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his face wore the furious； blazing glare that was the Elders' only expression。 It was an ax…keen； hawk…nosed face with sharp； angular cheekbones under which were scarlike creases of skin suggestive of tribal scars。 His pate was bare； but fine； straight blue hair growing from the sides and back of his head fell to his shoulders。
Nimuul's fight to shape words was even harder than his effort to raise his head； but he chose the spoken word over thought…speech because only a trickle of their mental power remained。 〃We 。 。 。 must 。 。 。 reveal ourselves。 To the 。 。 。 Awareness。〃
Hepsis； of the silver hair； stirred on his high…backed chair。 His nailless； gracile fingers trembled feebly on its arm。 But after a grunt he； too； brought forth sound。 〃No！ The 。 。 。 risk 。 。 。〃
The third； Fallagar； was the most weakened by the prolonged ordeal。 It seemed he could feel death before him； ready to blow his mind and personality away to nonexistence like a puff of dust。 His terror gave him the strength to shape words aloud。 〃Our last chance。〃
He radiated waves of impotent rage and fear that even a nonsensitive could have felt。 There was no telling what the Awareness of the planet would do in its battered； virus…altered state once they dropped their mental shields and revealed their presence…supposing that they could rouse it from its slumber。 But there were no other options。
They were agreed。 They dropped their shields warily； each making sure neither of the others betrayed him； left him exposed while ducking back behind psi…cover。 With a heightened sense； they perceived the Awareness； hanging not far off in space； as a cold moonlet of mental energy。
Even at the zenith of their power the Elders had forborne to probe or seek to alter the Awareness of Haydon IV。 They were averse to risk to themselves； the Awareness was tractable and presented no apparent threat。 But always； in the recesses of their inner thought； Nimuul； Hepsis； and Fallagar had harbored misgivings about the titanic mindforce residing in the core of the artificial planet。 Certainly it had no reason to take pity on them； quite the reverse。
But Nimuul managed； 〃Let me 。 。 。 speak for us。〃 Where once it had shone forth like a nova； the triumvirate mental force of the Elders was a wan beam； like a ray from a dim nebula。 But it carried Nimuul's message： We are the last of the Robotech Masters。 We can lead you to new Protoculture！
With that； all three slumped； spent； in their chairs。 Their breathing slowed； began rattling。
But within Haydon IV； something quickened。
The message activated a deeply nested subroutine； which enabled a function that had been totally inert； and so was missed； during Louie Nichols's epic cyber…burn。 Mechamorphosis had always been a cardinal trait of Robotechnology； a reflection of Protoculture。
Cyber…systems could mechamorphose； too。
Deep in Haydon IV； new data highways shifted into existence； circumventing the blockages on the old。 What pure information had done； physical change undid； at least in part。 New topographic features…mountainous ones…grew out of reshuffled ponents。
The Awareness roused itself； took stock of the situation； acted。 Control and other systems on the Elders' ship came to full available power。 Its attitude thrusters fired； and it began a full…boost approach to Haydon IV even while its three oc璫upants felt life slipping away。
The planet shifted massively as the Awareness ignored all the frightened queries from its inhabitants。 The surviving Haydonites drew back； afraid to interfere。
Even as the ship closed on Haydon IV； a Brobdingnagian alloy tentacle took shape out of shifting machinery to emerge from one of the shot…up factory tubes。 The Awareness guided the ship into the grasp of a specially fashioned claw。 It was enfolded； and the enclosure was pressurized。
The lock cycled open in response to the Awareness's unspoken mand。 Remote units swarmed in around the Elders； propping them up on their thrones； inserting tubes； sensors； actuators。 In seconds the Elders were encased in life support systems； their vital signs increasing。
The Awareness saw at once that the triumvirate could not be kept alive that way for very long。 It stepped up its efforts to revive them。
From a hidden storage nook deep； deep in its internal reaches； the planet fetched forth a half dozen or so eggplant purple cylinders； round…bottomed and quiveringly gelid。 They were the last of the particular manifestation of the fruit of the Flower of Life that the Invid Regent had grown in his hive on Haydon IV。 That had been back during his occupation of the planet…before the Sentinels had unseated him in a cataclysmic battle…and now these few specimens were all that remained。
There was no Protoculture in them as such； true； but there was some vestige of the Flower's essence and substances akin to the ones on which the Elders fed。 In moments； fluids drawn from the fruit were flowing into the bodies of the three。
They began to regain consciousness。 The Awareness knew that this emergency measure would not sustain them for long； it introduced stimulants； heedless of the shock to their systems； and waited…anxiously…for some sign of life。
Nimuul's eyes blinked open。 He did not feel well…indeed； he felt a bizarre disorientation…but he knew death had retreated； at least for the moment。 He saw at once what had happened。
I will not deal with you； Nimuul mind…spoke to the Awareness。 I will bargain with your master only。
By then Hepsis and Fallagar were awake； too； and the triumvirate integrated itself once more； still weak but less so than it had been in a long time。
We will speak only with Haydon。
There was a moment of utter silence all around them； through the ship and the life support systemry； in the air； and seemingly through the artificial planet itself。 Then the Elders felt vibrations…physical； psychic； extradimensional…and Haydon IV began to move again。
The Haydonites saw； heard； and sensed the changes all around them。 They began to assemble in designated places and make ready in answer to the instructions of the Awareness。 The planet shifted and reconformed in its most important mechamorphosis。
The Elders； encased on their thrones； found themselves no longer in their ship； it had been dismantled around them。 The Protoculture cap was whisked away； straight up into the air； by some outsize waldo apparatus they glimpsed only for an instant。
The thrones were set in a line； facing the same way； on a circular platform containing the equipment that ran and controlled their life support。 That disc sat in turn； now； in the middle of one of the Haydonite transport devices梬hat the humans had dubbed 〃flying carpets。〃
The claw must have drawn them back to the surface of Haydon IV itself。 At least they found themselves atop a high tower； seemingly a mile and more in the air。 How the planet retained its atmosphere and kept from freezing； they did not know。 Below them the landscape heaved and crept； glittered and digested itself。
The carpet lifted off the tower and flew out over mecha…morphosing terrain。 The Elders； hair whipping in the wind； were held immobile by the life supports grappled in place。 They could