by Kate Donovan
Logan shrugged. “Obviously, I’ll try to talk you out of going. But if you go, I’ll support you. In fact, I was just explaining to Lieutenant Stone that if that happens, I’ll come to Malara too. As your bodyguard.”
“Really?” Zia’s tone softened. “That’s so sweet.”
“I can be very sweet,” Logan assured her. “The real question is, is it reasonable for you to go to Malara, with or without a bodyguard? When we objectively weigh the risks against the benefits, does it make any sense?”
Zia took a sip of her chocolate blend, as though thinking it through. Finally, she murmured, “They saved our planet. Now theirs is in danger. If they think the Quito colossus can make a difference—maybe even save them—do we dare say no?”
“And risk your life?” Logan shook his head. “If you were a pilot, I could almost see it. But it’s illogical to think you could prevail in a battle against an Alluvan giant piloted by an experienced soldier.”
Rem cleared his throat. “Ambassador Humber is convinced it would never go that far, sir. What he wants from Zia—the beauty of her participation—is to give them a psychological advantage.”
Logan glared. “What?”
“He claims that the mystique of Daniel Quito is so strong, the Alluvans will lose confidence just knowing Zee is there.”
“She’s not going to Malara!” Logan roared, slamming his fist on the table. “The Vekzori would murder her before she had a chance to take a breath of their foul air. What kind of advantage would that give Malara? I’m surprised you’re even considering it, Stone. And I’m shocked Ambassador Humber could be naïve enough to think she’d survive long enough to do any good.”
“The Vekzori.” Rem’s stomach knotted in disgust. “I forgot all about those bastards.” Facing Zia, he admitted, “Logan’s right. You can’t go. I must have been an idiot to even consider it.”
His mind reeled at the thought of the Vekzori getting their hands on Quito’s granddaughter. It had been so many years—fifteen, at least—since they had caused havoc on Earth, it was easy to forget about them.
Easy—and deadly.
“Wait a minute.” Zia’s expression showed confusion rather than fear. “You’re talking about the guys who assassinated my father? That was eighteen years ago! Are you saying they still exist? And you think that’s a reason for me not to go to Malara?” Her golden eyes flashed. “I think it sweetens the tea. I’d love to kick their cowardly asses!”
“Zee . . .” Logan shook his head. “Didn’t those fancy schools teach you anything? The Vekzor faction is based in Malara. The men who killed your father were humans who sympathized with their cause, but they weren’t at the core of the group—a group that is as active as ever. More so even, I’ll bet, since Alluva attacked Malara. The Vekzori will blame Earth for that.”
“Wait.” Zia bit her lip. “I may not be the best student in the world, but that makes no sense. I thought the reason the Vekzori hated Earth was because they love Malara so much. They didn’t think Malara should have helped us way back when. They even think it made Malara weaker. So . . .” She leaned forward, clearly confused. “Won’t this redeem us in their eyes? If we help Malara, that proves that the alliance works both ways. Right? And even if they still hate us, they should hate Alluva more, because Alluva has declared war on Malara.”
It seemed like Logan was about to answer, then he surprised Rem by saying, “Lieutenant? How’s your interplanetary history?”
Rem didn’t hesitate before turning to Zia. “Think of it this way. The Vekzori are proud of their culture. Their warrior challenges. Their robot technology. Even their—how would you say it?—their anatomy. They believe Earth and Earthlings are inferior. Not just compared to them, but compared to the Alluvans too. It bothered them that Malara sided with Earth against Alluva—a race so much more similar to Malara’s than ours.”
“They’d rather see Alluva win than have us help Malara? Do they really hate us that much?”
“They hate Daniel Quito that much,” Logan assured her. “To them, he embodies everything they despise—the link between Malara and Earth. You know, don’t you,” he added, his expression wary, “your father wasn’t the target of that assassination attempt?”
She nodded. “They were aiming for Mom, but got him instead. But I thought they wanted to kill her because she was our president. You’re saying it was because she was Daniel Quito’s daughter?”
Logan glanced from Rem to Zia, then explained bluntly, “They wanted to kill Elena because she was your mother.”
“What?”
“You were the target.” Logan wrapped his arm around Zia’s shoulder. “The history books call it a presidential assassination attempt, but a few of us know the truth. It was always about you.”
* * * *
The next half hour was a blur for Zia as Commander Logan provided the lurid details. Not that any of it really surprised her. She knew as well as anyone that her mother had been pregnant with her on the day of the assassination attempt. The bullet had hit Elena Quito’s fiancé—Zia’s father—and he had died in surgery within hours. The couple had never made it to their wedding day, which had been less than a week away. And Elena had never dared to love a man again, or to conceive any other children.
Instead, she had devoted herself to her job—her duty—as president of the United States. And her duty as the direct descendant of Daniel Quito.
And while she had seemed profoundly disappointed in the antics of her only child, Zia, she had never really sought to control her. Now Commander Logan was explaining to Zia and Rem the reason for that apparent indulgence.
The Vekzori.
Elena had known they were watching. Waiting. Hoping for another chance to murder Quito’s grandchild. Then slowly, over time, the threat had diminished.
Why?
Because little Zia Quito had proven to be a non-threat. Silly, thoughtless, undisciplined—as time went on, it became more and more clear that she wasn’t going to join the military, or campaign for office, or amount to anything other than a fogheaded playgirl.
Eventually, it became dogma. Quito’s granddaughter would not be assassinated. She simply wasn’t worth the trouble.
And since Elena never had any other children, and eventually died in a shuttle accident, the Vekzori abandoned any presence on Earth, retreating to Malara, where they continued their campaign to undermine the alliance with Earth.
“I’m sorry, Zia,” the commander told her. “But you need to know this. At least now you’ll understand why we don’t want you to go to Malara. Isn’t that correct, Lieutenant Stone?”
“Yeah.” Rem seemed almost in shock. “I never realized their hatred was so—well, so pinpointed against Quito and his descendants. I thought they hated all Earthlings equally. It’s strange,” he added to Zia with an apologetic smile. “I always wondered why Elena let you party so much. Now I see . . .”
“But Humber must know how much they hate me,” Zia murmured. “Obviously, he thinks it’s worth the risk.”
“The risk that you might be murdered? That’s not Humber’s decision to make,” Logan assured her.
Zia’s stomach knotted. “It was already complicated enough. Now this? I don’t know what to think. What to hope.”
“We’ll hope that you fail the test,” Logan replied firmly. “And if you turn out to be a match, we’ll tell Malara that we can’t risk your life. Don’t you agree, Lieutenant Stone?”
“I don’t know,” Rem mused. “It’s a mess, that’s for sure. ”
Zia licked her lips, confused again, this time by Rem’s response. He had promised her grandfather he’d protect her. So shouldn’t he be on Logan’s side? Insisting that she not go to Malara, now that he understood how serious the risk was?
He doesn’t want to go to Malara alone, she reasoned carefully. But did that justify endangering her? Or maybe Rem was just being a good ally—supporting Malara the way it had supported Earth so long ago.
Logan patted
her hand. “Why don’t you go back to the Hacienda. I’ll stay here for the results. Lieutenant Stone can return to his hotel and enjoy his last day on Earth for a while. There’s no reason for all of us to wait.”
Rem shook his head. “I don’t mind staying. There’s nothing else on my schedule for today.”
“That’s obvious,” Logan drawled. “You’re out of uniform on Hacienda grounds. Go back to your hotel and decide if you’re off duty or on.”
Zia winced at the blaze of animosity between the two males. She didn’t have time for this. Not now. She needed to think.
So she stood and gave them both a dismissive smile. “I’ll stay here alone. When the results come in, I’ll contact each of you.” She shook her head to warn Logan against protesting. “I don’t want an audience when I hear the news. It’ll probably be good—a.k.a. bad. But in case it’s bad—a.k.a. good—I’d like a chance to react in private.”
Logan hesitated, then gave her a slight bow. “I respect your decision. Call me as soon as you hear.”
“I will. I promise.”
He turned to Rem. “Lieutenant? Can I give you a lift back to your hotel?”
“No, thanks. I’ll walk.”
“Nonsense. This may be our last chance to chat before you leave for Malara. Indulge me, won’t you?”
Zia had to laugh at the murderous expression on Rem’s face. “If you kill each other, who will be left to protect me? So play nice. Please?”
Logan grinned. Then he slapped Rem on the back. “Come on, hero. Let’s give her some privacy, shall we?”
Rem gave Zia a meaningful glance. “I’ll be waiting for your call. And I can be back here in ten minutes. In uniform.”
“If it’s a match, you’ll definitely need to come back, so we can make plans with Humber for the journey. If it’s not . . .” She sighed. “I’ll come to the launch tomorrow to wish you good luck. I promise.”
“Yeah.” His tone was grim. “That makes sense. So either way, I’ll see you. Right?”
She nodded. “Bye, Rem.”
Logan gave her a wink. “And either way, I’ll see you too. Be good until then, understand?”
* * * *
“Stop pacing, Zia,” Humber advised her as she began her umpteenth journey across the floor of the lab. “Annur cannot work any faster, no matter how hard you try to make him do so.”
“It’s been ninety-six minutes,” she retorted, smiling to soften the complaint. “Meanwhile, I’m losing my mind. If we don’t find out soon—Oh!” She froze at the sight of Annur, who had finally emerged from his cubicle. “On second thought, maybe I don’t want to know.”
Humber gave a rueful chuckle, then turned to the Malaran physician. “So? Do not keep us in suspense.”
Annur cleared his throat, then glanced from the compu-tablet in his hand to Humber. Then back at the tablet. Then he looked at Zia as though she were a ghost and admitted, “I do not know quite what to say.”
She felt a full-body chill. “Oh, my God . . . I passed? I failed? Which is it?”
Humber frowned. “Dr. Annur? What is the result?”
“It is ninety-five,” Annur murmured. “Exactly. No deviation.”
Zia gasped. “I passed?”
“No,” Humber corrected her. “A passing grade—a match—must be over ninety-five.”
“And a non-match is under ninety-five,” Annur reminded him dolefully. “That is the standard that has been set. I never thought to question it, because it never occurred to me that someone might score exactly ninety-five.”
Zia glared in confused frustration. “My life hangs in the balance, and you don’t know if I passed or failed? It’s official. This is the stupidest test I’ve ever taken.”
Humber scowled. “There is no question about it. In order to qualify as a match, the score must be above ninety-five. I am sorry, Zia,” he added more diplomatically. “I know you were secretly hoping to pass.”
“But Your Honor,” Annur protested. Then he began speaking rapidly in Malarese.
Zia watched in wary fascination as the two men debated the subject. She had no idea what they were saying, but one thing was clear—Annur believed she was a match.
A match with Quito the Great.
Finally Humber raised his voice and spoke so harshly, Annur slunk back to his cubicle in abject silence. Then the ambassador turned to Zia. “It is settled. You are not a sufficient match to pilot the colossus. Shall we call the president and inform him?”
“Be serious!” She was laughing despite the enormity of her predicament. “One out of two Malarans think I’m the Ghost of Quito Past. And since you’re an ambassador, and he’s a genetic specialist, I’d say his vote overrides yours.” Raising her voice, she called out in frustration, “Hey, Annur! Will you hook me up now? That’s the only way to settle this, right?”
“It is out of the question,” Humber told her, his tone as harsh as it had been with Annur. “I know you are disappointed, Zee. But that does not—cannot—change the result.”
She cocked her head to the side, finally understanding. “You never wanted me to pass? What a softie. I can’t believe the Malarans let you be their ambassador.”
Humber choked on a sob, then pulled her into an embrace that almost crushed her ribs. “You are so disrespectful. No wonder Commander Logan loses patience with you. This subject is closed. We will not speak of it again.”
She wriggled free, then looked to Annur for support, but he was still hiding in his cubicle. So she arched a stern eyebrow at the ambassador. “You think I can live the rest of my life without knowing? After all this? Face it, Humber. You need to hook me up. I’m close enough that it won’t hurt me. Less than one percent, right? We can’t be cowards about this, even though we’re scared to death. We need to know for sure.”
Humber shook his massive head. “Not without a score above ninety-five percent. Those are my orders, and there will be no deviation.”
Annur stepped into view again, his compu-tablet in his hand. Then he murmured apologetically, “I have recalculated at the ambassador’s request. It appears your score is 94.23 percent, Miss Quito. I apologize for alarming you. You are not a match for the colossus.”
“94.23?” She looked from his cowed expression to Humber’s stoic one and knew the truth. They were lying to her—a benevolent lie to forestall further argument. It was a lie that would probably save her life—but a lie nevertheless.
“Well . . .” She backed away from them and toward the door. “I’m disappointed but I’ll survive. Literally, right? Thanks, Dr. Annur. You’re the best. And Humber? I guess I’ll see you tomorrow morning at the launch.”
Chapter 6
The endless procession of graduation parties had morphed into a celebration of the news that three-time Exemplar winner Jeremiah Stone wasn’t just a theoretical hero anymore. He was actually going into battle—on Malara no less.
Dressed in his brand-new white uniform, Rem sat at the end of a bar in the posh hotel that housed the new lieutenants. From there he could watch the sun setting over the water along the beach that ran all the way north to the Hacienda, where he and Zia had had their sky paddle game.
Surrounding him were newly minted officers. Some were dancing with pretty girls, some were proposing toasts, and more than one stopped by the bar to pelt Rem with questions about his future. Was he really going to the far side of the galaxy? In less than twenty-four hours? Did he really think he could defeat an experienced Alluvan pilot? Did he know that Malaran females had four breasts?
He tried to respond appropriately—or inappropriately, as the case required. But it was all an act. He couldn’t think about the transport that would take him to Malara, or the upcoming conflict, or anything else about his future.
His mind was on Zia Quito, or more precisely, on the news that she had failed the genetic testing by a hair.
He had been so sure she’d be going with him, and while he was glad she’d be safe, he already felt lonely—for humans in ge
neral and Zia in particular. Which was odd, because he had despised her for so many years, not only for being a Quito but because she was such a foghead. Now he knew that wasn’t true—or at least not exactly.
Frustrated, he instructed himself to look at the silver lining. Malara was under attack, and he—a Stone—was the only Earthling rushing to its aid. That had a nice ring to it, didn’t it?
If Zia came with him, the focus would always be on her. Even if Rem Stone single-handedly defeated a hundred Alluvan robots, the Quitos would get the credit. Jared Quito would see to that by controlling the news through OmniVid, widely known to be his personal pet, media-wise.
Wasn’t it better this way? The only Earthling involved in the conflict would be a Stone. If Rem won, the glory would be solely his. And if he died in battle—
Yeah, that would probably be enough to clear the family name once and for all, he decided wryly.
But it would be a hollow victory if no one was around to enjoy it—to finish the job by proving that Elena Quito lied about Aengus Stone on the witness stand.
“Hey, Rem. Looks like someone wants to pin another medal on your chest.”
“Huh?”
He glanced toward the doorway and was immediately dazzled. Zia looked great—her long legs bare, her red sundress skimpy, her hair layered in wave upon wave down her back. She was flirting with groups of pilots and navigators as she threaded her way through the crowd, but she had one eye on Rem at all times.
And he had both eyes on her, so much that he almost rushed over to her. But this was better, so he waited at the bar, watching and admiring, his pulse racing with insane anticipation.
Finally she was there. “Hi, Rem.”
He slid off his bar stool and stood close to her. “Hey.”
“I love your new uniform.”
“Yeah? I like your dress.”