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Robotech：　The　End　of　the　Circle
Book　18　of　the　Robotech　Series
Copyright　1989　by　Jack　McKinney

arranged　by　dayuan　＇　robotech　zone　＇



FOREWORD

The　publication　of　The　End　of　the　Circle；　the　eighteenth　book　of　the　series；　concludes　the　Robotech　saga。　The　story　now　spans　five　decades；　from　1990　to　2040　or　thereabouts；　save　for　a　period　of　〃lost　years；〃　covering　the　rise　of　Monument　City　and　the　Army　of　the　Southern　Cross；　an　account　of　which　may　yet　see　the　light　of　day。　Some　of　this　material　is　in　fact　already　being　covered　by　other　sources。

With　nearly　one　million　words　of　print　in　the　Ballantine/Del　Rey　series　alone；　eighty…five　episodes　of　powerful　animation；　an　equal　number　of　ic　book　adaptations；　numerous　art　and　role…playing　books；　and　supplemental　source　material　including　several　college　theses　it　should　be　clear　that　Robotech　has　traveled　a　great　distance　since　〃HAL；〃　Haruhiko　Mikimoto；　sat　down　at　his　desk　one　day　and　inked　the　first　sketch　of　raven…haired　songbird；　Lynn…Minmei。

As　most　readers　of　Robotech　are　aware；　the　eighty…five　〃continuous〃　animated　episodes　（which　still　show　up　in　U。S。　television　markets）　were　actually　a　plete　reworking　in　terms　of　music；　dialogue；　and　storylines　if　three　separate　anime　series　that　appeared　in　Japan　over　the　course　of　several　years：　Macross；　Southern　Cross；　and　Mospeda。　Credit　for　this　unique　acplishment　goes　to　Carl　Macek；　as　well　as　Harmony　Gold　U。S。A。　Inc。　Together　with　a　talented　team　of　writers；　voice…over　artists；　and　production　personnel；　Robotech　Master　Macek　found　an　overall　grand　visual　theme　in　the　Japanese　series　and　redefined　both　Robotechnology　and　Protoculture。

It　is　a　source　of　continuing　disappointment　that　the　project；　as　envisioned　by　Mr。　Macek；　was　never　brought　to　pletion。　The　result　would　have　been　an　additional　sixty…five　episodes　of　animation　detailing　the　exploits　of　the　Sentinels；　and　who　knows　how　many　more　devoted　to　the　material　covered　in　this　final　book；　presented　here　for　the　first　time。

But　perhaps　Robotech's　most　important　contributors　have　been　the　fans　themselves；　who　have　kept　this　project　vital　for　five　years　running。　More　than　seventy　thousand　strong　have　been　aided　and　abetted　in　their　efforts　by　the　following；　to　whom　the　author　wishes　to　express　his　heartfelt　gratitude：　ico　ics；　especially　Markalan　Joplin；　who　died　shortly　before　pletion　of　the　illustrated　series；　Eternity…ics；　which　has　inherited　the　mantle　and　is　currently　publishing　twice…monthly　issues　of　the　Sentinels；　Kevin　Siem…bieda　and　the　staff　at　Palladium　Books　for　their　role…playing　games；　Kay　Reynolds　and　Ardith　Carlton；　creators　of　the　Starblaze　Robotech　Art　Books；　Kevin　Seymour　of　Books　Nippan；　and　a　special　thanks　to　Claude　Pelletier；　Michel　Gareau；　Alain　Dubreuil；　and　the　staff　at　Protoculture　Addicts；　the　official　Robotech　fanzine。

We　should　all　do　it　again　sometime。


PART　I　

WHEEL　IN　SPACE

CHAPTER　ONE

〃Beware　the　skies；　for　the　cerulean　raiments　of　that　sweetscented　realm　mask　a　darkness　and　evil　that　know　no　bounds。　And　do　not　look　to　heaven　for　peace；　for　there　resides　hell。　And　beware　all　who　descend　from　those　skies；　for　they　are　the　harbingers　of　death　and　destruction。〃
Dogma　of　the　Church　of　Recurrent　Tragedy　as　quoted　in　Weverka　T'su's　Aftermath：　Geopolitical　and　Religious　Movements　in　the　Southlands

The　starship　Ark　Angel　hung　in　geosynch；　36；000　kilometers　above　Brazilas　in　the　Southlands。　Recently　returned　from　a　distant　campaign；　it　alone　had　been　spared　the　wrath　of　the　Invid's　transubstantiating　departure；　one　ship　among　scores　in　that　moment　of　victorious　defeat。

Scott　Bernard　had　yet　to　decide　whether　its　survival　constituted　a　curse　or　a　blessing。

He　could　just　make　out　the　warship's　underbelly　through　a　small　oblong　viewport　set　high'　up　in　the　curved　hull　of　the　chemical　shuttle's　passenger　cabin。　A　soft…soled　boot；　freefloating；　drew　his　attention　forward；　and　he　watched　it　for　a　moment；　thinking：　Weightless。　Hugged　to　the　padded　contours　of　an　acceleration　couch　by　web　belts　and　Velcro　straps；　as　if　on　some　nostalgia…steeped　theme　park　ride。

Although　restrained　might　have　been　a　better　word　to　describe　his　present　circumstance；　as　in　temporarily　prevented　from　doing　harm　to　himself　or　others。　Not　that　he　would。　But　there　were　half　a　dozen　G2　analysts　planetside　who　thought　differently。

Scott　sniggered　aloud；　unperturbed　by　the　curious　glances　his　self…amusement　had　elicited。　He　returned　the　looks　with　interest　until　one　by　one　each　of　his　fellow　passengers　in　the　cramped　cabinspace　turned　away。

Oh；　he　had　it；　all　right：　what　Rand　had　once　called　the　look　of　the　lost。

Scott　inclined　his　head　to　one　side　to　get　a　better　angle　on　the　ship；　her　dark　symmetry　obscuring　a　narrow　sweep　of　stars。　Built　and　christened　on　the　other　side　of　the　Quadrant；　she　was　the　very　ship　Colonel　Wolff　had　pirated　from　Tirol　orbit　years　before。　The　ship　that　had　bee　the　Sentinels'　own。

Running　lights　illuminated　an　array　of　weapons　and　sensor　ports　dimpling　her　underside…retrofitted　sometime　during　the　three　years　since　Scott　had　last　seen　her…along　with　a　swath　of　heavily　blistered　alloy；　where　angry　tendrils　loosed　from　the　Invid's　mindstuff　phoenix　had　brushed　her　just　three　months　before。　She　rested　alone　in　gravity　anchor；　save　for　the　countless　metal　fragments　that　drifted　above　and　below　her：　the　lingering　debris　clouds　of　Dolza's　fleet；　of　Little　Luna；　the　Zentraedi　factory　satellite；　of　the　hapless；　goosenecked　ships　of　Mars；　Venus；　and　Jupiter　Divisions；　of　the　Robotech　Expeditionary　Force's　tri…thrusters　and　Karbarran　manufactured　boilerlike　monstrosities。

Earth　was　in　fact　haloed　by　death　and　destruction。　But　liberated…or　so　it　seemed。

A　Tiresian…accented　voice　cautiously　interrupted　Scott's　painful　reverie。

〃Colonel　Bernard；〃　the　woman　repeated　as　Scott　turned　from　the　view。　She　stood　wavering　in　the　narrow　aisle；　Velcroed　in　place；　strands　of　auburn　hair　wafting　out　from　under　a　pearl…gray　shuttle　bonnet。　The　smile；　too；　seemed　fastened　there；　detachable　with　the　slightest　tug。

〃What　is　it？〃　Scott　asked；　masking　his　thoughts。

〃Sir；　General　Grant　wishes　you　to　be　informed　that　he'll　be　on　hand　to　meet　the　shuttle。　Mrs。　Grant　and　Senators　Huxley　and　Penn　are　with　him；　sir。〃

Scott　nodded　and　put　on　a　pleasant　face；　certain　it　read　as　a　twisted　malicious　grin。　But　the　woman　only　broadened　her　smile　in　response　and　asked　if　there　was　anything　he　needed　before　docking。　He　told　her　he　was　fine　and　leaned　over　to　watch　her　space…step　down　the　aisle；　a　child　learning　to　walk。　So　much　to　relearn；　he　told　himself。　So　much　to　forget。

The　chemical　shuttle　itself　was　symbolic　of　the　change。　Launched　from　a　twenty…five…year…old　reconstructed　base　in　Venezuela　Nueva；　the　ferry　and　a　handful　of　others　like　it　were　humankind's　only　existing　links　with　near　space。　There　was　the　Angel；　of　course；　but　she　had　remained　in　geosynch　ever　since　the　disastrous　finale　to　the　assault　on　Reflex　Point；　the　Invid　queen's　hivelike　stronghold　on　the　North　American　continent。　Word　had　it　that　a　small　portion　of　the　REF's　mecha…Alphas　and　Shadow　fighters；　principally…was　still　functioning；　but　most　of　the　older　generation　Cyclones　and　Veritechs　had　simply　given　up　the　ghost。

No　one　knew　what　to　make　of　the　events　that　had　occurred　at　Reflex　Point。　In　the　wake　of　the　Invid　departure　all　sorts　of　reports　had　reached　Scott　and　his　team　of　freedom　fighters。　The　REF　fleet　had　been　destroyed；　it　had　survived。　The　Invid　had　exited　the　solar　system；　the　Regis　had　relocated　her　horde　in　the　Southlands。　The　SDF…3　had　been　destroyed；　it　had　manifested　from　fold　and　been　swallowed　up　by　the　Invid　phoenix；　it　had　failed　to　appear　at　all　。　。　。　Eventually；　Scott　learned　that　the　fleet　had　indeed　been　vaporized　and　that　the　flagship　had　failed　to　emerge　from　hyperspace。　He　had　not　bothered　to　wait　around　for　verification。　With　an　assist　from　Lunk　and　Rand；　he　had　managed　to　mandeer　and　make　serviceable　an　anni…disc…ravaged　Beta；　only　to　find　that　the　VT　was　not　much　good　outside　the　envelope　and　that　the　Ark　Angel　had　removed　herself　to　stationary　orbit　over　the　Southlands。

It　had　begun　to　make　sense　after　the　initial　anger　and　disappointment　had　washed　through　him。　Much　of　the　northern　hemisphere　was　devastated；　and　where　else　would　reconstruction　mence　but　in　the　south；　where　several　cities　had　actually　flourished　during　the　occupation。　Norristown；　once　the　site　of　a　Protoculture　storage　facility；　was　fast　emerging　as　the　leader　of　the　pack；　and　it　was　there　that　Scott　had　ultimately　set　down。　Like　a　fly　on　lacquered　paper。　Mired　in　red　tape　for　close　to　two　months　before　Provisional　mand　had　okayed　his　request　to　be　among　those　shuttled　up　to　the　starship。

The　question　he　had　heard　most　often　those　two　months　had　been：　〃Scott　who？〃

It　seemed　that　Mars　and　Jupiter　Divisions　were　filed　away　in　mand's　mainframe　as　having　gone　down　with　all　hands；　and　so　the　person　claiming　to　be　Lieutenant　Scott　Bernard　of　the　21st　Squadron；　Mars　Division；　had　to　be　a　ghost；　a　zone　loonie；　or　an　ambulatory　case　of　what　the　neurometrics　were　calling　Post…Engagement　Synaptic　Trauma　PEST；　for　short。

Ask　Dr。　Lang　about　Scott　Bernard；　he　had　pressed。　I'm　his　godson；　for　chrissake！

Only　to　hear：　〃We're　sorry；　er；　Lieutenant　Bernard；　but　Doctor　Lang　is　not　available　at　this　time。〃

Later；　Scott　would　learn　that　his　godfather　and　mentor　had　been　aboard　the　ill…fated　SDF…3　when　it　had　jumped　from　Tirol。　But　in　the　meantime　he　suggested　that　Captain　Harrington　might　be　able　to　vouch　for　him。　Harrington　had　manded　the　first　wave　of　Cyclone　ground　teams　the　REF　had　directed　against　Reflex　Point。

After　all；　it　wasn't　like　he　was　asking　for　medals；　Scott　had　assured　the　analysts。　But　the　least　mand　could　do　was　acknowledge　what　he　had　achieved　on　the　yearlong　road　to　Reflex　Point　or　applaud　his　one…on…one　with　the　Invid　Corg　in　the　seasonally　shifting　skies　above　the　hive　cluster。　Why；　some　of　Harrington's　team　had　even　seen　the　Invid　simulagent's　flame　cloud；　had　even　seen　Scott　go　into　the　central　dome！

He　was　sorry　he　said　it　even　before　the　words　had　left　his　lips。

〃Now；　uh；　what　was　that　you　were　saying　about　talking　to　the　Regis；　Lieutenant？〃　the　boys　from　G2　had　asked。　〃You　did　say　something　about　her　being；　let　me　see　here；　'a　baldheaded　column　of　light　twenty　feet　high。'〃

And　so　he　had　played　the　PEST　for　them；　steering　clear　of　any　mention　of　Marlene　or　Sera　or　any　of　the　mind…boggling　time…space　displacements　he'd　experienced　inside　the　hive　chambers。

In　retrospect；　he　had　to　ask　himself　whether　pulling　out　all　the　stops　would　have　brought　the　med　teams'　debriefing　reports　to　Jean　Grant's　attention　any　sooner；　but　they　had　reached　her　on　their　own　momentum　in　any　case；　and　Scott　had　finally　been　granted　permission　to　e　aboard。　

And　issued　a　battlefield　mission　to　full　bird；　to　boot。

For　Scott　it　was　something　else　to　snigger　at：　a　promotion；　in　an　armed　force　without　ships　or　soldiers；　defenders　and　liberators　of　a　world　that　wanted　little　part　of　them　even　now。


The　shuttle　docked　in　one　of　Ark　Angel's　starboard　bays　just　as　Sol　was　flooding　the　eastern　coast　of　the　Southlands　with　morning　light。　Scott　drank　in　the　view　that　had　been　denied　him　when　Mars　Division　had　approached　a　year　earlier：　Earth's　characteristic　clouds　and　swirling　weather　fronts；　its　deep…blue　water　oceans　and　healing　landscape。　And　for　the　first　time　in　years　he　found　himself　thinking　about　Base　Gloval；　his　father's　forefinger　thrust　upward　into　the　Martian　night；　pinpointing　a　homeworld。　Huddled　afterward　in　the　prewarmed　fort　of　his　sleep　partment；　he　would　grapple　with　the　notion…that　faint　light；　a　home。　But　even　after　his　family　had　been　transferred　to　the　factory　satellite　to　work　on　the　SDF…3；　Scott　could　not　regard　Earth　as　such。　And　he　had　so　few　memories　of　those　years　that　he　called　Tirol　home　now　and　perhaps　always　would。

Only　a　week　ago　he　had　learned　that　his　parents　were　still　there。

The　memories　surrendered　to　more　recent　recollections　as　Scott　and　the　rest　of　the　shuttle's　privileged　boarded　a　transfer　vehicle　that　ferried　them　into　the　ship　proper；　Ark　Angel's　artificial　gravity　settling　on　him　like　oppression　itself。　Nearly　every　ponent　of　the　ship　was　different　from　what　he　remembered；　from　the　illumination　grids　that　checkered　the　holds　to　the　persistent　foot…tingling　basso　of　the　dreadnought's　internal　systemry。

He　soon　caught　sight　of　Vince　Grant；　towering　walnuthrown　and　square…shouldered　over　a　small　gathering　of　civilians　and　military　personnel　bottlenecked　at　the　arrival　hold's　security　gate。　There　were　hands　in　the　air；　salutes；　a　welter　of　voices　that　brought　to　mind　vid…scenes　of　turn…of…the…entury　airport　arrivals；　and　it　was　obvious　to　Scott　all　at　once　that　the　REF　was　as　altered　as　the　Angel　herself。　He　sensed　something　cool　but　determined　in　the　ship's　slightly　sour　air；　a　single…mindedness　at　work　he　had　not　experienced　since　Tiresia。

A　male　aide　appeared　out　of　the　crowd　to　escort　him　through　security；　and　a　moment　later　he　stood　facing　the　Grants　and　the　two　Plenipotentiary　Council　senators。　〃Colonel　Bernard；　reporting　as　ordered；〃　Scott　said　with　a　crisp　salute。　〃Permission　to　e　aboard；　sir？〃

〃Granted；〃　Vince　returned；　working　the　muscles　of　his　massive　jaw　into　a　tight…kipped　smile。　〃Wele　home；　Scott。　〃

〃Oh；　Scott；〃　Jean　said；　rushing　forward　to　embrace　him。　〃God；　let　me　look　at　you。〃

He　took　a　step　back　to　allow　for　just　that；　extending　a　hand　at　the　same　time　to　Justine　Huxley；　then　Dr。　Penn。　Vince　and　Jean　were　outfitted　in　modified　REF　uniforms；　collarless　now　but　with　flared　shoulders　and　simleather　torso　harnesses　retained。　The　senators　wore　loose…fitting　jumpsuits　of　a　design　that　had　originated　on　Garuda。

〃Good　to　see　you；　my　boy；〃　Penn　said　with　paternal　sincerity。　〃I　only　wish　Emil　and　Karen　could　be　here　with　us。〃　There　was　no　mention　of　Karen's　lover；　Jack　Baker；　certainly　there　was　no　love　lost　between　Dr。　Penn　and　Baker；　in　any　case。　Karen；　like　Bowie　Grant；　had　elected　to　ship　out　aboard　the　SDF…3。　Let　them　all　have　better　luck　than　Marlene　and　I　had；　Scott　thought。　Even　if　that　means　dying　together。　The　scientist's　words　had　thrown　a　curtain　of　silence　around　the　five　of　them；　a　spot　of　stasis　amid　the　bustling　activity　in　the　hold。　〃Is　there　any　word？〃　Scott　asked；　hoping　to　break　the　spell。

Jean　shook　her　head；　her　dark　honey　plexion　paled　by　the　exchange。　Her　hair　was　pulled　back　into　a　tight　chignon；　imparting　a　touch　of　severity　to　what　was　normally　the　warmest　of　faces。　〃We've　received　some　garbled　subtrans　from　Tirol。　The　ship　folded　soon　after　Rheinhardt　and　the　others　were　away。　There's　been　no　word　from　the　SDF…3　since。　〃

〃I　think　we　should　have　this　discussion　elsewhere；〃　Vince　said　with　a　hint　of　suggestion　in　his　voice。　〃We　all　have　a　lot　of　catching　up　to　do。　〃

〃Colonel；〃　Huxley　said　before　everyone　set　off；　〃I　do　want　to　apologize　for　this　somewhat　subdued　wele。〃　She　gestured　around　the　hold　with　a　quivering；　aged…hand。　〃As　you　can　well　imagine；　we've　all　been　trying　to　adjust　to　the　loss　of　our　friends　and　patriots。〃

Scott　could　see　that　she　was　referring　to　the　destruction　of　the　fleet　rather　than　the　presumed　loss　of　the　SDF…3。　〃I　understand；　Senator；