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Zor　lifted　the　jewel　to　his　forehead　in　self…coronation。　A　bio…adhesive　charge　made　it　fast　there。　He　willed　a　mand；　and　a　ray　sprang　forth　to　strike　the　resplendent　cat's　cradle　of　the　Awareness。

There　was　a　moment's　gravid　silence。　Then　a　billion　scintillating　notes　leapt　from　the　Awareness；　the　material　work　seemed　to　fall　away；　and　it　opened　its　fateful　dialogue　with　Zor。


CHAPTER　TWENTY？FIVE

The　will　to　power　is　disguised　in　a　hundred　thousand　ways；　on　many　worlds…as　service　to　the　public　good；　or　defending　the　faith；　or　protecting　the　nest　from　outsiders。　But　at　the　core　it　is　always　the　same；　exposed　to　the　light；　its　features　are　unchanging：　a　naked　lust　to　dominate　and　control。
Not　surprising；　then；　that　on　that　fateful　night　in　a　hidden　place；　the　Three　who　had　sworn　obedience　to　the　will　of　the　people　piled　hands　in　an　unholy　ritual。　Sotted　on　Protoculture；　they　put　all　shame　aside　and　anointed　themselves　as　Masters。
The　Scribe　Triumvirate　of　Aholt；　Ulla；　and　Tussas；　Nothing　Save　Animus：　A　History　of　the　Robotech　Elders

The　Robotech　Elders　stopped　straining　at　the　med　machines　that　held　them　fast。　Behind　their　respirator　masks；　their　furious　howls　ceased。　Haydon　was　ing；　and　they　understood　that　there　was　no　escaping。

Like　a　mountain　on　the　move；　the　figure　in　the　gargantuan　conduit　approached　them　through　the　blinding　light。　With　slitted　eyes；　the　Elders　watched　it　e。　High　above　and　all　around；　the　Haydonites　had　ceased　their　mental　hymn　singing　and　fallen　quiet。

With　coronas　of　crackling　energy　radiating　from　him　and　lightning　bolts　crashing　all　around　the　heights　of　his　head　and　shoulders；　Haydon　emerged。

Some　of　the　intermittent　transignal　messages　from　their　vassals…the　Robotech　Masters　sent　to　ravage　Earth…had　told　the　Elders　of　the　primitive　religions　of　that　blighted　planet。　Now　a　minor　phrase　came　back　to　haunt　Nimuul：　created　in　God's　image。

Small　wonder　the　Haydonites　were　ready　to　swoon　with　adoration　and　ecstasy；　before　them　was　He　in　whose　image　they　had　been　cast。　The　Elders　used　their　resentment　and　irascibility　to　keep　from　yielding　to　the　mesmeric　spell　the　sight　of　Him　cast。

Haydon　wore…or　had　perhaps　simply　donned　the　illusion　of…a　billowing；　high…collared　cloak　like　the　Haydonites'。　From　beneath　it；　feet　extended；　and　yet　they　floated　free　of　the　planet's　surface。

The　stupendous　head　was　smooth　and　hairless；　reminding　the　Elders　of　their　onetime　warlord；　Dolza；　but　Haydon's　skull　was　higher…crowned　and　more　finely　shaped　than　that。　His　face　was　more　defined　than　the　Haydonites'；　it　was　some　countenance　the　Elders　somehow　half　recognized　but　could　not　place。　Where　the　Haydonites　had　been　born　without　eyes；　mouth；　ears；　nostrils；　the　face　of　Haydon　gave　the　impression　that　it　had　once　borne　those　features　and　they　had　atrophied　from　disuse。

Haydon　bore　no　dzentile；　though。　In　the　middle　of　His　forehead　pulsed　a　gland　or　organ　unlike　anything　the　Elders　knew　of；　ridged　and　scalloped　like　some　shell　thing's　back；　puckered　closed　like　a　sleeping　blossom。

Haydon's　blind　cliff　of　a　face　panned　His　domain；　drinking　in　the　physical　universe　after　His　long　hibernation。　He　became　aware　of　the　Elders…or　perhaps　He　had　been　all　along　and　the　cyclopean　head　tilted　down。　The　mystic　organ　in　His　forehead　bloomed　open；　and　for　an　instant　the　Elders　saw　within…a　shape　and　texture　they　could　not　discern　that　nevertheless　paralyzed　them　with　dread。

A　beam　of　searing　brilliance　burst　from　the　organ　to　play　over　the　captives。　VERMIN；　SPEAK！

Nimuul　answered　with　mindspeech：　Look　to　your　proud　fleet；　Ancient　One！　Your　grand　design　is　in　jeopardy！

There　was　a　concerted　moan　from　the　Haydonites；　like　a　low　wind。　Haydon　turned　His　blank　face　to　the　sky；　and　the　beam　from　His　forehead　played　out　across　the　spherical　ships　drifting　powerless　in　space　over　the　world　He　had　made。

The　Haydonites　and　the　Elders　sensed　swift　munication　between　Haydon　and　His　Awareness；　like　some　deep　stratum　perturbation。　Plainly；　Haydon　understood　then　the　enormity　of　what　the　Karbarrans；　Ark　Angel；　and　Louie　Nichols's　cybernauts　had　done。

From　the　organ　on　Haydon's　forehead　a　black　beacon　shone　forth；　swallowing　up　all　the　light　in　its　path。　The　Haydonites　wailed　wordlessly；　and　the　planet　shook。

Nimmul；　Hepsis；　and　Fallagar　united　with　even　more　desperation　than　they　had　in　contacting　the　Awareness。　No；　stay　your　wrath！　We've　e　to　offer　you　a　bargain；　and　Protoculture！

That　gave　Haydon　pause。　He　stood　erect　once　more；　gazing　out　over　His　handiwork。　A　nimbus　grew　up　around　him；　so　effulgent　that　the　Elders　had　to　close　their　eyes。　When　they　opened　them　again；　Haydon　had　worked　another　miracle。

Where　one　had　stood　there　was　now　a　trio…a　triumvirate；　the　Robotech　Elders　registered…shoulder　to　shoulder；　facing　outward　in　a　circle。　It　was　impossible　to　tell　which；　if　any；　was　the　original；　but　it　was　clear　that　while　enormous；　they　were　smaller　than　He　who　had　levitated　forth　from　the　bowels　of　Haydon　IV。

Without　any　talk；　one　went　back　down　the　conduit　from　which　Haydon　had　emerged；　another　floated　off　across　the　machine　landscape；　the　Haydonite　carpets　making　way　for　him；　and　the　third　turned　back　to　the　Elders。　SAY　ON。

Nimuul　responded：　We　know　where　there　is　Protoculture；　new　Protoculture　that　the　Regis　did　not　steal！　Enough　to　power　all　your　ships。　We　will　lead　you　to　it　gladly。

Gladly。　It　was　pivotal　that　Haydon　be　given　the　means　to　leave　spacetime。

AND　IN　RETURN？

In　return　you　will　provide　us　with　the　means　to　exert　our　will　over　the　Local　Group　star　systems　and　their　inhabitants。　You　will　grant　us　your　authority　to　rule　the　planets　you　touched　so　long　ago。

DONE！　The　Awareness　had　already　spoken　to　Haydon　of　the　ships　it　had　built　and　the　single　energy　that　must　power　them。

Agreement　came　so　readily　that　the　Elders　were　tempted　to　ask　for　more　concessions；　but　they　dared　not。　It　was　manifest　that　Haydon…or　the　Haydons…wanted　nothing　more　from　the　physical　universe　except　the　means　to　pass　beyond　it。

Haydon　raised　one　hand　in　a　divine　gesture。　There　was　a　psychic　shuddering　through　the　planet　as　the　Awareness　prepared　to　turn　itself　to　new　tasks；　the　Haydonites　on　their　carpets　came　about　in　vast　flocks　to　regroup　and　race　away　to　all　points　of　the　pass；　bent　on　missions　Haydon　had　given　them。　First　among　those　was　pletion　of　the　unfinished　sphere　ships。

Haydon　turned　back　to　the　Elders。　NAME　OUR　DESTINATION。

Treacherous　as　they　were；　the　Robotech　Elders　were　loath　to　trust　anyone。　But　before　the　might　of　Haydon　they　had　no　other　choice；　fearing　that　if　they　were　uncooperative；　he　would　snuff　out　their　lives　and　go　seeking　Protoculture　on　his　own。

The　Elders　joined　their　minds　to　speak；　practically　fondling　the　words　with　their　thoughts。　Optera　first…〃New　Praxis；〃　it　is　called　now。　Then　。。。　Tirol！

SO　BE　IT。

The　planet　shifted　under　them；　already　on　the　move。　FIRST；　WE　MUST　GATHER　UP　OUR　SPHERE　SHIPS。　THEN　IT　WILL　BE　NECESSARY　TO　DIVERT　TO　LASKAR。

The　Elders　were　puzzled　even　as　they　felt　a　certain　lassitude　stealing　over　them。　Your　planet's　primary？　Why？　FUEL　IS　NEEDED　FOR　SUCH　A　JOURNEY。

As　they　grasped　the　enormity　of　that；　they　felt　themselves　losing　consciousness。　A　trick！　Stop！　We　demand？

The　Elders'　thoughts　faded　as　the　med　machines'　sedation　took　hold。　Haydon　turned　away　from　them　disinterestedly　as　the　carpet　on　which　their　thrones　sat　whisked　them　out　of　His　presence。

Haydon　had　already　given　His　mand　to　the　Awareness。　Like　a　worshiping　slave；　it　strained　itself　to　carry　out　His　directions　to　the　fullest。

Haydon　IV　gathered　in　the　sphere　ships；　finished　and　unfinished　alike；　holding　them　in　readiness；　then　reabsorbed　what　it　could　of　the　factory　tubes。　Haydon　saw　that　His　discorporate　hibernation　had　lasted　longer　than　He　had　foreseen。　That　and　the　appearance　of　the　Sentinels；　plus　the　demands　of　producing　the　sphere　ship　fleet；　had　nearly　exhausted　the　power　reserves　of　the　artificial　planet。

Eventually；　of　course；　power　could　be　brought　back　to　full　by　other　means；　but　there　was　not　time　for　that。　While　the　Haydonites　raced　to　carry　out　the　labors　He　had　assigned　them；　the　planet　left　orbit　and　began　its　descent　toward　Laskar；　dying　lesser　sun　of　the　Ranaath　system。

The　star's　place　in　the　arc　of　the　sky　grew　and　grew　as　Haydon　IV　rushed　toward　it。　The　artifact　world　hurtled　past　the　orbit　of　the　system's　innermost　planet。　At　the　same　time　a　strange　energy　field　polarized　into　existence；　surrounding　Haydon's　handiwork　to　protect　it　and　more。

It　was　well　within　the　reach　of　stellar　prominences　before　it　stopped。　A　preliminary　beam　licked　out　from　Haydon　IV；　probing　into　the　monstrous　furnace　of　the　star　itself。　Back　poured　a　mammoth　gush　of　naked　power。

For　several　long　minutes　Haydon　IV　hung　there；　tethered　to　its　star；　drawing　in　energy　as　it　had　drawn　in　raw　materials　from　the　asteroid。　Within；　its　reserves　were　restored；　then　rilled　to　repletion；　with　all　the　power　the　planet　would　need。

The　fiery　stream　of　starfire　stopped；　dissipating；　as　Haydon　IV　moved　away　from　Laskar　again。　As　it　went；　Haydon　had　word　from　the　Awareness　of　troubling　findings。

At　the　edge　of　perceptible　space　there　were　aberrations　and　anomalies。　The　fabric　of　the　continuum　was　losing　integrity；　and　whole　regions　seemed　to　be　disappearing。

Time　was　growing　short；　very　short。　Haydon　IV's　drive　activated；　its　course　charted　for　Optera。　It　went　superluminal　and　vanished。


Still　Rem　drifted；　still　the　nucleic　dreams　showed　him　the　past。

Not　even　Haydon　could　predict　how　things　would　develop；　while　he　slept；　on　the　worlds　he　had　touched　personally。

Therefore；　he　left　instructions　with　the　Awareness　that　if　any　arrived　with　enlightenment；　or　even　some　portion　of　it；　the　Awareness　would　recognize　that　by　certain　signs。

And　Zor　had　manifested　such　a　sign；　much　（though　not　all）　of　the　Awareness's　data　revealed　itself。　Zor　mentioned　the　Texts　of　Haydon；　of　which　he　had　learned；　and　they　were　opened　to　him。　But　not　translated　for　him。　He　had　to　demonstrate　certain　aptitudes　or　begone。

The　Texts　of　Haydon　resembled　no　book　or　archive　before　them。　They　were　a　cyclorama　of　thought　images　and　psimemes。　But　Zor；　with　his　Flower…alte