by Kate Donovan
“Wow. That is interesting. He’s been part of the Quito administration since Grandpa was alive. That’s such a compliment, Rem. He must really admire you.”
“It means a lot.”
Zia licked her lips. “Is that what you’re planning? To run in the very next election? Instead of waiting for Uncle J to finish a second term?”
Rem cleared his throat. “My plan was to wait another term. To the same age your mother was when she ran. But this changes things. If I come back from Malara as a celebrity—even if it’s just based on protecting you, but particularly if I fight a mech battle—and if I have Logan’s support. Then I don’t know. It’s not what I planned, but it might be my best opportunity.”
“Wow.” She thought about her uncle’s prediction—that Rem wouldn’t be happy with just the presidency. He’d want to use that office to destroy Elena Quito. “Hey, Rem?”
“Yeah?”
“I had a crazy thought today. When I saw that security vid from the Vekzori attack, and realized I had actually shot a guy and then blocked it completely from my memory, it made me think about your dad. About how he was so sure he didn’t shoot that guard. And I’m not saying he did. But what if the memory was so repugnant to him, he blocked it out, the same way I did?”
Rem’s expression grew cool. “You’re right, that’s a crazy thought. You know what? We should get some sleep. It’ll be dawn before we know it.”
“Wait!” She jumped out of bed and blocked his path to the cot. “Don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not. I just don’t see the point in discussing this, especially with you of all people.”
She stepped back, hurt by the impersonal label. “I guess you’re right.”
He nodded, then crossed the room and switched off the light. “Good night, Zee.”
She climbed back into bed, still hurt, but also annoyed with herself for blurting out her stupid theory when he wasn’t prepared for it. They had had such a great day together, and it was sad to see it end like this.
“Hey, Zee,” he said from his cot. “Sorry for being such a grouch.”
“That’s okay. I’m an idiot.”
“True. But I’m touchy on this subject. So this time, it was my fault.”
“Thanks, Rem.” She exhaled loudly. “I’ve just been struggling to find some way where we can still be friends when we get back home. I even watched an old recording of the trial yesterday, searching for some resolution.”
“A resolution where your parent is blameless and mine is a murderer?”
Her mood soured. “You’re right. You are touchy on the subject. So let’s never talk about it again. Okay?”
“Yeah. I think that’s best. G’night, Zee.”
“Good night, Captain Stone.”
* * * *
They managed to stop by the hospital for a brief visit the next morning and still made it to the practice fields on time. Carrak rewarded Rem by allowing him to take a skirmisher on maneuvers with the other pilots, a process that would occupy most of the morning. Then she tried to convince Zia to spend another session in the student simulator, but Zia wasn’t in the mood for that or for anything else.
Carrak finally gave up and focused her attention on watching the maneuvers from the observation deck while Zia and Maryak visited together—close by but out of Carrak’s hearing. Zia learned all about Maryak’s wild afternoon with Gannor, and also found out that Carrak knew nothing about the relationship, which would have gotten both pilots into serious trouble.
“What about you and Captain Stone?” Maryak asked finally. “It must have been even more exciting for you and him since he almost won the match.”
“Well, we had that dinner with the prime minister, so . . .”
Maryak arched an eyebrow. “You are fighting with him? Because of my mother? She treated him badly and made his mood foul. Is that it?”
“No.” Zia eyed her warily. “Do you know who Romeo and Juliet are?”
Maryak shook her head.
“You must have a Malaran version. Two warring families, and a female from one falls for a male from the other—”
“The Aikada!”
“Probably. Anyway, in our version, Romeo and Juliet die. In my version with Rem, it’s only our friendship that dies. So ours isn’t as dramatic. Or romantic. But it still seems so unfair.”
“In our version, they kill their families,” Maryak told her. “But the families are evil, so probably that solution is not right for you and Captain Stone.”
“Trust me, dead relatives can cause just as much trouble as living ones. Oh, no, look.” Zia pointed toward the window, where groups of pilots could be seen walking toward the rec center. “They’re coming back already. I thought they did maneuvers for hours.”
“Today is special,” Maryak explained. “The prime minister will address us on the sky vid to share plans for the first challenge. For the next four days, there will be parades and bonfires. Schools are closed, as are businesses. From the time he makes the announcement, the only thing that matters in our world is the challenge.”
“It’s the only thing that matters to me either.”
Maryak laughed. “I saw you kiss him. And he kissed you back.”
“Well, we saw you and Gannor too. You definitely heated that roof up.”
“Porrrrrrn,” Maryak agreed. “Look, here he comes. He is handsome, is he not? And I am sure Captain Stone is too.”
“For a bald mono-tummy?” Zia laughed and waved to Gannor, then winced when she saw Rem right behind him, looking good despite his oxygen mask. “Ugh, it’s easier when he’s not around.”
“Would you like Gannor to fight him for you?”
“No, thanks. I don’t want you two getting all worked up again,” Zia muttered, only half kidding.
Rem came into the room and said hi to Maryak, then asked Zia to take a walk with him. She wanted to insist she was busy with Maryak, but her friend had other plans. “We will all go outside together to see the sky vid. You two and me. And Gannor if he wishes to join us.”
Zia rolled her eyes. “Now I know we’re friends. You’re using me to get to a guy so your mom won’t know? This is the story of my life, Maryak.”
“Good, then we shall go immediately. Come along, Captain Stone. You will enjoy the sky vid. It is very, very romantic.”
Rem eyed Zia. “You’ll need to wear goggles and oxy masks. But Gannor tells me it’s worth seeing. So . . . ?”
“Absolutely. The four of us.” She glared at Maryak to remind her that she was making a huge sacrifice just so Maryak and Gannor could have what she and Rem could never, ever have.
Maryak flashed a brilliant smile. “You are a good friend. Come, let us hurry before we miss the announcement.”
Chapter 12
When Rem helped Zia put on the oxygenator, it reminded her of the time he had adjusted her gear before the sky paddle game.
Which made her wistful.
Which made her angry.
“I can do it myself,” she told him, her tone sounding harsh through the built-in speaker.
“Can you breathe?”
She nodded, then strapped her lightweight goggles into place without his help. Once she could see and breathe without obstruction, she followed Rem and the other couple outside, where throngs of pilots and other personnel were gathering.
“Stick close to me,” Rem reminded her. “We’ll stand over there where it’s less crowded.”
The intercom built into his mask made his voice sound tinny, but she suspected he could still be charming and persuasive, and from the warmth in his eyes, she knew that was probably his plan.
She wasn’t in the mood, so she told him, “I like it here.”
“Come on, Zee. We need to talk. In private.”
“We can’t just ignore the prime minister, Rem. We’re their allies, remember?”
“It’s pure propaganda. And we already know what he’s going to say. In the meantime, I really need to talk to you.”
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She grimaced but followed him to a bench in the shadows. “Okay, what’s so urgent?”
“I just wanted you to know.” He gave her a pained smile. “I spent years doing what you did the other day. Watching the trial, searching for a way to clear my father without incriminating Elena Quito.”
“Really?”
“Sure. She was the president. I didn’t want to believe she was evil or anything. Dad was her vice president, you know, and even though we lived in Washington and your family lived in California, I saw a lot of her when I was a kid. She was always nice to me. She and my mom were friends. And until that whole controversy about GARD developed, she and Dad were friends too.”
Zia studied his expression warily. “You almost sound like you liked her.”
“I did. But in my opinion—and Dad’s—she changed. I’m not asking you to believe that. I’d be shocked if you did. But their friendship deteriorated, and then everything went to hell.”
Zia wondered if she should just be quiet now. Accept the fact that she and Rem were at least speaking to each other again, and let it go. But she had to clear the air a little more, so she told him carefully, “When you said I was looking for a solution where Mom was good and your father was bad, that wasn’t fair. I actually forced myself to consider the possibility that Mom might have done something wrong herself.”
Rem seemed shocked. “Huh?”
“I even asked Humber about it. About what motive she could possibly have had—theoretically—to frame your father.”
“That’s crazy, Zee. Your own mother?”
She glared. “You’re soooo obnoxious. I didn’t believe it. I just wanted to exhaust all possibilities. Because I’m open-minded. Whereas you have a titanium block for a brain.”
“What did Humber say?”
“He said—wow, Rem, look! It really is sky vid!”
She stared in wonder as the entire sky became a viewing screen. It was easily the most elaborate graphics display she had ever seen. “I keep forgetting the Malarans are a teensy bit ahead of us, tech-wise.”
Rem nodded. “It’s amazing.”
They watched as a montage of mech battles played across the sky. One colossus, then two, then three, covering the sky as they bore down on their hapless Alluvan counterparts, who crumpled to the celestial ground.
The pilots cheered lustily, and even Carrak seemed mesmerized.
And Rem was staring in openmouthed wonder too.
“It’s propaganda, remember?” Zia teased him.
“Yeah, and it’s working. I’d gladly give my life for this planet. Over and over again.”
“I thought you were my bodyguard.”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. You.” He eyed her playfully. “So, what did Humber say when you asked him about your mother’s motive?”
“You mean, her alleged motive?”
“Right. Why would she frame Dad?”
“Humber’s only possible explanation was if she wanted a life term as president, and your father stood in the way.”
“Yeah,” Rem admitted. “That’s what I figure too. But in her defense, if she did do that—allegedly—it was because she lost faith in my father. She thought GARD was vital to Earth’s survival, and when Dad opposed it, she couldn’t allow him to become president, even though they had agreed to alternate terms. So she framed him.”
“Allegedly.”
“Right. Allegedly.”
Zia smiled. “I don’t believe it for a minute, but I was willing to consider it for the sake of our friendship. See how my face isn’t turning purple and I’m not yelling at you? This is how we discuss the subject without letting it turn us into enemies. We need to learn how to do that, Rem.” She took his hand and admitted, “I can’t go back to Earth and pretend we aren’t friends anymore. I’m not saying we have to be best friends, or anything like that. But there’s a connection now, and I don’t want to lose it. Not after all this.”
“I don’t want to lose it either,” he admitted, edging closer. “I’m just not sure we have a choice. Like I said, I studied that trial vid and the security tape for years, looking for some way to exonerate Dad without implicating your mother. But the truth is, either she was dirty or he was. And it wasn’t Dad.”
And it wasn’t Mom, Zia responded instinctively. But for Rem, she remained silent. What other choice was there? Even though it seemed clearer and clearer to her that his father had shot the guard. Aengus’s own testimony had placed him in the command center with those codes in his hand. His own experts had been unable to prove that the final seconds of the tape had been falsified. And he had proclaimed for the whole world to hear that he could easily break into GARD and steal those codes, and was considering doing just that.
“Do you see now?” Rem asked gently. “I don’t want you to admit a damned thing about your mother. You trust her completely. I respect that. She’s your mom. But he was my father, and he told me to my face he didn’t shoot that guard. So . . .” Rem rested his hands on her shoulders. “When we go back home, we can’t be friends anymore. The only question is, can we be friends while we’re here? I’m hoping the answer is yes.”
Before Zia could answer, the sky erupted into stunning blazes of green, blue, yellow, and red. “Daytime fireworks?”
“Yeah.” Rem slipped his arm around her waist. “This is a pretty amazing place. I’m glad you’re here with me, Zee.”
It would have been romantic if not for the oxygenators and the goggles, Zia decided wistfully.
The oxygenator and the goggles. And Uncle J, Mom, Aengus Stone, the Vekzori, Alluva, and Carrak. Those are the only things standing in the way of a superheated love affair. Talk about star-crossed! She exhaled in complete frustration. We are sooo doomed.
* * * *
For the next four days, she and Rem were friends again—respectful and talkative, but without any real intimacy. Zia knew that was for the best, even though a part of her was dying to kiss him again. So she tried not to notice how steely and protective he was, or how his eyes sparkled when he talked about mechs, or how much fun Maryak and Gannor were having as they snuck off at every opportunity for some enthusiastic hot play.
In an odd turn of events, Rem now trusted Gannor like a brother, and allowed him to guard Zia in place of himself or Carrak at the rec center—an arrangement that pleased all of the females involved, including Maryak.
The two males traded shifts as bodyguards. While one participated in practice, the other would watch the maneuvers from the enclosed observation deck with Zia nearby. Both Rem and Gannor knew they had no chance of piloting a skirmisher in the first match, but they still took their practice duties seriously, knowing they were helping the designated pilots hone their skills by firing at and colliding with them.
As Maryak had predicted, every inch of Malara was wild with excitement and anticipation. Parades clogged every street, the sky vid flashed battle scenes night and day, and the pilots—who were treated as heroes even on a normal day—were now superstars. Every ounce of energy radiating around the planet was positive, as though the Malarans were absolutely certain their mechs would prevail.
But Zia remembered the statistic Humber had quoted to her: that the most they could hope for in the first battle was a draw, because invariably, if someone won that match, it was the challenger, not the target. And so, while everyone else indulged in reckless bravado, Zia became more and more concerned about the very real possibility that Malara might lose.
What would happen then? To Zia and Rem? To Malara? To Earth?
And even before that, what would happen to Carrak? It was obvious that the heroine of Zellot would pilot the colossus in this first battle. The Alluvans, who were expecting a giant piloted by Zia Quito, would be delighted, and would come at Carrak with everything they had, trying their best to kill her. It seemed unthinkable, but it was true, yet no one—including Maryak—even mentioned the possibility.
The least you could do is wish Carrak good luck, Zia told herself on the day
before battle. So she edged away from Gannor, who was guarding her, and toward Carrak’s office, which was at the far end of the observation deck.
She had seen the general go in there earlier, looking exhausted despite her straight-backed posture.
Would it kill you to follow her instructions for once? Zia asked herself. She wanted you to keep playing in the kiddy simulator until you could win all five disks in fifty minutes or less, so offer to do that. She’ll pretend she doesn’t care, but who knows? At least you’ll show her some respect. She could die! So give her this, at least.
The office door was open, and Zia started to knock on the jamb, then stopped herself. Carrak’s attention was focused on a small screen beside her observation window. It was a vid of the prelaunch press conference back on Earth—the one where Rem had made his offensive comments. But Carrak wasn’t watching that portion. She was focused on an image of Zia responding to a question from the vid press.
“Tell us about your experience with the giant last night,” the reporter was asking. “What were your feelings when you put the helmet on?”
“Honestly?” Zia responded in a soft, breathless voice. “I felt like my life was just beginning. Like it finally had a purpose.”
Carrak murmured “replay” and the scene repeated, giving Zia a chance to confirm what she had seen. The image on the monitor was captivating. Her eyes shining, her voice hushed—and Zia remembered why. She really had been transformed, at least for a short time, by her experience with the colossus. That feeling had faded during the long journey to Malara, but watching this now, she could almost remember it—the surge of power, the sense of connection. Of fusion with the mech.
And then: synergy.
“Carrak?”
The general spun toward Zia and scowled. “I did not send for you.”
“Why are you watching that?”
“I am interested in Captain Stone’s speech about his father.”
“No.” Zia walked up to the desk. “You were watching me. And I think I know why.”