18_the_end_of_the_circle- 第42节

No　one　spoke　to　it。

Vince　cleared　his　throat。　〃We'll　mence　transporting　life　support　essentials；　mecha；　and　personnel　as　soon　as　Doctor　Nichols　has　his　team　in　place。〃

〃Well；　there's　not　much　in　the　way　of　a　wele　we　can　arrange；〃　Scott　told　him。　〃We　haven't　found　the　liquor　cabinet　yet。〃

Polite　laughter　greeted　the　remark；　principally　from　Scott's　own　team　members。

Vince　gestured　behind　him。　〃Cabell　and　Exedore　won't　be　joining　us；　Colonel。　The　Ark　Angel　will　make　for　Tirol　after　disembarking　her　Karbarran　passengers。　And　hopefully　act　as　our　beacon　in　this　realm　once　we've；　well；　crossed　over。〃

Scott　gulped；　thinking　of　Ranaath's　Star。　〃Who'll　be　crewing　this　ship；　then；　sir？〃

〃I've　put　it　on　a　voluntary　basis；　Scott。　Jean　and　I　and　Doctor　Penn　are　ing　over。　And　so　far　we've　got　three　squadrons　of　mecha　pilots　and　a　sufficient　number　of　technical　assist　crews。〃

〃I　hope　you've　already　counted　me　in；　mander；〃　Scott　said；　sensing　that　Vince　had　left　something　dangling　in　the　air。

Vince　nodded。　〃I　have。〃

Scott　folded　his　arms　and　stared　at　the　floor。　〃There's　just　one　more　thing；　sir　。　。　。　The；　ah；　Invid　simulagent。　I　was；　you　know；　thinking　it　would　help　having　her　along。〃

〃Marlene　will　acpany　us；　Scott。〃　Vince　traded　brief　looks　with　Louie。　〃There　doesn't　seem　to　be　anything　left　for　her　in　this　realm。〃

Or　much　left　of　her；　Scott　kept　to　himself。


The　transfer　of　supplies　and　personnel　took　less　than　twelve　hours；　during　which　time　Haydon　IV　did　not　so；　much　as　stir。　But　finally　the　moment　arrived　for　the　Ark　Angel　and　the　pirated　ship　to　part　pany。

Louie　canceled　the　override　and　punched　up　the　original　mands　the　Awareness　had　programmed　into　the　sphere's　drives；　and　the　ship's　systems　instantly　came　on…line。

While　Cabell　and　the　rest　watched　from　the　Ark　Angel　bridge；　the　sphere's　massive　drives　flared　once　and　hurled　the　ship　toward　the　dark　eye　of　Ranaath's　Star。　The　sphere　seemed　so　hang　suspended　at　the　edge　of　the　whirlpool　for　the　briefest　of　moments　before　it　vanished　from　space　and　time。


Thousands　of　miles　distant；　the　fey；　aged　crew　of　a　second　ship　monitored　the　sphere　ship's　protracted　plunge　into　the　black　hole　and　the　subsequent　departure　of　the　Ark　Angel。　They　then　turned　their　attention　to　the　reconfigured　Haydon　IV　and　waited。


PART　III

AWAKENINGS

CHAPTER　TWENTY…TWO

Survival　recognizes　and　rewards　anything　that　sustains　life；　and　here　was　undeniable　proof　of　that。　No　matter　how　noxious　its　central　characteristic；　it　proved　itself　to　have　a　stark　value　in　what　the　Earthers　call　Darwinian　terms…even　a　functional　formidability。
The　Scribe　Triumvirate　of　Aholt；　Ulla；　and　Tussas；　Nothing　but　Animus：　A　History　of　the　Robotech　Elders

Death；　their　tireless　enemy；　had　them　cornered　at　last。

It　had　pursued　them　for　an　age；　ever　since　they'd　cast　off　the　bonds　of　a　mortal　life　span　and　received　unholy　munion　with　the　Protoculture　a　naive　Zor　had　fetched　home　to　them　from　the　stars。　Death　was　the　inevitable　dark　side　of　nthe　bid　they　made；　immediately；　for　eternal　life。　Not　just　longevity　but　immortality；　anything　less…prolonged　years　in　dread　of　the　end…was　nothing　but　a　unique　torment。

For　the　Robotech　Elders；　death　had　bee　the　greatest　of　fears；　in　some　ways　a　Singularity　of　fear。

Watching　the　sphere　ship　plunge　into　Ranaath's　Star；　somehow　surving　the　deadly　swirl　of　the　accretion　disc；　the　utter　anihilation　of　the　event　horizon；　the　Robotech　Elders　had　shuddered　at　the　risk　its　passengers　and　crew　were　running。　Foolish　little　subcreatures；　so　reckless　with　their　brief　lives！　

The　Elders　sat　despondent；　even　their　mindspeech　silent；　in　their　habitual　circle。　They　arranged　themselves　in　their　triumvirate　from　habit…from　reflex；　by　now。　Between　them　was　their　darkened　Protoculture　cap；　a　mushroomlike　console　of　instrumentality　ten　feet　across；　a　hateful　mockery　of　its　former　glorious　self。

Once　it　had　bent　worlds　to　their　will。　In　the　years　since　the　Elders　had　fled　Tirol…upon　the　arrival　of　the　SDF…3…it　had　kept　them　alive；　barely；　through　its　residue　of　power。　With　the　disappearance　of　all　Protoculture　in　the　Elevation　of　the　Invid　race；　the　cap　had　died；　bee　nothing　more　than　a　burnt…out　artifact。

Their　ship　was　a　small　prototype　a　Scientist　triumvirate　had　been　working　on　when　the　Invid　onslaught　had　finally　reached　Tirol。　The　vessel　was　considerably　smaller　than　the　assault　ships　that　had　once　carried　the　Robotech　Masters'　colossal　Bioroids　into　bat；　smaller　than　the　tri…thrusters　their　Zentraedi　giants　had　flown　in　battle　in　an　age　now　vanished　forever。

They　had　languished　in　it　for　years　with　little　to　behold　but　one　another；　each　ing　to　hate　the　others　and　yet　incapable　of　surviving　without　them。

Some　of　the　craft's　systems　had　been　altered　over　the　intervening　years　to　run　on　more　conventional　power　sources。　Thus；　it　could　still　provide　life　support　and　had　marginal　maneuvering　capability。　But　nothing　could　power　the　cap　except　Protoculture　itself；　after　all　this　time　the　Elders　were　looking　death　in　the　face　as　they　never　had　since　that　first；　transmogrifying　taste　of　the　Essence　of　the　Flower　of　Life；　so　long　ago。

The　SDF…3　had　first　shown　up　near　Tirol　to　establish　contact　with　them；　to　seek　a　peace；　but　the　Elders　had　never　really　considered　that　idea　seriously；　they　had　presumed　it　was　their　onetime　Zentraedi　slave…warriors　e　home　for　final　vengeance。　Besides；　when　SDF…3　unfolded；　the　moon　of　Fantoma　was　already　under　genocidal　attack　by　the　forces　of　the　Invid　Regent。

Terrified　as　they　were　of　abandoning　their　seat　of　power；　lust　as　they　might　for　the　Protoculture　the　warring　armies　carried；　the　Elders　had　fled。　There　was　too　great　a　risk　of　death　on　Tirol；　and　their　fear　of　oblivion　outweighed　any　other　impulse。

Learning　the　REF's　true　intentions；　the　Elders　still　shrank　from　any　contact。　Masters　of　deceit　and　treachery；　they　were　incapable　of　trusting　anyone　else。

Their　little　prototype　ship；　with　its　superluminal　drive；　had　made　a　few　planetfalls　over　the　years　（since　the　Elders　dared　not　show　their　faces　near　any　of　the　advanced　Local　Group　worlds　they　had　once　ground　under　their　heel；　of　course）。　There　were　species　sufficiently　organized　and　domitable　to　be　of　some　minor　help…retrofitting　the　craft　under　the　Elders'　supervision；　installing　conventional　power　systems　to　minimize　the　drain　on　their　Protoculture　supply。

But　the　very　act　of　dominating　a　population　used　up　Protoculture　at　an　agonizing　rate；　and　the　Elders　feared　detection　by　their　former　subjects；　who　were　sallying　out　among　the　stars　on　their　own。　More　than　anything；　however；　the　last　Robotech　Masters　lusted　for　a　return　to　their　former　power。

For　that；　they　needed　clones；　warriors；　the　irresistible　power　of　Robotechnology；　but　above　all；　they　needed　the　secrets　that　had　died　with　Zor。　So　they　took　to　space　again；　feeding　on　bitterness　and　resentment　of　the　universe。　They　were　the　unseen　watchers　of　the　Sentinels'　struggles　against　the　Invid；　the　hidden　monitors　of　the　conflict　that　had　nearly　consumed　the　Local　Group　like　a　black　hole。

They　looked　for　their　advantage　at　every　turn；　but　events　defied　them。　Then　the　Invid　transubstantiation　swept　away　their　last　hoarded　reserve　of　Protoculture　like　a　whirlwind。　Growing　weaker；　sickened　like　addicts　gone　cold　turkey；　they　seemed　wraithlike　themselves。　The　Elders　clung　to　life　single　mindedly；　feeding　on　their　own　rapacity…the　stark　craving　to　rule。　They　became　their　own　worst　tormentors。

Finally；　as　they　spied　on　the　drama　played　out　around　Haydon　IV　and　Ranaath's　Star；　they　felt　the　last　of　their　life　forces　ebbing。

They　had　no　idea　how　the　planet　had　assumed　its　shape；　or　kept　it；　without　the　forces　of　gravity　deforming　and　distorting。　The　very　idea　of　two　half　spheres　the　size　of　the　opened　Haydon　IV　was　untenable　by　any　physics　the　Elders　knew。

But　that　was　something　for　the　lower　orders…Scientist　triumvirates　and　the　like…to　wonder　about。　The　task　of　Masters　was　to　rule。

Nimuul；　the　First　among　them；　could　barely　lift　his　chin　from　his　breast　as　he　sat　sprawled　in　his　thronelike　chair。　Still；　when　he　managed…to　bring　his　head　up　a　bit；　his　face　wore　the　furious；　blazing