"02 - Battle Cry" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinney Jack)

Warning lights were flashing on the bridge of the SDF-1. Sensors were picking up energy readings of an extraordinary type. Astrogational and engineering were reporting dangerous fluctuations in the drive systems; it was as if all control had been lost.
Meanwhile, on the skin of the ship, Khyron was taking aim at Rick's Battloid.
The Zentraedi commander felt the pod suddenly surrender itself to a higher power and knew at once what had happened: Breetai was recalling them. On the very brink of victory, and the fool was recalling them! He could do nothing; the nebulizer had even neutralized the weapon system of the pod. This fortunate Micronian pilot would live to fight another day, Khyron said to himself as the Officer's Pod rose involuntarily from the skin of Zor's ship. He could see the Battloid lift its head in some gesture of wonder or amazement and could only guess how the pilot inside was reacting
Rick would recall his feelings later, too stunned at the moment to analyze his reactions.
In the aftermission debriefing room they would all report the same thing: that the pods had suddenly abandoned their attack and lifted off, as though they had been given some sort of recall signal.
While Dr. Lang tried to postulate the cause of the strange readings he had received and Gloval asked himself why the enemy had called off its attack, Lieutenant Hunter had a private session with his two new charges in the mess hall of the Prometheus.
Ben's head was bandaged. On the positive side, it seemed that one of those blasts had finally gotten it through the corporal's thick skull that discretion was the better part of valor. Max, on the other hand, credited with at least nine kills, was basking in self-adulation, wondering only half in jest whether the brass might not end up promoting him from corporal to general overnight.
Still amazed by what he had seen Max accomplish during the battle, Rick found that his respect for his fellow pilot was marred by feelings of jealousy. But he was too exhausted to dwell on it; he had just enough residual energy to carry him to his quarters. He was already thinking about crawling into his bunk and courting sleep.
An hour later he was standing in the doorway to his room, reaching in to hit the light switch. One step inside and his eyes fixed on the bed and the invitation laying there, paste-on red heart seal still unbroken. He groaned: Minmei's birthday present! It was like a bad dream, like being up in your Veritech and suddenly realizing you'd forgotten to ammo up.
Rick started pacing the room, trying to recall the mental list of gift possibilities he'd composed earlier. What was it-shoes, jewelry, clothes? He checked his watch: twenty-two thirty. He knew he didn't stand a chance, but he had to give it a go.
He rode an empty tube into Macross City and ran up and down the streets searching for an open store, cursing EVE with every step, because before these artificial sunrises and sunsets the city had rocked twenty-four hours a day. Now you were lucky if you stumbled on a place that served hamburgers past midnight. Then he spied a robo-vending machine on one corner and called to it; he would swear that the thing turned and looked at him before streaking away. Why did they do this? Rick asked himself as he gave chase. Human and animated robo-vendor ran for several blocks through the late-night deserted streets of Macross, Rick calling out to it, pleading with it, and ultimately cursing it. But the device managed to outrun him.
He caught his breath and began heading in the general direction of Minmei's apartment above the White Dragon. He was going to have to tell her something-anything but the truth: that he'd been too busy doing battle with the enemy to get her a gift. Of course, there was a chance that she was already asleep. Maybe he would just sort of lurk around underneath the balcony of her apartment, see if there were any lights on up there...
As if on cue, though, she came to the window, saw him out there under the streetlight, and threw open the balcony doors, calling to him.
"Rick, I knew you wouldn't forget." She was checking her wristwatch. "Five minutes to go. What did you bring me?"
He started to trip over his words. "Well, look, Minmei, about your present, you see, I was planning...er, that is, what I meant to tell you before..."
She laughed. "Come on, Rick, don't be a jerk. I don't care what you brought me. It's the thought that counts. Now, throw it up here. Come on."
Rick's arms fell to his sides in a gesture of complete helplessness. But his right hand had found the boxed Medal of Valor in his trousers pocket. He pulled it out and regarded it in the streetlight. The brass had given him this to single him out; it said: Listen, you are something special, you've been of extraordinary service to all of us in this war we're waging, wear this and be proud, wear this and be recognized by your fellow comrades.
So why couldn't it say the same thing to her: By giving it to her he was saying that she was really the special one, that his bravery and valor were in her honor, that she was his inspiration, the person he returned to-the reason he returned.
He snapped the lid closed and gave the box an underhand toss toward her outstretched hands. He couldn't see her face well enough to judge her reaction, and for a moment the silence unnerved him. But when she spoke, he was certain there was no insincerity in her voice.
"Rick, I don't know if I can accept this. Really..."
"I want you to have it, Minmei. It-it says what I can't say to you. Please, keep it."
She held the box to her cheek. "It's beautiful, and I love it."
Rick smiled. "Happy birthday."
She blew him a kiss and waved good night.
Rick waited until the lights went out, then walked the quiet streets of Macross City. It was peaceful and pleasant. Dogs barked in the distance and laughter filtered out of open doorways. It was almost like real life.


CHAPTER NINE
There are so many wonderful things going on in my life, it's sometimes hard to believe it can continue like this. But what would the people of Macross City think of me if I announced to them that getting stuck in the fold and landing out here in deep space was one of the greatest things that ever happened to me? Aunt Lena and Uncle Max's restaurant is really happening; even the mayor comes to eat there. I have three complete songs written: "My Boyfriend's a Pilot," "Stagefright," and "To Love." My dance instructor and my voice coach tell me that I'm making excellent progress, and I'm actually even thinking of sending in an application for the Miss Macross pageant. But I know that I could never be accepted! That is just too wild a dream to come true-even for me!...The only rough spot in my life right now is Rick, and I can't figure out what to do about him. I owe him my life, for real; but he wants me to be something I can never be: a loyal girlfriend, maybe someone who would be content to live in his shadow. But I have shadows of my own to cast!
From the diary of Lynn-Minmei

As the mayor of Macross City, Tommy Luan had a lot to deal with. For a long time after the spacefold he harbored a fear that the population was one day going to wake from the collective shock of the experience and he'd have a mass riot on his hands. But that never came about. It was probably an indication of how inured the human race had become to tragedy; ten years of global war had started it, and the arrival of the SDF-1 from deep space, carrying with it evidence of extraterrestrial life forms, had sealed it. But in any case the residents of Macross City were a breed apart from the start.
Tommy Luan had been part of the second wave of newcomers to arrive on Macross Island. The first consisted mainly of scientific and military representatives from the newly formed World Unification Alliance, Dr. Lang and his group, Gloval, Fokker, Colonel Edwards, and others from the supercarrier Kenosha. Then there followed the decision to attempt a construction of the ship- "the Visitor," as it was called-and this brought in the numerous tech teams who were really Macross City's founding fathers. Luan was one of these. His background was construction-immense projects: bridges, skyscrapers, hospitals-no job was too large. But the Global Civil War had put an end to an unprecedented period of growth in the building trades, and like far too many others Luan was on the skids and looking for a job. He applied for a position on the Macross project and was accepted. He received a security clearance and once on the island found himself placed in charge of housing construction for the tech and support groups.
As the SDF-1 began to take shape, so did Macross City. The ongoing project to decipher and apply the principles of Robotechnology became the one to try for; Macross Island became a haven for scientists from every discipline, pacifists and idealists disheartened by continued war fare, Senator Russo's military teams, and the support network that grew up to house, feed, and entertain these various groups.
Tommy Luan built Macross City, no one would have taken issue with that; so when it came time to call Macross City what it was and elect officials, Tommy Luan won hands down. And four years later, when the city had grown to a population of over 100,000, Tommy Luan would still be on top.
And now, months after the fold, here was Tommy Luan still in charge. The fact that the city and, most of its inhabitants had been rescued was miraculous; what had been done to the city since was equally so. For a time it had been like living in a giant's cellar; enormous conduits and pipes overhead, bulkheads for horizons, the eerie sounds of the ship permeating the city. There was room enough for the 50,000 survivors, but a kind of collective claustrophobia prevailed.
Then there was the disaster that befell them during the first modular transformation and the continued attacks on the SDF-1 by their unseen enemy. But Macross City had weathered it all, and the new city was a marvel to behold. Constructed on three levels that ascended to the massive starport dome, the city had everything it had had on Earth-and then some. There were streets (even hills), shopping malls, electric cars and trucks, a monorail, tube and lift systems, several movie theaters, arcades, an amphitheater, even a radio station. The engineers who had come up with Eve-Enhanced Video Emulation-were experimenting with the blue skies, sunrises, and sunsets. And soon the Macross Broadcasting System would be inaugurated.
But there was an important something missing: There was no news.
Except, of course, what they were permitted to broadcast to the population concerning the war. Births and deaths; no crime to speak of; no traffic accidents; no corruption. There was no real life sense to the place; some fear and paranoia, but no real fun or excitement.
Which is precisely why Mayor Tommy Luan had jumped at the idea of running a Miss Macross pageant when Jan Morris's people had approached him.
Jan Morris's people-her agent, her manager, her publicity agent, the whole lot of them along with the noted Hollywood star-had become overnight residents of Macross City since the spacefold. She had been part of a variety show organized in the States and newly arrived on Macross Island to take part in the Launching Day celebration. Now Macross City had the whole show on a permanent basis; in addition to Jan Morris, there was an entire show band, two rock groups, two stand-up comics, and three singers.- The Morris group presented the idea of the beauty pageant with real humanitarian zeal: Macross City needed a little excitement, and what better way to inaugurate the new television station than with a knock-'em-dead show with plenty of beautiful women and production numbers. Macross Island had been gearing up for just such an event, but what Morris's people were proposing was not a beauty pageant in the traditional sense of the term-Jan's people knew better than to put their star up against seventeen-year-olds in a swimsuit competition-but more of a Miss Popularity contest based on each individual's contributions to the spirit and growth of the transplanted city. The way they had it figured, Jan would be crowned with the title at the end of the show and everyone would walk away happy.
The mayor had listened patiently to their plan, all the while formulating some thoughts of his own. It was a terrific idea-Macross City could use the boost, any excuse to gather behind an issue that wasn't war-related-but he saw through their motives: It was true that Jan, like so many others, had done her share to keep up the morale in the city, but as an actress (and only a fair one at that) in a world without movies, what else could she do but play on her past? But now with the SDF-1 through the launch window and the actual final leg of the ship's homeward journey a real possibility, it was time to think about the future of Jan Morris as a marketable property. After all, her audiences on Earth had surely regretted her loss, and just as surely they had moved on by now. So unless Jan Morris could return to Earth singled out by a title like Miss Macross from the other 50,000 returnees, her future as a star would be bleak. She would have missed her personal launch window.
With the right publicity, Jan Morris would certainly be a shoe-in for the title. But Mayor Tommy Luan didn't want to see that happen. Jan Morris was deserving enough, but her image was all wrong; she represented the past, and moreover, she was not really a voluntary resident of the city. No, what Macross City needed was someone whom they could call their own; not just a figurehead but some young woman who would embody the spirit of adventure and survival, of victory and hope.
The Morris group continued to lay out their plans, but unknown to them, the mayor had already chosen the winner. She would be perfect! he told himself. Not only was she of mixed background and ancestry, lovely to look at, personable, and talented, but she was already a minor celebrity in her own right. For two weeks she and her young lieutenant friend had faced an ordeal in the bowels of the ship; it was her family that had reopened the first restaurant in the resurrected city, the White Dragon; and the flyboys all adored her. Yes, she would be perfect, the mayor decided:
Lynn-Minmei, Miss Macross!

Rick was having lunch with Minmei at Variations, a popular eatery on the upper tier of Macross City, when she told him about her entry in the Miss Macross pageant. They had been seeing each other frequently during the past two months. The enemy had pulled back for some reason, and the ship was on a course that would return them to Earth in six months or so. In general, things had been going well, but this was the first definite news Rick heard of the resuscitated contest, and he was speechless; it was hard enough sharing her with half the Robotech Defense Force, and now she was on the brink of becoming the communal property of the entire SDF-1!
"Rick, please don't get like that," she responded to his silence. "The mayor went ahead and entered me without even asking. And besides, you know how much this means to me."
"What are you, his secret weapon or something? I mean, what about us, Minmei? I mean...oh, forget it, I don't know what I mean."