"13 Sentinels 01 - The Devils Hand" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinney Jack)

Lang and Penn were waiting in the docking bay when the VTs came in. Max missed the days of flattop touchdowns, the cat officers and their impromptu launch dances; but the Daedalus and Prometheus supercarriers were part of the SDF-1 burial mound now, and unnecessary in any case.
"Karen, thank God you're all right!" Max heard Dr. Penn call out as the blue's canopy slid open. "That little escapade nearly gave me a heart attack."
Guilt's his game, Max thought as he climbed out of Skull One.
"Well, if you were scared, imagine how I felt," Karen was telling her father. "I'm still shaking."
Penn waved a forefinger at her. "This proves once and for all you've no business being a test pilot."
"Don't overdo it, Dad." Karen removed her thinking cap, spilling honey-blond hair to her shoulders. She had small delicate features, eyes the color of pre-Columbian jade. "I'm a professional. This stuff comes with the territory."
"I'll say she is," Max chimed in before Penn could get in another word. "That linkup wasn't her fault. Dollars to donuts you'll find some glitch in the guidance computers."
Penn glared at him. "I'm sure you mean well, Commander, but all this is-"
"Meaning well has nothing to do with it. I just don't want to see Ensign Penn's talents go to waste. She impressed me, Dr. Penn-and I'm not easily impressed."
Penn blanched some; he wasn't about to debate Sterling's words. But Karen was still his daughter. "Well, I'm not impressed," he told Karen after Max had walked off. "I have others plans for you."
She flashed him a look he remembered from way back and started to move off, but Dr. Lang put out his hand to stop her.
"Karen, a moment please."
"You gonna chew me out now?"
"Calm down," said Lang. "I'm going to recommend you for assignment to a Veritech team."
"Just a minute, Emil," Penn said, one hand clasped around Karen's upper arm. "Don't you think you're overstepping your authority?" He had already lost his wife, and Karen's joining the RDF had threatened to destroy what had once been a close relationship. Now Lang seemed bent on trying to scuttle what small joy he had left.
Lang pried his friend's fingers open and motioned Karen along. "I'm sorry, Harry, but she's old enough to make up her own mind. You can't hold on to her forever. Besides, if this mission should encounter resistance, we're going to need experienced pilots."
"Resistance," Penn snorted, and began to storm off. But half-a-dozen steps away he swung around. "All the more reason to hold on to her for as long as I can."


CHAPTER FOUR
Evidence points to the existence of a plethora of mystery cults in the years immediately preceding Tirol's so-called Great Transition (i.e., that period in which most of the moon's humanoid population were put to death and the Robotech Masters began their extensive cloning experiments). In fact, some of these cults survived well into the First Period...The labyrinth, apparently, was constructed for ritual use, and the Pyramidal Royal Hall added later as that subterranean cult gave way to one of stellar orientation. Several commentators have felt compelled to bring Minoans, Egyptians, and the Maya into the discussions but aside from certain structural similarities, there was little in common between Tirol and Earth's religions.
History of the Second Robotech War Volume CCXVI, "Tirol"

With the wedding only a day off now, Rick sat in his soon-to-be-vacated quarters aboard the factory satellite contemplating the future. Earth hung in the blackness of the viewport behind the desk. Around him were stacked boxes of personal items he had accumulated over the course of the last four years: photographs, citations-memorabilia dating back to his late father's air circus, the SDF-1 and New Macross before the storm. He came across a snapshot taken by a robocam unit of Minmei standing by the Macross park's fountain; poking out from the top of a shopping bag were two posters of the singing star from those early days: one an RDF enlistment ad, and the second a Miss Macross pinup. On the recent side, Lisa was equally, well represented. But the more Rick pored through these things the more depressed he became. He had no doubts bout his love for Lisa, but what would it mean to abandon all this space and free time he had grown accustomed to? Not that there had been much of either, given mission priorities and such, but the idea of personal time, the options. Rick's hand was actually trembling while he packed. He had begun to wonder whether a drink might help, and was reaching for the bottle he kept around for special occasions, when Vince Grant announced himself at the door and stepped in.
At just a shade under seven feet, Grant was the only man aboard who could come close to filling Breetai's shoes. He had brown skin and close-cropped tight curls, and a long face lent a certain nobility by his broad forehead and chiseled features. His dark eyes were bright and full of expression, and he was a man known to speak his mind, consequence be damned. Technically, he was Rick's adjutant, a commander, but he was also attached to rapid deployment's new all-terrain mobile base, the Ground Military Unit, or GMU. Grant had headed up a crackerjack Excaliber unit in New Macross, but Rick hadn't really gotten to know him until after the death of his sister, Claudia.
"Just wanted to see if you needed help with anything, sir," Vince said, offering a casual salute.
Rick turned a sullen face to the assortment of bags and boxes piled about. "Not unless you're good at juggling."
"What, these?" Vince said uncertainly.
"No, Vince, the past and future."
"Sir."
Rick waved dismissively. "Forget it. What's on your mind, Vince?"
Vince took a breath. "Edwards, sir."
"General Edwards?" Suspicion rose in Rick's eyes, "What about him?
"Would the general have any reason for acting against our best interests, sir? I mean, is there something I'm not privy to that might explain certain...proclivities?"
"`Proclivities'?" said Rick. "Say what's on your mind."
In a rush, Vince said, "It just seems to me that the man has some designs of his own. I'm not saying that it's anything I can put my finger on, but for starters there's his friendship with Leonard and that character Zand. You've been busy, sir, and preoccupied. You're insulated from the scuttlebutt-"
"If you have allegations," Rick broke in, "you'd better be prepared to back them up with some hard facts. Now, do you have any-yes or no?"
Tight-lipped all at once, Vince shook his head. "Only hearsay, sir."
Rick mulled it over after he dismissed Vince. The idea of going halfway across the galaxy with a divided crew was hardly a comforting thought. And in fact there was an underlying feeling of disunity that continued to plague the mission. Lang and Exedore on one side, Edwards and the political machine on the other, with the Southern Cross somewhere in between...Rick tried to put together what he knew of Edwards. Roy Fokker had often spoken of Edwards's self-serving allegiances during the Global Civil War, his later alignment with Admiral Hayes, Lisa's father, and the Grand Cannon project; but then, that was years ago, and a lot of good men had been lured over to the UEDC's side. In the decade since, Edwards had become a force to be reckoned with in Monument City, and a respected officer in the RDF Presently, as leader of the infamous Ghost Squadron, he had what amounted to an unassailable power base.
It was with all this on his mind that Rick went in search of Max and some objective input.
But it was Lisa he found in the Sterlings' quarters.
She was standing behind the dummied gown he wasn't meant to see until tomorrow.
"Isn't this supposed to be bad luck or something?" Rick asked, looking back and forth between Miriya and Lisa.
"Don't go getting superstitious on me, mister." Lisa laughed. "Besides, I'm not in the dress." She stepped out from behind the dressmaker's dummy and saluted stiffly. "Now show some respect."
Rick played along, snapping to and apologizing.
"Impending marriage is no excuse for relaxing discipline."
I'll have to remember that, Rick thought as he approached Lisa and took her by the waist. "Hi," he said softly.
"I beg your pardon, Admiral, but aren't you exceeding your authority?"
Rick pulled her close. "I can't help myself, ma'am. So take away my star, throw me in the brig. But please, not until the honeymoon's over..."
Miriya made a sour face and turned to Max, who had entered unobserved. "Sounds more like a court-martial than a marriage."