[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

(with particular emphasis on the Hovertank squads) still hold the best promise
of positive results.
Monument City didn't feel much like a combat zone even though all Earth was a
combat zone now, Dana reflected as she led the 15th into the middle of the
downtown area on Hovercycles.
Traffic was fairly heavy and the shops, arcades, nightspots, and
theaters were all brightly lit. Streetlights, traffic signals, neon signs, and
even park fountains were illuminated. Why not? she thought. Blackout measures
Page 69
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
are useless for hiding targets from the Robotech Masters.
And keeping people pent up inside didn't do any good, either; there had
been plenty of shelters in Sector Three, or so the scuttlebutt ran, and it
hadn't helped them at all. The only thing Civil Defense restrictions would do
right now was cause panic.
And panic was what the 15th was there to prevent. They were on duty, but
unarmed, looking more like they were out on an evening pass. The UEG had tried
to suppress rumors of the atrocities in Sector Three, but there had been the
inevitable leaks. Like a lot of other Southern Cross soldiers circulating
through population centers this night, the ATACs were on the lookout for any
crazy inclined to jump up on a street corner soap box and proclaim Judgment
Day.
Well, it sure beats a twenty-mile hike with full field pack, Sean
Phillips decided, removing his goggles and readjusting his torso harness as
the 15th parked their cycles side by side at the curb of a busy street. People
were wandering by arm in arm, or window-shopping, taking in the sights. And
there were women galore. "Well, men, this is going to be a true test of your
character," he said, and got sly laughs from some of the guys.
"Ahem," said Dana, rising to face them. "All right, we start our patrols
from here." She eyed them severely, then winked. "And don't do anything I
wouldn't do, hmm?"
"Yes, ma'am," Sean said with a grin.
"Okay, I'll patrol the discos," somebody volunteered.
"And I'll start with that bar over there," another added with a goofy
laugh.
"Yeah, you'll end with it, too," the first countered.
In another moment they were all splitting up to check out the area, all
except Angelo, who gave a disgusted grunt. Duty was duty and playtime was
playtime and the two shouldn't mix!
"Angie, why do I have the feeling you'd rather stay here and guard the
horses?" Dana asked sweetly.
He crossed his arms and put his feet up on his handlebars. "Because
you're a mind-reader, I guess."
That gave her a start, and she saw Zor's face again.
Maybe I am. But she recovered and told her troops, "Right, move out."
Which they did with a will, whopping and laughing. "Idiots," Angelo
snorted.
Is every attractive female in this town grafted to some civilian's arm?
Sean thought as he made his way along. Then he saw her standing by a boutique
window, looking at a coat. She was small and shapely, with auburn hair to her
waist and yellow slacks that did nice things for her figure.
Sean squared his uniform as he went over. Lady, this is your lucky
night! "You seem to like that coat a lot," he said. "I admire your taste."
Actually, he scarcely glanced at it.
She turned in surprise. "What?" She looked him over and broke into a
dimpled smile. "Will you buy it for me, hmm?"
This was more like it. The coat was nice, he guessed; all scarlet
embroidery and white fur trim. "Well, now, I just might be persuaded-uh!" As
he read the price tag and recalled that he was now a deuce private, he went
pale. Gah! That's more than I make in a year!
"On second thought, red's not your color," he improvised. "Listen, why
don't you and me go someplace and get ourselves a drink, yes?" He winked.
She made a wry face and removed the hand he'd settled lightly on her
shoulder. "Thanks anyway. Maybe some other time." She said it walking.
"Sure, anytime you say!" he called after. Maybe I sounded too insincere?
Well, it's her loss.
Two blocks away, Dana was looking into another boutique window,
considering a nice little evening frock that looked just about right for her.
Page 70
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
A hand fell on her shoulder and she pivoted, ready to show some masher what
Hovertank officers learned in hand-to-hand.
But she was facing a smug-looking Angelo Dante. "Time to spit on the
fire and call in the hounds," he said. "We just got a general recall to base.
Something big is up."
The 15th was back on standby alert, manning their Hovertanks and
waiting. This show was reserved for the TASCs and the Cosmic Units.
Fokker Base had been rebuilt hastily. Barely twenty-four hours after the
raid on Sector Three, the light of morning showed a half-dozen shuttles at the
vertical and ready to launch. Final preparations were under way, and people
were running for bunkers and observation posts.
The shuttles launched, the first battle wing of the planned strike. On
the other side of the base, the Black Lions and the other Veritech outfits
waited, the second battle wing. When the shuttles were away and clear, the VTs
got the green light. With Maria Crystal leading, the fighters thundered down
the runway to even the score with the Robotech Masters.
Leonard came into the command center to find Emerson bent over the
illuminated displays. Leonard had regained his composure, especially in light
of the fact that Emerson was his most capable subordinate. To put it more
truthfully, over the years Leonard had garnered credit for many things that
had been Emerson's accomplishments.
Leonard dropped a thick hand on the flared shoulderboard of Emerson's
torso harness. "Believe me, Rolf, this is the only way."
Emerson studied him for a long time before replying, "I hope to God
you're right."
The VTs went in first, loosing swarms of missiles at the enemy flagship,
their sole objective. But the missiles were no sooner away than globes of
light boiled out of the flagship, like enormous will-o'-the-wisps, bursting
into hexagonal webs of pulsating light like gigantic snowflakes.
The snowflakes moved and drifted into position, intersecting the
missiles' paths, and the Earthly ordnance detonated harmlessly against them.
The other mother ships were silent and dark but for running lights, waiting.
Still more of the energy snowflakes came forth, until a net of them
protected the flagship. The VTs swept around for another try, and this time
beams from the chandelierbulb cannon crackled across empty space. More than
forty fighters were lost in the first ninety seconds of the massed attack on
the flagship. Still the VTs swung around for another go, hoping against hope
to get in under the hexagons and deliver a blow.
But they were flying straight into a murder machine.
"Attack groups two and eight have disengaged from the enemy," the flat,
synthesized voice of the intel computer echoed in the command center. "Groups
three, four, and seven report heavy losses. Other groups fail to respond to
transmissions and are believed to have been totally destroyed."
Leonard turned to Emerson angrily but also, people in the command center
could see, with a tremble of fear. "How can this be happening to us?"
Emerson chose to ignore him, except to observe, "So far we haven't even
put a dent in them." He looked to Rochelle. "Any sign of a counterattack yet?"
"Negative at this time, sir. They're standing pat."
Emerson called for an update on losses. The computer printed out the
awful facts and figures. Three quarters of the attack wings' forces were gone,
immolated in a few minutes.
"All those men and women lost," Emerson murmured, scanning the list.
"It's-it's a disaster," Leonard said unsteadily. He turned and lurched
toward the door.
Emerson didn't even bother to solicit Leonard's permission. "Call off [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]