From: cmeadows@nyx.cs.du.edu (Chris Meadows)
Subject: Robotech/Rifts Crossover (part 6 of 7)
Followup-To: alt.prose
Organization: Nyx, Public Access Unix @ U. of Denver Math/CS dept.
Date: Tue, 1 Sep 1992 16:03:20 GMT

Chapter 41: El Dorado
 
 
     A week after the Techno-Wizard had decided to stay with the
GMU, two motorcycles pulled up on a hill overlooking the city of
El Dorado, Arkansas.  Steele had to admit, it didn't look very
pretty.  There were a few gleaming buildings in the center, but
most of it was the slums and poor areas called "'Burbs,"
stretching out across the land like a cancer.
     "Not very pretty, is it, sir?" Felix Weidmann asked Captain
Steele.  The two Cyclone riders were letting their engines idle
and had shoved the faceplates of their helmets up to get a better
look.
     Steele shook his head.  "Not pretty at all.  But it's the
best chance we have of finding out whether or not we can purchase
replacement missiles for our mecha."  Over the course of the
southward journey, Steele had confided in his young subordinate
the dire predicament that the GMU found itself in.
     "From what Joe Moore's told me, that place is a regular
rogues' gallery, full of people who will sell you anything if the
price is right."
     "You've been reading too many espionage novels," Steele
chided.  "Still, I have to admit that I've seen places I liked
better."
     "Well, then, sir, let's go."  Weidmann reached up and tipped
the visor down.  He revved the engine.
     "'Ride, boldly ride,'" Steele quoted, closing his own
helmet.
     "What's that, sir?" a puzzled Weidmann asked.
     "It's a quote from an old John Wayne vid about a town by the
same name," Steele replied.  "From a poem.  I forget the whole
thing, but the line that most stuck in my mind was, 'Ride, boldly
ride, if you search for El Dorado.'"
     "I guess we've found it, then," Felix Weidmann replied.  He
popped a wheelie.  "Race you to the bottom!"
     Steele grinned.  "You're on!"
     As the two riders raced off, they completely failed to
notice the nearby figure in camouflage-painted Coalition "Dead
Boy" armor raising a radio to his lips.  "They're on their way.
Let's take 'em."
 
     The two Cyclone cycles pulled up at the entrance to El
Dorado.  There was no gate here, just a gradual increase in the
amount of small buildings until it became a town, of sorts.
Steele, on his customary VR-041 Saber, looked around him at the
normal scenes of life in the 'Burbs.  Here, a small child played
half-naked in the dirt.  There, a couple of rebellious-looking
youths wearing leathers and tatoos toted MAC-10 submachine guns.
There were people just lying in the streets half-conscious, and a
few corpses leaking redness into the gutters.
     Weidmann, whose Cyclone Battler Cyclone mounted an EP-37
60mm Beam Cannon rifle in addition to its mini-missiles, looked
around nervously.  Something just didn't FEEL right, but he
couldn't put his finger on it..."Let's go on, okay sir?  I don't
like the feel of this place."
     "Yeah, neither do I," Steele replied.  "It's just too
squalid for my taste.  Let's head up that street there.  It seems
as good a place to start as any."
     The two motorcycles turned the corner and moved up a small
roadway.  Here, conditions were a bit improved.  This street was
lined with small shops, and there were battered-looking vehicles
and people moving slowly up and down it.  Steele and Weidmann
pulled up in the middle and let their bikes idle.  "That looks
like a weapons shop," Steele said, pointing.  "Shall we take a
look?"
     "Sounds good to me, sir."  Felix looked around warily.
"Maybe I'd better stay with the Cyclones."
     "That's a good idea, Corporal," Steele said.  They drove the
bikes to the side of the road.  Captain Steele climbed off his
Cyclone, took off his helmet, and went into a nearby shop.
     At the end of the street, a man in beat-up Huntsman body
armor raised a radio to his lips and said, "They're here.  One
inside, one out.  Stand by to move in."
     On top of a building across the street, a Coalition grunt
setting up a C-27 heavy plasma cannon, replied into his helmet
mike, "They won't get away."
 
     Inside the shop, Steele was commiserating with the owner and
examining the selection of weapons when he happened to glance out
the window.  He then noticed he was staring right down the barrel
of a heavy energy weapon mounted on the roof across the street,
with a Coalition soldier standing beside it.  Steele snatched up a
folding-stock, submachine-gun-style laser rifle and slapped a
clip into it.  He swung around, raising the gun to his shoulder,
and fired through the shop's window up to the opposite roof,
before the manager or his assistant could raise a hand to stop
him.  As the now-dead Coalition trooper pitched forward off the
top of the roof, Steele threw down some of the Coalition currency
Sherelynn had given him and said to a shocked store owner,
"Shoots straight, nice rate of fire...I'll take it."
     Grabbing another E-clip, Steele charged out through the door
and mounted his Cyclone, pulling on his helmet as he went.
"Something's wrong!" he yelled to Weidmann.  "Let's get out of
here!"  The Cyclones threw dirt as the two riders revved them up,
turned them around, and prepared to head out.
     But as they turned, they saw they were being cut off!  Four
tri-thruster civilian hovercycles with armored, rifle-toting
roughnecks were roaring down the road.  Steele thought rapidly.
They could have stood and fought, but he didn't want to injure
any civilians.  "We have to take the fight elsewhere!" he called
to Weidmann.
     "I understand.  Let's go!"  So the bikes spun around once
more, and raced forward, this time for the interior of the city.
They were followed close behind by the hoverbikes, which were
hard on their tails.
     The Cyclones and hovercycles raced crazily through dirt
streets, startled pedestrians scrambling for cover.  The superior
maneuverability of the Cyclones stood them in good stead on this
crazy pursuit, even against hoverbikes.
     Then the 'Burbs were behind them, with the city proper
ahead.  There was a 30-foot-tall wall around it, with a steel
gate in the middle.  The gate was closed and locked, and two
troopers with laser rifles were assuming kneeling positions to
fire.
     Steele thumbed a button on the handlebars, and the thrusters
on the back of the Cyclone kicked in.  The motorcycle took off,
leaping the wall with room to spare.  Weidmann followed suit, but
so did the hovercycles.  Without worry or perturbation, Steele
noticed the laser blasts spashing the road and walls around him.
Fired wild from the back of the hoverbikes, almost certainly, and
they would not have much chance of hitting.
     Now the Cyclones moved between buildings that were newer and
in better repair than in the 'Burbs outside.  These were large
and dark, and had spray-painted graffitti all over them.  There
were more pedestrians, who were leaping out of the way as before,
but there were also armored police officers with laser rifles.
Steele wasn't worried; the bikes were moving too fast for any but
the luckiest of shots to have hit them.  However, the presence of
these armored individuals was severely limiting their escape
routes.  In fact, Steele got the feeling that they were being
deliberately herded, a feeling he didn't like at all.
 
     Colonel Thaddius Lyboc, along with two skeleton-armored
troopers of the Coalition, watched the pursuit through binoculars
from the roof of a nearby building.  He had been so curious about
why Underhill wanted that mobile vehicle that he had come down
here himself, slipping out without Underhill's knowledge.  Or so
he thought, at least.  Underhill could be tricky, and it was just
like him to keep an eye on his subordinate, even this far away.
     It was Lyboc who had recognized the motorcycles from
intelligence reports two days ago.  It was Lyboc who had
orchestrated the ambush that was supposed to capture the
motorcycles and their riders, or the motorcycles at the very
least.  It was Lyboc who had the most to gain.
     So Lyboc watched and waited as the city's police officers,
working in conjunction with Coalition forces, worked to herd the
two motorcycles toward the trap arranged for them, right beside
this very building.  "Just keep coming," he exhorted the two
bikers whose interrogation he was beginning to look forward to as
he did all interrogations.  "Keep coming."
 
     The two Cyclones roared through the town's back alleys, past
old dumpsters and old winos.  As they weaved in and out through
all the debris, one of the dumpsters ahead and to the left of
Steele exploded under the impact of a missile from one of the
pursuit bikes.  "This is getting serious!" Weidmann yelled.  "And
I'm going to take the next opportunity to take some of the heat
off."
     "How are you going to do that?" Steele asked, dodging a
trash can.  Weidmann didn't answer.  Instead, he acted.
     Just past the end of the alley there was an aquaduct, where
the local Mississippi river tributary passed through the town,
with a small bridge over it that the alley led into.  Instead of
taking this bridge, however, Weidmann turned and jumped into
space, splashing down into the river as Steele passed over the
bridge.  Even as it splashed down, Steele could see Weidmann's
Cyclone beginning the series of changes that would result in the
dramatic conversion to Cyclone power armor.  He knew that by the
time it was submerged, the change would be complete and
Weidmann's weapons deployed.
     Steele raced on.  Looking over his shoulder, he could see
two of the hoverbikes slowing to a halt to investigate this
sudden disappearance.  Weidmann would surely be able to take care
of them.  Then he turned a corner and they were out of sight.
     Steele jumped one more dumpster, avoided fire from more
troops, then turned into another alley.  Then he saw that he'd
been trapped.
     Running across this alleyway between two buildings  were
about four large pipes, probably gas or water mains.  They were
low--there was only about four feet between the bottom of the
pipes and the street.  It wasd too late to jump, and he knew he
couldn't stop in time to avoid slamming into the pipes.
     At times like this, Steele was thankful for the astounding
maneuverability that Cyclones had.  Because of the psychic bond
between pilot and Protoculture-powered mecha, a Cyclone even in
motorcycle mode could do some pretty amazing things.  Steele
leaned the Cyclone over to the right, jerked the handlebars to
the right, and went into a skid.  To his pursuers, it looked like
he was skidding out of control to avoid hitting the pipes.  But
Steele had something else in mind entirely.
     As the Cyclone skidded closer and closer, Steele leaned over
further and further, until his elbow was almost scraping the
ground, all the while imaging precisely what he wanted the bike
to do.  It responded eagerly and willingly.  Steele slid closer
and closer to the pipes, and then UNDER them, his head missing
the lower pipe by bare inches!
     The instant Steele felt the pipe pass over his head, he
slammed down on the mechamorphosis switch on the right handgrip.
1.4 seconds later it was no longer a motorcycle skidding over the
ground, but a suit of powered armor!  Steele rolled over three
times, then came up smoothly, the laser rifle he had purchased at
the weapon shop firmly in hand.  He boosted up into the air, just
as the two hovercycles were coming up over the pipe.
     As the two bikes passed overhead, Steele had a perfect shot
at their underbellies.  He emptied the laser rifle into one of
the hovercycles, then extended the special vibro-blades in the
Saber Cyclone's arms and stabbed them into the other.  Both
exploded satisfactorily.
     Then the plasma blast flashed by Steele's side.  He turned,
and saw three Coalition-armored troops standing on the roof, one
with a heavy rifle of some kind and another with a bazooka.
"That was a bad move, Dead Boy," he said, using the slang for
Coalition troops that arose from the way their armor resembled
skeletons.  This time the nickname was remarkably apt, Steele
thought.
     "Don't just stand there!  Kill him!  Kill him!" Lyboc
shrieked.  The two Dead Boys tried, but before they could fire
another shot the two panels on the front of the converted
motorcycle's chest flipped open, inundating the building they
were on with mini-missiles.  Then the building was gone.
 
     Ten minutes later, Captain Steele and Corporal Felix
Weidmann met back at the 'Burbs, at their pre-arranged meeting
place.  Steele hadn't had much trouble getting out of town, and
neither had Weidmann.  "How did it go with your pursuers?" Steele
asked.
     "They were stupid, sir," Weidmann replied.  "They came right
down above the water, looking for me, and it was easy enough to
put a couple of missiles right through their engine blocks.
After that, they weren't very concerned with finding me, oddly
enough."
     "I wonder why," Steele replied, grinning.  He chuckled.  "I
haven't had this much fun since the Carbonara campaign."
     "What did you find out in the weapons shop?" Felix asked.
     "Not too much."  Steele unslung the laser rifle from his
shoulder and tossed it over to Weidmann.  "I got that."
     Weidmann snatched it out of mid-air and raised it to his
shoulder, sighting down the barrel.  "Nice weapon," he said
admiringly.  "Good balance, nice weight...how does it shoot?"
     "Very well," Steele said.  "Has all the earmarks of a
technology that's been making these things for decades, not just
a handful of years like us.  We could probably learn a few things
from weapons like this."
     Weidmann nodded.  "Did you have time to see anything else?"
     Steele sighed.  "Yes, and I'm afraid that what I saw wasn't
encouraging.  I'm no weapons EXPERT--we should have brought Sgt.
Irrout, come to think of it--but all the guns show signs of a
technology that evolved very differently from ours.  I have
serious doubts that we'll be able to find missiles that will be
compatible with our launchers."
 
 
 
Chapter 42: An Arrival, and a Deal in the Making
 
 
     For most of the troops back at the GMU, the next couple of
weeks passed uneventfully.  Glitter Boy Joe Moore played chess
with Sherelynn, until she disappeared a couple of days into the
second week.  Dr. Thornton Smitty, Sgt. Barry Irrout, and the
technowizard, Michael Fosser, helped each other work on repairing
the remaining damage from the Invid attack of several weeks
before.  Dr. Peltzer, the cyber-doc who had saved Felix
Weidmann's life, sat in the CD library reading up on obscure
medical and technical journals.  Lieutenant Colonel Avery Bowaz
reread one of his favorite books on Patton.
     Then, on the fourth day of the second week, a Cyclone and a
giant robot showed up at the clearing occupied by the GMU. They
were challenged by the Destroids and Alphas on guard at the time,
but the rider of the Cyclone turned out to be Lieutenant Martin
Jackson.  He requested to see Lieutenant Colonel Bowaz,
immediately.  The meeting took place in Bowaz's office.
     "Young man," Bowaz began, "you are in serious trouble.  You
stole one of our Cyclones, and went gallivanting all over the
place without orders.  Do you realize that--"
     "Sir," Jackson interrupted, "that is not important.  What IS
important is that the Invid are growing stronger and may try to
take over this world, much as they did our own."
     "What?" Bowaz asked.  "You've seen this?"
     "Yessir.  And more."  He gave a brief account of his
adventures--how he had met the robot pilot, Sam Fort, how they
had infiltrated the Invid Hive and met Jack, how they had gone to
the other dimension, met Joe Moore the high school student and
Chris Meadows, and brought them back into this world.  He omitted
any mention of that dimension's Robotech cartoon.  Then he told
about the Invid Enforcer who had saved their lives.  "We had a
pretty uneventful journey back," Jackson concluded.  "We hid at
night to avoid demons and monsters, avoided areas of high magic,
and picked up the GMU's trail from where we left.  We followed it
up through the Magic Zone, all the way out to here."
     "What about the Enforcer, and Jack?" Bowaz asked.
     "We hid the Enforcer out in the woods, with Jack guarding
it, before coming in," Martin Jackson replied.  "Didn't want
anybody getting the wrong ideas and shooting first/asking
questions later."
     "I see, I see.  I would like to talk to this Enforcer as
soon as possible.  And to Chris Meadows and Joe Moore, also."
Bowaz went to his desk and took out his Gallant H-90 rifle.  As
he broke it down and stowed the components in holsters and
sheaths on his utility belt, he said, "But first the Enforcer.
I'll get my Cyclone and you can take me out to where this Invid
is..."
 
     Meanwhile, the Forager Battlebot piloted by Sam Fort had
parked itself in front of the GMU's mecha bay off-ramp.  Seargent
Barry Irrout, the bio-maintenance engineer, was thoroughly
fascinated and had come down to see it, accompanied by Dr.
Thornton Smitty.  Chris Meadows and Joe Moore climbed out the
hatch and down the rope ladder to the ground.  "I can't wait to
take a look inside that GMU," Chris said."
     Barry gawked at Chris's younger companion.  "Aren't
you--isn't that--?"
     "My name's Joe Moore.  Who are you?" Joe Moore asked.
     "What an astounding coincidence," Dr. Smitty murmured.  He
touched his wrist-comm.  "Say, Joe?  I think you should come down
here."
     A figure appeared at the head of the tall GMU mecha bay
ramp.  It was the Glitter Boy pilot Joe Moore.  He was dressed in
his Glitter Boy pilot suit, oxygen hoses hanging loose from
behind, laser pistol secure in its shoulder holster, the number
13 painted on its right chest.  "Yeah, what do you want?"  He ran
down the ramp.  And then stopped dead in his tracks.  "Hey, what
the--You're me!"
     "I'm what?" the younger Joe Moore asked.
     "Me!"  The Glitter Boy pilot pulled off his helmet,
revealing a face similar to the younger Moore's.  "I'm you, but
from another dimension!"
     The high school Moore stared, stunned.  "I can't believe
this!" he said at last.  "I'd NEVER be a Glitter Boy pilot.  I
would have become a Techno-Wizard."
     The older Moore shrugged.  "I tried that.  Didn't work.  I
just didn't have the knack."
     Chris Meadows could only stare as the two Joe Moores,
conversing excitedly together, walked up the GMU ramp.  "Say,
Joe, why don't I show you how to operate my Glitter Boy?  It's
really easy, and if I can learn to do it, you can learn to do
it..."
 
     The two Cyclone cycles pulled up in the clearing.  One was a
small light blue VR-038-LT, on which rode the field scientist,
Lieutenant Martin Jackson.  The other was a dark grey VR-041
Saber, carrying none other than Lieutenant Colonel Avery Bowaz.
Both men wore CVR-3 armor, and both had Gallants at their hips.
     "Okay, we're here," Jackson yelled.  "Come on out, guys."
     An Invid Enforcer stepped out of the forest, followed by a
VR-052 Battler with its EP-37 rifle/cannon at the ready.  "Okay,
you wanted to talk to him," Jack said to the Invid.  "Now talk."
He didn't completely trust the Enforcer, and had his weapons
always ready whenever he was around it.
     The Enforcer walked up to Bowaz's Cyclone and stopped.
"Greetings, human," it said.  "I used to be as humanoid as you.
I was Bort, the commander of the Invid Hive that is now in this
dimension.  But then the scientist Zyjinn, whom I had sent to
study the phenomena known as ley lines, mutinied.  Using powers
gained through his studies of these lines, he usurped command of
the Hive and changed me into--into this form you now see me in.
     "You must help me regain control of my Hive--Zyjinn is
insane.  He plots to take over this world, then the Invid race,
then the entire universe."  The Enforcer neglected to mention
that, as Bort, he had been planning to take over the world
himself.  "If I can get back in control of my Hive, I can put a
stop to this insidious scheme."
     Bowaz nodded.  "Mmm-hmm.  But what's in it for us?"
     This set the Invid aback.  "The end of Zyjinn's rule, of
course."
     "But we could kill you AND Zyjinn, and put a stop to it that
way," Bowaz replied.  "What would we gain by doing as YOU
request?"
     The Enforcer thought a moment, then found the solution.  "I
know that these vehicles of yours run on Protoculture.  I can
sense it.  But your supplies of Protoculture WILL run out in
time.  If you help me, I will supply you with enough Protoculture
to meet your needs."
     "Now we're talking," Bowaz said, grinning.  "Just what
exactly would you need us to do...?"
 
 
 
Chapter 43: A Fight in a Bar
 
 
     Steele sat in a small bar in the El Dorado 'Burbs, spending
a little more of the Coalition scrip Sherelynn had given him.
It'd been a long time since he'd had a good beer, and judging
from the fare available here, it would probably still be a while.
But it was cold and wet, and quenched his thirst.  He was
considering ordering something stronger, when someone sat down on
the stool to his left.  He turned and looked, and saw a beautiful
woman with long white-blonde hair and a light complexion.
     "Sherelynn," he said, surprised.  "What's a beautiful girl
like you doing in a place like this?"
     "I just came down to see how you were doing.  A pint of your
best ale, please!"  The latter sentence was directed at the
bartender as she laid a gold coin on the bar.  "And one for him,
too," she said.  The bartender drew two tall foamy mugs from
beneath the counter and set them down on the bartop.  Steele
scrutinized the coin, and estimated that the bartender could
afford to serve everyone at the bar and still come out ahead.
     "How I'm doing is not good," Steele said, sipping from the
glass.  "I've been to every weapons and robot dealership in the
'Burbs, and none of them seems to have anything that would be
compatible with Robotech mecha."
     Sherelynn nodded, downing half of the contents of her mug in
a single gulp.  Not very ladylike, Steele reflected, but
certainly dragon-like.  As she wiped the foam off her mouth, she
said, "I have to admit, that is really what I expected.  Many of
the weapons systems here are much more advanced than your own."
     Steele nodded, taking another pull at his drink.  "This
stuff is really good," he said.
     "Pretty expensive, too," Sherelynn said, "but I can afford
it.  I drink here whenever I'm in the area."  She finished off
her drink, and called for another.  The bartender hastened to
comply.  Steele stared.
     Noticing his look, Sherelynn laughed.  "A bit of advice for
you, Steele," she told him.  "Never try to outdrink a dragon."
     "I'll remember that," Steele pledged.
     They drank awhile in silence.  As Sherelynn was on her third
mug, and Steele finishing his first, she asked, "So where is
Weidmann?"
     "He's looking into a few cyber-clinics."  Steele gulped the
last of the ale and slammed the mug down onto the bar.  "He wants
to know what's available.  It's risky, what with the ambush the
other day, but it's his own time."
     Sherelynn choked on her ale, spraying it all over the
counter.  "What did you say?  An ambush?  When was this?  What
happened?"
     Steele described the little trap set up on the previous day.
"Must have been the Coalition, right?  Anyway, we haven't had any
trouble since then."
     Sherelynn shuddered.  "Someone in the Coalition is out for
blood.  They want your mecha, your weapons, whatever information
they can get from you."  She stood from the stool.  "I think we
should get out of town as rapidly as possible."
     "Okay..."  Steele stood, and they started to walk toward the
exit.  As they neared the door, two shadowy figures rose from
their tables and pulled knives.  Sherelynn moved into a defensive
position, and Steele drew his own blade, a K-BAR-type combat
knife that had seen him through many a rough fight.
     The figures moved in.  Steele wished he'd worn his CVR armor
into the bar, though that would have been considered unusual at
best.  "Come on, bring it on!" he yelled as the two assassins
split to take them on one-to-one.
     Steele's combatant didn't waste any time.  His blade flashed
down in a stroke that would have spitted Steele if he hadn't
moved aside in time.  Steele's left hand swept down in a knife
stroke that caught the assailant in the kidney.  Then he dropped
to the floor for a quick leg sweep that knocked the enemy to the
ground.
     However, this man knew martial arts too.  He recovered from
the fall by rolling backward and coming up on his feet, knife at
the ready.  He lashed out again!  Steele parried with his own
knife this time, and watched as the blade broke off with a
jarring snap.  "What the hell--?"  Steele dropped the now-useless
handle and assumed a defensive position.
     The attacker came at him again, knife hand extended.  This
time, Steele was ready.  Carefully avoiding the blade, Steele
grabbed the man's arm and twisted it around, catching hold of his
shoulder in a submission hold.  The knife fell from the
assassin's fingers and stuck in the floor up to the hilt.
     Sherelynn had handled her assailant, albeit with the use of
a bit more force.  She had managed to break the man's knife arm,
at the cost of a couple of slashes from the blade.  As her wounds
healed up, Steele looked at the knife stuck in the floor with new
respect.  It took a very powerful weapon to damage a dragon.
     "Who sent you?" Steele asked his prisoner, forcing his arm a
bit farther back.  "Come on, talk!"
     "N-nobody."
     Steele pulled his Gallant H-90.  "You're going to talk, or
you're going to die."  He shoved the man forward through the bar
doors, pausing only to pull the blade from the floor.  "What is
this thing, Sherelynn?"
     "Vibro-blade," the dragon-woman replied.  "Very powerful.
One slash would have done you in."
     "Hmmm.  Nice little toy."  He pressed the button on the side
of the hilt to turn it off and stuck it in his K-BAR's sheath.  A
perfect fit.
     In the light, Steele could see that the attackers were
wearing dark clothing and ski masks, much like the Ninja
assassins of old.  He prodded the uninjured attacker with his
Gallant.  "Move.  Around the back of that building there."  He
motioned to Sherelynn to follow him.
     In back of the building in question was a rather large
clearing, about 60 feet wide.  "You two, get right over here," he
said to the two men.  "Up against that wall."
     He nodded to Sherelynn.  "No one else is around," he said.
"Let's put a scare into these two, eh?"
     It didn't take long for Sherelynn to guess what he meant.
"Yes, let's.  Stand back, Steele."  She walked out into the
center of the clearing and reverted to dragon form.  It was a
remarkable thing to watch.  One instant she was a ravishing lady;
the next she was a terrifying dragon.  The two cried out in fear,
but then shut up resolutely.
     Sherelynn turned to them and walked up to where they were.
She opened her mouth and let loose a roar that could probably be
heard for miles.  The assassins cowered against the wall.
     "I think she's a bit hungry, don't you?" Steele called out
to the two men.  "Now which one of you wants to go first, eh?"
     "I--I'll talk!" the one with the broken arm said.
     "Me too!" the other one yelled.  "Just don't let that dragon
e-eat me!"
     Sherelynn growled softly.  "Then tell us what we want to
know," Steele said.  "Who hired you?"
     "We don't know!" the uninjured one said.  "The deal came
through the gang, same as usual!  We don't know who hired us!"
     "That's the wrong answer, pal," Steele said.  "Okay, Sher,
do what you will."
     The dragon's head reached down.  Her jaws opened, and she
took the one with the broken arm screaming into her mouth.  She
closed her jaws.  Steele shuddered.  "Now, who hired you?"
     "It was Lyboc!" the remaining assassin half-screamed.  "He
wanted us to kill you and take your bikes to him."
     Sherelynn lowered her head and deposited the other assassin
unharmed on the ground.  She then changed back into human form.
"Let's go.  I don't think we'll have to worry about these two
anymore."
     As they walked along the sidewalk a few minutes later,
Sherelynn spat into the road.  "People like that always leave a
bad taste in my mouth," she said.
     "For a while I thought you'd actually--swallowed him,"
Steele said.
     "What?  Don't be ridiculous.  I don't eat humans," Sherelynn
replied.  "Now let's get out of this crazy town before anything
else happens!"
     "All right."  Steele started pulling on his CVR-3 armor.
"We'll wait for Weidmann just outside of town."
 
 
 
Chapter 44: The Heist
 
 
     "Invid Squadron reports full ready, sir," the female radar
technician on the bridge of the GMU told Lt. Col. Bowaz.
     "Good, good.  Order them to stand by for takeoff."  Bowaz
turned to the Invid Enforcer, who was standing nearby.  "And you
say this plan of yours cannot fail?"
     "I have made a study of ley line energy of my own, with the
help of your techno-magician, Michael Fosser.  I am confident
that if you get me to the nexus located near the Hive, I will
succeed."
     Bowaz nodded.  "Very well, then.  Report to your position
aboard the Beta fighter that is to carry you to your destination.
And--I never thought I'd be saying this to an Invid, but good
luck."  The power source for all our mecha is riding on this, he
added silently.
 
     Elsewhere in the ship, other troops were making preparations
to join Task Force Invid--surreptitiously, as it were.
     Joe Moore the Glitter Boy (whom everyone had started calling
Joe Moore One to avoid confusion with the other Joe Moore), Joe
Moore the high school student (called Joe Moore Two for the same
reason), Chris Meadows the college student, and Michael Fosser
the Techno-Wizard had become fast friends, a fairly close-knit
little group that did things together.  However, Joe Two often
worried about his father, captured by the Invid during the foray
into their dimension.
     "Are they going to rescue him or what?" Joe was often heard
to mutter when he thought no one else was listening.
     And then this top secret operation commenced--called Task
Force Invid or something like that.  No one would talk about it,
but it was quite clear that all or most of the GMU's Veritech
mecha would be mobilized for this mission.
     Both Joe Moores were quite nervous about this.  "If they're
going to free the Invid slaves, I wish they'd TELL me," Joe Two
had said about a hundred times over the next few days.  Finally,
Michael Fosser had used his powers of telemechanics--the ability
to comprehend and communicate with any type of mechanical
equipment, which Jack also had and had used during his previous
stay at the GMU--to find out exactly what was going on.
     What he had found was not good.  When he told the others in
a small conference room in the GMU, this is what transpired:
     "I can't believe this.  Can you believe this?" Joe Two said,
throwing his hands up in the air and pacing around.  "They're
going to put this Invid guy back in command, and not doing a
thing about the Protoculture slaves?"
     "Worried about your dad?" Chris asked.
     "HELL no," Joe replied.  "It's just the injustice of the
thing...all those innocent people, captured from our world and
forced to work here--"
     "Right, right," Fosser said.  "But what are we going to do
about it?"
     "What CAN we do?" Joe One asked.
     Fosser turned on him.  "Well, YOU can pilot an Alpha, can't
you?"
     "I THINK I can," he answered.  "But it's only in the
simulator.  I've never logged any actual flight time."
     "But you have over 300 hours on the simulator, right?"
Fosser pressed.
     "Well, yes," Moore admitted.
     "Good.  That's problem number one out of the way: how we're
going to get there.  That also covers problem number two:
preventing anybody from noticing our abrupt departure.  Now,
problem number three: how to get our hands on a Legios unit just
before takeoff."
     "Hey, whoa," Chris Meadows said.  "I think you're getting
ahead of us here."
     "Okay."  Fosser sat down at the head of the table.  "Here's
the plan."  Fosser outlined an amazing scheme.  They would steal
one of the linked Alpha-Beta fighter planes (otherwise known as
Legios) just before the mission was to commence.  They would fly
with the rest of the fleet to the Invid Hive, but would break off
shortly before the attack.  They would go into the slave pens,
free them, and proceed from there.
     "So what do you think?" Fosser finished.
     "I think it's going to take a miracle to pull it off," Joe
One said unbelievingly.
     "Good.  Then we'll do it," Joe Two said.  And that was that.
     So now they were going to put their plan into action.
Everything was in position.  First, it was Fosser's job to delay
Alpha-Beta unit KG-44's takeoff.  Fosser had fixed this up in
advance, during a maintenance check of the unit the day before.
He had planted a magically-modified electronic component in the
Alpha's main computer banks.  Now, he activated it.  Every single
electronic system onboard the Alpha and the Beta shut down.
     Now Fosser, dressed in mechanics' coveralls, ran out
makeshift airfield carrying a tool kit and a ladder.  "You'll
have to get out!" Fosser yelled up to the cockpit.  "I have to
get into the cockpit to fix your computer!"  At the same time, he
planted a hand firmly on the side of the Alpha, telemechanically
searching for the cockpit release.  He soon found it, and the
canopy started lifting.
     "But I--" the CVR-armored pilot began.
     "But nothing," Fosser said.  "Bowaz wants this plane in the
air immediately.  I have to get this thing fixed or Irrout'll be
in trouble with his superior, and I'll be in deep guacamole.
Comprende?"
     "Uh, right, right."  The confused pilot climbed out, and
Fosser climbed in and started dismantling the control board.
Actually, he only took the main access panel off and pretended to
be fixing things--his function was to occupy the cockpit until
Joe One could get in.
     The techno-wizard looked around.  It seemed to be about
time...He pulled out a small ruby and concentrated.  It glowed
briefly, and Fosser knew that its sister-stone, in Joe One's
hand, would also be glowing.  He put it away.  The signal was
sent.
     Now a small forklift-type vehicle came out onto the field,
followed by a larger flatbed truck and a Battler Cyclone in power
armor mode.  Joe Two was at the wheel of the forklift, Chris
Meadows drove the truck, and Joe One was in the Cyclone.  They
were also dressed in maint workers' coveralls, and Moore Two was
wearing a false mustache.
     Joe One waved to the cockpit.  Fosser gave him the
traditional thumbs-up "high sign" and directed a thought toward
activating one of the other functions of his techno-magical
component.  The Beta fighter's bomb bay swung open.
     "Okay, go, go, go!" the Cyclone pilot yelled.  The forklift
moved under the Beta, and the Cyclone jumped up inside and
started handing down bombs.  The forklift took them and deposited
them on the truck.
     The Beta pilot came back into the bay.  "Hey, now, what's
going on here?" he asked.
     "It's a new maintenance procedure," Moore replied, handing
down another bomb.  "We gotta remove all the bombs before doing
computer work.  They're afraid a short circuit could set them off
or something."
     "Why wasn't I informed?" the pilot asked.
     Joe shrugged.  "Don't ask me, I just work here."  He lifted
another bomb and passed it down.
     "But I should have--" the pilot protested.  Joe turned on
him.  "Look, do you think I like it?  It's a whole lot more work
for me, and I HATE working with hazardous--with EXPLOSIVE
materials!  But I'm just doing my job, so if you wanna bitch at
someone, go bitch at Irrout.  HE's the one in charge, NOT me."
Joe turned back to his task, leaving a silent Beta pilot in his
wake.
     When he was finished, Joe yelled down to the truck, "Okay,
move out!  And be careful not to drop any of those, you hear?"
The forklift also moved off, but not as far.  Joe Two jumped down
from the forklift, carrying a toolkit.  He ran back to the Beta.
"Hey, hey!" he yelled.  "Let me in there!  There's an important
adjustment I have to make."
     Joe One tossed the rope ladder down, and Joe Two climbed up
it.  He put his tool kit down and opened it.
     "Can I see your helmet please?" Joe One asked the Beta
pilot.
     "Huh?  Oh, sure."  The pilot took it off, and handed it to
Moore.  As he did so, the other Moore took a monkeywrench from
the tool kit and slugged the pilot on the back of the head with
it.  THUD!  He dropped like a rock.
     "Great.  One to go," the younger Joe Moore said.  "I'll drag
this one up to the cockpit for now."
     "Right.  I'll get the other one."  He jumped down to the
ground and pointed to the Alpha pilot.  "Hey, you!  I need to see
you in here!"  He jumped back up into the now-empty bomb bay, and
the pilot climbed up the ladder.  "Can I see your helmet,
please?"  THUD!
     Now Joe One convered the Cyclone back to motorcycle mode and
climbed off.  His CVR armor was identical to that the pilot was
wearing.  With his visor down, no one would know the difference.
Meanwhile, Joe Two was stripping the armor off both of the real
pilots, and getting into one suit himself.
     Joe the Glitter Boy pilot climbed down from the bay, ran out
to the side of the Alpha, and touched his finger to his
wristwatch, their prearranged signal.  Michael Fosser closed the
access panel and cast the final spell to reactivate all the
Legios systems.  "All ready, sir.  I'd better go make sure the
bomb bay is all right."  He climbed out, and Joe Moore climbed
in.
     Now the flatbed truck came rolling back out onto the field,
without the bombs this time.  It did carry a couple of the large
canvas sacks that Beta bombs were often carried in, however.
     It pulled up beneath the Beta, and the younger Joe Moore,
now in the Cyclone the older Moore had discarded, climbed down to
pick them up.  Once inside the bomb bay, however, the sacks
turned out to contain not bombs, but additional Cyclone cycles,
folded up in their cubical storage mode.  They were rapidly
removed and stored, and the unconscious bodies of the pilots
(given powerful sedatives from the Beta medical kit to insure
that they stayed that way) were stuffed in the sacks and lowered
to the truck.  It was then driven off the field, and its driver,
Chris, came running back out.  Chris climbed into the bomb bay
just after Fosser, and started pulling on the CVR-3 armor
belonging to the other pilot.
     Fosser got on the Alpha-Beta intercom.  "All right, we are
go.  I only hope no one noticed four mechanics come out, but none
go back."
     "They're all too busy with their own planes to notice,"
Chris Meadows said, pulling his helmet on.  As it turned out, he
was right.
 
     "All Veritech fighters, you are go for take-off.  Lock your
computers on the following compass headings and get ready to go."
     All the Veritech fighters engaged their thrusters and
launched into the sky.  This included the Legios unit piloted by
Joe Moore.
     "All right, we're airborne!" Joe Two whooped.
     "Yeah, but what are we going to do when we get there?" Chris
Meadows asked, checking the action on the laser sniper's rifle he
had obtained on the college campus and had smuggled into the
plane (along with all their other weapons) in Joe's toolkit.
     "Whatever we can," Fosser replied.  "Whatever we can."
 
 
 
Chapter 45: Where Invid Rule
 
 
     During the weeks that the GMU spent camped by the Magic
Zone, the Invid continued to move toward their plan of world
domination.
     "How goes the labor in the fields?" Zyjinn asked his
chief lieutenant, one of the Invid Enforcers he had mutated into
humanoid form before his successful bid to knock Bort from the
throne.
     "The humans are restive, but they work," the man reported.
"None have attempted to escape since we made an example of those
last two humans who tried."
     "Good...I knew that was a stroke of genius on my part.  Go
and ensure their continued loyalty."
     "Yes, my lord."  The Invid left the room.
     "It looks like things are going well for you, Zyjinn," the
human standing beside the throne said.
     "Yes, Tal," Zyjinn replied.  "Even though your portal was
closed and you very nearly lost your life, our foray into that
other dimension gained us more than enough workers to complete
the harvesting on our first experimental Protoculture fields."
     "But you will soon need more workers, am I correct?" Tal
asked.
     "How do you read my mind like that?" Zyjinn asked.
     "A simple trick, made possible through the monstrous amounts
of magic that surge around and through this planet.  But I assume
I am correct?"
     "Indeed, Tal, you are.  We must have more workers for our
expansion."
     "Then we shall open another portal.  Might I suggest the
same dimension?  Their armed forces seem to be quite inadequate
to the task of defending against your Invid hordes."
     "A very good idea, Tal.  Very good."
     "This time, however, I think we shall open it elsewhere than
here," Tal said.
     Startled, Zyjinn asked, "Oh?  What do you mean?"
     "I mean that it is too much strain to open a portal here.
We must do it at one of the three nexus points located nearby."
He indicated a crude map he had drawn on the floor.  "Any of
these three would do.  I will be able to keep it open virtually by
itself, thus leaving the bulk of my magical energies free to do
other things.  You know that my teleport to safety the last time
was a very close thing."
     Zyjinn nodded.  "There is sense in what you say.  We shall
locate our rift in THAT nexus."  He indicated one of them with
his foot.  "It is very close to our slave holding pens, so we can
transport the prisoners there with a minimum of effort."
     "Very good...And what if your enemies, the Robotech forces,
should show up?  We will need guards."
     "We shall have them.  Be assured, I can handle anything less
than the Regis herself."  And soon even that, Zyjinn thought.
     Tal chuckled to himself--he had caught the unvoiced
assertion at the end, and knew that he had caught himself a
rising star for sure.  And he was going to ride this one all the
way to the top.
 
     Meanwhile, the Invid Regis nervously considered the problem
of the small extra-dimensional Hive as she dwelled in her vast
main Hive on some undisclosed planet.  She had not had contact
with it for many days now, and was beginning to believe that it
had been destroyed.  It was no great loss, true--it was
expendable, and had been from the very beginning--but it was
puzzling.  If it had been destroyed, surely she would have felt
it.  Wouldn't she?
     But there were other matters on the Regis' mind at the
moment.  There was the puzzling disappearance of hundreds of her
Invid mecha.  As much as she had been trying, she could not make
contact with them.  Yet they had not been killed--just vanished.
Perhaps the two were somehow connected...?
     The Regis turned her attention back to the planet Earth of
her own dimension.  Strange new Robotech mecha had been showing
up there recently, and it was a mystery to her where they were
coming from.  It was beginning to look like she might have to
return to the planet to handle the problems herself.
     And the great mysterious wheel of Life rolled on...
 
     Tal and Zyjinn stood in the center of the great glowing
globe that was the nexus.  Together they concentrated, and from
their concentration a small disturbance in the fabric of space
and time appeared, and grew, and grew, until it was a gigantic
hole through which buildings could hazily be seen.  "Yes!" Tal
crowed.  "The Portal is open!"
     Then Zyjinn sensed a disturbance.  "Something is wrong.  I
will have my Invid check it out."  He mentally dispatched a
flight of Shock Troopers toward the source of the disturbance.
"I'm sure it is nothing of consequence.  Let us proceed!"
 
     About forty miles to the north of the nexus point, above
another, stronger nexus, one of the Betas opened its bomb bay
doors.  Out of it fell not bombs, but an Invid in the Enforcer
power armor.  Its rear thrusters fired, stabilizing it and
letting it land in safety.  It watched the Alphas and Betas
continue south for a moment, then turned and walked into the
glowing blue nexus.
     The Enforcer stood in the exact center of the area, threw
out its arms, and all the armor fell away.  Revealed was a rather
ugly-looking creature that was only humanoid in that it had two
arms and two legs.  Its torso terminated in a snake-like neck
with a flat triangular head at the end, and its arms and legs
were thick and muscular.
     "Mother Regis!" the Invid called out, "hear my cry!"
Blue lightning crackled around his body as he raised his hands in
supplication to the sky, sending the mental message with all his
might.
 
     In another dimension, the Regis gasped.  A mental signal of
astonishing clarity was coming in.  And she recognized--yet also
did not recognize--the sender!
     "Who are you?" she sent back.
     "I am Bort!" the reply came.  It was one of her children,
and it seemed almost like Bort's mental pattern--but this was
from a Stage 4 Invid, and Bort was one of the humanoid Stage 5!
     "Impossible!" she sent back.  "Bort is higher evolved than
you!"
     "It is true, Regis," the reply came.  "I am Bort."  And the
Regis could sense no duplicity in the signal.
     "Then what has happened to you?" the Regis asked, and waited
for the answer in a state of nervous anticipation.  Was there
some unforeseen flaw in the evolutionary process that caused
Invid humanoids to revert to their previous state after a certain
amount of time?  What had gone wrong?
     "It is Zyjinn's doing!" came back the faint reply.  "He
discovered a source of great power in this world and used it to
devolve me and usurp the throne, and to summon many Invid
brethren from our own dimension.  He has turned against me,
against the Hive, and even against you."
     "Impossible!" the Regis replied, but knew in her inner self
that it must be so.  It explained many things.  The failure of
the rogue Hive to acknowledge her mental reachings was due to
Zyjinn's mental signal blocking.  She had thought that the Regent
had been the only other one capable of such a feat, which was why
she had not suspected it.  And the disappearance of all her
children had been due to Zyjinn summoning them--again, a feat
that only the Regent was able to perform.
     "Mother, I ask you to lend me your power.  Grant me my
rightful form once again, and give me the ability to destroy
Zyjinn and his human sorcerer companion that I might again rule
the Hive for the greater glory of you and the Invid race!"
     A sudden fury went through the Regis.  How DARE Zyjinn usurp
her prerogative like that?  How DARE he devolve one of HER own
children?  That rage empowered her to break through the barrier
between their dimensions for long enough to transfer her power
into her outcast child.  Then, drained of much of her strength,
the Regis lapsed into an unconscious state that lasted many days.
 
     The Stage 4 Invid stood within the nexus point as lightning
gathered around it.  More and more lightning surrounded it, and
then a great crimson bolt from the heavens struck down and
transfixed the creature.  As that lightning burned, it grew
taller and slimmer, until it was at last a man!
     Bort raised his head and his eyes opened.  The anger on his
face made it strongly resemble the Regis' as he cried out, "At
last!  I am whole, once more!  Now Zyjinn and his minions shall
FEEL MY WRATH!"  Lightning again transfixed him, and he was gone.
 
 
 
Chapter 46: Dealing With the Coalition
 
 
     Inside the tiny security stockade of the GMU, several
Coalition Intelligence officers were incarcerated.  They were
brought food three times a day, and they had water, but that was
it.  Due to the immense shortage of personnel around the GMU
(especially with Operation Invid going on at the moment), no
guard was posted in their cell.  This gave them the perfect
opportunity for escape.
     It happened in the early afternoon of the day on which
Operation Invid was taking place.  The fighters had just lifted
off on their mission to free the Hive.  The leader of the
captured recon team, a middle-aged military specialist whose
brown hair showed touches of grey at the temples, decided that
this was the time to make their move.
     "What is that, sir?" one of the SAMAS pilots asked him as he
pulled something out of the sole of his uniform boot.
     "It's a vibro-stiletto," the officer replied, holding it up
for the others to see.  "I had it custom-made by a weaponsmith in
Iron Heart.  It's our key to freedom from this dump."  He
activated the blade and sliced through the metal bars of the
prison door.  Kicking them out of the way, he stepped through,
the vibro-dagger held in a thrower's grip by the hilt.  No one
else was in the room.  There was a security camera in the corner,
but judging from the attention they'd received so far, it was
probably not being watched.  It was a chance they'd have to take.
     "Okay, it's clear."  The other three men climbed out and
looked around.  "Now what, sir?" one asked.
     The Coalition military specialist looked around and
pinpointed the weapons lockers across the room.  "There.  I'll
just cut that one open..."
 
     On the bridge, all was quiet.  Bowaz had gone to the rest
room for the nonce, and the radar tech was left alone at the
console.  Then a klaxon sounded, and two red lights started
flashing on a different control board.
     Unfamiliar with those controls and knowing that Bowaz would
not want to come back to a blaring alarm, the technician ran over
to the panel, glanced at it, and hit the button to shut off the
alarm.  "It's probably just a short circuit in an airlock hatch
or something," she assured herself.
 
     "What do you think?" the military specialist asked, reaching
into the now-open locker and pulling out a strange-looking rifle
that said "MARS/Gallant H90" on the side.  "Can you work it?"
     The SAMAS pilot examined it and shook his head.  "This is
way beyond me.  I've never seen a weapon like this before."
     "What about this one?"  He pulled out a laser gun that
resembled a submachine gun, with a short, squat body and a long
stock.  "It says it's a 'Fal-2.'"
     "I think I can work that.  Standard laser rifle.  A bit
primitive, but standard."
     "Good.  Let's arm ourselves."  They took rifles and a few of
the 9mm staplegun-like auto pistols stored within the lockers.
     "Now what?" one of the SAMAS pilots asked.  "We don't even
know where they're storing our armor."
     "We'll go to the bridge of this vehicle," the specialist
decided.  "With surprise on our side, perhaps we can take it over
long enough to send a radio message to the Coalition.  Then we
can see what they advise us to do, and do it."
     The corridors were pretty empty, since many of the troops
were gone to fight the Invid.  The four Coalition soldiers had no
trouble getting to the control deck--they met nobody along the
way.
     When they entered the bridge, the Coalition recon team was
momentarily startled to find it so empty.  They had expected more
than one person to be on duty there.
     But they soon overcame their initial surprise.  "Hold it!"
the officer yelled at the startled radar tech.  "Stand away from
that control board.  Number Two, cover her."  He walked up to the
control station she had just vacated, sat down, and glanced over
the layout.  "This could take a while.  Numbers Three and Four,
cover the doors."
     A minute or so later, the man had the microwave transciever
set to the right frequency for the nearby Coalition relay
station.  Then he activated the microphone and sent the following
signal: "Sergeant Nordblick calling Coalition Base Station.
Sergeant Nordblick calling Coalition Base Station.  Do you copy,
Coalition Base Station?"
     When the go-ahead signal came, Nordblick related what had
happened.  "Shall I attempt to assume command of this vehicle and
take it to Chi-Town?"
     The officer on the screen was replaced by General Underhill.
Nordblick was startled.  He, a low-ranking grunt, had never
expected ever to talk to Underhill.  "No!  Do not attempt that!"
the general said.  "You will only fail, and thus turn them
against us.  You must negotiate with their leader and convince
him to join us."
     "But what about the attack, sir?  Surely he would not want
to join us after that."
     "Tell him it was that idiot Mortifax's fault, and that
situation has since been...remedied.  Tell him anything--offer
him anything.  Just BRING IN THAT VEHICLE and its accompanying
forces and you will be a Captain."
     "Yes, SIR!"  Nordblick saluted as the transmission faded.
He reset the microwave transmitter and turned to the other
troops.  "Drop your weapons, boys.  We have to negotiate our way
out of this one."
     They stared at him in disbelief.  "What?!"
     "I said drop 'em.  We don't want to hurt anybody.  Would
ruin our chances."  The sergeant dropped his own guns as an
example.  His men looked at him as if he were crazy, but did as
he commanded.
     Just then, Lieutenant Colonel Mortifax strode onto the
command deck from the elevator.  "Hey, what's all this?" he
asked, noticing the Coalition troopers in the room and all the
guns on the floor.
     "We want to talk with you," Sgt. Nordblick said.  "It was
necessary to use these guns to get here, but we don't need them
any more.  After all, we have no hostile intentions toward you,
your men, or this--this AMAZING vehicle."
     "What?!" Bowaz sputtered, pulling his gun and training it on
them.  "You'll get back in the brig, where you belong."
     "Really, Colonel," Nordblick said in his most ingratiating
voice.  "We're all civilized human beings here.  We can talk
about this.  It seems you've forgotten about us down there, and
we urgently need to speak with you."
     "On what subject," Bowaz asked suspiciously.
     "We want you to join the Coalition."
     Bowaz laughed bitterly.  "After you attacked us?  I think
not."
     "That wasn't our fault.  One of our officers did that on his
own initiative.  Surely you realize how full of idiots the chain
of command can be."
     Bowaz nodded.  "Very true.  But what can you offer me?"
     "Anything you want," Nordblick said.  Inspiration struck.
"Your own command.  An entire batallion of Coalition soldiers at
your beck and call.  Your own town, your own city to command.
Anything!"
     Bowaz's head began spinning.  In that instant, he dismissed
all the bad things he'd heard about the Coalition as rumors and
began seriously considering the Coalition's offer.
 
 
 
Chapter 47: Operation Emancipation
 
 
     Joe Moore nudged the stick slightly and the Alpha-Beta
banked to the left.  "This plane is so responsive!" he said.  "I
love it.  It's even better than the simulator."
     "Get ready to break formation," the squadron leader's voice
came over the radio.  "This is apparently an Invid facility of
some sort, and they're coming to intercept.  Let's burn them and
burn them good!"
     "Look!" Michael Fosser said excitedly over the intercom.
"Those buildings, at eleven o'clock low!  There are people there,
lots of people!"
     "And Invid guards outside, too," Chris Meadows added.
     "This must be the slave pens!  What a stroke of luck!" the
younger Joe Moore added.
     "But what's that over there?" Chris asked.  "At 12:00.  That
blue column of energy--is that a ley line?"
     "More than that; it's a nexus point," Michael Fosser said.
"And look--there's two people in it there, and--a rift!  They're
opening a rift!"
     "No time for that now," Joe Moore One said from the cockpit.
"I'm coming in."  He shoved the stick forward and pulled the
throttle back.  The Legios streaked for the ground.
 
     When Shock Troopers reached the source of Zyjinn's feeling
of disquiet, they had time to send a brief image of Veritech
fighters before they were destroyed by gunfire.  Zyjinn gasped.
"They are coming!  The Robotech soldiers are attacking now!"
     Tal started.  "Then what shall we do?"
     "I shall handle this attack.  Easily, in fact."  Zyjinn drew
power from the nexus and prepared to use it to knock the
offending planes out of the sky.  But then he was stopped--the
energy evaporated from his hands before he could cast it.
     "You will be handling NOTHING from now on, Zyjinn," a voice
thundered, and with a flash of lightning, Bort materialized in
front of the rift.
     "You!" Zyjinn said, a look of horror on his face.  "But I
devolved you!  How could--Well, I did it once, I can do it
again!"  Lightning crackled from his fingers, but it faded out
between himself and Bort.  "What--how--?!"
     "The Regis has granted me her power, Zyjinn," Bort
thundered.  "You will now pay for your transgressions!"  A
fireball flew from Bort's fingertips.  Zyjinn threw up a shield
that barely stopped the missile.
     "We shall see about that!" Zyjinn shouted, drawing more
power from the Rift and casting it at Bort.  Bort made no move to
stop it.  He let it strike him, and laughed, unharmed.
     "You fool, Zyjinn!  Did you really think you could stand
against the full force of the Regis, multiplied manifold by the
energies within this sphere?  Now, you will die!"  Bort threw out
his hands and gathered mystic energy around them.  This he
directed at Zyjinn, who fell to his knees under the onslaught.
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