02_battle_cry-第19部分

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and　white　striped　headband；　long　legs；　gorgeous　blue　dress　with　red　horizontal　bands；　and　that　million…dollar　smile。　But　as　Minmei　overcame　her　shyness　and　drew　nearer；　pen　and　memo　book　in　hand；　to　ask　for　an　autograph；　she　couldn't　help　but　notice　that　Jan　was　a　lot　older　than　most　of　the　girls　and　a　lot　shorter　than　she　appeared　to　be　in　her　films。

She　was　also　upset　about　something。

Jan's　manager　was　saying；　〃I　guess　they　put　you　at　the　head　of　the　list　because　you're　the　only　star。　But　I've　talked　them　into　calling　you　last。〃

〃Oh；　thanks　a　bunch；　Mary。〃　Jan's　voice　dripped　sarcasm。

〃Listen；　Jan；　it's　only　right　that　you…〃

〃Will　you　stop　it；　please！〃　the　actress　snapped。　〃This　isn't　Hollywood。　I　didn't　ask　to　go　to　the。。。planets！　Or　get　stuck　in　this　oversized　sardine　can。〃

〃So　why　are　we　doing　this？　We　don't　have　to　participate　in　this　thing；　Jan。〃

Jan　just　stared　at　her。　〃It　goes　with　the　territory；　sweetheart。　You　should　know　that。　I　mean；　someday　we're　going　to　get　back　home；　and　I'm　not　about　to　play　the　forgotten　star…〃

She　glanced　up　at　that　moment　and　saw　Minmei　standing　there。

〃Now　what？〃　Jan　muttered。

〃Excuse　me；　Miss　Morris；　I'm　really　one　of　your　biggest　fans；　and　so　I　was　wondering　if　you'd　be　kind　enough　to　give　me　your　autograph。〃　Minmei　pushed　the　memo　book　forward。　〃I'm　afraid　this　is　all　I　have　to　write　on；　though。　Would　it　be　all　right？〃

Jan　Morris　gave　her　a　cold　once…over　and；　suddenly　on　the　verge　of　tears；　declined。　Mary　interceded　before　Minmei　could　apologize。　〃If　you　want　an　autograph　from　a　real　star；　get　yourself　a　real　autograph　book。〃　Jan　Morns　stood　up；　and　the　two　of　them　walked　away。

Minmei　was　stunned　by　the　encounter；　but　she　didn't　have　a　moment　to　think　about　it：　Center　stage　was　calling。

Rick　arrived　at　the　amphitheater　just　in　time　to　catch　Minmei's　grand　entrance。　Macross　City's　mass　transit　system　was　so　jammed；　he'd　had　to　bicycle　over　from　his　quarters。　He　took　a　seat　in　the　balcony；　his　binoculars　zeroed　in　on　the　runway。

Minmei　wore　a　hand…woven　lavender　mandarin　gown　of　clinging　silk；　a　dress　that　had　belonged　to　her　grandmother　and　had　been　altered　to　suit　the　girl's　slim　figure　and　long　legs。　The　tunic　had　a　simple　round　collar；　flawless　embroidery　over　the　left　shoulder；　and　revealing　slits。　She　wore　matching　pumps　and　had　strands　of　pink　cultured　pearls　in　her　braided　and　bunned　hair。　Rick　thought　she　looked　fantastic　as　she　stepped　forward　into　the　bright　spot　to　wait　for　the　judges'　questions。

〃Could　we　have　your　thoughts　about　the　war　and　the　needs　of　Macross　City；　your　hopes　for　the　future；　your　ambitions。。。〃

Rick　was　simply　too　taken　with　the　sight　of　her　to　pay　much　attention　to　Minmei's　responses；　but　just　then　Captain　Gloval　asked　a　relevant　question：　〃Do　you　have　a　steady　boyfriend　among　all　the　fighter　pilots　you　count　as　your　friends？〃

Rick　hung　on　her　every　word。

〃I　don't　believe　I'm　ready　for　that　at　this　point。　I　mean；　I　think　it's　best　to　have　a　lot　of　different　friends。〃

Colonel　Maistroff　followed　up：　〃Do　you　find　it　difficult　having　male　friends？〃

Minmei　laughed。　〃Not　at　all！　In　fact；　I　have　one　really　good　friend　who's　just　like　a　brother　to　me。〃

Rick　slapped　himself　in　the　forehead　with　the　heel　of　his　hand。　A　brother？！　A　BROTHER？！！　And　just　then；　while　Minmei　was　taking　in　the　applause；　his　pager　went　off。　He　raised　his　eyes　to　the　starlight；　wondering　who　was　calling　him　out　this　time。


CHAPTER　TEN

〃Rome　wasn't　built　in　a　day…Macross　City　was！〃
Mayor　Tommy　Luan

Had　it　not　been　for　the　Miss　Macross　pageant；　I　might　never　have　undertaken　the　journey　which　led　me　to　enlightenment…a　journey　I　hope　to　guide　you　through　in　the　pages　that　follow。　It　was　only　after　I　had　opened　my　heart　to　the　First　Truth…that　beauty　and　fame　were　not　only　transitory　but　illusory…that　my　soul　was　sufficiently　prepared　to　accept　the　profound　wisdom　of　the　heavens：　the　knowledge　that　we　are　but　seeds　in　the　cosmic　garden；　potential　given　form　and　the　will　to　evolve；　true　children　of　the　starsbeings　of　noble　light！
Jan　Morris；　Solar　Seeds；　Galactic　Guardians

When　accounts　of　The　First　Robotech　War　were　finally　written；　not　one　of　that　war's　many　chroniclers　failed　to　point　out　the　curious　turn　of　events　precipitated　by　the　Miss　Macross　pageant。　The　word　〃irony〃　appears　often　in　those　accounts；　but　irony　is　a　judgment　rendered　after　the　fact　and；　in　the　case　of　Lynn…Minmei　and　the　part　she　would　e　to　play　in　the　hostilities；　much　too　simple　and　soft　a　term。


Exedore　could　no　longer　allow　his　growing　concerns　about　the　Micronians　to　go　unspoken。　The　Tritani　pattern　was　being　woven　again；　and　although　it　was　not　the　Zentraedi　way　to　look　back；　the　application　of　lessons　from　the　past　was　now　essential。　Otherwise　the　quadrant　would　surely　fall　to　the　vengeful　Invid！

Just　when　events　had　calmed　somewhat…Khyron　was　temporarily　reined　in　and　Dolza　had　issued　an　order　allowing　the　SDF…1　a　brief　stay　of　execution…the　Earthlings　had　once　again　demonstrated　their　penchant　for　the　unpredictable。

Strange；　inprehensible　telemunications　were　being　broadcast　from　the　dimensional　fortress。　Exedore　had　requested　that　mander　Breetai　meet　with　him　on　the　bridge。

The　audio　and　visual　signals　were　being　broadcast　on　a　relatively　low…frequency　wavelength；　reception　was　intermittent　at　best。　But　even　strong　and　continuous；　they　would　have　remained　equally　baffling　to　the　Zentraedi　mander　and　his　adviser。　What　they　saw　were　images　of　female　Micronians　undergoing　what　appeared　to　be　an　unusual　metamorphosis；　plete　with　bizarre　changes　in　chroma　and　an　alarming　lack　of　any　cause…and…effect　sequencing。　Breetai　and　Exedore　stared　at　the　screen　and　turned　to　each　other　with　confused　looks。

〃　‘Miss。。。Macross。。。pageant'。。。What　does　it　mean；　Exedore？〃

〃I　understand　the　individual　words；　mander；　but　the　meaning　of　it　escapes　me。〃

〃A　call　for　reinforcements；　perhaps。〃

〃No；　mander。　The　signal　is　far　too　weak　for　that。〃

Breetai　experienced　a　moment　of　disquiet。　Had　he　overlooked　something　important　in　the　legends…something　about　a　secret　weapon　the　Micronians　possessed；　an　innate　ability　to　conquer　all　who　threatened　them？

〃We　must　decipher　this　code；　whatever　it　is。　Have　you　been　successful　in　your　efforts　to　teach　our　agents　the　Micronian　tongue？〃

〃As　successful　as　can　be　expected；　mander。　They　aren't…〃

〃Ready　one　of　the　Cyclops　recon　ships。　Tell　your　operatives　to　stand　by。〃

〃M'lord；〃　said　Exedore；　and　backed　away。

While　his　adviser　was　left　to　carry　out　the　orders；　Breetai　studied　the　screen；　there　was　something　disturbing　about　those　partially　clothed　and　strangely　colored　females；　a　power　about　them　that　pierced　him　like　an　ancient　arrow。


As　regimented　as　the　Zentraedi　were；　there　were　still　individual　personality　types；　and　the　three　agents　chosen　to　man　the　Cyclops　recon　were　to　prove　as　pivotal　in　the　unfolding　of　events　as　the　Miss　Macross　pageant　itself。　At　the　helm　of　the　arachnidlike　vessel　was　Rico；　a　wiry；　effectively　one…eyed　warrior　with　a　thin；　sunken　face；　prominent　cheekbones；　and　chiseled　features。　Bron；　a　beefy；　powerful　man　with　greasy　red　hair；　was　the　navigator；　and　in　charge　of　munications　was　Konda；　a　nondescript　second　lieutenant　with　shaggy；　lavender　hair　well　suited　to　current　Earth　fashions。

They'd　been　given　a　dangerous　assignment：　The　Cyclops　had　to　be　brought　in　close　enough　to　Zor's　ship　to　monitor　and　record　the　curious　Micronian　broadcasts　while　at　the　same　time　evading　detection。　But　Rico　was　an　experienced　surveillance　pilot；　and　he　soon　had　the　Cyclops　well　situated　for　reception。　He　was　not；　however；　prepared　for　what　greeted　his　eyes　（nor　would　he　be　for　quite　some　time　to　e）：　Here　was　a　Micronian　male　wearing　some　sort　of　strange　devices　in　front　of　his　eyes；　holding　in　his　hand　an　equally　unusual　device　which　he　seemed　to　be　directing　toward。。。a　female！　An　unclothed　female　at　that！　A…and　the　two　of　them　were　actually　together…in　the　same　space！

〃This　is　unthinkable！〃　he　cried。

Bron　and　Konda　were　similarly　appalled。

Rico　adjusted　the　recording　controls　to　enhance　the　monitor　image。　〃She　must　be　wearing　some　new　type　of　armor。〃

Bron　disagreed：　The　armor　covered　the　female's　hips　and　breasts　only；　it　didn't　make　sense。

〃Perhaps　those　are　the　only　vulnerable　parts　of　a　Micronian　female；〃　Rico　offered。

〃It's　not　armor　at　all；〃　said　Konda。　〃It's　a　formal　uniform。〃

Bron　shook　his　head。　〃You're　both　wrong。　It's　not　even　a　female。　It　must　be　a　secret　weapon　designed　to　look　like　one！〃


Rick　Hunter　was　missing　the　swimsuit　petition。

He　cursed　his　luck　and　muttered　to　himself　while　he　strapped　into　the　cockpit　module　of　the　armored　Battloid。　Why　did　Henricks　have　to　pick　tonight　to　get　sick；　and　why　did　Rick's　name　have　to　appear　at　the　top　of　the　patrol　list？

He　had　already　gotten　into　an　argument　with　mander　Hayes…　〃As　primary　patrol　backup；　you　should　have　remained　on　the　base；　Lieutenant　Hunter；　not　run　off　to　some　foolish　beauty　pageant！〃…and　now　Minmei　was　going　to　be　disappointed　that　he'd　missed　her　big　moment。　〃This　sucks！〃　he　yelled　to　the　techs　who　were　operating　the　module　cranes　and　servos。　They　had　one　eye　fixed　on　getting　Rick's　module　into　position　and　the　other　glued　to　monitors　tuned　in　to　the　Miss　Macross　broadcast：　No　doubt　Lisa　Hayes　and　the　SDF…1　bridge　crew　were　doing　the　same。　Meanwhile；　Rick　Hunter　gets　to　go　out　into　space　and　search　for　some　enemy　ship　picked　up　on　the　long…range　scanners。

Alone！

But　if　that　was　the　way　it　had　to　be；　he　was　going　to　recon　in　style；　and　the　armored　Battloid　was　just　the　ticket。

Still　classified　as　experimental；　it　was　the　latest　innovation　from　the　Robotech　Weapons　Division。　In　addition　to　the　standard　armaments　and　defensive　systems　of　the　phase　one　design；　the　Battloid　was　equipped　with　new　generation　boosters　and　retros…the　so…called　deep…space　augmentation　pack…multiple…warhead　〃pectoral〃　launchers；　and　ejectable　Bohrium…plated　armor　on　those　areas　previously　considered　to　be　〃vulnerable　to　penetration〃　by　the　boys　in　the　RWD。

Rick　spent　a　few　moments　familiarizing　himself　with　the　new　controls。　Fewer　foot　pedals；　that　was　a　plus。　A　new　Hotas　design…the　hands　on　throt