ROBOTECH v Second Generation DEL REY BOOKS CLASSIC VALUE THREE NOVELS FOR THE PRICE OF ONE #7 SOUTHERN CROSS The Robotech Masters had come to Earth to finish the conquest their Zentraedi warrior-slaves had begun...and a battle-ravaged planet had to defend itself once more. That was when Dana Sterling, half-Human, half-Zentraedi commander of an elite Hovertank unit, stepped into the spotlight of interstellar history! #8 METAL FIRE An alien fortress had crashlanded on Earth--brought down in the struggle between the Robotech Masters and Earth's Human inhabitants. Now the fortress dared someone to penetrate its dark mysteries. And who better to brave that ship than Dana Sterling's 15th Squadron ATACs--after all, they had brought the thing down to begin with! #9 THE FINAL NIGHTMARE The Robotech Masters' Protoculture Matrix was degenerating, transforming into the Flower of Life--which was sure to draw the savage, merciless Invid across the galaxy to Earth. But the Army of the Southern Cross vowed to fight to the bitter end. And Dana Sterling raged a desperate war of her own to decipher her strange visions and the secret of her alien heritage...
Release date:
March 1, 1995
Publisher:
Del Rey
Print pages:
512
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Those who were surprised at Dana Sterling’s choice of a career in the military displayed not only a lack of understanding about Dana but also a failure to comprehend the nature of Protoculture, and how it shaped destiny.
After all, as a mere babe in arms Dana had played a pivotal part in a vital battle in the First Robotech War, the attack to take the Zentraedi’s orbital mecha factory; with two of the greatest fighters in history as parents, is it any surprise that she would follow the warrior’s trade?
But more important, Dana is the only offspring of a Human/Zentraedi mating on Earth, and the Protoculture was working strongly through her. She is to be a centerpiece of the ongoing conflict the Protoculture has shaped, and that means being a Robotech soldier in excelsis.
Dr. Lazlo Zand, notes for Event Horizon: Perspectives on Dana Sterling and the Second Robotech War
It was a date that every schoolchild knew, though for some its significance had become a bit blurred.
But not for the people gathered in the auditorium at the Southern Cross Military Academy. Many of the veterans on the speakers’ platform and among the academy teaching staff and cadre knew the meaning of the date because they had lived through it. Everyone in the graduating class revered it and the tradition of self-sacrifice and courage it represented—a tradition being passed along to them today.
“Today we celebrate not only your achievements as the first graduating class of the Academy,” Supreme Commander Leonard was saying, glowering down at the young men and women seated in rows before him. “We also celebrate the memory of the brave people who have served in our planet’s defense before you.”
Leonard continued, summarizing the last great clash of the Robotech War. If he had stopped in mid-syllable, pointed at any one of the graduating cadets, and asked him or her to take the story from there, the graduate would have done it with even more detail and accuracy.
They all knew it by heart: how Admiral Henry Gloval had taken the rusting, all-but-decommissioned SDF-1 into the air for a final confrontation with the psychopathic Zentraedi warlord Khyron, and died in the inferno of that battle.
They also knew the high honor roll of the women of the bridge watch who had died with him: Kim Young; Sammie Porter; Vanessa Leeds—all enlisted rating techs scarcely older than any of the cadets—and Commander Claudia Grant.
Sitting at the end of her squad’s row, Cadet Major Dana Sterling looked down the line of faces beside her. One, with skin the color of dark honey, stared up into the light from the stage. Dana could see that Bowie Grant—nephew of that same Commander Claudia Grant and Dana’s close friend since childhood—betrayed no emotion.
Dana didn’t know whether to be content or worried. Carrying the name of a certified RDF hero could be a tough burden to bear, as Dana well knew.
Leonard went on about unselfish acts of heroism and passing the torch to a roomful of cadets, none of whom had yet reached twenty. They had had it all drilled into them for years, and were squirming in their seats, eager to get moving, to get to their first real assignments. Or at any rate, most felt that way; looking down the line, Dana could see a withdrawn look on Bowie’s face.
Leonard, with his bullet-shaped shaved head, massive as a bear and dripping with medals and ribbons, droned on to the end without saying anything new. It was almost silly for him to tell them that the Earth, slowly rebuilding in the seventeen years since the end of the Robotech War—fifteen since Khyron the Backstabber had launched his suicide attack—was a regrettably feudal place. Who would know that better than the young people who had grown up in it?
Or that there must be a devotion to the common good and a commitment to a brighter Human future? Who had more commitment than the young men and women sitting there, who had sworn to serve that cause and proved their determination by enduring years of merciless testing and training?
At last, thankfully, Leonard was done, and it was time to be sworn in. Dana came to attention with her squad, a unit that had started out company-size three years before.
Dana stood straight and proud, a young woman with a globe of swirling blond hair, average height for a female cadet, curvaceous in a long-legged way. She was blue-eyed, freckled, and pugnosed, and very tired of being called “cute.” Fixed in the yellow mane over her left ear was a fashion accessory appropriate to her time—a hair stay shaped to look like a curve of instrumentation suggesting a half-headset, like a crescent of Robotechnology sculpted from polished onyx.
The graduating class received their assignments as they went up to the stage to accept their diplomas. Dana found herself holding her breath, hoping, hoping.
Then the supreme commander was before her, an overly beefy man whose neck spilled out in rolls above his tight collar. He had flaring brows and a hand that engulfed hers. But despite what the UEG public relations people said about him, she found herself disliking him. Leonard talked a good fight but had very little real combat experience; he was better at political wheeling and dealing.
Dana was trying to hide her quick, shallow breathing as she went from Leonard’s too-moist handshake to the aide whose duty it was to tell the new graduates their first assignments. The aide frowned at a computer printout. Then he glanced down his nose at Dana, looking her over disapprovingly. “Congratulations. You go to the Fifteenth squad, Alpha Tactical Armored Corps,” he said with a sniff.
Dana had learned how to hide emotions and reactions at the Academy; she was an old hand at it. So she didn’t squeal with delight or throw her diploma into the air in exultation.
She was in a daze as she filed back to her seat, her squad following behind. The ATACs! The 15th squad! Hovertanks!
Let others try for the soft, safe, rear-echelon jobs, or the glamourous fighter outfits; nowadays the armored units were the cutting edge of Robotechnology, and the teeth and claws of the United Earth Government’s military—the Army of the Southern Cross.
And the 15th had the reputation of being one of the best, if not the best. Under their daredevil leader, First Lieutenant Sean Phillips, they had become not only one of the most decorated but also one of the most court-martial-prone outfits around—a real black-sheep squad.
Dana figured that was right up her alley. She would have been graduating at the top of her class, with marks and honors succeeding generations would have found hard to beat, if not for certain peccadillos, disciplinary lapses, and scrapes with the MPs. She knew most of it wasn’t really her fault, though. The way some people saw it, she had entered the Academy with several strikes against her, and she had had to fight against that the whole way.
Cadets who called her “halfbreed” usually found themselves flat on their faces, bleeding, with Dana kneeling on them. Instructors or cadre who treated her like just one more trainee found that they had a bright if impulsive pupil; those who gave any hint of contempt for her parentage found that their rank and station were no protection.
Cadet officers awakened to find themselves hoisted from flagpoles … a cadre sergeant’s quarters were mysteriously walled in, sealing him inside.… The debutante cotillion of the daughter of a certain colonel was enlivened by a visit from a dozen or so chimps, baboons, and orangutans from the Academy’s Primate Research Center … and so on.
Dana reckoned she would fit into the 15th just fine.
She realized with a start that she didn’t know where Bowie was going. She felt a bit ashamed that she had reveled in her own good fortune and had forgotten about him.
But when she turned, Bowie was looking up the row at her. He flashed his handsome smile, but there was a resigned look to it. He held his hand up to flash five outspread fingers—once, twice, three times.
Dana caught her breath. He’s pulled assignment to the 15th, too!
Bowie didn’t seem to be too elated about it, though. He closed the other fingers of his hand and drew his forefinger across his throat in a silent gesture of doom, watching her sadly.
The rest of the ceremonies seemed to go on forever, but at last the graduates were dismissed for a few brief days of leave before reporting to their new units.
Somehow Dana lost Bowie in the crush of people. He had no family or friends among the watching crowd; but neither did she. All the blood relatives they had were years-gone on the SDF-3’s all-important mission to seek out the Robotech Masters somewhere in the far reaches of the galaxy.
The only adult to whom Dana and Bowie were close, Major General Rolf Emerson, was conducting an inspection of the orbital defense forces and unable to attend the ceremony. For a time in her childhood, Dana had had three very strange but dear self-appointed godfathers, but they had passed away.
Dana felt a spasm of envy for the ex-cadets who were surrounded by parents and siblings and neighbors. Then she shrugged it off, irritated at herself for the moment’s self-pity; Bowie was all the family she had now. She went off to find him.
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