hat plagued the survey team were no obstruction to Zor； where others had missed the looming presence and central importance of the Awareness； he had been attuned to it from the first。
As for actually gaining access to the Awareness； it was like some absurd parable。 Where the Haydonites had turned back all inquiries and all travelers before； they simply watched him。 Facing a stupendous hatch that blocked his route to the lower reaches of the planet； he reached by habit for a handful of dried Flower petals from the pouch he carried at his belt；
He chewed the petals and leaves frequently now…supposes his body was addicted to them； though the true craving stemmed from no physical need。 As he tasted the little quid； he felt himself probed by sensor beams。 A moment later the titanic door rolled aside。
The Haydonites who had flocked around him and kept him under surveillance since his arrival came no farther than the entrance； nor would he let even the faithful Vard acpany him。 Zor passed into the lower depths alone。
He made his way down through the labyrinthine under world； sustained by it and accepting the paths it opened for him。 At last he walked calmly and unhurriedly out into the yawning techno…cavern where the Awareness waited。
It was a confusion of neon lines in strange patterns； a thing the size of a cruiser。 By the time he came into its physical presence； he was quite well acquainted with it。
When he bespoke it now； though； the Awareness refused to answer。 He had the feeling that it was waiting for some final proof； some bona fide； before it lowered its last defenses with him。
Zor reached into a pocket and drew forth an object he has prepared after long； hard pondering。 It was an artificial jewel； charged with Protoculture power； formulated from his studies of both the Haydonites' dzentile and…even more important the organic gemstones manifested by the Regis when she has assumed humanoid form。
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