thinking. But you see, these new
developments-the defections, the Minmei cult, the mating of our greatest
warrior with one of your pilots-change the entire picture."
He looked around at them, the center of their riveted attention. "For,
you see," Exedore said, "unless some solution can be found, we-Breetai's
forces-are in as great a danger from Dolza and the Grand Fleet as you."
Breetai sat in his chair in the command station overlooking his
flagship's bridge.
A projecbeam drew a two-dimensional image of Azonia in the air, the
woman who had replaced him in the war against the humans, failed to bring it
to a successful conclusion, and been replaced in turn by Breetai.
"Commander!" she began. "How long do you intend to allow this situation
to continue?" She was a mediumsize, intense Zentraedi female with a quick mind
and high aspirations. Her short, frizzy hairstyle puffed within the
confinement of her high, rolled collar.
Breetai, arms folded on his great chest, answered in his rumbling,
echoing bass, "Any continuation of hostilities would be unwise in light of
recent events."
She sneered at him. "Well, I expect a different solution when the Grand
Fleet arrives!"
He leapt to his feet. "Grand Fleet? What have you done?"
She gave him a smug smile. "I've reported my findings to the supreme
commander. And his Excellency Dolza has decided to set the fleet into motion."
"So Dolza has decided the Micronians are a threat, has he?"
"He has," she said triumphantly.
Breetai's anger welled up like a volcano, but suddenly he found himself
laughing like a grim god at the end of all worlds. It was the last thing
Azonia expected; she watched him, his head thrown back, roaring, light
flashing off his metallic skullpiece and the crystal eye, and she felt a
sudden sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach.
"You imbecile!" he managed when he could talk again. "You know nothing
of history, do you? No, no self-respecting Zentraedi cares! Well, know this,
my scheming friend: We're doomed along with the humans! We have been infected,
and all of us-all-are now considered plague carriers."
"You're certain of this?" Exedore asked quietly, holding the handset
tightly in trembling fist.
The communications patch had been set up hastily, with no chance for the
aliens to encrypt their exchange. Exedore would certainly know that human
techs had monitored whatever Breetai had said. Therefore, the captain bent
forward, certain that he would hear whatever it was at once.
"You know what this means, then," Exedore said. "I understand." He
returned the handset to its cradle and looked at Gloval.
"Captain, you must prepare yourselves to escape this star system. We
will help you."
Gloval's face hardened. "And leave the Earth defenseless?"
"Yes."
Gloval squared his shoulders. "Out of the question! We are sworn to
defend our planet."
Exedore was nodding wearily. "Yes, I understand. We Zentraedi would not
Page 57
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
act any differently. What's more, without your help, escape for us would be
all but hopeless. The Protoculture Matrix was our great hope for success; the
armada's supplies are all but exhausted." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]