10_invid_invasion-第6部分

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e。

He　turned　his　attention　now　to　the　one　item　that　was　likely　to　rescue　him　from　edible　plants　or　privation：　the　Cyclone　vehicle　stored　away　in　the　fighter's　small　cargo　partment。　A　well…concealed　sensor　panel　in　the　fuselage　gave　him　access　to　this；　and　in　a　moment　he　was　lifting　the　self…contained　Cyclone　free　of　the　cargo　hold。　In　its　present　collapsed　state　the　would…be　two…wheeled　transport　was　no　larger　than　a　foot　locker；　but　reconfigured　it　was　equivalent　to　a　1；000…cc　twentieth…century　motorcycle。　Which　in　fact　it　was；　after　a　fashion。

Originally　one　of　Robotechnology's　first　creations；　it　had　undergone　some　radical　modifications　under　Lang's　SDF…3　teams。　The　Expeditionary　Force　had　e　to　rely　upon　the　vehicle　as　much　as　it　had　on　the　Veritech　fighters；　even　though　its　design　was　still　a　basic　one：　a　hybrid　piston　and　Protoculture…powered　transformable　motorcycle　that　was　a　far　cry　from　the　Hovercycles　developed　on　Earth　during　the　same　time　period。　Unlike　that　Southern　Cross　marvel；　the　Cyclone　required　the　full　interaction　of　its　pilot；　whose　〃thinking　cap〃　and　specially　designed　armor　were　essential　to　the　functioning　of　the　vehicle's　Protoculture…based　mechamorphic　systems。　In　addition；　it　was　light　enough　to　carry；　and　wondrously　fuel…efficient。

Scott　carried　the　Cyclone　several　feet　from　the　fighter　and　set　about　reconfiguring　it；　which　entailed　little　more　than　flipping　the　appropriate　switches。　That　much　acplished；　he　transferred　his　survival　gear　to　the　cycle's　rear　deck　and　began　to　struggle　into　the　mecha's　modular　battle　armor…not　unlike　the　shoulder　pads；　hip　harnesses；　and　leg　and　forearm　protectors　worn　by　turn…of…the…century　athletes；　except　for　the　fact　that　the　armor　had　been　fashioned　from　lightweight　alloys。

Scott　was　wearing　Marlene's　holo…heart　around　his　neck　now　and　gave　a　last　look　at　it　before　snapping　the　armor's　pectorals　in　place。　It's　time；　my　love；　he　said　to　the　heart。

Again　he　told　himself　to　concentrate　on　the　mission。　He　recalled　mander　Gardner's　words：　If　only　one　of　you　survive　the　invasion；　you　must　locate　the　Invid　Reflex　Point　and　destroy　it　along　with　their　queen；　the　Regis。　Scott　had　no　idea　how　many　people　from　Mars　Division　had　survived　atmospheric　entry；　but　it　was　unlikely　that　any　of　them　had　touched　down　near　his　crash　site。　He　had　been　so　caught　up　in　the　destruction　of　the　mand　ship　that　he　had　failed　to　lock　the　proper　coordinates　into　the　VT's　autopilot。　As　a　consequence；　the　mecha　had　surely　delivered　him　far　from　any　of　the　dozen　preassigned　rendezvous　points　and　who　knew　how　far　from　the　Reflex　Point　itself。　The　stars　told　Scott　that　he　had　e　down　somewhere　in　the　southern　hemisphere；　which　put　thousands　of　miles　between　him　and　the　Regis　if　he　was　lucky；　oceans　between　them　if　not。　In　any　case；　north　was　the　direction　of　choice。

Scott　donned　his　helmet　and　mounted　the　Cyclone。　A　thumb　switch　brought　the　mecha　to　life；　he　found　his　confidence　somewhat　restored　by　the　throaty；　synchronous　firing　of　the　cycle's　systems。

Now　let's　get　on　with　evening　the　score　with　the　Regis　and　her　Invid　horde；　Scott　said　to　himself　as　he　set　off。

The　worst　thing　about　being　a　lone　survivor　were　the　memories　that　survived　with　you；　Scott　decided。　If　only　one　could　erase　them；　switch　them　off　somehow。　But　Scott　knew　that　he　couldn't；　the　people　one　loved　were　more　frightening　ghosts　than　anything　imagination　could　conjure　up。　And　they　couldn't　be　outrun。。。

Less　than　an　hour　from　his　crash　site；　Scott　was　surprised　to　find　himself　on　what　appeared　to　be　a　trail　or　an　ancient　roadway　lined　with　trees。　But　an　even　greater　shock　awaited　him　over　the　rise：　a　veritable　desert　at　the　foot　of　the　wooded　foothills　that　witnessed　his　crash；　stretching　out　toward　distant　barren　mountains。　Scott　slid　the　Cyclone　to　a　halt　and　stared　homesick　at　the　sight。

Who　said　there　were　no　Fantoma　landscapes　on　Earth？

Scott　had　never　heard　Wolff；　Edwards；　or　any　of　the　old…timers　brag　about　this。　It　was　almost　as　vast　as　Spheris！

Now　reassured　as　well　as　renewed；　Scott　twisted　the　Cyclone's　throttle　and　streaked　down　into　the　wastes。


Elsewhere　in　the　wastes　rode　a　survivor　of　a　different　campaign；　but　his　cycle　was　of　a　different　sort；　（twenty　years　old　if　it　was　a　day；　and　running　desperately　short　of　fuel　pellets）。

A　clear…eyed；　short；　sinewy　teenager　with　a　shaggy　mop　of　red　hair　and　an　unwashed　look　about　him…both　by　necessity　and　by　design…he　called　himself　Rand；　his　inherited　names　long　abandoned。　He　was　born　about　the　time　the　SDF…3　had　been　launched　from　Little　Luna；　and　he　had　seen　the　rise　and　fall　of　Chairman　Moran's　government；　the　invasion　of　the　Robotech　Masters；　and　humankind's　subsequent　regression　to　barbarism；　a　turn　of　events　that　had　culminated　with　the　arrival　of　the　Invid　and　their　easily　won　conquest。

Just　now　Rand　was　doing　what　he　did　best：　keeping　himself　alive。　His　old　bike　was　closing　in　on　the　object　he　had　seen　plummet　from　the　night　sky　two　days　ago；　something　too　slow　and　controlled　to　have　been　a　meteor；　too　massive　for　an　Alpha。　He　had　made　up　his　mind　to　track　its　fall；　abandoning　his　earlier　plans　to　try　for　Laako　City　in　the　hopes　of　beating　other　Spotters；　Foragers；　and　assorted　rogues　to　the　find。

Rand　relaxed　his　wrist　and　let　the　bike　e　to　a　slow　stop　a　good　kilometer　from　the　impact　point。　He　threw　back　the　hood　of　his　shirt　and　slid　his　goggles　up　onto　his　forehead。　The　ship　was　even　larger　than　he　had　guessed；　like　some　great　bird　with　enormous　hexagonally　shaped　cargo　pods　strapped　to　the　undersides　of　its　wings。　It　was　still　glowing　in　places　but　obviously　had　been　cooled　by　the　rains　that　had　drenched　the　irradiated　wastes　during　the　night。　Rand　cautiously　resumed　his　forward　motion；　pleting　a　circle　around　the　thing　at　the　same　safe　distance。　There　were　no　tracks　or　footprints　in　the　still…moist　sands；　which　meant　that　no　one　had　left　or　entered　the　wreck　during　the　past　twelve　hours　or　so。

He　cycled　through　a　second；　tighter　circle　and　headed　in；　convinced　that　he　was　first　to　arrive　on　the　scene。　Approaching　the　ship　now；　he　could　discern　numbers　and　letters　stenciled　on　the　fuselage…M_R_DIV_I　…but　could　make　no　sense　of　the　whole…where　it　had　e　from　or　why。

The　wreck　had　the　stench　of　recent　death　written　all　over　it。　He　wasn't　in　the　least　looking　forward　to　walking　into　cargo　bays　wallpapered　with　Human　remains；　but　he　was　just　going　to　have　to　shut　his　eyes　to　that　part　of　it。　There　had　to　be　something　he　could　use；　weapons　or　foodstuffs。

He　began　to　circle　the　ship　on　foot　now；　searching　for　some　way　to　get　inside。　The　nose　was　throwing　off　so　much　heat　there　was　no　getting　near　it；　but　the　rear　hatch　of　one　of　the　cargo　carriers　had　sprung　open　on　impact；　and　the　place　seemed　cool　enough　to　enter。

Rand　threw　himself　atop　the　twisted　wreck　of　the　hatch　and　started　in。　The　interior　was　dark　and　uninviting；　and　it　smelled　like　hell。　He　knew　he　wasn't　going　to　get　very　far；　but　not　fifty　feet　into　the　thing…after　whacking　his　head　on　a　low　threshold　and　falling　flat　on　his　face　in　the　dark…he　found　more　than　enough　to　satisfy　him：　a　bin　of　ten　Robotech　cycles。

He　lifted　one　up　and　out　of　its　rack　and　bent　down　to　look　it　over。　It　was　Robotech；　all　right；　probably　one　of　the　Cyclone　type　the　military　had　used　before　the　development　of　the　Hovercrafts。　Rand　had　heard　about　them　but　never　thought　he　would　live　to　see　one…let　alone　ride　one！

Straddling　the　mecha　now；　he　depressed　the　ignition　switch；　fingers　of　his　left　hand　crossed　for　luck。　The　Cyclone　fired；　purring　like　a　kitten；　after　a　goose　or　two　of　the　throttle。

〃Awwriight！〃　Rand　shouted。

He　flicked　on　the　headlight；　screeched　the　Cyclone　through　a　360；　and　tore　back　toward　the　doorway；　launching　himself　into　the　desert　air　from　the　sprung　hatchway。　He　hit　the　sand　and　twisted　the　cycle　to　a　halt；　exhilarated　from　his　short　flight。

Then　he　noticed　something　else　in　flight：　a　three…unit　Invid　scouting　party　ing　fast　over　a　ridge　of　low　hills　to　the　west。　Rand　cursed　himself　for　not　figuring　them　into　the　picture；　they；　too；　must　have　been　aware　of　the　transport's　crash。　And　as　always；　their　timing　was　impeccable。　Even　so；　Rand　was　thankful　that　they　were　only　Scouts　and　not　Shock　Troopers。　In　fact　there　was　a　good　chance　that　the　Cyclone　would　be　able　to　outrun　them…at　least　as　far　as　the　forest。

The　three　Scouts　put　down　next　to　the　downed　ship；　positioning　themselves　to　prevent　Rand's　escape；　the　cloven　foot　of　one　them　flattening　the　old　cycle　that　had　seen　him　through　so　much。

〃I　sure　hope　your　insurance　is　paid　up；　pal！〃　Rand　yelled　at　the　Scout。

They　were　twenty…foot…tall　bipedal　creatures　with　articulated　armored　legs　and　massive　pincer　arms；　there　was　no　actual　head；　but　raised　egg…shaped　protrusions　atop　their　inverted　triangular　torsos　were　suggestive　of　eyes；　while　what　looked　to　be　a　red…rimmed　lipless　mouth　concealed　a　single　sensor　lens。　Rand　had　seen　brown　ones　and　purple　ones…these　three　were　of　the　latter　category…and　more　than　anything　they　reminded　him　of　two…legged　land　crabs。　The　Scouts　were　just　that　and　were　weaponless；　except　if　one　counted　their　innate　repulsiveness。　However；　they　could　inflict　serious　da