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He was holding Lisa's gaze as he said it。
Minmei recalled how she had sung for her parents as a child； leaned Yokohama and trips to Kyle's house； where she would invariably be asked to perform； to entertain。 It had been years later on Macross Island that singing had grown to mean something else to her。 She still lived then for the chance to perform； lived for the response； the adulation； but singing had e to represent a kind of power game。 More than the power to inch closer to wealth and popularity； though； singing was power over people： a means to move； stir； control。
To conquer。
The problem was； there were people who sought to make in power their own。 To twist it this way and that to suit their own purposes。 Gloval and the SDF…1 mand had iced her； Kyle had tried to remake her； T。 R。 Edwards had tried to possess her。
And now Rem needed the voice…not Minmei but the voice。 He was not out to conquer audience or enemy or to build an empire founded on his own lust and greed。 He needed the voice to position himself on a road to self discovery。 A road to redemption for a father/self he was just beginning to understand。
So she had been willing to help him； even willing to let him go on believing that by so doing he was helping her。 To confront her fear； he had told her。 To give full reign to her vocal prowess。
How she had been tempted to confront him on that one！ To embrace him； really； and confess that she would sing simply because he needed her to sing； nothing more。 But that could wait until Rem's inner quest was concluded。 And then she would confess； and thank him； too。 Oh； yes； thank him for allowing her to re…experience how wonderful it felt to liberate that voice within。 For what had she been but self contained the past five years； imprisoned； like matrixed Flowers of Life？ Her voice： the Protoculture denied 。 。 。
Musica and Allegra had played no small part in that sense of rebirth。 For with them she harmonized with equals。 She had e closest to such transcendent purity with Janice Em； human…made； but at the time neither she nor Janice was possessed of the songs themselves。
Ancient psalms that predated Tirol's Grand Transition and the ing to power of the Robotech Masters。
Minmei was in the pany of the sister clones now； preparing her voice for the difficult parts Bowie's keyboards had taught her。 Musica and Allegra had seemed pleased with her contributions thus far； to say nothing of Bowie； who was beside himself。 A dream e true； he kept telling her； a dream e true。
She kept to herself that she was wearing a transmitting device； that Rem had wired her for sound； to use an old Earth phrase。 In some sense it made her feel as though Rem were present in the music room； pressed close to her warm breast like the device itself。
Her hand brushed it through the soft weave of her tunic； then went to her belly； where it lingered a moment longer。 And she began to sing。
Not far away； Rem would be listening。
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Certain parallels are suggested by the fact that both the Masters' clone （Zor Prime） and the Invid Regis's simulagent （Ariel； aka 〃Marlene'） were corrupted by their contact with Terran humankind。 Those mentators who advance the view usually offer the Zentraedi as further proof to bolster their claim。 Corruption； then； is equated with emotion； for it was human passion above all else that turned the tide time and time again during the Robotech Wars。 Terran humankind has been singled out and in some sense denigrated。 But were the pre…Robotech Tiresians any more in control of their passions？ One need only look to Zor and the corruption his actions worked on the Invid Queen Mother。 Was this not in fact the original corruption？
Gitta Hopkins； Queen Bee： A Biography of the Invid Regis
Outside the Ark Angel's viewport spun a dark maelstrom of stolen matter； a grave whirlpool of cosmic stuff； black as evil in its singular heart。
〃My God；〃 Vince said in utter astonishment。
〃Let us hope not；〃 Cabell offered； turning his back to the view and helping himself to food recently delivered to the situation room。
〃Stellar Transylvania；〃 one of Louie Nichols's data junkies said without bothering to explain。 〃Give me two pints of protons；〃 he added； affecting some sort of middle…European accent。
In the foreground between starship and black hole floated what Vince had first taken for a dumbbell…like structure captured by the system's nearly lightless sun； the host upon which the hole had fed for countless eons。 It was only after the ship's onboard AI had served up a graphic breakdown of the object that he had begun to prehend it。 One end of the dumbbell was in fact a small rouge moon； yanked from orbit by what constituted the dumbbell's twin…cupped opposite end： a radically reconfigured Haydon IV。
The cylindrically shaped bridge that joined moon and artifact world were made up of two massive conduits； which had apparently telescoped out of each of Haydon IV's now separated northern and southern hemispheres。
Vince ran a hand down his face and left it covering his mouth； as though fearful of what sounds might emerge。 Just in view far off the Ark Angel's port side were the ships of the Karbarran battle group； a school of predatory fish awaiting the scent of blood。
〃Evaluation；〃 Vince said； turning to find Louie Nichols headlocked to the room's p console。 Data…expedient or not； the sight of the wizard's cranial ports still left him distressed。
With an audible pop； Louis jacked the umbilicus out of the skull。 〃No doubt about it； they're mining the moon for metals。 Haydon IV's turned itself into a working factory。〃
Vince gestured to the viewport。 〃You mean those； those tubes are mine shafts？〃
〃In a manner of speaking；〃 Louie told him。 〃See； instead of parking yourself in orbit and shuttling payloads of raw materials up the gravity well； you construct transfer corridors ship…to…surface and suck up what you need。 A variation on the old space elevator or orbital tower concept。〃
〃But what the hell are they manufacturing？〃
Dr。 Penn and Cabell approached the console to hear Louie's response。
〃Ships would be my guess；〃 Nichols said； only to receive skeptical looks from the three of them。
〃Assume for a moment our theories about Haydon are on the money； then put yourself in his boots。〃 Louie stood up to make his point。 〃Here are Haydon and his crew wandering the spaceways for tens of thousands of years； jumping system to system； world to world。 And frankly； the whole thing's being a yawn。 They've conquered war； hunger； pestilence； disease； death 。。。 I mean； what's left to do？
〃So all at once they begin asking themselves some serious questions。 Like maybe if there isn't more to life than gallivanting around the galaxy playing deity to groups of awed primitives。 They start focusing on ontological and teleological questions about purpose and god and what's supposed to e after you punch exit and wave good…bye to your biological parts。 Of course they've been asking themselves these questions since they crawled up out of the gene pool； but all of a sudden there's an urgency attached to it。 It's a kind of what'd they used to call it？…a midlife crisis thing。〃
Louie took a