by Kate Donovan
Mech battle, mech battle, mech battle. . . . Pull it together, Stone!
Stepping back, he said hoarsely, “Tonight. Okay? It’s a date?”
Her cheeks were scarlet with excitement. “If we’re still on Malara, it’s a date.” Jumping off the bed, she grabbed a fresh uniform from a hook beside her armoire and dashed for the bathroom. But not before he got an eyeful of long hairless legs.
Immediately he put the image from his mind, forcing himself to picture skirmishers and giants instead. Because if that battle cruiser launched without him aboard, he was going to have to gouge out his traitorous eyeballs.
* * * *
The scene aboard the airship was filled with contradictions: grim-faced soldiers patrolling the corridors; eager observers peering through huge windows as though on a sightseeing tour; and across one entire wall, a sumptuous buffet that reminded Zia of the fancy spreads in the cloud-boxes at the sky paddle championship games she attended with her uncle every year.
“Yum.” She nibbled from a plate of appetizers. “Is this cheese? I didn’t even know you had cows on Malara.”
“We do not,” Humber told her. “But there are many sources of milk here.”
Zia felt her stomach sour, and didn’t blame Rem when he announced, “I can’t eat anyway. I’ll be over there with the other pilots. I want to see the island the minute it comes into view.”
When Rem was a safe distance away, Humber smiled. “He is so eager for the battle. But attentive to you too, I have noticed.”
“He’s got a lot on his mind. A lot of responsibility. But so do you.” She bit her lip. “He told me about the escape plan. That’s why you’re here, right? When you should be on the prime minister’s battle cruiser? I’m sure that’s more prestigious—”
“It is prestigious to be with Daniel Quito’s granddaughter. The prime minister wanted to have you as his guest, but his advisors worried it might make his ship a target for the Vekzori as soon as they realize you are not one of the combatants.”
“How will they know? You said the rules don’t make you identify the pilots.”
“Everyone knows what the Quito giant looks like,” he reminded her. “And they will recognize Carrak’s in an instant too. In her own way, she is equally famous, although Quito was a greater phenomenon because he was human.”
“And because he toppled a giant with a skirmisher,” Zia reminded him proudly. “Don’t forget about that.”
“Never.” Humber chuckled. “Go and be with your friends. You do not want to miss a moment. I will be in the communications area if you need me.”
“Waiting for a signal that you need to whisk me back to Earth?”
“I do not anticipate that. But yes, we need to be ready.”
“Poor Humber. I wish you could just relax and enjoy the battle,” she began, then she laughed at herself. “Yeeesh, I’m as bad as Rem. Like this is a good thing.”
“It is a magnificent thing,” Humber assured her. “The cornerstone of Malaran culture, and our greatest source of pride. You will understand shortly. Go and watch with your attentive bodyguard.”
“Okay.” She wandered over to where Rem had joined Gannor and Maryak. They had a view of the other two Malaran battle cruisers, which were also speeding toward the challenge site, where they would meet up with the transport carrying their mechs and pilots. Alluva’s brigade—also three cruisers and a mech transport—was already on site according to the news vids that were flashing across overhead screens. Each side would offload their robots soon, and then, precisely at noon, the battle would commence.
Zia noted that Maryak and Gannor were standing a few feet apart, rather than entwined in one another’s arms. She was about to ask Maryak if they had had a fight, then realized it was because Gannor couldn’t afford any witnesses who might report signs of inappropriate hotplay to Carrak.
Assuming Carrak survives . . .
Zia looked around herself in quiet resignation. Everyone was so enthralled. Animated. Unbelievably alive and energized.
Everyone except her. All she could think about—care about—was whether Maryak’s mother would survive the battle. Maryak apparently didn’t see it in those terms, but Zia knew better. She knew that if Carrak died, Maryak would be devastated. And the poor girl didn’t even see it coming.
Zia knew all about that kind of ignorance. It was still fresh in her mind, even though three full years had passed since the night her mother’s presidential shuttle had crashed into bits. Zia had been partying with friends, howling with laughter at a new comedy vid, when the press secretary had arrived to tell her the news: Elena Quito had died instantly. Jared Quito was the new president as of 11:47 p.m. And Zia Quito needed to come home right away.
Sobered by the memory, Zia patted Maryak’s arm. “Did you get a chance to talk to your mom last night?”
“Yes. We dined together.”
“Oh, what a relief.”
Maryak shrugged. “Nothing was said. She was very tired. Confident, though. She is always confident.”
“You must be so proud of her.”
“Yes.”
Zia gave her a warm hug. “She’ll kick their asses back to Alluva.”
“I am sure of it,” Maryak agreed. Then she pointed at the window. “Look, there is the island of Jairqua. The battle site.”
“Oh, God.” Zia’s stomach took a dive, and she wondered how the others could behave so normally. This was it, wasn’t it? There was no turning back. Not that there had ever been, but still, every new milestone seemed to seal their collective doom even more certainly.
“Do you see why Malara chose this location, Zia?” Maryak was asking her. “The terrain is demanding. So much sand and dense vegetation. So many dunes.”
Zia nodded, remembering how the maneuvers had taken place in a variety of spots on the practice fields during the days before the site was announced to Alluva. But during the last five days, Rem and the others had spent most of their time slogging through sand, up and down hills, and basically clawing their way through brush. Now she understood why.
“It’s a jungle,” Zia agreed. “But the beaches are gorgeous. Is it a vacation resort too?”
“No, the air is very bad here.”
Zia bit back a laugh, imagining how filthy air had to be for a Malaran to find it disgusting. Making a mental note to share the joke with Rem later, she moved to where he was staring out at Jairqua, probably imagining how he’d deal with that difficult terrain were he lucky enough to pilot a skirmisher here.
He turned his attention to Zia. “How’s Maryak?”
“It’s hard to tell, but don’t discourage Gannor from flirting with her today. She probably needs the distraction.”
“Okay. And if you need any distraction, just let me know.”
She felt her cheeks warm. “Shouldn’t you be obsessing about robots?”
“You’re tough competition for them.” He stepped closer and murmured, “Now that I know what you really wear to bed—”
“Hey, Rem!” Gannor shouted. “The Alluvans are unveiling their giant.”
Zia couldn’t miss the blaze of excitement in Rem’s eyes. “Once again, upstaged by a mech. Go ahead,” she added with a laugh. “I forgive you.”
“Come on. You need to see this too.” He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her over to where Gannor was standing. “Oh, man, look at that. It’s a new model, isn’t it, Gannor?”
“Yes. Roughly the same size. But still very different.”
Zia noted that the expression on the bronze-and-white mech was pure evil, contrasting sharply with the stern but unemotional look she had grown to love on the face of the Quito giant. “Talk about overdramatizing the whole thing. I like ours better.”
“It doesn’t seem as heavily armored,” Rem murmured. “More titanium, maybe? Or something else?”
“I cannot be sure,” Gannor admitted.
“The cannons are mounted right into the shoulders,” Maryak said, peering over Rem’s he
ad. “Is that better or worse, Gannor? Oh, look. There is their prowler. I know more about those.” Her tone turned hopeful as she studied the yellow Alluvan mech. “Maybe when I finish my training, I will choose them as my specialty.”
“Really? Why would anyone do that?” Rem said, then he grinned to show he was just teasing.
Zia winced, remembering that it was her fault prowlers had gotten involved in this particular challenge. The prime minister and Carrak had decided on a one-two configuration. Then Zia had opened her mouth, really just to annoy Carrak.
Now it would be Zia’s fault if Malara lost.
“I’ll bet Alluva didn’t bother trying to improve on the skirmisher design,” Rem was insisting, oblivious to Zia’s distress. “It’s been the standard for over fifty years, right, Gannor?”
“See for yourself.” Gannor pointed toward the third robot being moved into view. It was indeed a traditional skirmisher, and had been painted black with gold trim.
It reminded Zia of the armor Commander Logan had worn in her dream. The effect was powerful—brilliant, really—and she found herself worrying again about Malara, and Carrak, and everyone. “Maybe I’ll go sit with Humber for a while.”
“Are you okay?” Rem asked, urging her away from the others. “You look a little green. From the cheese?”
She ignored the teasing remark. “If things go bad, and they have to rush us out of here and onto the transport back to Earth, we might never have a chance to talk in private again. And then we’ll be home, and it’ll be feud time, and you’ll never know how I really feel about you.”
“Zee . . .”
“So I’ll tell you now. I think you’re a hero. Just like my grandfather. Just like your grandfather. And so I’ve made a decision.” She gulped for a deep, fortifying breath, then announced, “If you run in the next election—or any election—I won’t campaign against you.”
Rem stared. “Pardon?”
“I won’t campaign for my uncle. I can’t take sides against either of you, but I can stay silent. And so I will. I’ll refuse to support anyone. And you’ll have Logan. So . . . I hope you win.”
“Jared can’t win without your support,” Rem told her, his voice hushed with disbelief. “You’re his secret weapon. The one the people really love. The one they really want to vote for.”
“I know.”
He licked his lips, then leaned his face close to Zia’s. “You’re so amazing—”
“Hey, Stone,” Gannor complained in a loud voice. “No public displays of affection. You humans are embarrassing us.”
“I’m going to strangle him,” Rem muttered.
Zia laughed sadly, then wrapped her arms around Rem’s waist and laid her cheek against his chest. “It’ll be over before we know it.”
“Zia!” Maryak chided her. “You are missing the best part. The Malaran transport has landed! Come and watch.”
“Don’t worry,” Rem said, stroking Zia’s back. “Carrak can’t lose. Think about it. She’s a force of nature, right?”
Zia looked up at him and nodded.
“Come on then. Let’s go see what’s happening.” He gave her a confident smile. “We’ll definitely have this talk. Tonight, after the victory party, when we’re back at the hotel.”
“Right.” Zia followed him back to the window and watched with dread as the cargo bay doors of the Malaran transport opened. A jaunty orange-and-blue skirmisher strode into view, followed by a green prowler that moved stealthily down the ramp and off to one side.
Unlike the Alluvan mechs, which had been offloaded by workmen, these robots were moving under their own power, driven by their own pilots. Which meant the colossus wasn’t going to be lifted onto the sand of Jairqua the way the Alluvan giant had been.
“She’s going to make an entrance again,” Zia murmured, and despite her sense of doom, she couldn’t help but feel a tingle of excitement.
Carrak didn’t disappoint. When her giant blue mech appeared, it was already in motion, thundering down the ramp, then pounding the sand with its powerful legs. The giant strode to the center of the landing site, then turned to look directly up at the battle cruiser, and raised both cannoned arms in an exuberant salute.
“Oh, my God, Rem! She’s going to do it. She’s going to obliterate them!”
“That’s what we keep trying to tell you,” he said with a grin. Then he wrapped his arm around Zia’s waist. “This is it, babe. Pay close attention, because someday, your grandkids will want to hear every detail.”
* * * *
During her hours at the rec center, Zia had been introduced to almost every rule of warrior combat, and knew that the Alluvan robots were being positioned exactly fifty eppits from the Malaran mechs, a distance of approximately sixty yards. At any moment now, the Malaran sun would reach its pinnacle, and a hoverbot would flash the signal to begin. After that, the battle would rage until all three mechs on one side had become incapable of moving and firing. At that point, if any robot on the other side could still move and fire, that side would prevail. If not, a draw would be declared, and a second challenge would immediately issue.
The battle was being broadcast throughout Alluva and Malara, and Zia found herself glancing at the overhead monitors, just to be sure she wasn’t missing anything. For the last fifteen minutes, the Alluvan mechs had been sitting still, presumably still without pilots. Perhaps the Alluvan officials were even making last-minute adjustments to their strategy, now that they knew it was Carrak, not Zia, who would be piloting the Malaran giant.
If they’re smart, they’re terrified that it’s Carrak, Zia told herself as she watched the blue colossus in action. Unlike its stationary Alluvan counterpart, the Malaran giant kept stomping around, waving its arms, demonstrating outstanding mobility despite the shifting sands under its feet. The prowler was also active, zipping happily over the sand.
Like the others, the orange Malaran skirmisher was exhibiting some pre-challenge personality, jumping high into the air every few minutes. “Testing its jets,” Rem called it, but Zia knew it was more than that. These Malaran warriors were engaged in some first-class mind grubbing, and Zia loved every minute of it. Especially since the Alluvan pilots were so reserved, they didn’t even bother entering their robots until five minutes before noon.
By the time the signal to begin flashed, Zia’s pulse was racing, and she leaned forward eagerly in her seat to get a better view. She expected the skirmishers to forge ahead first, but it was the prowlers who did so, adopting zigzag patterns. Within seconds, the Malaran one had actually disappeared from view as if by magic, and Zia realized it had been painted that particular shade of green for a reason—to match the distinctive Jairquan vegetation.
“He’s so stealthy,” she murmured. “Maybe it wasn’t a mistake after all.”
“My cousin is the pilot,” Gannor told her proudly. “It is a she, by the way. That is why Maryak wishes to pilot one. To be like Annyak.”
“And because skirmishers are boring,” Maryak said teasingly. “Oh!” She grinned in apology as the Alluvan skirmisher made its first jump. “I guess they have some good qualities.”
Zia’s breath caught in her throat as the enemy skirmisher landed within twenty yards of Carrak’s giant, clearly challenging it. The general and her colossus had been proceeding at an unhurried, almost casual pace. Now the fight had come to them, but Carrak didn’t do anything about it other than stop.
It was the green prowler that took on the skirmisher, attacking from the side, blasting him with a storm of firepower. After witnessing the practice fights, where paint was the only ammunition, Zia was unprepared for the kind of damage real cannons could do—in this case, by blowing away a section of the Alluvan skirmisher’s right arm.
“Yeah!” Rem, Gannor and Maryak went wild with excitement, and Zia smiled proudly. She was about to remind them that that prowler had been her idea when the Alluvan prowler roared into the fray, slamming into the Malaran prowler at the same time the damaged Al
luvan skirmisher fired a perfect shot, blasting the Malaran prowler hard enough to send it careening into a sand dune.
While the focus had been on the smaller mechs, the two giants had continued to move forward, and now Carrak opened fire, not on another robot, but on the Jairquan underbrush ahead of the Alluvan giant, setting it on fire. Then she used her left arm to lob a foot-long canister into the blaze, and a huge explosion erupted.
The chaos that ensued left Zia breathless. Even with their prowler out of commission, the Malaran mechs were annihilating their competition. As the Alluvan prowler sped back to help its colossus, the two opposing skirmishers went at one another viciously, firing and jumping, and slamming against one another with enough force to knock entire cannons loose from their arm sockets.
And through it all, Carrak dominated the scene with her amazing aim, firing again and again, tireless and magnificent. The bronze-and-white Alluvan giant that had once seemed so menacing was now in shambles. Yet it was still technically able to move and fire, right up till the moment when the orange Malaran skirmisher jumped away from its own battle and crashed into the giant’s head and shoulders at the same time Carrak fired a cannon straight into the mech’s midsection, toppling it to the ground.
The roar from spectators on the battle cruiser was deafening, with Zia’s shrieks of delight sounding above the rest. She turned to Rem, ready to sack him right there, and saw that his expression had grown rigid.
“What?” she demanded.
“We lost our skirmisher, Zee.”
“Oh, my God, don’t do this to me.” She could barely stand to look, but forced herself to confirm Rem’s words. The orange mech was lying in a heap beside the toppled Alluvan giant.
Meanwhile, the Alluvan skirmisher and prowler had backed away, regrouping for another attack.