Now, though, she entered their quarters as he settled his web gear and ran yet another check of his equipment. Med-pack, spare ammo, emergency ration concentrates, inertia! tracker-
"Happy, Rick?"
"Lisa, we can't have this same argument again! Veidt picked me; I didn't even volunteer."
"You didn't have to. You've made your preferences known."
"I took an oath to serve in a military outfit, not sit on the sidelines!"
"Well, you got your wish, hmm?" But she couldn't stay mad at him, not with his departure so near. "Oh, just make sure you come back safe and sound, get me?"
He took her in his arms. "Quit worrying; I'm not looking for any medals. Rick 'Cautious'
Hunter, that's me."
They kissed, then she pushed him away. "And no flirting with those Praxian lady wrestlers, or we're going to be short one admiral around here."
"No, ma'am. Yes, ma'am."
At the shuttle lock, Jack Baker was making final adjustments on his thinking cap. While the team wasn't bringing any large transformable mecha, there were still a couple of Cyclone combat cycles and Hoverbikes. Besides, Jack didn't favor climbing onto anything fast-moving, or, for that matter, being in a combat zone without all the protection he could get. He wished Lang's researchers had given the Sentinels some prototypes of the bodyarmor they were working on, full armor that was supposed to integrate with the Cyclones somehow.
Anyway, the helmet would be necessary for communications, with its built-in commo gear.
Apparently Gnea and Bela were going to stick with their showy Praxian helms as reengineered by Lang; sometimes Jack found their blending of the old and new rather illogical.
"Well, well, so they're sending the scrub team along to see how real soldiers get the job done, hmm?"
Karen Penn had a way of making even a combat suit look good. She was shrugging into her web gear, resettling her burdens, giving Jack a mocking smile.
"Somebody's got to be there to chafe your wrist after you faint, Penn." They were about to get into another row when Jack became aware of a sound that made him turn with his mouth hanging open.
They're not serious!
It was Bela, mounted on the Robotsteed, Halidarre, with Gnea riding pillion behind.
Halidarre's hooves rang against the deckplates. It took him a few seconds to get out any sound. "What d'you think you're doing? This is a recon mission, not a carnival!"
The towering Bela's brows knit ominously as she glared down at him. "Halidarre is my steed; with her, we'll cover more ground and be able to rest assured that triumph in battle shall inevitably be ours!" Bela slapped the sword on her thigh, but Jack noticed that she carried a Wolverine assault rifle in a saddle scabbard too, and had a heavy energy pistol in a shoulder holster.
Gnea was carrying her halberd and her shield, although she was adorned with grenades and firearms. Jack could see now that the inner rim of the shield was lined with a row of throwing knives held in place by clips, convenient to her hand. Gnea slid to the deck, then Bela did, taking Halidarre's bridle and leading her toward the shuttle's open freight hatch.
The Karbarran spacers and the others standing around were too stunned to interfere, and in a moment the amazons were easing the mecha horse into place in the cargo area. Totally unskittish, Halidarre looked like she went through this kind of thing every day.
"The admiral's not going to like this," Jack muttered.
Karen shrugged. "Oh, well, at least she didn't decided to bring along that four-winged miniature gunship that she-"
Just then Bela turned and uttered a piercing whistle, adding, "Hagane. To me!"
Jack and Karen, like the rest of the ship's complement, had learned to duck when Bela gave that whistle. Something small and fast, moving and darting like a hummingbird, came blurring through the air on a whirring of multiple wings, buzzing the two lieutenants just for the fun of it. Jack felt like taking a swipe at Hagane, but decided it wasn't worth the risk of having a finger nipped off by a beak as keen as a pair of tin snips.
Hagane was what Bela called a malthi, as much a royal bird to the Praxians as the falcon was to the pharaohs. It settled on the heavy sheath on her forearm now, a creature no bigger than a sparrow-hawk, ruffling its double sets of wings and gazing around suspiciously. Her eyes bulged strangely, savage and unreadable, and Hagane let out the birring hunting sound that seemed to go right through one's eardrums.
"God, I hate when she does that," Jack frowned. "Horses and birds! Why don't we take along some clowns and a tightrope walker while we're at it?"
"You don't approve of the TO&E, Lieutenant?"
Jack spun. "Oh, Admiral! The Table of Organization and Equipment's just fine with me, sir! I, uh-that is, I was just surprised, that's all."
Rick was, too, but decided not to let it show. Actually, he was curious about how useful the Robotech horse and the Praxian hunting bird would be. Certainly, they wouldn't exactly be inconspicuous if Bela insisted on tearing all over the sky-but on the other hand, they were nothing that the Invid would connect with an expedition from Tirol.
He sighed, not looking forward to getting Bela to see reason and use her pets with restraint.
Maybe Lisa was right, and this outing wasn't such a great idea after all.
But it was too late for that. Lron showed up, and Rem, and Kami. They boarded the shuttle and belted in, as Lisa began her careful approach swing through the planetary ring.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The pivotal point, unanswered as yet, is what success the Regent felt he was achieving in his
"devolution," and how he chose his course. That he still felt an unshakable desire-perhaps love, perhaps obsession-for the Regis is obvious.
But this doesn't jibe with "de-evolution" as Humans would picture it; surely his self-remolding should have taken him away from such feelings. Did he refuse to give up those feelings, or was de-evolution something completely different from what we might surmise?
Lemuel Thicka, Temple of Flames.' A History of the Invid Regent
Once again, Crysta stood before Tesla's cage. "I ask you yet again, Invid: what can you tell me of the situation on Karbarra?"
Tesla spread his hands with infinite sadness. "Only what you yourself know. Yet, I say to you once more: release me and let me go down to your planet and do my best on behalf of peace and the opening up of new dialogues."
Crysta made an impatient sound. "If I discover that you're lying, I'll throw you out an airlock."
She turned to go.
"Wait," he blurted. "Why haven't you told the others of-this matter?" As a scientist, he had discovered interesting things about the ursinoids' belief system. He had expected Lron and Crysta would have explained their quandary to the Sentinels long ago; though it was perhaps some slight advantage to him that they hadn't, he found it puzzling.
Crysta made an irritated sound. "You understand nothing, Invid! The knowledge that comes from our Seeing is fragile. Revealing it can change the Seeing and the Shaping to something else, something even worse. If you hadn't already known about-about our dilemma, I would never have mentioned it."
Tesla nodded to himself. So. It might be that there was hope for him yet, if he could manipulate things. Certainly, he hadn't much else going for him. He, above all, had reason to hope that the Karbarrans' vision of the future came out well; otherwise, Tesla would be among the first to feel their wrath, and he knew how terrible their vengeance could be.
The entry was more of a free-fall, really, Lron's piloting veering between the suicidally reckless and the professionally competent. He peeled part of the ablative layer off the shuttle but got them down without registering, as far as they could tell, on any Invid instruments.