Jack McKinney - Sentinels 03 - Death Dance

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Jack McKinney - Sentinels 3 - Death Dance

CHAPTER ONE

It was as if the Expeditionary mission was fated to strike a truce with someone, and the Regent just

happened to be the only enemy in residence. In another five years the Robotech Masters would arrive in

Earthspace, followed three years later by the Regis and her half of the Invid horde; but in 2026

(Earth-relative) this was still speculation, and for a few brief days there was talk of peace, trust, and other

impossibilities.

Ahmed Rashona, That Pass in the Night: The SDF-3 and the Mission to Tirol

A fleet of Invid warships emerged from their transtemporal journey through hyperspace into the cool

radiance of Fantoma's primary, like so many shells left revealed on a black sand beach by a receding

tide. The mollusklike carriers positioned themselves a respectful distance from the moon they had

captured then lost; only the fleet's mullet-shaped flagship continued its approach, menacing in its sealed

silence.

At the edge of the ringed giant's shadow, Tirol's guardian, the SDF-3, swung round to face off with the

Regent's vessel, the crimson lobes of its main gun brilliantly outlined in starlight.

Aboard the Earth fortress, in the ship's Tactical Information Center, Major General T. R. Edwards

watched as a transport shuttle emerged from the tip of one of the flagship's armored tentacles. Edwards

trusted that the Regent was aboard the small craft, accompanied certainly by a retinue of guards and

scientists. The presence of the Invid fleet made it clear that any acts of aggression or duplicity would spell

mutual annihilation for Invid and Humans alike.

Admiral Forsythe, who commanded the SDF-3's bridge in the wake of Lisa Hayes's departure with the

Sentinels, was now in constant communication with the Invid flagship. It was the Regent who had taken

the initiative in suggesting this extraordinary visit, but Forsythe had insisted that the fortress remain at high

alert status at least until the Regent was aboard. Disillusioned by decades of war and betrayal, and

hardened by the grim realities of recent reversals, it was the Human race that had grown wary of

summits, distrustful of those who would sue for peace.

Scanners and camera remotes monitored the approach of the Regent's shuttlecraft and relayed relevant

data to screens in the fortress's cavernous Tactical Center, where techs and staff officers were keeping a

close watch on the situation. Edwards moved to the railing of the command balcony for an overview of

the room's enormous horizontal situation screen. Studying the positions of the Invid troop carriers in

relation to the SDF-3, it occurred to him how easy it would be to fire at them right now, perhaps take

half of them out along with the Regent himself before the Invid retaliated. And even then there was a

good chance the fortress would survive the return fire, which was bound to be confused. Numerous

though they might be, the Invid seemed to lack any real knowledge of strategy. Edwards was convinced

that their successful strike against the SDF-3 almost six months ago had been the result of surprise and

old-fashioned blind luck. More to the point, he felt that he had an intuitive understanding of this enemy-a

second sense birthed during his brief exposure to the brainlike device his own Ghost Squadron had

captured on Tirol.

Edwards reminded himself of the several good reasons for exercising restraint. Apart from the fact that

the actual size of the Invid fleet remained unknown, there was this Regis being to wonder about; her

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whereabouts and motivations had yet to be determined. Besides, he sensed that the Regent had

something more than peace negotiations in mind. In any case, the data Edwards had furnished the Invid

regarding the Sentinels' ship had already linked the two of them in a separate peace. But Edwards was

willing to play out the charade-even if it amounted to nothing more than an opportunity to appraise his

potential partner.

He dismissed his musings abruptly and returned to the balcony console, where he received an update on

the shuttlecraft's ETA in the fortress docking bay. Then, giving a final moment of attention to the room's

numerous screens and displays, he hurried out, adjusting his alloy faceplate as one would a hat, and

tugging his dress blues into shape.

The docking bay had been transformed into a kind of parade grounds for the occasion, with everyone

present as decked out as they had been at the Hunters' wedding extravaganza. There had been no

advance notice of what, if any, protocols were to be observed, but a brass band was on hand

nonetheless. The impression the Plenipotentiary Council wished to convey was that of a highly-organized

group, strong and decisive, but warlike only as a last resort. The twelve members of the council had a

viewstand all to themselves at the edge of a broad magenta circle, concentric to the shuttle's touchdown

zone. A majority of the council had ruled against the show of force Edwards had pushed for, but as a

concession, he had been allowed to crowd the bay with rank after rank of spit-shined mecha-Battloids,

Logans, Hovertanks, Excalibers, Spartans, and the like.

The shuttle docked while Edwards was making his way to a preassigned place near the council's raised

platform; since he had been the council's spokesperson in arranging the talks, it had been decided that he

represent them now in the introductory proceedings. Edwards had of course both seen and fought against

the enemy's troops, and he had met face-to-face with the scientists Obsim and Tesla; but neither of these

examples had prepared him for his first sight of the Invid Regent, nor had the Royal Hall's communicator

sphere given him any sense of the XT's size. Like the lesser beings of the Invid race, the Regent was

something of an evolutionary pastiche-a greenish slug-headed bipedal creature whose ontogeny and

native habitat was impossible to imagine-but he stood a good twenty feet high and was crowned by an

organic cowl or hood, adorned, so it seemed, with a median ridge of eyeball-like tubercles. Dr. Lang had

talked about self-generated transformations and reshapings that had little to do with evolution as it had

come to be accepted (and expected) on Earth. But all the Protoculture pataphysics in the galaxy couldn't

keep Edwards from gaping.

A dozen armed and armored troopers preceded the Regent down the shuttle ramp (a ribbed saucer

similar in design to the troop carriers), and split into two ranks, genuflecting on either side of what would

be the Regent's carpeted path toward the council platform. Recovered, Edwards stepped forward to

greet the alien in Tiresian, then repeated the words in English. The Invid threw back the folds of his

cerulean robes, revealing four-fingered hands, and glared down at him.

"I learned your language-yesterday," the Regent announced in a voice that carried its own echo. "I find

your concepts most...amusing."

Edwards looked up into the Regent's black eyes and offered a grin. "And rest assured we'll do our best

to keep you amused, Your Highness." He was pleased to see the alien's bulbous snout sensors begin to

pulsate.

Edwards's one-eyed gaze held the Regent's own for an instant, and that was all he needed to realize that

something was wrong-that this being was not the one he had spoken to via the communications sphere.

But he kept this to himself, falling aside theatrically to usher the Regent forward to the council platform.

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The Plenipotentiary members introduced themselves one by one, and after further formalities the Regent

and his retinue were directed to the amphitheater that had been designated for the talks. The Regent's

size had necessitated a specific route, along which Edwards had made certain to place as many varieties

of mecha as he could muster. Each hold the summit principals passed through found combat-ready

Veritechs and Alphas; each corridor turn, another squad of RDF troops or a contingent of towering

Destroids. While aboard, the Regent's every word and step would be monitored by the extensive

security system Edwards had made operational as part of his Code Pyramid project-a system that had

also managed to find its way into the council's public and private chambers, and into many of the

fortress's Robotechnological labs and inner sanctums.

There was a smorgasbord of food and drink awaiting everyone in the amphitheater's antechambers; the

Regent nourished himself on applelike fruits his servants brought forth. Edwards noticed that Lang was

doing his best to attach himself to the Invid leader, but the Regent seemed unimpressed, refusing to

discuss any of the topics the Earth scientist broached. In fact, only Minmei succeeded in getting a rise out

of the Regent. Edwards noted that the Invid could barely take his eyes off the singer after she had

completed her songs, and he retained a slightly spellbound look long after the introductory addresses had

commenced.

Terms for a truce were slated for follow-up discussions, so civilians and members of the press were

permitted to enter the amphitheater itself. Edwards saw to it that Minmei was seated beside him in the

front row, where the Regent could get a good look at the two of them.

The alien's initial remarks put to rest any doubts that may have lingered in Edwards's mind concerning the

ongoing impersonation. The Regent spoke of misunderstandings on both sides, of a desire to bring peace

and order to a section of the galaxy that had known nonstop warfare for centuries. He claimed to

understand now just what had prompted the Human forces to undertake their desperate journey, and he

sympathized with their present plight, hinting that it might be possible to accelerate the timetable for the

Human's return trip to their homeworld-providing, of course, that certain terms could be agreed upon.

"It's a pity there has been so much loss of life," the Invid continued in the same imperious tone, "both in

Tirolspace and during the so-called 'liberation' of Karbarra. But while we may have no cause for further

quarrel with your forces here, it must be understood that no leniency could be expected for those of your

number who chose to join the Sentinels. And despite what you may have been told by the Tiresians,

those worlds-Praxis, Garuda, and the rest-belong to me. The reasons for this are complex and at present

irrelevant to the nature of these negotiations, but again we wish to stress that the Sentinels' cause was a

misguided one from the start. It was inevitable that they fail sooner or later."

A charged silence fell over the auditorium, and Edwards had to restrain himself from laughing. The

Sentinels had not been heard from for four months now. Official word had it that the Farrago was

maintaining radio silence for strategic reasons. Then, recently, there had been open speculation that the

ship had been badly damaged during the battle for Praxis. But Edwards knew better. He felt Minmei's

trembling grasp on his upper arm. Colonel Adams, also seated in the front row, leaned forward to throw

him a knowing look.

"We have only recently lost contact with the Farrago," Professor Lang was saying. "But I'm certain that

once communications are re-established and an accord of some sort is enacted, Admiral Hunter and the

others will abide by its terms and return to Tirol."

The Invid crossed his massive arms. "Yes, I'm sure they would have honored it, Dr. Lang. But I'm afraid

it's too late. Four months ago the Sentinels' ship was destroyed-with all hands aboard."

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A collective gasp rose from the crowd, and Edwards heard Minmei begin to sob. "Rick...Jonathan," she

said, struggling to her feet, only to collapse across Edwards's lap.

Someone nearby screamed. Lang and the rest of the council were standing, their words swallowed up in

the noise of dozens of separate conversations. News personnel and members of the general staff were

rushing from the room. Edwards snapped an order to his aide to summon a doctor. Adams, meanwhile,

was shoving onlookers aside.

Edwards held Minmei protectively. Once again he sought out the Invid's lustrous eyes; and in that glance

a pact was affirmed.

But on Praxis the dead walked-those Sentinels who had escaped the destruction of the Farrago, and,

unknown to them, a deadly host of archaic creatures returned to life in the bowels of the planet's

abandoned Genesis Pits...

"Take a look for yourself," Vince Grant suggested, stepping back from the scanner's monitor screen.

Rick Hunter and Jonathan Wolff leaned in to regard the image centered there: an intact drive module that

had been blown clear of the ship and had fallen into low orbit around Praxis. Vince was reasonably

certain the module's Protoculture-peat engines were undamaged.

"And there's no way to call it down?" Rick asked. "A hundred miles or so and an Alpha could reach the

thing." Normally, one could fly a Veritech to the moon and back, but not one of the Sentinels'

all-but-depleted Alphas was capable of attaining escape velocity.

Vince shook his head, his brown face grim. "We barely have enough power to keep the nets alive."

"Then it might as well be a million miles away," Wolff thought to add.

Vince switched off the screen and the three men sat down to steaming mugs of tea one of the Praxians

had brewed up from some indigenous grass. After four months it had come down to this: the GMU's

stores were nearly empty and foraging had become one of the group's primary activities. And in all those

months they had yet to come up with an explanation for the disappearance of the planet's native

population. What was left of the central city and all the surrounding villages were deserted. But whether

what Bela called "the Praxian Sisterhood" had chosen to leave had not been ascertained.

Puzzling, too, were the tectonic anomalies and quakes that were continuing to plague the planet, as often

as three times a day now. The quakes had convinced the Sentinels' Praxian contingent that

Arla-Non--Bela's "mother" and the leader of the Sisterhood-had struck a deal with the Invid to move the

planet's population to some other world. Rick wasn't sure if he bought the explanation, but it certainly

served a therapeutic need if nothing else.

"Look," Rick said, breaking the silence, "they're probably already searching for us. Lang's not about to

write us off. And even if the mining operation is close to on-schedule, they'll have at least one ship

readied with the capability for a local jump. We just have to hope the Invid have lost interest in this

place."

The horde's absence these months bordered on the conspicuous; and with the quakes and deserted

villages, Cabell had speculated that it was possible the Invid knew something the Sentinels didn't.

Rick's optimism in the face of all this had Vince smiling to himself. Rick would always be a commander

whether he liked it or not. "It's not Lang we're worried about," he said, speaking for himself and Wolff.

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Rick caught his meaning. "Edwards has to answer to the council." There was an edge to his voice he

didn't mean to put there. Lang had warned Rick about Edwards during one of the last links the Farrago

had had with Base Tirol, and it was difficult to keep the memory of that brief deep-space commo from

surfacing.

"Don't underestimate the man's ambitions, Rick," Wolff cautioned. "I'm sure they're going to come

looking, but I'm willing to bet that Edwards will have the council eating out of his hand by then. Maybe

one of us should have-"

"I don't want to go over old ground," Rick cut him off. "The only thing that interests me right now is a way

to reach that drive module."

Grant and Wolff exchanged looks and studied their cups of tea. Rick was right, of course: there was no

use dwelling on the choices they had made, individually and collectively. Wolff liked to think that at least

Vince had Jean by his side and the precious GMU under his feet. But Rick had all but resigned his

commission, and Wolff himself had left his heart behind.

A rumbling sound broke the silence, causing the mugs to skitter across the tabletop. The tremor built in

intensity, rattling the command center's consoles and screens, then subsided, rolling away beneath them

like contained thunder.

No one spoke for a moment. Wolff wore a wary look as he loosened his grip on the edge of the table

and sat back to exhale a whistle. "Course, Praxis could do us in long before the Invid or Edwards."

"Pleasant thought," Vince told him.

Rick gave them both an angry look. "We're going to get to that module if we have to pole-vault there."

Tactical concerns (and personal preference) had kept Vince Grant and Rick somewhat anchored to the

GMU (which had been moved inland from its original seaside landing zone); but the rest of the

substantially reduced Robotech contingent, along with the XT Sentinels, had opted for Praxis's wooded

valleys, the planet's often glorious skies, and rolling hills. Max and Miriya's Skull Squadron had spent

most of the past months reconning remote areas, hoping to come upon some trace of the vanished

Sisterhood; but they had only succeeded in further depleting already critical reserves of Protoculture fuel.

Consequently, the Wolff Pack stuck close to base, Hovertanks shut down. Bela and Gnea and the other

Praxians had voluntarily detailed themselves to serve the group's logistical needs, and were assisted in this

by the bearlike Karbarrans and vulpine Garudans. Cabell had all but isolated himself, disappearing for

long walks from which he would return with samples of native rock or flora. Still a bit uncomfortable with

the Humans and not yet fully accepted by the XTs, the Tiresian was often found in the company of Rem,

Baldan, Teal, and the limbless Haydonites, Veidt and Sarna. Janice, too, had become an unofficial

member of Cabell's eldritch clique, much to Rick and Lisa's puzzlement.

Presently, Cabell and Janice were off together on a long walk; they were on a forested slope about

fifteen miles from the mobile base when the tremor that had shaken the GMU struck. The minor quake

did little more than knock them off balance and loosen some gravel and shale from nearby heights; but it

was the morning's second shakeup and it brought a severe look to Cabell's face.

Janice had thought to take hold of the old man's arm and utter a short panicked sound as the ground

began to tremble. It was a performance worthy of Minmei's best, although Janice could hardly appreciate

it as such-any more than she could fully understand just what had compelled her to seek out Rem and

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Cabell's company in the first place. That this should somehow please Dr. Lang was a thought as baffling

to her as it was discomforting.

"There, there, child," Cabell was saying, patting her hand. "It will be over in a moment."

They recommenced their climb when the tremor passed. Janice disengaged herself and urged Cabell to

go on with what they had been discussing.

"Ah, yes," he said, running a hand over his bald pate, "the trees."

Janice listened like a student eager for A's.

"As you can see, they're nothing like the scrub growth we found on Karbarra-far healthier, much closer

to the unmutated form." He motioned with his hand and went up on tiptoes to touch the spherical

"canopy" of a healthy-looking specimen. The tendrils that encased the solid-looking sphere and rigid

near-translucent trunk seemed to pulse with life. Gingerly, Cabell plucked one of the verdigris-colored

applelike fruits, burnished it against his robe, and began to turn it about in his wrinkled hand.

"Even the fruit they bear is different in color and texture-although still a far cry from the true Opteran

species. Nevertheless, it may tell us something." He took off his rucksack and placed the sample inside.

"Look for the ripest ones," the instructed Janice, as she added a second fruit to the pack.

Cabell was straightening up when a sudden movement further up the slope caught his eye. Janice heard

him start, and turned to follow his narrowed gaze.

"What was it?"

Cabell stroked his beard. "I thought I saw someone up ahead."

"A Praxian?" Janice asked, craning her neck and sharpening her vision.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I would swear it was Burak!"

Later, a stone's throw from the grounded GMU, inside the wooden structure that had been designated

both quarters and cell, Tesla wolfed down the fruits Burak had picked from the sinister orchard Zor's

Flower of Life seedings had spawned on Praxis.

"Yes, yes, different, ummm," the Invid was saying in a voice tinged-with rapture.

The young Perytonian tried to avert his eyes, but in the end couldn't help himself from watching Tesla as

he ingested fruit after fruit. Moist sucking noises filled the cell.

"And you think they may have seen you?" Tesla asked him.

"It is possible-Cabell, in any case."

Tesla scoffed, still munching and handling the fruits as if they were wealth itself. "Cabell is too old to

recognize the nose on his own face. Besides, they know I can't subsist on what you call food."

Burak said nothing. It was true enough: the Invid's food stock had been destroyed with the Farrago, and

the Sentinels had agreed to place Burak in charge of securing alternative nutrient plants. But Cabell, who

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was anything but a doddering old man, and perhaps fearing the very transformations Tesla was beginning

to undergo, had suggested that the Invid's fruit and Flower intake be regulated-this in spite of the fact that

Tesla had to some extent ingratiated himself with the group since their victory on Karbarra. Each evening,

Cabell and Jean Grant would look in on Tesla. Burak had been asked to furnish them with a daily log of

the amounts gathered and ingested; and the devilish-looking Perytonian was complying-inasmuch as he

would file a report. But the report was hardly a reflection of the actual amounts Tesla consumed.

Fortunately, though, the Invid's transformations had been limited to brief periods following his meals,

when neither Cabell nor Jean were present.

"More," Tesla said now, holding out his hands.

Burak regarded the Invid's newly-acquired fifth digit and pulled the basket out of reach. "I think you've

had enough for today." Burak had heard it said that extraordinary powers could be gained from ingesting

the fruits of Haydon's Worlds, but he had never understood that to mean physical transfiguration, and the

Invid's recent changes were beginning to fill him with fear.

Tesla's eyes glowed red as he came to his feet, taller by inches than he had stood on Karbarra. "You

dare to say this to me after all we've been through? You, who sought me out before fate landed us in this

despicable situation? And what of your homeworld and the curse you were so feverish to see

ended-have you given up hope? Would you renounce your destiny?"

Burak took a hesitant step toward the door, the basket clasped to him. "You're changing!" he said,

pointing to Tesla's hands. "They're going to notice it, and what then? They'll cut back on the amounts, put

someone else in charge of you. Then what becomes of your promises-what becomes of Peryton?"

Tesla continued to glare at him a moment more, transmogrifying even as Burak watched. The Invid's skull

rippled and expanded, as though being forced to conform to some novel interior design. Gradually,

however, Tesla reassumed his natural state and collapsed back into his seat, spent, subdued, and

apologetic.

"You're right, Burak. We must take care to keep our partnership a carefully-guarded secret." His black,

ophidian eyes fixed on Burak. "And have no fear for your tortured world. When the time comes for me

to assume my rightful place in these events, I shall reward you for these efforts."

"That's all that I ask," Burak told him.

The two XTs fell silent as a gentle tremor shook the building.

Tesla stared at the floor. "I sense something about this planet," he announced, his sensor organs twitching

as his snout came up. "And I think I am beginning to see just what the Regis was doing here."

CHAPTER TWO

Unfortunately, there are no detailed descriptions of the Genesis Pits, other than Rand's colorful but highly

personalized and impressionistic accounts (specious, as some would add), and the notes Colonel Adams

hastily scribbled to himself while on Optera. And despite a plethora of theories and explanations, the sad

truth is that the mechanism of the Pits remains a complete mystery-except to say that they were devices

utilized by the Regis for purposes of creative evolution. Praxis apparently played host to the largest of

these, and Lang, to name one, has speculated that the Pits not only gave rise to extinct creatures, but

succeeded in regressing the entire planet to a formative stage of destructive vulcanism.

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Zeus Bellow, The Road to Reflex Point

If Burak and Tesla had become the Sentinels' silent partnership, then Jack Baker and Karen Penn were

certainly the group's inseparable pair. But that, each liked to believe, was merely a result of duty

assignments. And even four months on Praxis hadn't provided them with enough time to work through the

competitive trifles that fueled their relationship. They were not only marooned, but marooned together;

and Praxis had become the proverbial town that just wasn't big enough for the two of them. Bela,

Praxis's wasp-waisted local sheriff, was only one of the contributing factors; but Karen nevertheless took

every opportunity to keep Jack as far from Bela as she could, often encouraging the Hovercycle recons

that had become something of Jack's stock-in-trade.

A joyride disguised as a scouting mission had brought Jack and Karen to a series of caves two hours out

from the GMU. Lron and Kami had ridden with them. Four months had given the Sentinels plenty of time

to grieve for those who had gone down with the Farrago; but Karen often wondered just how long it was

going to take for her to grow accustomed to her XT comrades. She wasn't a bit xenophobic-a fact that

had won her a place with the Sentinels to begin with-and in actuality it wasn't so much the strangeness of

Lron or Kami that overwhelmed her, but the similarities. If only Karbarrans didn't so resemble Kodiak

bears, she would tell herself. And if only Kami didn't look like upright versions of the foxes she used to

see near the cabin her father had once owned...She had much less trouble with Baldan and Teal, with

their bodies of living crystal. Or Tesla, for that matter-now there was an alien you could believe in!

But wolves and bears and snail-headed things...Karen was in the midst of wishing that Bela had had a

more alien form-even a more rotund form-when without warning, Jack hissed: "Cut it out!"

The four Sentinels were well into the central cave now, inside a huge vaulted corridor that was as hot as

blazes and reeking of sulphur. Curiosity had drawn them in; but Jack, never one to do things halfway, had

insisted they go "just a little further," and here they were a good half a click along. There were primitive

sketches on the walls of the caverns they had passed through-depictions of hideous spiderlike creatures

Jack claimed were "symbols"-and Karen was in no mood for fun house games or laugh-in-the-dark

surprises.

"Huh?" she said, gulping and finding her voice.

"I said cut it out."

"I know what you said, Jack..."

She threw him an angry look in the darkness, wondering suddenly if she had actually voiced some of her

private musings about Bela. Then all at once something hit her on the top of the head. XTs or not, she

decided, someone was trying to be funny. Karen whirled around, hoping to catch Kami in the act, but he

was way off to her left inspecting a chunk of rock near the cave wall. Lron, too, seemed to be

preoccupied with other things. So, wiping sweat from her face, she turned back to Jack, and said, "Not

funny."

"What?"

She put a hand up to shield her eyes from his miner's light. "Throwing things. I'm not real thrilled about

being in here to start with."

"I didn't throw anything," he started to say, when Lron's gurgling snarl interrupted him.

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"Who hit me?" the Karbarran growled.

Jack felt a tap on his shoulder, swung to it, then instinctively looked up. His light illuminated what looked

like an assemblage of globular-shaped deposits on the cave's ceiling. Suddenly he saw one of the things

move, and realized that it was some sort of free-floating, translucent sphere. Kami switched on the light

strapped above his muzzlemask and shined it on another portion of the ceiling; here were more spheres,

ranging from baseball size to almost four feet in diameter, all bobbing against the rock like helium

balloons.

"What the...?" Jack said, moving his head around, the beam finding more and more globes. "Jeez, the

place is crawling with them."

"Jack!" Kami shouted, training his light on something further along the corridor. Everyone turned in time

to see a medium-sized globe emerge like a bubble from a conelike projection in the cave floor. Jack

rushed ahead, watching the milky thing ascend, and soon found himself perched on the rim of a large

shaft, roughly circular and belching up a lot of heat and noxious fumes. Kami, Lron, and Karen joined

him a moment later, just as another globe was beginning to make its way up and out.

"What a stink," Karen commented.

Warily, Jack reached out to touch the basketball-sized orb. It was hot, but not dangerously so; what

surprised him was the thing's misleading solidity.

"Jack, don't," Karen warned him when he tried to capture it.

But as was so often the case with Jack, the warning came too late: no sooner had he taken hold of the

sphere than it shot toward the ceiling, lifting Jack off the floor. Arms extended over his head, he rode it

up for fifteen feet before letting go and landing on the other side of the cavern in a neat tuck-and-roll that

blew out the miner's light.

"Yeah!" he whooped, as Kami helped him to his feet. It wasn't unlike the spill he had taken six months

ago in Tiresia, but this time he had landed among friends.

Karen hauled off and whacked him in the arm. "Jack, can't you just-"

"That thing took off like a rocket! Almost pulled my arms out of the sockets."

"Yeah, we noticed, Jack," Karen said, miffed.

They were all staring at the ceiling now.

Jack watched the spheres bob against one another. "Almost seems like they're looking for a way out of

here, doesn't it?"

"Yeah, just like we are," Karen and Lron said at the same time.

In the commo chamber of his hivelike domain on Optera, the Invid Regent received a transmission from

the simulagent who was representing him on Tirol. It seemed that the so-called Humans now occupying

the Robotech Masters' ravaged and forlorn moon had put on quite a show-with the kind of pomp and

circumstance the Regent strived to imitate. He was almost sorry he hadn't gone there himself. What with

most of his remaining fleet anchored in Fantomaspace, was there really anything to fear? he asked

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himself. Still, the fact remained that there were too many unanswered questions. What, after all, did the

would-be commander of the Human forces-this Major General Edwards-want? He had been so quick to

come to the Regent's aid in that matter of the Sentinels' ship...But it bothered the Regent that the Human

had yet to ask for anything in return. Did he simply wish to capitalize on the Sentinels' defeat to move

himself higher in the chain of command, or were these machinations part of some larger scheme?

In a certain sense the answer was unimportant, the Regent decided at last-providing he could make use

of that factionalism that divided the Human forces.

He regarded the image in the communications sphere, catching a look in his double's eyes that troubled

him. "Is there news of Tesla?"

"There is," the simulagent said. "It appears the Tesla was aboard the Farrago when our forces destroyed

it."

Tesla, dead, the Regent thought. It touched him in a way he would never have believed possible. But

perhaps it was not true, perhaps there were survivors of that battle? He had yet to hear from the

follow-up forces who had been sent in to resecure the planet. "Who seems to be in charge?" he asked

after a moment.

"As you surmised," the simulagent continued, "there are signs of an ongoing power struggle, principally

between Edwards and a certain Dr. Lang-a scientist who did his best to charm me during the

introductory sessions."

"Is Lang the weaker one, then?"

"No...no, this is not my belief. The scientist in fact seems to have the backing of the Humans' council-an

assembly that functions as a kind of governing body."

The Regent found the idea odd-as he had the puzzling gerontocracy the Robotech Masters had favored.

He couldn't understand how twelve minds could agree on anything, when he and his queen-merely two

minds-had quarreled over every decision.

"Then, you must work on Edwards," the Regent said. "Promise your continued support in his petty

struggle if it comes down to that. Tell him we'll join forces. But just make certain you learn the

whereabouts of their homeworld! and how they came to possess Protoculture. It may be that they know

more than we do about Zor's matrix or the Masters' destination."

"Am I to make no demands of Edwards in return for our support, Your Highness? It hardly seems a wise

move."

The Regent stared at the sphere's image in disbelief. Was this some evil mirror he was looking into now?

"Just what would you have me demand?" he asked, seething under the restraint he kept in his voice.

"The brain, to begin with. Along with their promise to keep out of the sectors we still control."

The Regent made a dismissive motion toward the sphere. "These things are obvious, servant. What else

is on your mind?"

"Minmei," the simulagent said without explanation.

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JackMcKinney-Sentinels3-DeathDanceCopyright1988byJackMcKinneyCHAPTERONEItwasasiftheExpeditionarymissionwasfatedtostrikeatrucewithsomeone,andtheRegentjusthappenedtobetheonlyenemyinresidence.InanotherfiveyearstheRobotechMasterswouldarriveinEarthspace,followedthreeyearslaterbytheRegisandherhalfoftheInv...

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Jack McKinney - Sentinels 03 - Death Dance

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