"04 - Battlehymn" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinney Jack)

The VT pilots of Skull Team had their own way of dealing with combat deaths: The slain pilot simply never was. Men from Vermilion or Indigo might approach them in Barracks C or belowdecks in the Prometheus and say: "Sorry to hear about Roy," or "Heard that Roy tuned out." And they would look them square in the eye or turn to one of their Skull teammates and ask flatly, "Roy who?" some might think the skull were kidding with them and press the question, but the response remained the same: "Roy who?" Nobody broke the pact, nobody spoke of Roy, then or now. Roy simply never was.
Except in the privacy of their quarters or the no-man's-land of their tortured memories and dreams. Then a man could let loose and wail or rage or throw out the wane questions humankind has been asking since that first murder, the first death at the hands of another, the one that set the pattern for all that followed.
Perhaps that shell game the Skull Team played with death had found its way to the bridge, or maybe it was just that Fokker's death was too painful to discuss-the first one that hit home-but in any case no one brought it up. Claudia and Rick were each separately cocooned in sorrow no one saw fit to disturb. Kim and Sammie talked about how sorry they felt for Claudia, knowing how much she missed Fokker, knowing that underneath that brave front she was torn up. But neither woman ever approached her with those feelings. Even Lisa seemed at a loss. That afternoon she had followed Claudia to the mess hall, hesitant at the door, as if afraid to intrude on her friend's grief...Did it occur to her that Claudia and Rick-the lieutenant at the observation deck rail and Claudia seated not fifteen feet away-might have been able to help each other through it, or was Lisa also one of the speechless walking wounded, wounds in her own heart reopened, wounds that had been on the mend until Fokker's death?
It was Rick she approached that afternoon, the City of Angels spread out below the observation deck like some Robotech circuit board. Rick looked drawn and pale, recuperating but still weak from his own brush with death from wounds he had suffered indirectly at her own hand. But there was no mention of Roy, although it was plain enough to read in his dark eyes the devastation he felt. And the more she listened to him, the deeper she looked into those eyes, the more fearful she became; it was as though all light had left him, as though his words rose from a hollow center, somber and distanced. She wanted to reach out and rescue him from the edge. There was music coming through the PA, a song that had once welcomed both of them back from a shared trip to that edge.
"That's Minmei, isn't it, Rick? Have you two been seeing each other?"
"Sure," he answered flatly. "I watch her on the wall screen, and she sees me in her dreams."
No help in this direction; Lisa apologized.
Rick turned from her and leaned out over the rail.
"She's been spending a lot of time with her cousin Kyle. You know, family comes first."
"Well I'm glad you're all right, Rick. I was worried about you."
That at least brought him around, but there was no change in tone.
"Yeah, I'm feeling great, Lisa. Just great."
She wanted to start from scratch: Listen, Rick, I'm sorry about Roy, if I can be any help to you-
"So I hear we've got a new barrier system," he was saying. "And I guess we need it more than ever, right, I mean, since the Council is refusing to allow the civilians to leave-"
"Rick-"
"-and it isn't likely that the Zentraedi are going to call off their attacks."
She let him get it all out and let silence act as a buffer.
"The Council will rescind their order, Rick. The captain says he'll keep the ship right there until they do."
Rick sneered. "Good. And the sooner it happens, the better. I know we're all anxious to get back into battle."
Rick's eyes burned into hers until she could no longer stand it and looked away. Was he blaming her somehow for Roy's death? Had she suddenly been reduced to some malevolent symbol in his eyes? First Lynn-Kyle and his remarks about the military, and now this...Below she watched the traffic move along the grid of city streets; she looked long and hard at the Sierra foothills, as if to remind herself that she was indeed back on
Earth, back among the living. But even if the Council had a change of heart, even if her father came to his senses and allowed the civilian detainees to disembark, what would become of the SDF-1 and her crew?
Where and when would they find safe haven?


CHAPTER TWO
LAPSTEIN: In light of the, well, "psychological" problems which beset the Zentraedi after the SDF-1's successful return to Earth, isn't there some justification for suggesting that Khyron should have taken over command of the Imperial Fleet?
EXEDORE (Laughs shortly): We would not be having this interview, of this I can assure you.
LAPSTEIN: Of course...But in terms of strategic impact?
EXEDORE: (After a moment) It could be said that Khyron was more aware of the dangers of cultural contagion than many of us, but he was no longer thinking as a strategist. The SDF-1 was not his main concern; that the ship contained a Protoculture matrix was of little importance. He had by now come to believe that by destroying it he would put an end to what he regarded as a psychic threat to his race. I will leave it to your "psychologists" to examine his underlying motives. But I will add this: He was responding in pure Zentraedi fashion-he recognized potential danger and moved to eliminate it. My hope is that this will rescue his image from what many of your writers have termed "humanness. "
Lapstein, Interviews

Khyron was possessed by the Invid Flower of Life; without being aware of it, he was by now working against the Zentraedi imperative.
Rawlins, Zentraedi Triumvirate: Dolza, Breetai, Khyron

Well within striking distance of Earth, two Zentraedi cruisers moved through space, silently, side by side, Gargantuas from an unholy realm. A day would come when the commanders of these ships would stand together at the gates of an even blacker void, released from an artificial past and feverish with exhilaration for a present in the making, hands and hearts linked, an evil pact made good, laughing into the face of death...But today there were harsh words and recriminations, a taste of what was to come for the rest.
Khyron slammed his fist down on the command post console, his right hand pointed accusingly at the projecbeam image of Azonia, her arms folded across her chest, as much in defiance as in defense.
"It can't be!" the so-called Backstabber shouted. "Why are they ordering us to fall back?"
His lowered head and narrowed eyes peering from beneath bangs of sky blue gave him a demonic look.
Azonia now addressed the projecbeam image on the bridge of her cruiser.
"I'm not at liberty to explain, but our orders are clear, Khyron: Until this new operation is terminated, you will do nothing but stand by and wait. Is that clear?"
She tried to sound calm but knew that he would see through it. Khyron glared at her.
"Don't play games with me, Azonia. That ship grows stronger day by day, while we sit and do nothing."
"Khyron-"
"Your meddling in my plans allowed the Micronians to reach their homeworld. But it is not too late to undo the damage you've done. Destroy them now!"
"Enough!" she screamed at the screen. But he paid her little heed. An angry sweep of dismissal with his arm, bared teeth, and he was gone. The projecbeam compressed to a single horizontal line and vanished, but Azonia tried to raise him nevertheless.
"Khyron, come in, Khyron! Come in at once!"
Too late. She leaned forward to steady herself on stiffened arms, palms still flattened against the com buttons. She knew him well enough to fear him, but it wasn't fear that was threatening to overcome her. These were darker feelings, utterly devoid of light, far worse than fear. And suddenly she recognized what it must be: Commander in Chief Dolza had relieved Breetai of his command, had entrusted her with the mission to retrieve Zor's ship, and she had failed him.
Failed him!
Just then Miriya was admitted to the bridge, and Azonia felt a glimmer of hope. If anyone could help her deal with Khyron, it would be Miriya, the Zentraedi's most skilled pilot. But Azonia was soon to learn that Khyron had already undermined these plans also.
"I'm glad that you're here," Azonia said to welcome the female ace. "Commander Khyron is jeopardizing our mission. I'm going to need your help to keep him in line."