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filled with a view of the Earth and its cratered moon. Central to it was a
round table surrounded with comfortable high-backed lounging chairs. The piled
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artifacts the agents had brought back with them made for a most curious
centerpiece.
Breetai reached out and pulled an item loose from the jumble. He
regarded it quizzically, its three-legged form misleadingly heavy in his open
hand.
"The Micronians call that a `piano,' m'lord," Rico explained.
"`Piano,"' Breetai repeated. "What function does it serve?"
Rico instructed him to press down on the keyboard of small white teeth.
Breetai did so, displeased and strangely disturbed with the noise it emitted.
He placed the thing out of reach on the table. Exedore studied it while
Breetai hastily examined several other objects.
"Is it alive? Some sort of Protoculture-animated Robotech device?"
Exedore wondered aloud.
"No," Rico continued. "It makes music. Music is when different sounds
are put together for entertainment. It's really quite interesting when you get
used to it. We came to enjoy it very-"
"Explain `entertainment,'" Breetai demanded.
Rico thought for a moment. "Uhh...diversion, m'lord. This, for example."
He selected a small, monitorlike device from the pile and held it up for
Breetai's scrutiny. "These seem to provide electronic images in much the same
fashion as our own vid-scanners. But several of these can be found in each
Micronian quarters for the purpose of observing and listening to
`entertainment.'"
Exedore made a thoughtful sound. "Undoubtedly the means by which they
familiarize themselves with battle plans and such. Continue," he told Rico.
But all three agents started to talk at once, excitedly, eager to report
their findings. A little too eager; Exedore began to worry.
"One at a time!" Breetai said, silencing them. "Don't force me to repeat
the threats of our last debriefing."
Rico stood up. "What we brought back represents only a small part of the
Micronian society and its customs," he calmly began. "You see, they live a
much different life than we do-"
"They're proficient at making repairs within their ship," Konda
interrupted, on his feet now and gesturing nonstop. "Indeed, they rebuilt an
entire population center on board using only salvaged materials. They adapt
quickly to unfamiliar environments-"
"And," Bron blurted out, unable to contain his enthusiasm, "there are
many Micronians besides soldiers on board the ship. In fact, they join
together many times during the day and move about freely-"
"Males and females are together!" Rico shouted.
Breetai and Exedore, who had been trying to follow these rapid
deliveries like spectators at a high-speed tennis match, suddenly turned to
each other in near panic.
"Males and females together," Rico was repeating to utterances of
affirmation from the others.
"As a matter of fact, it doesn't seem to be as bad as we thought," Konda
started.
"We forced ourselves to adapt to the presence of females all around us
and were unable to discover any negative side effects," Bron finished.
Already Breetai had heard more than enough, but it went on like this for
several more hours before he silenced them again, as confused as he was
nauseated by their reports. If the results of the penetration operation had
demonstrated anything, it was that further contact with the Micronians could
not be permitted. It was obvious that his three agents had been brainwashed by
some Micronian secret weapon, and to make matters worse, Exedore was now
suggesting that he be allowed to investigate Micronian society firsthand!
Dismissed, the three agents later regrouped in secret at Konda's
insistence.
"I kept some Micronian artifacts in my pocket," Konda was confessing to
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his comrades now. "Did you show them everything you had?"
"No, I held out," Bron admitted. Ditto for Rico.
"Let's see what we've got," Konda said, pulling things from the deep
pockets of his red jacket.
Six hands began piling souvenirs on the table, a veritable dollhouse
garage-sale assortment of miniatures: a double-burner stove, a small
refrigerator, a circular end table, several video monitors, a chest of
drawers, a space heater, a commode, a/v discs, CD players, a teddy bear, a set
of golf clubs, a guitar.
Konda said, "I'd rather have these than the cruiser commands we were
promised."
"I brought along two of Minmei's voice reproductions," said Rico,
Minmei's first album edged between his thumb and forefinger.
Bron leaned in to take a look. "How about trading me one of those for
something, eh?"
"What piece do you plan to trade?" said Rico, a profiteer's glint in his
one good eye.
"I've got a Minmei doll..."
"Deal!" Rico answered.
Bron squinted at the album photo of a veiled Minmei.
"You know, the other guys would sure be impressed if they could see this
stuff."
Konda was nodding his head. "Yeah, we could get away with showing just a
select few, don't you think?"
Within an hour there were eleven soldiers gathered around the table in
what had become the agent's clubhouse. Word had spread quickly through the
flagship. There wasn't a soldier aboard who hadn't expressed some interest in
hearing about the peculiarities of Micronian life, and now that there were,
well, artifacts-actual objects to handle, look at, and listen to-Rico, Bron,
and Konda couldn't have kept them away if they tried. Of the eleven uniformed
troops, three were already in dereliction of duty.
The agents passed the artifacts around, pleased to be at center stage to
be sure but sincere in their desire to share their experience and adventures
aboard the Robotech ship with their comrades. Candies were sampled, objects
examined, nuances of Micronian culture explained. But it was soon obvious
which artifact among the lot was the hottest property.
"`To be in love,'" sang the doll as it took tiny steps along the
tabletop, electronically synthesized voice full of pleasant vibrato, arms in
motion, black hair buns like mouse ears.
The soldiers were disturbed, then astounded, but ultimately captivated.
"It looks like a Micronian, but what are those noises?"
One of them, a massive, mop-topped, sanguine-faced brute betraying an
uncharacteristic concern, squatted down, crossed eyes level with the tabletop,
when the doll tipped over and ceased its song.
"Uh, did I hurt it?"
Konda set the doll back on its feet. "No, dummy. You can't hurt it. It's
called a Minmei doll, and that `noise' is called singing."
"You call that a 'Minmei'?" someone said. "It's incredible-I've never
heard anything like it."
"Amazing," said another.
"We should let some of the others hear this."
"Quiet! I can't hear the Minmei when you're talking."
For the remainder of the Zentraedi day, the doll repeated its two-song
repertoire over and over again. More and more soldiers stopped by the
clubhouse; rap codes and secret handshakes were exchanged, and Minmei's name
was being whispered like some password throughout the ships of the Imperial
Fleet.
While the "Minmei" continued to gather a secret following among the
troops of Breetai's armada, the inspiration for that doll was attending a
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party at the plush Hotel Centinel, Macross City's best, only a stone's throw
from the new skyway overpass. The dimensional fortress had left the Earth, and
while most of the city's residents were making the painfully difficult
readjustment to life in space, Macross's who's-who were drowning their sorrows
in tabletop fountains of recently acquired sparkling spring water and vintage
champagne. But this was no sour-grapes affair; it was an all-out bash held in
celebration of the premiere of SDF Pictures' first release, Little White
Dragon, starring Lynn-Minmei an c Lynn-Kyle.
The film's financial backers were there, some of the crew, engineers
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