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Disclaimer: The characters within belong to Pioneer, Harmony Gold, and a 
couple to Palladium books. No profit was made from this work of fiction

No Need For Protoculture: The Sentinels
by Andrew Wilson

Chapter 5: Facing the Gallows

Something the size of Farrago should not have the ability to land on a 
planet.  Tenchi told himself that at least three times a minute as the 
lumbering transport descended towards the surface of Tirol.  The ship 
was almost as large as the SDF-1.  Not withstanding how it had actually 
performed, the original Robotech fortress had not been designed with 
atmospheric movement in mind.

The landing field was located well outside any city, and building were 
still being assembled at the spot.  A combination diplomatic and 
scientific faculties were dominant, though the cruisers Dixon, Kramer, 
and Intrepid were hovering at the edge of the planet's atmosphere.  They 
were there as a sort of honor guard, but there was no doubt that they 
would be able to sterilize the area if this still tuned out to be a 
trick.  The people working at the site understood that everything within 
a hundred kilometers would be annihilated rather than risk any sort of 
biological attack on Tirol.  They were not happy about it, but they 
understood.

What put some of them at ease was that their leaders were willing to 
take the same risks.  Rick and Lisa were at the site, as were Judge 
Huxley and two of her subordinates on the council.  Tenchi was still 
with Hurricane squadron, and Breetai was on the SDF-3 with the rest of 
the oversight council, so the REF was not as vulnerable as some might imply.

"Hurricanes, form up and return to base," Tenchi ordered. "Skull, 
Spitfire, they're all yours."

"Aye," Max said as his squadron and Miriya's took over escort duties.

*******

Rick tried not to fidget as the alien ship set down in the center of the 
improvised space port.  The kilometer-long craft sank several meters 
into the rocky ground as it landed.  It also acquired a slight tilt as 
the bolted-on components unbalanced the awkward ship.

"If this is how pilots see capital ships," Lisa commented, "it's no 
wonder you had to be dragged kicking and screaming out of the cockpit."

Rick smiled at his wife's attempt at humor. "Nah, just the enemy ships.  
Friendlies usually have better paint jobs."

Lisa chuckled as a hatch on Farrago's underside irised open.  White mist 
spilled out even before a boarding ramp descended.  The environmental 
techs confirmed the mist was simply atmospheric gas before any of the 
diplomat's was allowed to step into it.

"Showtime," Rick murmured.

*******

As the assistant to Tirol's unofficial representative, Rem was required 
to be at Farrago's welcome.  Not only that, he was forced to wear the 
most uncomfortable robes that Cabel could find.  The itching along his 
back was becoming unbearable just as the first figure descended the ramp.

*Haydonite,* he thought as the floating, limbless figure emerged from 
the mist. *Artificial Intelligences from Haydon IV.  Strange to see one 
so far from home.*

Words were exchanged between the Haydonite and the Earth diplomat, but 
Rem did not hear them.  Instead his attention was focused on the new 
figures that Farrago's hatch produced.  First came a pair of hulking, 
animal-like  humanoids wearing heavy equipment harnesses.

*Carbonarite,* Rem though. *That explains the transport.  Cabel 
mentioned that they used a type of reactor that did not require 
protoculture, yet was more efficient than ancient fusion technologies.  
So why did they use a Sphersian fold drive?* As though summoned by his 
thoughts, a crystalline being walked out of the mists, followed by a 
pair of hulking human-like women.

*Praxians,* Rem hid a smile as the eyes of the surrounding techs were 
drawn to the comely amazons. *I had better spread the word about them.  
Given the stories circulating about Earth men - and one or two women - 
and former Quadronos, their commanders may wish to avoid major equipment 
damage.  Ah, there are some Garudans and Peytonians.  That makes all the 
Local Group races except Invid and Tiroleans.*

The fox creatures with breathing units and the horned figure in robes 
were the last to emerge from the transport.  Admirals Hayes and Hunter 
stepped up to the assorted group.  Cabel looked to be preparing to 
follow suit when a piercing wail split the night.

*******

"Say again, Control," Lisa half shouted into her communicator.  The 
alert sirens were annoying, but the pitch and volume insured that no one 
would miss the fact that something was going on.

"High energy event in the outer system," came the frantic voice from the 
SDF-3. "More powerful than a normal fold.  We have a cruiser mass with 
Invid power readings moving in-system at sixty percent light."

Lisa exchanged a disbelieving look with Rick even as she spoke. "Confirm 
velocity.  Intercept time?"

"Point six light at ten light minutes.  Assuming no shifts or course 
changes, we're looking at a collision with the planet in sixteen minutes."

Rick bit back a curse as he pulled out his own communicator. "Launch all 
squadrons.  Calculate intercept vectors."

"It won't do you any good," said Veidt, the faceless alien leader. "The 
pursuer is an Invid planet-killer.  It is after Farrago, and will not be 
stopped."

"We thought we had evaded it," one of the Carbonarites - Lorn, Rick 
thought - growled. "Quickly.  We must take off and lure it away from the 
planet."

The aliens started running back into their ship.  Lisa nodded to Rick 
even as he was in motion to follow them.  He barely made it through the 
hatch before it closed.  Once inside, he was grabbed by his shoulders 
and dragged along with the leaders.  He looked up once and saw the 
smiling gold-flecked eyes of one of the Praxians.

"Welcome aboard," she said half-heartily.

"Whats the Pursuer tracking?" Rick asked. "We might be able to jam it."

"Protoculture," Lorn replied. "We have a small plant on-board.  Once far 
enough away from the planet, we will jetison it."

Rick nodded slowly.  That made some sense.  The timing would be 
questionable. "How large is the plant?"

"To use you measurements," Veidt replied as Farrago began to rumble and 
lift off, "a three meter sphere."

Rick smiled slightly. "How would you like to get rid of the thing even 
quicker?"

"What are you thinking?" Lorn asked. "Quickly, human!  Time runs out for 
us all."

Rick explained the entire idea in twenty seconds.  He then made a call 
to the SDF-3.

*******

A hatch on Farrago's dorsal hull opened and spat out a glowing green 
sphere.  Before it traveled ten meters, it was caught by a Beta Veritech 
in Battleoid mode.  The Veritech was from Joker squadron, considered to 
be the second craziest group of pilots in the REF - the craziest were 
Moore's Wildcards.  This particular Beta rocketed away from Farrago and 
hurled the Protoculture becon up and away.  Powerful servos in the 
Beta's arms gave the sphere a velocity that pre-robotechnology missiles 
would have envied.

The glowing dodge ball was caught by the squadron commander's Legios in 
B&B mode - an Alpha Battleoid attached to a Beta unit.  Commander 
Williams, the only squadron commander that piloted a Beta Veritech, 
triggered the main engines as soon as the Alpha pilot secured the 
cargo.  Wisps of atmosphere flashed into plasma as the Beta's main drive 
kicked in and shot it into space.  While the attached Battleoid deformed 
the drive field and prevented the Legios from achieving maximum speed, 
.4c was nothing to sneeze at.  And they did not have to outrun the 
Persuer, just open up the distance and line it up.

The task of destruction was given to the wall of capital ships that 
Williams was delivering the bait to.  The SDF-3 was further back, and 
would be the second line in case the Pursuer survived bombardment.  If 
that failed as well, most of the aerospace wing was waiting with the 
heaviest ordnance that could be loaded in ten minutes.

"Target changing course.  Seven minutes until interception," SDF-3's 
Combat Information Center reported.  Williams brought his Beta around 
and raced down the gauntlet of cruisers and battle cruisers.  If nothing 
else, the quick action of Joker squadron had added three minutes to the 
intercept time.

*******

"Six minutes."

Rick watched the small display on Farrago's bridge apprehensively.  
Concentrating on the display, however useless it might be, was better 
than concentrating on the bridge around him.

*Where did they get this ship,* he asked himself, *Bob's Discount 
Deathtraps?  Their helm is a WHEEL!*

Indeed, the entire ship appeared to a cross between a starship, and a 
steam ship from the Industrial Revolution.  Besides the wheel that Lorn 
was controlling like an old sailor, there were huge pipes conveying 
sound, steam, and who-knows-what else.  The Crowning glory was the brief 
look at the engineering spaces.  The main power plant appeared to be a 
sort of fusion reactor, but fuel was being shoveled in by a team of 
Carbonarites, by *hand*.

At the moment, Rick was wishing he had brought his vac suit.  Jumping 
out the nearest airlock seemed very tempting at the moment.  It sounded 
safer than staying, at any rate.

"Do not worry, Admiral," Veidt said calmly from Rick's elbow. "The 
Carbonarite people have been a major space faring race for several 
centuries.  All technologies on this vessel are tested and safe."

Rick's face heated. "Is it that obvious?"

"No," the Haydonite replied evenly. "You should know, the Pursuer does 
not just have speed on its side.  It was specifically designed to 
destroy Zentradi factory and command planetoids."

"So our weapons might not be totally effective?" Rick asked.  Veidt 
nodded and Rick smiled. "That's why we're using more.  What's the yield 
of the warhead?"

"I do not understand the question," Veidt replied.

Rick paused and glanced at the timer.  four minutes left, and Williams 
was dropping the becon in the kill zone. "How much power does it give 
off?  You said it was a planet killer, so we gave it a three 
light-minute buffer between it and the planet, but we could use more 
information, for the sake of our ships."

"Ah," Veidt replied. "It does not nessesarily have a measurable force, 
Admiral.  Instead the Pursuer is a gravity-based weapon that generates a 
point singularity for six seconds, with an effective radius of two 
hundred thousand kilometers."

Ten seconds passed in which Rick stared at Veidt.  He then raised his 
com unit to his lips and spoke slowly. "I hope whoever is monitoring 
this right now would be so kind as to tell me that I misheard and we're 
not facing a portable black hole."

"No such luck," Lisa replied. "We're increasing the buffer."

*******

REF capital ships ranged from the 300-meter Tristar cruisers to the 
three kilometer bulk of the SDF-3.  These ship mass thousands of tons of 
armor, weapons, and engines.  They are not made for fast manuvers.  Even 
so, the ships assembled to stop the Persuer made a decent shot at moving 
like fighters.

Lisa watched the numbers scroll down on the planet side base's 
displays.  Two minutes until intercept.  Lang was beside her on the flag 
bridge with his eyes glued to the sensor readings.  This object was yet 
another example of Invid technology, and she wanted as much information 
on that as possible.

"Interesting," Lang mused as he watched a secondary monitor. "They're 
using some kind of sustained hyperspace field to propel the ship.  
Technically, it is not fully in normal-space, nor in hyper."

"What's the down side?" Lisa asked without taking her eyes off the main 
display.

"First, I would guess that it is very difficult to maneuver," Lang 
replied evenly. "It is impossible to change direction in hyper, after 
all.  I also suspect that enough radiation is generated to kill anyone 
onboard.  And the power requirements would be astronomical."

"No chance of using it," Lisa muttered. "Unless there's suddenly a 
market for missiles the size of destroyers."

Lang nodded and turned back to his readings.  A moment later, Lisa was 
struck with a thought that sent a shiver down her spine. "Doctor?"

"Yes, Admiral?"

"Don't mention any of this to Washu."

*******

"Thirty seconds until impact." The flat voice from the SDF-3's Combat 
Information Center echoed through the command decks of the fleet.  Two 
battle cruisers and six cruisers took aim at points on their plots.  
With precision impossible for human hands, the computers sent salvos of 
laser and particle weapons into space.  They were not trying to hit the 
pursuer all at once.  Instead, the barrage was a sequence, timed 
specifically to the Invid weapon's course.  The beams reached their 
marks on time, and the pursuer seemed to flicker on the sensor displays 
as its drive field absorbed enough energy to shatter a small moon.

And still it continued.  The living weapon would not be deterred from 
its task.  It was directed at the energy scent/signature of its prey, 
craved mutual destruction with an almost sexual mania.

In the end, the Drive field was breached by a heavy reflex missile.  For 
one second, the Pursuer was naked, without the layer of stressed space 
that provided both Motion and protection.  That second was long enough 
for six beams from the REF ships to flay the Pursuer.  The living 
missile tumbled through the gauntlet as more hits were scored.  Still it 
tried to reach its target.  Still it moved forward on inertia and 
secondary engines.  Even as it slowed, more beams reached in.

The Pursuer was consumed by a ball of plasma fifty thousand kilometers 
from its target.

*******

Techi shook his head as the flare faded from the CIC's main screen.  
Spots still floated before his eyes as he picked up a handset. "Target 
destroyed, Admiral."

"Thank you, Commodore," Lisa replied formally. "Send messages to the 
fleet.  Stand down from alert and resume normal patrols."

"Understood." Tenchi nodded to the communication's officer.  
Technically, he had no authority over the fleet ships.  Instead the 
officer would relay Lisa's message to Forsyth, who would implement the 
order.

"Also," Lisa continued, "my complements to Joker squadron on their flying."

Tenchi snorted and was suddenly very thankful that he and Lisa were not 
speaking on an open channel. "I will, but their egos are already 
bordering on insufferable."

Lisa's even voice almost hid the smile Tenchi knew was on her face. 
"Then make sure you convey the compliments only after one of those sim 
sessions where you, Max, Miriya, and Jon trash their entire wing."

Tenchi coughed once. "You knew about those?"

"Yes," Lisa replied. "Carry on, Commodore, Tirol out."

Tenchi paused for a moment.  He gave a final glance around the CIC 
before exiting the large compartment.  Halfway to the nearest lift, he 
tapped a code into his wrist com and waited.  A moment later, his XO's 
voice answered with a simple "Flight ops."

"Anna," Tenchi began slowly, "what's the current rate for pirated copies 
of simulator logs?"

"Sir," Mitchells replied in a smooth voice, "I would never-"

"No," Tenchi interrupted, "you would not.  But if you don't know 
something as simple as that then I seriously misjudged your abilities 
back in Indochina."

There was a pause, just long enough for Tenchi to enter the lift and 
punch in his destination. "Depends on the sim, sir.  Standard training 
records are rarely copied.  Captain Moore's wing, however, seems very 
popular, even with scripted sequences.  Typical price is fifteen to 
forty credits per sequence.  Your small-unit tactics sessions typically 
run three times that price."

Tenchi nodded to himself. "Thanks, Anna."

As the circuit clicked off, Tenchi was forced to laugh.  Part of him 
felt obligated to shut down that little black market.  The wiser part 
was not so stupid as to attempt to interfere with economics if no direct 
harm was being done.

Besides, there were many pilots in the aerospace group that could use a 
little humbling.

*******

The information provided by the self-styled Sentinels was in-depth, 
answered many questions that the REF had about the Invid, and was a 
strategic boon.  It also painted a bleak picture of the local star cluster.

"No wonder the Zentradi had such a huge fleet," Lisa commented.

"Until recently," the second Haydonite, Sarna, explained, "there was a 
stalemate.  The Invid were at the limit of their ability to feed and 
fuel their soldiers, while the Zentradi were reduced to three of the 
original twelve factory planetoids."

"So they waited until they were sure Dolza wasn't coming back to 
expand?" Justice Huxley asked.

"More or less," Veidt replied.  The table near Farrago's landing place 
was crowded with representatives from both Farrago and the REF.  
Luckily, simple courtesy was being observed at this stage.  Lisa was not 
sure what might occure if everyone just started shouting.

"Our worlds were the first to be subjegated," Lorn rumbled. "On all the 
pattern was the same.  First they strike in overwhelming force, then 
they destroy any packets of resistance that they can find, then they 
leave a force that they believe sufficient to hold the planet."

"Island hopping," Huxley murmured. "I remember my father and 
grandparents describing a similar strategy used in the second World War."

"You have experience in interplanetary warfare?" Crysta asked.

"Not as much as you might think," Huxley's assistant, Ambassador Charles 
Bowman, replied. "We are referring to a pre-space conflict on our world."

"I would like to read those histories," Veidt noted. "In any case, we 
should-"

"We should remember why we are here," Lorn interrupted.  The ursine 
alien's claws dug into the table, leaving gouges in the synthetic wood. 
"We call ourselves Sentinels.  I do not know if that word is in you 
language, But in the Local Group it is a warrior, a defender, one who 
stands at the border and says 'None shall pass!' We will not rest until 
our worlds are free of outside tyranny.  Will you join us, or shall we 
leave?"

Looks were exchanged on the REF side.  Several council members exchanged 
outraged looks.  Admiral Hayes and Justice Huxley whispered to each 
other for a moment before the later swept her eyes over the assemblage. 
"Two and a half centuries ago, a group of men were assembled to plot 
rebellion against an overbearing government.  When agreement seemed 
impossible, one man stood and delivered a simple message.  If they 
worked together, he said, they may be executed together.  But if they 
continued to bicker, they would certainly be executed separately."

Silence greeted her statement.  One council member was shaking his head 
in disbelief, while a hopeful shock spread over the Sentinels.

"Earth has been ravaged by the Zentradi, and will endure the Robotech 
Masters.  We cannot allow the Invid to learn of our home.  The answer, 
Sentinels, is yes."

Silence reigned for a moment longer, then a roar erupted from Farrago's 
hatches.  It had many voices, but no words.  Instead, it contained a 
single emotion: hope.

*******

"We could probably have the systems upgraded in about three weeks," Lang 
noted as a small group of REF personnel were given a tour of Farrago. 
"Better shields and weapon systems, anyway.  The underlying structural 
vulnerabilities cannot be fixed without rebuilding the entire ship."

Rick nodded. "So, Veidt.  What did you want to show us?"

"This," Veidt replied.  A hatch slid open beside the Haydonite, 
revealing a bare holding cell.  Lorn preceded the other, moving into the 
cell behind a large and wicked-looking Carbonarite rifle.  In the center 
of the room, surrounded by armed guards, dressed in tattered red robes, 
and looking thoroughly miserable, was a creature Rick had only seen 
pieces of in the after-action reports from the invasion.

"An Invid," he exclaimed. "And alive?"

"No thanks to these barbarians," the Invid replied in Zentradi.  Its 
voice was smooth and deep, despite the lack of any mouth..  Two short 
tendrils jutted out from the black-eyed face that at once evoked images 
of snakes and slugs.

Veidt simply hovered behind the strange creature. "Admiral, allow me to 
present Tesla, Invid scientist and former keeper of the Regent's 
personal zoo."

"Farrago," Rick said without emotion.

"Exactly," Veidt replied. "We kept him alive in order to extract 
information."

"You wasted your time," Tesla growled. "You will learn nothing of use."

"I think we will," Lang replied. "I will inform Washu that she has a new 
special project."

Rick was not sure why a chill moved down his spine.

*******

Tenchi's eyes were about as red as the SDF-3's hull as he surveyed his 
squadron commanders.  This particular hall was designed for up to a 
hundred officers, and the senior surviving members of the strike group 
filled perhaps half of the seats.

Tenchi cleared is throat once before he spoke to the assembled pilots. 
"In the four weeks since Farrago's arrival in the system, the strategy 
for combating the Invid has undergone several revisions.  Key for us is 
that eight Vetitech squadrons will be accompanying the Sentinels as they 
strike at Invid strong points in the Local Group.  The remainder of the 
squadrons will be split between defenses here at Tirol and strike groups 
for our two task forces that will be attacking Invid bases outside the 
core worlds.  I say squadrons and not wings for a simple reason.  
Between casualties and assignments, the wings will be restructured.  
This is good news for some commanders, as they will have much less 
paperwork to deal with."

Tenchi paused as quiet laughter rippled through the chamber.  He waited 
for any signs of objections, then nodded when there were none.

"As the rumor mill has no doubt stated," Tenchi continued, "selections 
have been made for detachment with the Sentinel's mission.  Hurricane, 
Skull, Spitfire, and Wolf Pack were automatically selected at Admiral 
Hunter's request.  The other slots were selected according to pilot 
ratings and readiness, with wings four and seven being disqualified."

Moore and his officers bristled at the statement, but Tenchi's look 
silenced them.  There were no grumbled about the TASC wing being 
disqualified. "The other four," Tenchi continued, "are Alpha Strikers 
under Commander Thomas, Viper under Commander Belmont, Mustang under 
Commander Kyshil, and Monsoon under Commander Antonov.  The rest of you 
will receive assignments to task groups as they are formed.  In my 
absence, Captain Archer is in charge of group operations.  Any questions?"

There were a few, mostly on procedure.  As the pilots started to shuffle 
out, Tenchi indicated for Moore and his officers to stay.

"What gives, sir?" Williams asked. "Farrago is going to be hitting the 
core worlds, operating behind Invid lines, and will be cut off from 
ready resupply.  Sounds like what this wing was designed for."

Heads nodded, though a few (including Tenchi) also looked surprised 
since that was probably the longest statement ever heard from the 
laconic commander.  Tenchi stepped away from his podium and strode 
purposefully toward the group. "Because I have a different assignment 
for you.  Colonel Edwards has been selected to command the defense 
forces for Tirol and the Fantoma yards.  You are to watch him, and if he 
becomes a threat to the REF, you are to take him out.

"However," Tenchi held up a hand before the hungry sound from the pilots 
got too loud, "you do not decide if he is a threat.  The ones with that 
authority will be Captain Ayeka, General Breetai, and Doctor Lang."

"Just Edwards?" Moore asked with a single raised eyebrow.

"Least casualties," Tenchi replied coldly. "Any other questions can be 
directed to Captain Archer or Commander Mitchells.  Dismissed."

*******

In another section, Lisa Hayes was having a much more informal meeting 
with her deputy.

"I am not sure the crew is comfortable with your leaving, Admiral."

Lisa shrugged as she zipped her duffle. "They can get over it, Ayeka.  
This mission needs the best.  We can't risk sending the fleet away from 
Tirol."

"Nor can we risk you, Admiral.  Or Admiral Hunter, Colonel Grant, 
Captain Sterling, or-"

"Or Commodore Masaki?" Lisa asked idly. "Oh stop blushing like a 
teenager, Ayeka.  Rick and I agreed that the force we are taking should 
be enough to break the garrison on Carbonara.  The industrial facilities 
there will allow Fantoma to begin producing capital ships better suited 
to the mission.  Praxis and Peytona will be prime sources of manpower, 
just like the Sentinels need Haydon and Spheris for technology."

Ayeka shook her head at the Admiral's insistance. "I'm not sure I 
uderstand what role in this the Garudan's play.  Their world is less 
advanced than Praxis, as well as one big bio-hazard.  Why there before 
Haydon or Garuda."

She also knew that distance was not an issue.  The Local Group was a 
cluster of stars three parsecs in diameter.  The arrangement of systems 
was such that overlapping gravitational influences inhibited hyperspace 
travel.  Even with higher speeds unavailible, it would not take more 
than two weeks to travel from one end to another.  The Fantoma and 
Tzuptum systems were on opposite ends of the cluster, allowing easy 
access outside the Group.  This was why the uninhabited, but 
resource-rich, systems were settled by the assorted races, instead of by 
either empire.  This was also why the majority of conflicts between the 
Zentradi and the Invid happened so far from their respective homeworlds.

"Logistics," Lisa replied. "Garuda, despite the organisms in the 
atmosphere, is a key agricultural production center.  It's a priority 
target, so we need to hit it as soon as possible."

Ayeka nodded and sketched a salute. "Good luck Admiral, and good hunting."

Lisa returned the salute. "Hold down the fort, Captain.  We might be 
calling for you at some point."

*******

"Here's the last information, Colonel."

Edwards sketched a salute at the messenger.  His attention was on the 
message board the man handed him. "Have Majors Bensen and Adams seen this?"

The young man gulped nervously under Edwards' gaze. "Yes, sir."

"Good," Edwards purred. "Dismissed."

The messenger scampered down the corridor, towards the surface.  This 
deep below Tiseris the old catacombs were dark and musty.  Not the most 
comfortable situation for a pilot.  Edwards found that they helped him 
focus, reminded him of what he went through in the cold north as Hunter 
and the rest celebrated their victory.

There was another reason, which was foremost in Edwards' mind.  As he 
typed in his access code to enter the sealed vault, he reflected on how 
lucky he was not to have limited his allies to the council and the TASC 
squadrons.  The consol beeped once and the vault hissed slightly as it 
opened.  Edwards slipped inside and sealed the door behind him.

*You have brought what I wish?* echoed a voice in his mind.

Edwards smiled and unlatched the case chained to his wrist.  From it he 
drew a pair of cylinders that resembled little more than twentieth 
century vacuum flasks.  Each one was thirty centimeters long and ten 
wide, and contained enough protoculture to fuel a Veritech for a month 
of heavy operations.

A pair of Hellcat inorganics trotted over and gingerly took the cells in 
their jaws.  They delivered them to a receiving slot in the base of a 
cylinder over five meters in diameter.  A brief flare of green and pink 
oozed through the ten meter tall tank, and Edwards felt a sigh of 
contentment pass through his mind.

*Thank you, human," the giant brain in the tank rumbled telepathically. 
*This will sustain me for several of your months.  The Regent will be 
pleased.*

"How much contact have you had with your boss?" Edwards asked.

*Fold-space communication is difficult to initiate,* the brain 
explained. *If the Father or Mother does not initiate contact, I have no 
way to communicate with them.*

"Well," Edwards sneered, "when Daddy decides to look you up, patch him 
through to me.  Those idiot subordinates of mine did deliver the 
transceiver, right?"

*A primitive device,* the brain replied, *but will suffice.*

"Good," Edwards nodded in satisfaction.  Discovery of the brain had been 
a boon, communicating with it more so.  The living computer was willing 
to deal with Edwards, partly because of overlapping goals, but also 
because the brain saw him as a human equivalent to the Regent, the 
warlord and leader of the Invid race. "Looks like the resistance is 
placing all its eggs in one basket."

Edwards was laughing all the way back to the surface.

End Chapter 5

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