[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
At Southern Cross Command Headquarters, Emerson was in the eye of the
storm.
"Sir, the alien's moving into a lower orbit," a tech reported.
"General, why are we waiting?" Green demanded. "With all due respect,
sir, you must give the order to attack. Immediately!"
Emerson shook his head slowly, watching the displays. "It is imperative
that we find out who they are and why they're here. We cannot fire first."
Green gritted his teeth. His hope that Supreme Commander Leonard or some
other top brass would overrule Emerson had not come to pass. "But they killed
our people, sir!"
Emerson turned to him. "I'm aware of that. But what proof do we have
that Luna didn't bring the attack on itself by firing first? Do you want to
start a war that nobody wants?"
Green swallowed his angry retort. He was old enough to remember the
Page 27
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Zentraedis' first appearance and their disastrous onslaught.
So was Emerson; the general had seen enough war to dread starting one.
At the missile base the commo op looked to Captain Komodo. "Sir, the
enemy spacecraft is descending from orbit-thirteen thousand miles and
descending rapidly."
Komodo stood with teeth clenched, jaw muscles jumping. "Are you sure
your equipment's working, Sparks? That there's been no command to open fire?"
"Affirmative, sir."
Komodo's fists shook. If those cowards at headquarters would just work
up the guts to give me the green light, I'd blow those aliens out of the sky!
With the Earth an ocean-blue and cloud-white gem beneath it, the
Robotech Masters' ship suddenly launched three sand-red objects shaped like
pint whiskey bottles. Their thrusters howled, and they dove for the planet
below.
"Captain, landing craft of some kind have left the mother ship and begun
entry maneuvers."
Komodo looked over the fire-control tech's shoulder. "Got 'em on radar
yet?"
"That's affirm, sir."
Komodo clapped a hand to the man's shoulder. "Good! I want A and B
batteries to take out the mother ship. first; it won't be launching any more
sneak attacks. Charlie and Delta batts will target the attack craft."
The tech was looking at him wide-eyed. "What's wrong? I gave you a
fire-mission!" Komodo shouted.
"But sir! HQ gave specific orders that-"
Komodo caught the hapless youngster up by his torso harness and flung
him aside. "You idiot! You want to wait until they blow the whole planet
away?" His fingers flew over the control console; in moments the ground
trembled.
The huge, gleaming pylons-Skylord missiles-rose up in fountains of flame
and smoke, shaking the base and the surrounding countryside.
The Robotech Masters proved themselves not to be infallible or
invincible; though they vaporized two Skylords with charged particle beams,
the other two got through, making brilliant flashes against the huge mother
ship.
On Earth, Emerson and the others in the command center looked at their
screens in astonishment. "Confirmed Southern Cross missile launch, sir,"
someone said. "Heavy damage thought to have been suffered by the enemy ship;
sensors indicate they're floating dead in space."
Emerson turned on his subordinates with white-hot anger. "Who launched
those birds?" There was confusion among them and, Emerson knew, no time to
waste placing blame.
Now we're committed. "Open fire! Hit 'em with everything we can throw.
Inform Supreme Commander Leonard and tell Civil Defense to get on the stick!"
"War," said Colonel Fredericks, savoring the word and the idea. "Just my
luck to be stuck here guarding a bunch of underaged eightballs."
"Yes, sir," Nova answered. She wasn't quite as eager to kill or be
killed as her superior, but knew that it would be wise to hide the fact.
"Still, little Dana should see some action," Fredericks frowned,
slapping his desktop with his swagger stick. "Probably do her good, too."
He rose from his chair. "Well, let's see what we can do to guarantee
that, eh?"
The Skylords were all away; Captain Komodo stared in fury as the screens
showed him how, one after another, they were blown to harmless mist by the
energy weapons of the descending enemy. Not surprisingly, the alien assault
Page 28
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
craft were homing in on the source of the missiles that had damaged their
mother ship.
"Fire!" Komodo bellowed, and rack after rack of APC-mounted Swordfish
missiles boiled away into the air, leaving corkscrewing white trails.
Tremendously powerful pulsed beams from the assault ships blasted them out of
the sky in twos and threes, while the aliens closed in on the base.
Komodo gulped and watched the bottle-shaped vessels come into visual
range. He looked around him for a rifle or a rocket launcher; he had no
intention of running and he had no intention of going down without a fight.
High above, access ports opened and enemy mecha swarmed out. Led by a
red Bioroid like a crimson vision of death, the Masters' warriors dove their
Hovercraft and sought targets, firing and firing.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hwup! Tup! Thrup! Fo'!
Alpha! Tact'l! Armored! Corps!
For-git Jody! For-git Dotty!
Ay-tacks OWNS yo' student body!
Cadence chant popular among ATAC drill instructors
In the ready-room of the 15th squad, ATAC, Trooper Winston was sitting with
chin on palm and gazing at his squadmates sourly. "Finally, the balloon goes
up-and we're stuck here!"
Next to him, Coslow, arms folded on his chest, nodded. "Why's it always
our turn in the barrel?"
Angelo Dante nodded. "All this terrific talent being wasted just 'cause
both of our officers happen to be doing bad time."
They weren't even suited up in armor. Express orders from Higher Up said
that no Hovertank outfit would be allowed into a combat situation without a
commissioned officer-preferably an Academy-trained one-in command.
Bowie, pacing, crossed to Angelo. "Why don't they just let you take
over, Sergeant?"
Angelo sighed philosophically and shook his head. "I'd love it, kid, but
there's just no way, know what I mean?"
Any Hovertanker knew the drills and could act independently on a combat
mission-could even take over command if it came to that-but the Hovertanks had
to be able to do more. The knowhow to integrate with other types of mecha,
with TASC units like the Black Lions and so forth; to interpret complex
tactical scenarios; to understand the various commo computer languages; to
see, in short, the Hovertank's mission in terms of an entire Southern Cross
opplan, and to work to the maximum benefit of that overall plan was something
that took years of study-study Angelo hadn't received.
Angelo raised his shoulders, dropped them. "This isn't one of Dana's
drills. There's gonna be lives on the line this time, Bowie."
Not to mention one of the first fully operational Hovertank outfits in
the Southern Cross, a huge investment of time and treasure and technology. The
UEGs newest combat arm must serve well and protect the people who had paid its
price tag.
Louie Nichols was polishing his sidearm again. Word had it that he had
figured out an unauthorized modification that would triple the power of its
pulses; people edged away from him when he played with the handgun, not
wanting to be at ground zero in case Louie overlooked some potential glitch.
"No offense, Angelo," Louie said, "but I'm a little too busy to die
right now."
"Anyhow, thanks for the vote of confidence, Bowie," Angelo finished.
Just then the door to the ready-room parted and there stood Dana, in
full spit-shined combat armor lacquered white, black, and scarlet, her helmet
in the crook of her left arm. The armor, all ultratech alloy, somehow had the
look of an earlier day to it-a flaring at the hips and shoulders that
Page 29
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
suggested both jousting panoply and whalebone corsetry.
"Fall in!"
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]