"Send out a Cat's-Eye recon unit. Order them to report any anomalies in their findings-any at all."
Lisa turned to her task. Let him be alive, she prayed to herself.
The Cat's-Eye recon scanned the deserted base and radioed its findings to the bridge of the SDF-1: no sign of the enemy, no sign of life of any kind. And yet, inexplicably, data continued to pour into the onboard computers. Somehow one of the Sara Base computers had gone online. Captain Gloval was convinced of this much. Still, wary of a possible enemy trap, he convened a special meeting with colonels Maistroff and Caruthers and high-ranking officials of Macross City to discuss the prospect of setting the
giant space fortress down on the surface of Mars.
There were two reasons for attempting such a landing, as opposed to holding the fortress in low orbit and using cargo ships and drones to ferry up the much needed supplies. The primary reason was that a setdown would enable ground crews to repair damage sustained during four months of space warfare. Most of these repairs could not be effected in deep space or even in low orbit without the constant threat of enemy sneak attacks and the overwhelming logistical problems that extended extravehicular activity would entail. The second advantage, although less clear-cut, was of greater concern to Gloval and Lang than to the Macross City leaders, for whom replenished supplies was reason enough. The fact was that the SDF-1 had never been landed; the closest it had come was more a controlled drop than an actual landing, months ago when the antigravity devices had torn through the hull of the ship and it had fallen back to its docking bay supports on Macross Island. The lower gravity on Mars would allow engineering to stage a dress rehearsal of the landing they would have to perform once the fortress reached Earth.
Recalling that first day of attack, Gloval resisted an urge to dwell on how defenseless he had felt with the ship grounded. There was no assurance that this wouldn't be the case again, but he had to convince himself that the advantages outweighed the risks.
It took two days to bring the SDF-1 down.
Astrogation held her in stationary orbit for what seemed an eternity, and then the fortress was allowed to begin its slow nerve-racking descent to the surface of Mars. Gloval sat at the helm wondering what surprise Lang's half grasp on Robotechnology might result in this time, but to his relief and to the delight of everyone onboard, the SDF-1 was set down without incident. After months in space it was difficult to believe they were down on solid ground once again. It made no difference that this wasn't their homeworld; after all, humankind had once occupied this planet, and that was reason enough to call it home for the moment.
Half of Macross City jammed itself onto the observation deck after the
all-clear was sounded and the ship had docked. At least half that number would have gladly disembarked then and there to begin new lives for themselves; but there would be no liberty for civilians at this port.
Gloval continued to have misgivings-he felt as if he was standing on solid ground with nothing beneath his feet. For this reason he ordered the ship down at a point several kilometers from Sara Base. Destroids were then deployed to secure a supply route, with squadrons of Veritech fighters launched to provide cover. The Cat's-Eye recon plane continued its sweeps over the area, and long-range radar watched the skies. When Gloval was convinced that there was no threat to their position or operation, he ordered that the ship be moved closer to the base, employing the auxiliary lifters and gravity control system, something they wouldn't have been able to do on Earth.
Now the base complex, what remained of it, lay spread out below the ship. From the bridge, the crew could observe the destruction that had been visited upon it, a grim reminder of the days when humankind was at war with itself. It was a forlorn-looking place covered with debris swept in by the continuous Martian winds.
The supply routes secure, Battloids began their patrol, gatling weapons ready. A long line of wheeled and treaded transport vehicles now stretched from the loading bays of the Daedalus and the Prometheus to the heart of Sara.
Lisa was waiting for the right moment; if she didn't act quickly, though, there wouldn't be another chance. Data from the base was still coming in, and Gloval had yet to organize a recon team to investigate the source of the transmissions. Finally she gathered up enough nerve and turned to the captain.
"Requesting your permission to leave the ship, sir, and recon the interior of the base."
The captain regarded her with concern. "But Lisa-"
She interrupted him. "I'd like to check out the source of those signals, sir. There could be survivors here!" Only when she caught the look of
protective paternalism in his eyes did she break down. "Please, sir. It's important to me." She had no idea whether Gloval knew anything about her past; but he knew her as a crewmember, knew when she needed his attention.
Claudia offered an unsolicited assist. "I'll cover her duties here," she told the captain.
Gloval thought it over. Anyone who was within 500 kilometers of the base would have already come running. But there was something so personal in her insistence that he decided to allow her to go.
"But I want you to take two security personnel with you!" he called out as she hurried from the bridge.
Lisa ignored the captain's command; after all, it hadn't been issued as a direct order. She outfitted herself with helmet and environment suit, radio, and laser sidearm and took charge of a small personnel carrier from supply.
Had she been thinking about it, she might have compared her short ride across the Martian wastes to the driving training she'd undergone on the moon years ago, but her thoughts were elsewhere. She had to find Karl and renew their life together or discover for herself that he was dead.
The base had the familiar look and feel of the countless war-torn cities she'd experienced on Earth-not voluntarily abandoned but simply cut down in its prime. All life had been sucked from the place in an instant, and that sort of ending always left ghosts lingering about. She could sense their presence all around her, almost as if they were still confused by what had occurred here and were now demanding an explanation from this stranger who was visiting their resting place. Yes, it was like those ravaged cities but more so: The howling of the winds was louder and angrier, the soil appeared more blood-stained, and there was never a blue sky here.
She used the homing device to direct her to the source of the transmissions received by the SDF-1. They emanated from a large building, central to the complex, that had served as the communications center. She entered this through the blown front hatchway and made her way through
deserted halls to the computer room, the sound of her own breathing heavy in her ears. Everywhere she looked there was evidence of the disaster. The scientists who were stationed here must have had some sort of warning, though, because there were no bodies lying about-how she had feared that!-just general disarray, as if there had been a last-minute effort to collect what they could and leave this place before the sky fell.
At last she reached computer control. She stood motionless in the doorway and peered into the deserted room: chairs tipped over, papers strewn about, a carpet of glass shards from blown monitor screens wall-to-wall. But at the far end of the room there were flashing console lights, greens and reds, and an on-line computer frantically emptying its memory banks across a monitor screen no eyes were meant to read, like an infant left crying in a crib. Lisa walked over to the machine and shut it down. She turned and took another look around the room, puzzling over its emptiness.
So there was no half-starved band of survivors huddled in one sealed room using the computer as shipwrecked sailors would a signal fire. Just a machine that had somehow activated itself.
The way memories did.
Hidden in a deep chasm fifteen kilometers from Sara Base, Khyron and his attack force of 200 Battlepods waited. The Backstabber himself occupied his Officer's Pod, a mecha different from the rest, with lasers protruding like whiskers from its elongated snout and two arms th
at were deadly cannons. He ingested the dried and intoxicating leaves of the Invid Flower while monitoring reports from his squad leaders who were holding at other points along the perimeter.
A Micronian recon ship had already overflown the canyon and failed to detect the presence of his troops. The abandoned base was surrounded, the gravity mines were in place, and the fortress had set down just where he had predicted it would. The foolish Micronians had taken the bait-an on-line computer-and the trap was almost ready to be sprung. Soon he would
capture Zor's ship, for the glory of the Zentraedi! And for the honor of Khyron. It would be a shame if he was forced to take on the fortress himself. He did so want the credit to go to Breetai. If only things weren't going so slowly. The leaves always made him somewhat impatient.
"Gerao, aren't those gravity mines ready yet?" he shouted into his comlink mike.
The Battlepod speaker crackled with static and the monitor erupted into patternless noise bars before Gerao's face appeared on the screen. His droid team was operating at almost three kilometers below the surface. Gerao may have won the collision bet, but it didn't pay to best one's commander. Khyron laughed to himself.
"The energy accumulation is up to seventy percent, my lord. Not much longer."
"Blast it, this waiting is irritating me! Drive those droids harder, Gerao, or I'll leave you buried on this godforsaken world. You have my word on it!"
Gerao's emphatic salute signaled that he understood Khyron's threat completely. He signed off. Khyron began to drum his fingers on the console. Zor's ship, he thought to himself. Why was Commander in Chief Dolza wasting his time with this one when there were countless worlds left to conquer? Since when were the Zentraedi errand boys? If the Robotech Masters were so desperate about getting Zor's Protoculture matrix back, they could go retrieve it themselves. What did Khyron care about Protoculture? It was the Invid Flowers that were important to him...He picked up one of the dried petals and regarded it lovingly: Here was the true power.
As Khyron was placing the petal in his mouth, the face of one of his troops surfaced on the Officer's Pod commo screen.
"We've waited long enough, Commander," the soldier said. "I'm going in now. Any longer and we will jeopardize our mission."
To Khyron's amazement, the soldier's Battlepod fired its thrusters and began to lift off from the chasm floor. Was he seeing things or had this fool actually decided to use his own initiative? Khyron was as fond of insolence
as anyone, but this was pushing things too far. He allowed the pod to climb almost to the rim of the chasm before bringing up one of the cannon arms of his mecha and firing. The Battlepod took a direct hit, turned end over end, and plummeted and crashed on the chasm floor.
The pilots of two other pods hopped their crafts over to their fallen comrade and checked his status.
"He's still alive, my lord."
"So much the worse for him, then," yelled Khyron. "If I can wait here patiently, so can the rest of you. The next one who disobeys my orders will meet a worse fate. I promise you that!"
Khyron was imagining his underlings stiffening into postures of salute inside the pods when the voice of Gerao entered the headset.
"My lord, I fear that use of the cannon may have compromised our position. The Micronian recon plane is circling back in this direction."
"The recon plane! Gerao, are you ready with the mines?" "Just ten percent more to go."
Khyron slapped his hands down on the pod console. "Ninety percent will have to be good enough. You have my permission to attack!"
Claudia was worried: There had been no word from Lisa for almost an hour now. The incoming data from the base had terminated, but the seismic sensors were picking up something new. Captain Gloval and Vanessa were trying to make sense of the readings.
"Nearby in the mountains, I think-a disturbance or explosion," said Vanessa.
"A landslide, perhaps."
"No, there's too much sonic attached to it. It must have been an explosion."
Gloval turned to Claudia. "Instruct the Cat's-Eye to make another pass over the eleven o'clock zone at the fifteen-kilometer perimeter. And see to it that recon readings are patched into the main screen here."
Claudia contacted the Cat's-Eye, and within minutes new data was
filling the screen: The sensors indicated hundreds of individual mecha units moving in from the cavernous mountains that surrounded Sara Base.
"Battlepods!" said Gloval. He ordered Claudia to sound general quarters. "Recall all transport vehicles immediately and scramble the Veritech fighters! They won't catch us napping this time!" Gloval paced the bridge, then threw himself into the command chair. "Activate the gravity control system and prepare the ship for takeoff."
Claudia swung around from her terminal. "But Captain, Lisa's still out there. She'll never make it back in time."
Gloval waved his hand in a gesture of dismissal. "I told her I didn't want her to enter that base. Now she'll have to come up in one of the VTs."
Claudia hid a look of concern from Gloval and carried out her orders. But something was wrong: The ship wasn't lifting off. The gravity control system wasn't damaged, there were correct readings on all the sensors, but the SDF-1 would not rise. It bellowed and shuddered like some captured beast.
"Captain," Vanessa managed to shout above the noise, "the seismic sensor indicates an intense gravity field underlying the base!"
Gloval leaped from his seat to study the threat board.
"Gravity mines! So this is what the enemy has in mind-they mean to pin us down like a trapped insect. Shut down all engines before she comes apart at the seams!"
"Battlepods!" said Claudia.
Gloval and the bridge crew turned to face the front bays: The Martian sky was filled with enemy mecha.
CHAPTER SIX
It's become my routine these past two months to wander over to the observation dome and spend hours at the scope watching our beautiful blue and white world transit the Martian night. How bright, how incredibly alive and tranquil, Earth appears from afar! And how misleading that impression is...I often think about our last night together. It was more difficult for me to leave you than to leave our planet, the global madness, the small minds at work who have robbed us of our dreams. But I don't want to get started on all this again; I want to talk about this place, and how happy I know you will be here. The stars seem close enough to touch, our distant sun no less warm, and even these incessant winds do not disturb...Base Sara is a new experiment in peace, a new experiment in the future...
Karl Riber, Collected Letters
The battlepods and carapace fighters of the Botoru Seventh left the cover of the mountain chasms and descended on Sara Base. Khyron led the assault, screaming into his communicator, "Kill them, kill them all!"
The Robotech forces threw everything they had into the Martian sky. Battloids and Spartan defenders took up positions on the base, while squadrons of Veritechs went up to meet the enemy one on one. The main batteries and CIWS Phalanx guns of the grounded space fortress rotated into position and filled the thin air with orange tracers, armor-piercing discarding sabot rounds, and deadly thunder.
In an attempt to cut off the supply line to the SDF-1, Khyron and his forces went after the transports first. The pods fell from the Martian sky unleashing a torrent of energy bolts and missiles. The all-terrain trucks bounded off the gravel highway to evade fire, but scarcely a dozen made it to the fortress intact. Explosions tossed the vehicles off the ground like toys, and soon there was only a pathway of fire where the vehicles had once traveled.
The Destroids were next on Khyron's list; then he turned his attention to the Battleloids and Guardians.
The Battloids of the Skull Team were positioned along the SDF-1's defensive perimeter when they received launch orders. Roy and Rick transformed their mecha to Guardian mode and lifted off from blasting carpets to engage the enemy.
Rick retracted the legs and threw the fighter into a long vertical
climb, exchanging fire with three pods on the way up. The three gave chase while he banked at the crest of his ascent and dropped off into a fusillade fall, weapons blazing as he came back down on them. Heatseekers ripped from his mecha, scoring hits against two pods.
Rick and the remaining enemy raced above the rough terrain, trading shots. At the foot of the mountains they split apart, only to encounter each other at the craggy summits. It was a game of aerial chicken, pod and fighter on a collision course, Zentraedi and Terran pilots emptying their guns.
Rick yo-yoed and took the fight deeper into the mountains. The enemy pursued him, launching rockets which Rick's mecha successfully evaded with breaks and jinks and high barrel rolls.
Skull twenty-three banked sharply now and fell away into a narrow valley, luring its opponent toward a forest of wind-eroded rock spires. Rick used two of his rockets to blast an opening for himself and dove in. The pod stayed with him but was having trouble negotiating the forest's tight groupings of columns. Too late, the enemy pilot attempted to pull out; one of the pod's clawlike legs snagged on a spire, and the pod suddenly became a highspeed pinball, careening from tower to tower. Flames and debris from the resounding explosion tore past Rick's mecha as he climbed from the canyon.
This was more like it, he told himself, rejoining his battle group on the Martian plain. Sky above, ground below. Sound and light, explosions of finality. No clouds for cover, but it seemed as though you could see forever through the thin air.
Just then Roy's face appeared on the left screen of his cockpit.
"What d' ya think, Little Brother? It's a little like the old days, isn't it?" "The 'old' days, yeah, four months ago!"
Roy laughed. "Let's get 'em, tiger!"
Rick watched his friend's fighter face down two of the pods and dispatch both of them. He quickly scanned the busy sky: If each Veritech could take out two pods, the enemy would only have them outnumbered four to one.
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