by Kate Donovan
Of course, it was possible that “good feeling” was a response to his sexy blue eyes and great build, but he had also proven his worth by winning three Exemplar medals, so how bad could he be?
“Let me get right to the heart of the matter,” Humber began. “Malara is under attack.”
Zia gasped. “By whom? Who would dare?”
“The Alluvans,” he replied simply.
“What? I thought we crushed them.”
Humber gave a sad smile. “They were defeated. Not crushed. Never crushed.”
Rem turned his attention to Zia. “Earth kids are taught that we decimated Alluva. But that’s only in the context of their culture. So yes, the Earth-Malara alliance destroyed most of Alluva’s mechs and took ten percent of their wealth and resources as the price for defeating them. But Alluva still had its experts, its factories, and the rest of its capabilities. We knew they’d rebuild their robot army. We just never thought—” He gave Humber a sheepish glance. “Given their technology, we never thought they could catch up to Malara. So the threat seemed distant. Almost nonexistent.”
“Exactly.” Humber nodded. “When the Earth conflict ended, Alluva was allowed to keep a modest fleet. For defense purposes. But we destroyed all of their giant mechs. And it takes so long—so many resources—to build even one colossus, we were certain they could never again be a threat to us in this century, and probably not in the next. We were wrong. It seems their technology has advanced at a rate greater than ours.”
“When did they issue the challenge?” Rem asked, leaning forward, his concentration now totally focused on the ambassador.
“Last week. I received word this afternoon. Needless to say, I must return home immediately.”
“When will the first battle take place?”
“Tradition dictates that we have one Malaran month to prepare.” Humber eyed Zia closely. “How much do you know about challenge warfare, Zee?”
She could see from their expressions that the males—all of them—thought she was a complete foghead about such matters, and she was tempted to oblige them by babbling about the scary robots and big, strong pilots.
But Humber’s opinion mattered. Plus, she had promised to behave. So she decided to surprise them all by showcasing her knowledge.
“I know a little about robot warfare in general, and a lot about Earth’s history with it,” she assured them. Then she coolly described that amazingly awful day, fifty years earlier, when the Alluvans had appeared out of nowhere and highjacked Earth’s communication systems. Every vid set in the world had broadcast their message—that they were challenging the planet. In one month, at a place of Earth’s choosing, the two cultures would face off with a maximum of three armored fighting units—a.k.a. mechs—on each side.
Humber nodded. “It is always that way. The challenger must give the target a reasonable time to strategize. And the target chooses how many combatants—up to three each.”
“But in our case, we didn’t have any fighting robots. So it was totally unfair,” Zia interrupted. “The Alluvans didn’t care. They still only gave us one month. And they placed giant robots in the hearts of ten major Earth cities, including Washington, D.C. Supposedly so we could design something similar, but really to scare us so we’d just surrender without a fight.”
“They were in for a surprise,” Rem murmured.
She smiled. Rem’s grandfather Finn had been the U.S. president then, and he hadn’t panicked. Instead, he had assembled advisors from around the world to brainstorm a response. Meanwhile, Zia’s grandfather had been busy too, adapting an assault vehicle so that it had extra armor and a variety of weapons.
“Then Grandpa went to Finn Stone with his plan. And against the advice of his task force, the president gave Daniel Quito command of the first challenge.”
She could see that the males were hanging on her every word, like little boys listening to a bedtime story, so she continued softly. “They met in the desert. The Alluvans were required by the rules to pick a robot of comparable size and equipment to the Earth vehicle, so they used the closest thing they had. Not a skirmisher, though. It was called—what? A jumper?”
“A prowler,” Rem reminded her.
“Right, a prowler. Thank God they weren’t allowed to use a giant, or we would have been obliterated. Instead, the fight ended in a draw because neither vehicle was usable when the dust settled. So the second challenge was issued by the Alluvans.”
Zia paused, imagining the bittersweet joy her grandfather must have felt at that moment. He had done the impossible, but now what?
Sighing, she continued. “We knew we were in trouble. The Alluvans had a huge fleet of robots and a bunch of trained pilots. It was only a matter of time before we’d lose, and they would occupy Earth and plunder our resources.” Turing to the ambassador, she said gratefully, “Then—just when we thought we were doomed—you arrived.”
“Not me personally,” he said, laughing. “But yes. We had heard that our old enemy had found a mineral-rich, underdeveloped world to terrorize. It was in our interest to assist Earth, although there are some in my world who still debate that.”
“You brought your own fleet of robots—giants, skirmishers, prowlers,” Rem interrupted, his tone filled with awe. “And you brought pilots too. You would have done all the fighting for us, but Daniel Quito insisted on helping. So you trained him on a skirmisher, and your generals admitted he was a natural.”
Zia felt a surge of pride as she recalled the rest of the tale. “Finn Stone and the Malarans decided that the next challenge would feature one giant and two skirmishers on each side, right? That’s the battle where Grandpa made history by toppling a giant with a skirmisher. It had never been done before.”
“And to this day, no one else has done it,” Humber assured her.
“Unbelievable,” Rem said reverently.
“It gives me goose bumps,” Zia admitted. Then she decided to wrap up the story. “That battle ended in a draw too, but for the next one, we went one-on-one—skirmisher against skirmisher—with Grandpa as our pilot. He destroyed the Alluvan mech and saved our planet.”
Humber reached over to pat her arm. “You tell it well, Zia. And it leads us to the most important element of challenge warfare. The psychological advantage.”
He paused, like a teacher about to reveal the answer to a test question. “Everyone knows it is not the number of robots in a planet’s arsenal that decides victory. All it takes is one robot, skillfully piloted, to end a war. And so it is important to undermine the confidence of each pilot on the other side. Quito the Great did that to Alluva by bringing down a giant with a skirmisher. They feared him thereafter, so he had an advantage when he fought the next battle, skirmisher versus skirmisher.”
Humber’s tone grew grim. “Now the Alluvans have done that to us—undermined our confidence, for the moment, at least—just by challenging us. It tells us they think they can prevail. Also, they have surprised us with the size of their arsenal.”
“How many do they have? They’re required to reveal that to you, aren’t they?” Rem asked.
Humber nodded. “They have a dozen of each sort of smaller robot. A dozen skirmishers also. And to our shock, they have five giants. Since it takes fourteen Earth years to build just one of those, we could never have guessed they’d have more than two or three, given their depleted resources.”
“And how many do you have?” Zia demanded.
“Good question. We have approximately the same number of each sort. Including giants—we have five. Exactly like them.”
“And that’s why you’re here?” she asked, her tone turning brisk. “You want Grandpa’s giant back?”
Humber nodded.
She smiled in relief. “How wonderful that we can really help you. Of course you can take it.”
“Zia!” Jared Quito’s face had turned the color of ashes. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying they can borrow the giant. And the skirmisher too for that matter. A
nd if either or both is destroyed for the sake of Malara, that’s a price we’re willing to pay.”
“Are you so sure the people of Earth are willing?” the president demanded.
Zia felt her cheeks redden. “Pardon?”
Jared cleared his throat. “You’re impulsive. It’s what our citizens love about you. But still, to give up the robot. Both robots . . .”
Rem leaned forward. “I think what Zia’s saying is, the robots are just symbols. Of our alliance with Malara. If we don’t hand them over, they won’t mean anything anymore.”
Zia nodded. “Thank you, Cadet Stone. That’s exactly what I meant.”
Her uncle seemed about to argue, but the ambassador stopped him. “I have not made myself clear. We are not asking for the skirmisher, although it would be useful. We need the giant. And a pilot.”
“A pilot? Don’t you have one who can—oh!” Zia drew back, shocked by what she now knew to be true.
She had heard this so often, it was insane that she had forgotten it, even for a moment. By their nature, giant robots were bonded—virtually for life—to the brainwaves and genetic patterns of a particular pilot. As a tribute to Daniel Quito, the giant robot gift had been attuned to him. In the hands, or mind, of any Malaran pilot, it was useless.
Realizing that among the Earthlings she was the only person who had grasped what the ambassador was really saying, she turned to her uncle, and then with as loving a smile as she could muster, she explained, “They don’t just need the colossus, Uncle J. They need you.”
Chapter 3
Rem Stone jumped to his feet, his blue eyes flashing with excitement. “I’ll go too. I can pilot the skirmisher.”
Zia couldn’t help but smile at the burst of bravado. Nor could she ignore her uncle’s reaction, which was virtually the complete opposite.
Ambassador Humber gave Rem an approving nod. “We appreciate the offer, young man. But it is not necessary. Any Malaran pilot can handle any skirmisher. They are not synchronized to the pilot’s mind and body the way a giant is.” He turned back to Zia. “You may have misunderstood—”
“Let’s hope so,” the president interrupted. “Because if you expect me to go to Malara, you’re sadly mistaken. I’m needed here. I’m crucial here. I can’t be spared.”
“They need someone with Grandpa’s DNA,” Zia murmured. “That’s you. He’d want you to go.” She edged closer and draped her arm around her uncle’s shoulders in the awkward half hug they had developed for moments like these. “I know you think I’m useless, but I’ll step up while you’re gone, I promise. I’ll help the vice president and the commander, and meanwhile, Earth will adore you. You won’t weaken your administration, you’ll consolidate it. They might even vote you a life term for this, right? That’s how Quito got his, remember?”
Ambassador Humber cleared his throat. “You mentioned DNA. I hate to be statistical, but facts are facts. You, Zia, are a direct descendant, and therefore much more likely to be a match.”
“Me?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Jared said, visibly fuming. “If you think for one moment I’d allow my niece to go with you—or frankly, that she’d be of any use to you—you’ve lost your Malaran mind. She can barely drive a skycart without causing havoc.”
“Hey!” Zia pretended to be insulted. “Don’t make me sound so uncoordinated. I’ve never had an accident, have I? And I’m an expert at sky paddle.” Flashing a smile to assure her uncle she was just kidding, she turned back to Humber and insisted, “Uncle Jared was in the military before he became president. If you need a Quito, he’s your only hope.”
“Zia, that’s enough.” Jared stood and began to pace, his tone brisk. “As I said before, this is out of the question. And a waste of time. I may not be a robot expert, but I’ve read enough to know that that giant was finely tuned to Daniel Quito—so much so that even his own son might not be a match, assuming he had one. Isn’t that true, Humber?”
The ambassador nodded. “That is the point I attempted to make earlier. Zia calls you uncle, but that is not accurate. You are actually the grandnephew of her great-grandfather’s half brother. Correct?”
Zia gave Rem a sheepish smile. “Too bad you didn’t win a medal in genealogy.”
Rem laughed. “I think the ambassador’s saying that President Quito isn’t a direct descendant of Quito the Great. You are, but he isn’t.”
Noting the scowl on her uncle’s face, Zia replied carefully, “What’s the difference? We both trace back to the Quito family that came here from Mexico, right?”
“But Quito the Great was half Cuban,” Humber reminded her. “On his mother’s side. It is possible that the DNA that made him so—well, so unique—stems from her.”
“That’s slander!” Jared roared.
Humber stood and stared directly into the president’s angry eyes. “I apologize, sir. I thought I heard you say you did not wish to go. I was simply pointing out that you are an unlikely candidate in any event.”
Jared exhaled sharply, then turned his fury toward Rem. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
Zia noted the twinkle in the cocky pilot’s blue eyes, and quickly advised him, “If you’re smart, you won’t say another word.” Then she stood up and said, “Don’t you have some graduation parties to attend? Maybe you should just get going for now. We’ll call you if we need you.”
When Rem’s smile faded, she added quickly, “If you really want to pilot the skirmisher, I’ll convince Ambassador Humber to let you. How’s that?”
Rem stood and nodded. “That’s an amazing offer. I’ll take it. Thanks, Zia.”
“It’s the least I can do, given how you rescued me from falling off that stage. So go to your parties. We’ll be in touch, I promise.”
To his credit, he left right away, and Zia gave an exaggerated sigh of relief before turning back to her uncle and the ambassador. “That was awkward. Sorry.”
“I should go too,” Humber murmured. “You two have much to discuss. But do it quickly, I beg you. We can arrange for genetic testing tomorrow morning, and have the results within hours. But whatever happens, I need to be on a transport to Malara the day after that at the latest.”
Jared licked his lips for a moment. Then he asked Humber, “What do you think? Off the record. Is there any chance I’d be a match?”
“It is highly unlikely. But possible. And only slightly more possible that Zia would, frankly.”
“I won’t allow my niece to be tested, much less go to Malara. It would be suicide.”
“She wouldn’t need to fight.” Humber’s voice was calm and reassuring. “Neither would you. The mere presence of a Quito—the mystique of having one available to pilot a giant—would intimidate the Alluvans. That’s all we are seeking. A psychological advantage to counter their show of confidence.”
Jared nodded. “That makes sense. But you understand, I’m the president. I can’t be spared.” He caught himself and extended a hand toward the ambassador. “Like you said, Zia and I need to talk. And I need to consult with the vice president and the commander, since they’re the next in line if I can’t fulfill my duties for any reason.”
He paused to draw a deep breath, then continued. “I’ll contact you in a few hours with my answer. And meanwhile, I’ve decided Zia is correct—Malara can have the giant. It’s the least Earth can do. And if you want the skirmisher, you can take that too.” A smile played on his lips as he added lightly, “And as a bonus, you can have our most promising young pilot. Feel free to keep him for as long as you like.”
* * * *
Zia could feel the sting of an impending tirade before her uncle even opened his mouth, so she tried to deflect some of his wrath by insisting, “Isn’t this awful? If Alluva defeats Malara, they’ll come after us again, right? Maybe we should start building our own robots just in case.”
Jared glared. “What possessed you to invite that troublemaker to a confidential briefing? Don’t you understand who he is? His f
ather was a murderer and a traitor. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”
“Cripes,” Zia murmured under her breath.
“Don’t you ‘cripes’ me, young lady. I’ve spoiled you because your mother spoiled you. And because I love you. But you’ve gone too far—”
“His grandfather was Finn Stone! And guess what? Rem just became famous himself by winning all the Exemplar medals. You need to be careful, Uncle J. Right now, at this moment, he has as much cachet as we do. Maybe even more. And he earned his. I’d say he had at least as much right to be part of that discussion as I did.”
Jared shook his head, visibly frustrated. “He has an agenda. Can’t you see that?”
“All I saw was a guy so brave he volunteered to go to Malara and fight. Didn’t that impress you, just a little?”
Jared exhaled sharply. “He’d do anything to restore his family to power. And for some reason, you’re determined to help him.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Is it? First he attracts publicity by winning all three medals. Then he romances you onstage for the whole world to see. Now he’s trying to be a war hero too.”
“If he can do all that, maybe he should be president.”
Her uncle’s eyes widened. “Pardon me?”
Zia bit her lip, realizing how disloyal she had sounded. “After your two terms are over, I mean. And only if you don’t win a life term. Obviously.”
Jared’s jaw was rigid. “His father was a traitor.”
“And his grandfather was our best, most famous president ever. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”
When her uncle didn’t respond, she continued defensively. “He didn’t romance me on the stage, you know. It looked that way from a distance, but up close . . . well . . . I think we were both just trying to survive the moment without making a scene. Right up until I fainted and ruined everything.”
She stepped close to her uncle. “That’s the only reason I invited him to join us. To make up for embarrassing him. But in a way, it worked out, right? If our DNA doesn’t match Quito’s, we’ll still be sending an Earth warrior to Malara. That will mean a lot to them. And to our citizens, right?”