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incomplete. The displays shut down, and the monitor was suddenly nothing but
static lines and snow. Even audio was getting shaky. Rick heard something
about "Zenny's fast food." He flipped the toggle to automatic fine-tuning.
"Some sort...-ust interference," Lisa was saying. "I'm...-witch...laser
induction. Stand by."
Lisa's face faded and disappeared, replaced by the curvaceous form of
Sally Forester walking the Star Bowl runway in a yellow two-piece.
Well, well, thought Rick, relaxing again, the latest in diversion
technique for the battle-weary fighter pilot. Then Lisa was back on-line for
an instant, instructing him to switch over to channel D-3. He tried that, but
video reception seemed to be locked on the MBS transmissions. Tough luck, Rick
said to himself, rubbing his hands together and grinning. It was Hilary
Rockwell now, looking choice in her blue suit. Rough decision ahead; almost
easier to be up here, Rick thought.
And then Minmei was on stage.
It was certainly one of the oddest feelings Rick had experienced in a
while: Here he was in deep space, and there was Minmei in her teal bathing
suit. As his spirits began to improve, the mecha responded; the Battloid was
practically doing pirouettes in space! But the mood was to be short-lived: The
console displays were flashing wildly, not out of contagious joy but because
heat-seeking missiles had locked onto his tail!
Quickly, Rick commenced evasive action and instructed the stealth
systems to launch ghosts. The rear cameras gave him a glimpse of his deadly
pursuers-a flock of A/As-and sure enough, the scanners had picked up,
registered, and catalogued the enemy vessel. A schematic formed on the port
commo screen, profiles, front and rear views, weapons systems, vulnerable
spots, suggested response. RECON VESSEL: CYCLOPS TYPE.
Rick fired the boosters and put the Battloid through its paces, pushing
it for all it was worth while the heatseekers continued to narrow the gap. So
much for the ghosts. Concerned about their own survival, the warning systems
were shouting out instructions, breaking his concentration. He shut down the
interior audio supply and looked inside himself for the tone. A cold sweat
broke out all over him. He thought the mecha left, right, up, down, and every
which way but loose. The missiles were still with him.
And all the while, Minmei was parading across his three screens. They
were flashing her measurements, for. Pete's sake!
Rick was leading the missiles on a merry chase, but one that was going
to have a most unfortunate ending unless he pulled something out of the
hat-fast! Fratricide was his only hope. Desperately, he willed the Battloid to
turn itself face to face with the heat-seekers and raised the gatling cannon;
locking the targeting coordinator onto the leader of the pack, he fired!
Minmei stood in the wings, trembling. But when her name and contestant
number were announced, all the anxiety seemed to leave her; she threw her
shoulders back, stood straight and tall, and strutted on stage. She knew she
looked good-the teal-colored stretch suit fit her perfectly-and given the
audience reaction to her previous appearances, she figured she at least had a
shot at one of the runner-up positions. If she could only keep it together for
the next few minutes...
Her legs were shaking. She felt very unsteady on the high heels; she
understood the need for them-added height and their pleasing effect on body
posture-but she was unaccustomed to them. Nevertheless, she made it down to
the end of the runway without incident. She had made her turn and was starting
back, when it happened.
In thinking about it later, she would recall that the heel of her left
shoe didn't so much let go as completely disappear as if it had been blown out
from under her. But at the moment all she could think about was the
embarrassment and the agony of defeat. Two pageant officials came to her aid
and helped her up. There was some laughter from the audience, but mostly
concern. And she did her best to alleviate that by demonstrating she was a
Page 52
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trooper: She put on her best smile and hobbled her way back to center stage.
The applause didn't end until long after she reached the wings. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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