"03 - Homecoming" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinney Jack)

"I'm glad you understand."
The door slid open again, and she turned and left. Gloval, looking back to the debriefing team, saw that the fact that he'd chosen to tell Lisa what he did, where he did, wasn't lost on them.

"I'd rather face the aliens again than that bunch of brass," Max Sterling told Rick as they walked down the passageway. They were walking side by side, with Ben behind. They could hear Lisa's quick footsteps as she fell in at the rear.
"Gloval wasn't so bad, and that Major Aldershot," Ben said.
"They're only doing their job," Rick maintained. "I'd feel the same way in their place."
"Sure you would," Lisa put it, a little surprised that Rick Hunter had been so transformed from a headstrong discipline problem to a trained military man who understood why and how the service functioned. "And they'd feel exactly the same way we do in ours."
"That's right; why not look on the bright side," Ben said. Rick looked back to Ben but found himself making eye contact with Lisa. He looked ahead again quickly, in turmoil, not sure what he felt.
"After all, all of us were promoted, weren't we?" Ben went on, noticing nothing, very jolly. "And we're going home to a big hero's welcome! So why not relax and enjoy the rest and recreation Captain Gloval gave us?" He clapped Rick on the shoulder, staggering him.
Rick looked back at him sourly. "You could probably relax in the dentist's chair, Ben."

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Konda asked nervously, watching the elevator's floor-indicator lights count down toward One.
"We're headed for the area of greatest activity in this battle fortress," Rico said confidently. "Surely the most important concentration of military secrets will be there."
"I still think we should be trying to reach the bridge," Bron grumbled.
The elevator stopped, and the doors parted. A brilliant ray of light broke on them. The three spies stood rooted, making astounded, strangled sounds.
Before them was Macross City in all its glory. The streets were jammed with traffic; the sidewalks were crowded with busy, hurrying people. Streetlights and signs and headlights shone, as did the starlight projected by the Enhanced Video Emulation system. Display windows were filled with clothing and appliances, books, furniture, and an astonishing variety of other goods.
Rico gulped and found his voice. "There's so much to spy on! Where should we start?"
Konda drew a deep breath. "Perhaps we should just mingle with the Micronians and observe their habits."
They gathered their courage and stepped out. Humans were everywhere, alone and in pairs and bigger groups, all going every which way. Some were in military uniforms, but in general everybody was dressed differently. Reassured that he and his companions wouldn't be noticed, Bron pulled up his knee socks and smoothed the pleats in his skirt.
It took all their self-control not to shout upon seeing male and female Micronians mingling freely. No officers or overseers were in immediate evidence, although it was just as plain as could be to the Zentraedi that such hivelike activity would be totally impossible without some strong central control. Still, there were humans who strode along purposefully while others stood idly conversing and still others browsed along, glancing through the gleaming store windows.
And nobody, nobody, was in step with anybody else.
They started off, observing carefully. Bron said, "Well, I think there's a good chance we're going to be observing them for a very long time before we figure them out."
They came to a window-shopper, a young man staring longingly at a display in a music store, eyes fixed on a red crystal electric guitar that had three necks and a set of speakers bigger than public comcircuit booths.
"What d' you suppose he's doing?" Bron whispered.
Rico considered, then smiled in sudden realization. "Taking inventory!"
Bron and Konda murmured, "Ahh!" and nodded knowingly.


CHAPTER FOUR
Due to an OVERWHELMING NUMBER OF APPLICATIONS, processing and mailing of membership packets for the MINMEI FAN CLUB is running several weeks behind.
MINMEI hopes that all her LOYAL FANS will understand this and wants you to know that she LOVES EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU!!!
Macross City newspaper, magazine, and broadcast ad

The trio of micronized zentraedi came to an intersection. Before them, crosswalk signals blazed and traffic lights changed colors. The movement of vehicles and people was orchestrated somehow, but the logic behind it was difficult to grasp. Everything was so disorderly, so unmilitary.
And all around them was the barrage of lighted signs and flashing neon of Macross City's "downtown." They could read the signs-at least when the logos and print styles weren't too fanciful-but couldn't make any sense of them. And there was so little uniformity! Surely, they thought, these Micronians must be mad.
And none of the three dared admit to the others how oddly appealing he found it all.
Rico threw his hands in the air. "What military purpose could all those indicators possibly serve?"
Konda glanced around at lovers strolling with arms about each other's waists, at parents leading their children by the hand, at old people enjoying coffee at an outdoor cafe. It was just as horrible as the intelligence reports had indicated. "You can be sure some kind of sinister force is at work here."
He started off, the other two falling in with him. "There's something strange at the root of all this, something that makes these creatures so completely unlike us. But I haven't been able to put my finger on it."
"I noticed it, too!" Rico said excitedly. "Like something's out of balance-something weird that affects all of them."
They heard laughter and shouting coming their way, and the hiss of small wheels against the sidewalk. Bron pointed. " Warriors!"
A young male and a young female sped with easy, athletic grace along the sidewalk on small wheeled contrivances barely big enough to stand on.
Their hair streamed behind them, and they whooped and laughed, tilting and swaying to steer. From their merry demeanor, the spies could see that the young Micronians enjoyed their drill and the prospect of combat.
"Gangwaaaay!" called the boy.
"Yahooooo!" sang the girl.
Trying to hide his dismay at their bloodthirsty war cries, Bron dodged, then faked the other way. The skateboarders, unaware that they were part of an interspecies skirmish, effortlessly avoided him. Bron mistook their evasive maneuvers for an attack, reversed field too quickly in the unfamiliar low-heeled pumps, and ended up on his backside.
Konda and Rico hurried to kneel at either side. "Bron, are you wounded?"
"No, Konda, but I think they suspect something."
The spies looked around apprehensively. Passersby were gazing at them curiously, sometimes murmuring to one another but not stopping or making agressive moves.
"Perhaps that was only a probing attack," Rico speculated. His voice betrayed an unusual lack of self-confidence. If the Micronians were playing such a sadistic cat-and-mouse game, they must be masters of psychological warfare.