by Kate Donovan
“Are you speaking to me? When I have dismissed you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Ma’am?”
Zia darted over to him and took him by the hand. “Come on, Rem. Let’s go. Carrak’s right, the minister and Humber will be at the suite in a few hours. We need to be there to greet them.” To Carrak, she said quickly, “See you tonight, General. Bye-bye.”
Carrak spun on her heels and strode out of the room without bothering to acknowledge them further.
“Let’s go,” Zia repeated, yanking on Rem’s arm.
He took one final pained glance out the window, where mechanics were still struggling to get the battered mechs back on their feet. Then he followed Zia up the stairs toward the roof, where their transport awaited them.
He appreciated the fact that Zia wasn’t trying to talk to him. Or comfort him. She was smart to just hustle him out of this place before he made any more career-shattering mistakes.
Even in his miserable state, he remembered that the Vekzori could be anywhere, so he insisted on going first as they stepped out onto the roof and into the makeshift tunnel of clear plastic that led to the transport. The tunnel had been built so that the Earthlings wouldn’t need oxygenators to reach their vehicle, but today it felt like a walk of shame.
Still, Rem glanced around to be sure they were alone. No other vehicles were in sight, but on the far side of the roof he could see two Malaran pilots locked in an erotic embrace.
“Hey . . .” He stared in confusion, then turned to Zia, who had stepped up beside him. “That looks like Gannor. And Maryak.”
Zia’s eyes danced. “Come on, Rem. Let’s give them some privacy.”
“I can’t believe he’s this casual about what happened. Carrak’s furious. Doesn’t he realize neither of us has a chance at participating anymore? How can they just—well, just have fun? I guess Maryak’s trying to make him feel better.”
“You’re such an idiot,” Zia said with a giggle. “Can’t you see? She’s excited because it was soooo exciting!”
“Huh?” He stared in confusion. “You mean the battle?”
“It was the most exciting thing I’ve ever seen with my own eyes. And heard with my own ears, because that crash was sooo loud.” She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Really, Rem. It was so exciting.”
“Yeah?” He glanced from her flushed face over toward Gannor and Maryak, who were literally crawling all over one another. “That’s crazy. I mean . . .” He grinned weakly. “It was fun, I guess. But it ended my career, at least on Malara.”
“Well, it was an exciting way to end it.”
He chuckled. “You keep using that word. Are you trying to tell me something?”
She laughed. “Stop talking so much and let’s get in the transport.”
He rested his hands on her hips and pulled her against himself, and was shocked by how quickly she responded, plastering her mouth over his. Then they kissed fervently, their tongues sparring like two hoverbots in heat.
Finally, he moved his mouth to her ear, nuzzling her for a moment. “You’re right. We’d better get in the transport. But don’t lose the mood.”
She giggled again—a throaty, sexy sound he hadn’t heard her make until today. When she dashed for the vehicle, he sprinted after her, remembering he needed to check for Vekzori before he could safely let her on board.
Fortunately, it was empty except for the pilot, who had already started the jets, lifting off as soon as the passengers were both inside. Rem pulled Zia to a seat that was partially blocked from the pilot’s view. Then he planted her on his lap and kissed her again.
Her body felt so good, it was almost enough to make him forget how bad he really felt. But not even Zia could erase the knowledge that he had destroyed his own career, so he gathered her close and murmured, “You’re amazing. Thanks for helping me forget about that.”
“Forget it? Who wants to do that?” She gave him a frustrated smile, then hopped away and sat in a seat facing him. “Okay, let’s talk about it. For one thing, ignore what Carrak said. That was the best battle ever. For the first time, I understand why you guys like this stuff so much! It’s so exciting. Dangerous but fun, right?”
Rem grimaced. “Carrak wasn’t just angry, Zee. Didn’t you get it? She was disgusted. No way will she ever trust me with a mech again, even at practice. And definitely not in a real challenge.”
“Rem?”
“Yeah?”
“Carrak loved it. Every thrilling minute of it. I guarantee you that.”
He stared. “Didn’t you listen to her—”
“Yes. I heard it all. You’re a disgrace. You’re prideful, you’re arrogant. You ruined Malaran property. You’re the worst pilot ever. On and on and on. But guess what? I was there. I saw her face when you guys had that huge crash. She practically moaned out loud. And not about the high cost of replacing mechs either. She loved it.”
His head was spinning. “I had it won—”
“We know! That’s the beauty of it,” she insisted. “Yeeeesh, you’re dense.”
He grinned. “I am?”
“Think about why you did it. What possessed you at that moment. Was it really ego? Pride? Arrogance? It didn’t look like that. It looked like you were having so much fun, you never wanted it to end.”
He nodded slowly. “It looked like that, because it was. But her point—or what I thought was her point—was that it was unnecessary and reckless. Which it was.”
“So don’t ever do it again,” Zia said with a shrug. “Especially now that you know it won’t work. You fell down,” she added teasingly. “It was soooo loud, I think the ground actually shook.”
“It did,” he admitted, remembering the bone-bruising aftershocks. “But I learned something. If it happens again, I’m pretty sure I can correct for it, so I don’t topple.” He exhaled sharply. “So? You really think Carrak will give me another chance?”
“She loves you so much, she wants to have your furry babies. Trust me.”
He laughed, then cleared his throat. “How about you? Are you still impressed by the battle?”
She nodded. “Unfortunately, I’m not supposed to distract you. So I’m going to sit up front with Humber’s nephew while you review the battle and figure out what you did wrong. And what you did right,” she added proudly. “Because there was a lot of that too.”
“Wait!” He caught her hand as she moved toward the pilot’s seat. “What do you mean, you’re not supposed to distract me?”
“Carrak’s orders. She wants you to concentrate on piloting, so you’ll be ready. Not for the first challenge, or the second. But after that, if you practice and practice . . .”
“She said that?”
Zia nodded. “It’s the only thing she and I agree on. That you’re a great pilot and you need to do whatever it takes to earn a spot in the challenges. So . . .” She bit her lip. “We should probably find me another bodyguard—”
“No. That’s out of the question. I’m the only one we can trust. Period.”
He expected her to argue, but she smiled and nodded. “Good. Because I don’t want anyone else. But I also don’t want to interfere with your training, so don’t expect any more slutty behavior from me, at least for a while. But if you fight in a challenge, and topple a giant . . .” She flashed a mischievous smile. “Well, then we’ll see.”
He let his gaze wander from her pretty face to the rest of her body before assuring her, “I’ll definitely take that deal.”
* * * *
The Malaran prime minister’s office had arranged for the dinner party to be held in a restaurant on the top floor of Zia’s hotel. The entire building was closed to other guests for the evening, and the serving staff was given the night off, replaced by ministry guards. There were even food testers, not just because the Vekzori might target Zia, but because they weren’t too happy with the prime minister himself for bringing the Earthlings to Malara.
This meeting had been touted on t
he news as a strategy session, but Humber’s prediction was correct: no secrets were revealed over appetizers. Nor did they discuss the assassination attempt or Rem’s mech mishap. Instead, the minister focused on past glories on Earth and Zellot, which seemed like ancient, unimportant history to Zia, given the impending battle with Alluva.
So she concentrated on enjoying the food, which was a bizarre mix of Earth and Malaran cuisine, including pink and purple vegetables, and some grilled meat called benk, which Humber assured her tasted like chicken.
“Is it from a bird?” she asked him.
“Yes. Like the Earth one, only larger.”
“So, more like a turkey.”
“Yes.” His eyes twinkled. “But much larger.”
She laughed at the warning, then tried the food, which was interesting if not delicious.
Even more interesting was Carrak’s behavior. The general was visibly uncomfortable in these surroundings, and while she didn’t seem nervous when the prime minister spoke to her, she was subdued. No cracks about Zia being delicate or Rem being arrogant. No opinions at all, in fact, which Zia decided was just as well.
She could see that Rem was dying to ask about the upcoming battle, but he didn’t want to overstep—especially because Carrak had barely acknowledged him all night.
So Zia decided to ask the questions for him. Looking Prime Minister Tanbur in the eye, she said bluntly, “According to the rules, you need to tell Alluva by noon tomorrow what the configuration of mechs will be, and where the battle will take place. Four days before it starts, isn’t that right? Which means you’ve probably made all the decisions by now. So can you tell us? We’re a pretty dependable group, right? If you can’t trust your biggest hero, your ambassador, and your most loyal allies in the galaxy, who can you trust?”
Tanbur—a huge mammal with deep auburn fur and eyes as golden in color as Daniel Quito’s once were—smiled indulgently. “I am impressed that you know the rules so well. I was told you have no interest in politics or warrior challenges, but that is obviously untrue.”
The artful dodge annoyed her. “I can probably guess the configuration anyway. From what I’ve seen, there’s not a lot of creative strategy in mech combat. And I suppose the site wouldn’t mean much to me, since I don’t know a lot about Malaran geography. So . . . never mind.”
Tanbur laughed. “I would be very interested in hearing your guess.”
“Hmm, let’s see.” She pretended to think it over carefully. “One giant, two skirmishers. Huss?”
His eyes widened into two-inch circles. “How did you know?”
“It’s so unimaginative. The classic configuration, right? Especially for Malara. I’m sure the Alluvans will yawn when they hear it. Plus, it’s so predictable, they’ve had months to prepare for it, even before they issued the challenge. But I’m sure you thought all that through.”
“Zee . . .” Rem muttered under his breath. “Cut it out.”
She gave the prime minister a confident smile. “You should ask Captain Stone for some ideas. He’s been studying strategy for five years at our academy. And he’s obsessed with mech warfare. Rem? What do you think? The old one-two? Or something more creative?”
Humber cleared his throat. “This is Zia’s way, minister. We have all grown very fond of it. To you, it might seem flippant, but—”
“No,” the minister interrupted. “Not at all. It is what my wife said also. We are being too predictable.”
“The one-two configuration is the most versatile,” Carrak reminded him quickly. “It is the one we train for most often. Yes, the Alluvans will assume it will be our choice, but that does not make it a bad one. It is our best hope at winning.”
Zia tried not to laugh at the restraint Carrak was showing, especially given the fact that she probably wanted to wrap her furry claws around this particular delicate flower’s neck.
“Hmm . . .” Zia tapped her finger on her lips, pretending to think again. “How about two skirmishers and a prowler?”
“They have to use a giant, Zee,” Rem reminded her with a laugh. “That’s why you’re here, remember? We want Alluva to be afraid you’ll pilot the giant. The rules say Malara has to name the configuration ahead of time, but not the identities of the pilots.”
“Oh, right. So how about giant-skirmisher-prowler? That hasn’t been done into the ground, has it?”
“That was my wife’s suggestion!” the prime minister exclaimed. “How remarkable.”
“She sounds like a genius,” Zia said, laughing. “What do you think, Rem? Do you agree with the prime minister’s wife?”
Rem chuckled. “Actually? Yeah, it’s not a bad idea. But Carrak’s the one who knows the most about her pilots’ capabilities. If we don’t have someone really, really talented with a prowler, then a second skirmisher makes more sense.”
All eyes turned to Carrak, who murmured, “I have one pilot in particular who is a master with the prowler. We have not practiced this configuration as much as would be prudent—”
“You have four more days,” the prime minister reminded her.
“Right.” Zia nodded. “This is better, actually. If they have spies on Malara, they’ll have seen you practicing with skirmishers and giants, so this will be a complete surprise to them.”
“And to us,” Carrak reminded her dryly.
“Of course, General Carrak has the final say in this,” the prime minister reminded them all. “I bow to her knowledge and experience.”
“So do I, since I don’t have either knowledge or experience,” Zia joked.
Humber and the prime minister chuckled, and Rem coughed into his napkin, which told her he was struggling not to laugh too.
Then they all looked at Carrak again, just in time to see her sigh in defeat. “It will unnerve the Alluvans. And my pilot is excellent. So yes, I agree we should proceed with a one-one-one configuration.” Turning to Zia, she added coolly, “Congratulations, Captain.”
“Don’t forget to give the prime minister’s wife some of the credit.”
Carrak grimaced. “Of course. And now, if you will all excuse me, I should begin adapting my strategy at once. Four days will pass quickly.” She stood and looked directly into Rem’s eyes for the first time since her arrival. “I will see you at dawn?”
“Yes, General. We’ll be there,” he told her.
Carrak winced, apparently pained at the reminder that Zia would be tagging along. Then she pumped her fist to her chest, saluting the prime minister and Humber, and stalked out of the restaurant.
“I hope it wasn’t anything I said,” Zia quipped.
“Zee . . .” Humber gave a rueful laugh. “You would do well not to anger Carrak. She has a temper.”
“But not with our honored guests,” the prime minister protested. “She treats you with great respect, does she not, Quito? And also you, Captain Stone?”
“Yes, sir,” Rem said quickly. “She’s been great. Right, Zee?”
“She’s the best,” Zia agreed. “But enough about Carrak. Prime minister, tell us more about that brilliant wife of yours.”
* * * *
“Oh, no. The giant nightgown again?”
Zia walked out of the bathroom and twirled so that Rem could admire her. Then she crossed to the bed and climbed under the covers. “I didn’t want to shock the Malarans, so I only brought clothes that cover up most of my baldness. And now it has the added advantage of not distracting you.”
“Yeah.” He walked over and sat on the edge of her bed. “What a day, huh?”
“You’re still thinking about your mech battle?”
He nodded. “I can’t stop thinking about it, actually. Even during dinner, it was on my mind. Oh, and thanks for getting Carrak even more mad at us, by the way.”
“Mad at me. You were appropriately kiss-ass, don’t worry.”
He grinned. “Good. I can’t afford to get on her bad side. It’s unbelievable that I might have a shot at one of the challenges. It’s disloyal,
but I hope the first one’s a draw. And the second one too. So I can have my shot. Especially after today.”
She smiled at the radiance in his eyes. “Was it the way you always dreamed it? The way you dreamed it during suspension?”
“Like I said, I don’t remember those dreams. But I’ve fantasized about mech combat for years, and this afternoon—well, I never could have imagined that.” He arched an eyebrow. “Was it the way you thought it would be? You said I fought in your dreams, and you remember all the details. So?”
She laughed. “In my dream, you started turning into a mech. One minute we were playing sky paddle, then suddenly these patches of silver metal started forming on your legs and arms and chest.”
“Wow. Very cool. What happened next?”
She couldn’t wait to see his reaction. “Then Commander Logan showed up, and he started getting metal patches too—golden ones, not silver. And you two started fighting.”
“Me and Logan? Why would we fight?”
She shrugged.
“Over you?”
“I really don’t know.”
His eyes narrowed. “Who won?”
“It was pretty even, I think. I never actually got to the end of the dream.”
“It’s an interesting question, though,” Rem said, half to himself. “Me versus Logan. He’s got experience on his side.”
“And size.”
“Huh?”
“He’s huger than you.”
“But I’m younger. Better reflexes. And he only won one Exemplar. So if he and I actually fought, I think I’d win.”
“Well,” she drawled. “Just in case you’re wrong, don’t ever fight him.”
“Yeah.” Rem eyed her thoughtfully. “He said something interesting to me right before we left.”
“About me?” She groaned. “He’s pretty protective.”
“He said if I bring you back from Malara safely, he’ll back me if I decide to run in a presidential election.”
Zia stared, truly shocked. “Against my uncle?”
“Yep.”