by Kate Donovan
Locating Aengus’s testimony on the trial vid, Zia watched and listened as the prosecutor said loudly, “Mr. Stone, did you have occasion to check your watch during the break-in?”
“Yes,” Aengus replied.
“What time did it say?”
“Eleven forty-six.”
“Your Honor, if I may?” The prosecutor activated the security vid, which showed the masked man pause inside the command center, roll back his sleeve, and check his watch. The prosecutor zoomed in on the man’s wrist, and the dial clearly read: 11:46.
“Do you recognize that watch, Mr. Stone?” the prosecutor asked with a smirk.
Aengus exploded. “I already told you, that part of the vid is legitimate! Yes, that’s me. Yes, that’s my watch. Yes, I took the codes. But I did not shoot the guard. And I am not a God dammed traitor.”
Wow . . .
Zia switched off the equipment, more confused than ever. She was starting to really like Aengus Stone. He reminded her so much of his son. But the poor man had been in such extreme denial over shooting that guard, he had sealed his own doom, making it impossible for President Elena Quito to pardon him for his well-intentioned crime.
“But you and Rem don’t have to be doomed,” she told herself. “You just need to agree that neither one of them, Aengus or Mom, was bad. Things went wrong, but there was no framing. And no betraying. Aengus Stone couldn’t betray his country any more than Rem could. It was a horrible tragedy, and when Rem becomes president, he can pardon his father posthumously. And you can give OmniVid an interview saying you support that pardon, and you believe your mom would have done it herself if Aengus had lived.”
She nodded slowly. It was a good plan. A fair and decent one that would give Rem peace of mind, and give them both a chance to fall madly in love with each other.
And all she had to do was convince Rem to accept it.
* * * *
When Zia woke up the next morning, she knew in an instant something was wrong. The sun was too bright, telling her it was way past dawn, which made no sense. The second challenge was four days away. Every moment of practice counted, so why wasn’t Rem hounding her to get dressed?
The door to the living room was ajar, which bothered her too. He had probably snuck in to check on her, but then why not wake her up?
And were those voices she heard? Was he watching a vid? That made no sense either.
Walking over to the door, she listened intently. Rem was speaking, his tone strident. And the other voice sounded like Ambassador Humber’s.
“What now?” she whispered to herself in bleary-eyed frustration. “What else could possibly go wrong?”
Chapter 15
“Hey, you two. What’s going on out here?”
When Rem turned to look at Zia, the fury in his eyes made her take a full step backward—and made her very glad she had taken a moment to change into her uniform. “Oh, no! What’s wrong?”
“You won’t believe it,” he promised.
“It is disturbing news from Earth,” Humber explained. He paused to cough into a cloth, then continued warily. “But no one is hurt or dead, so do not worry about that.”
“No one’s dead yet, you mean,” Rem muttered. “Because when I get back there, I’m going to strangle him with my bare hands.”
Zia stared. “Strangle who? Tell me what’s wrong.”
Humber stepped between her and Rem before answering. “On occasion, my assistant sends me important news vids via capsule. This one arrived last night.” He paused for a second fit of coughing. “I have been up all night with worry.”
“And you’re sick too. You need to take better care of yourself, Ambassador. We all need you to stay healthy.” She walked over to the vid screen. “So? Let’s see it.”
Rem activated the control, and an image of a presidential news conference came into view. Her uncle’s press secretary began the briefing with his usual caution to hold questions until the end. Then he announced, “We’ve just received word that there was an attempted assassination of Zia Quito on Malara.” He raised his hand to quell the alarm among the reporters, assuring them quickly, “She is unharmed, thanks to the quick action of our Malaran allies and the three members of her honor guard. We regret to announce that one of them, Ensign Pao, was killed in action. Ensign Jackson and Lieutenant Harada were injured, but will recover. All three men will receive presidential commendations for exceptional bravery.”
Zia watched intently as the reporters asked the obvious questions about the Vekzori, the security measures, and the possibility that Zia might now return home before another attempt was made.
She couldn’t begin to guess what had gotten Rem so angry. Then an OmniVid reporter asked, “What about Captain Stone? Was he injured?”
The press secretary started to respond, but Jared Quito stepped to the microphone, his expression somber. “Fortunately, Captain Stone was not with my niece at the time of the attack, and so he was perfectly safe. And no, she will not be returning home. Not until her mission is complete. She is a brave young woman, and Earth is lucky to have her as our emissary.”
The Omnivid reporter persisted. “Where was Captain Stone? I thought he was supposed to watch out for her.”
“Well,” Jared murmured. “He cannot be with her every second, can he? My understanding is that he was at a recreational center playing vid games when the attack occurred.”
Zia gasped. “Oh, no . . . Rem . . .”
“Playing games?” the reporter demanded. “He was supposed to take care of her. He bragged about keeping her safe.”
“His mission is to pilot a skirmisher,” Jared corrected the reporter. “Given his obvious animosity toward my family, I specifically did not give him the job of protecting my niece. And a very good thing too, as it turns out.”
“Oh, my God. Humber, turn it off,” Zia pleaded. “Rem, I’m so sorry. That was completely unfair.”
Rem’s fists were clenched at his sides. “It was rigged. You saw that, didn’t you? That bastard from OmniVid was working with the press secretary, just like everyone says. The administration feeds information to the reporters, and in return, they sling Jared’s propaganda for him.”
Humber started coughing again, and Zia got him a glass of water from the kitchen, talking as she moved. “It looked that way to me too. Uncle J was obviously prepared for that question. He can’t possibly expect people to believe you were playing vid games at a time like this. How dare he say such a thing.”
Rem nodded. “I’m not going to wait six years, I’m going to run against him in the next election. And I’m not just going to beat him. I’ll annihilate him.” He walked over to Zia and said bluntly, “I’m not asking you to take sides. You know that, right? Which of course plays beautifully into his hands. He even predicted it.”
“What does that mean?”
Rem flushed. “He talked to me after the press conference. Told me he hoped I’d get squashed like an insect on Malara. Then he dared me to tell you about it, because he was so sure you’d never take my side over his. What he doesn’t realize is, I’d never ask you to take sides.”
Zia’s stomach knotted, remembering the day in her uncle’s office when he had blithely suggested that if Rem died a hero on Malara, then the Stone line would end, and it would be a good thing for the Quito administration.
It had sounded so cold. So calculating.
But this—this was so much worse. Outright character assassination of a young pilot who was willing to give his life for Earth. For Malara. For honor.
For Zia.
“I’ll campaign for you, just like Logan,” she blurted. “If this is an example of Jared Quito’s campaign tactics, then he has to be stopped.”
“You’ll campaign for me?” Rem’s anger dissipated before her eyes. “Actively?”
“Of course.” She stepped up to him and touched his cheek. “You’re the bravest guy I know, and the most dedicated bodyguard a girl could ever have. I’ll tell that to the vid
s the minute we land back on Earth. And they’ll eat it up, because as we all know, I’m their most precious natural resource.”
Humber patted them both on the shoulders. “Well now. The situation is somewhat contained, is it not, Captain Stone? With Zia on your side, and your record of brave service—on Earth and on Malara—you will attain complete victory in the election.” He began wheezing slightly, but that didn’t stop his enthusiastic outpouring. “I was concerned that this political posturing might weaken the alliance. But I should have known. Your two grandfathers forged that alliance. You would never let anything happen to it.”
“Don’t worry about the alliance, worry about yourself,” Zia scolded him. “Do you have pneumonia or something? You sound awful.”
“There’s something going around,” Rem told her. “A couple of the pilots have it too.”
“A simple virus,” Humber agreed. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Too late. I am worried. We’re taking you to see Dr. Annur. Right, Rem? We’re already late for maneuvers anyway.”
Rem nodded. “Yeah, whatever you want. Let’s do it fast, though, or Carrak will burst a valve.”
“My driver is outside. He can take me to the doctor,” Humber assured them. “You two should proceed to the practice fields. Tell General Carrak the delay was my fault.”
“You did the right thing, bringing this to us right away,” Rem assured him. “I appreciate it, Mr. Ambassador. And,” his tone grew ominous, “I will remember your loyalty.”
Zia winced, realizing he was still upset. Not that she blamed him. Her uncle had slandered him in front of the whole world, just to gain political advantage. And after all his fine talk about appreciating Rem.
Uncle J deserves whatever he gets now, she decided grimly. And you’re free to help Rem, which is what you really want anyway. So maybe this is a good thing. Assuming Rem can let it go before we start fighting about this too.
* * * *
As it turned out, Rem couldn’t let it go. He barely paid any attention to Zia during the transport ride, staring out the window instead.
Planning his campaign, she told herself. And guess what? It’s a full-out feud again. This must have been the shortest truce on record.
Then Rem surprised her by moving to a seat beside her and embracing her warmly. “I’m sorry about your uncle, you know. I guess he’s the closest thing to a father you ever had, right?”
“Hardly.” Zia gave him a sad smile. “It was never that way between him and me. We’re family, but it’s all very formal and uninvolved. I had my grandpa on my father’s side when I was little, and supposedly he loved me like crazy. But he died when I was five. After that, I started spending most of my time at boarding school, so even if I had had a father, I wouldn’t have seen much of him, I guess.”
“If your real dad had been around, he wouldn’t have let you go off to school at all. You’re too cute. He would have wanted you around the house all the time.”
Zia bit her lip. “That’s such a sweet thing to say.” Taking his hands in her own, she murmured, “I know you hate my uncle. I don’t blame you. What he did was despicable, but maybe we can learn from it. This vendetta between our families is poisonous. It makes people do and say hideous things. But we have a chance to change that, right? With Logan’s support, and mine, and your amazing record, you’re going to win by a landslide. You might even get two-thirds of the vote, right?”
“A life term?”
“Exactly. What could be more validating—for you and your whole family—than that? Maybe then you’ll finally be able to look toward the future, instead of living in the past.”
Rem’s shoulders stiffened. “You think that’s what I’ve been doing?”
She nodded. “And it’s not healthy. Look what it did to Uncle J. Turned him into a monster.”
“Don’t compare me to him,” Rem told her sharply, then he grimaced in apology. “I hear what you’re saying. But I still need to clear my father’s name. Not as a vendetta. Or for revenge against your family. Just because I owe it to him.”
“You could pardon him—”
“That’s like saying he did it!”
“He did do it. He admitted it right in open court. He took those codes, Rem. His motive was patriotic—anyone with a heart can see that. But he took them, so you can’t ever really clear him of the whole mess. The most you can do is convince everyone that he did it to protect Earth. Out of a sense of duty, not for personal gain. I’d love to help you do that.”
“As long as we keep your mother out of it?” he drawled.
Zia sat back, hurt and frustrated. “It’s never going to work, is it? No matter what I say or do.”
“Zee—”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re landing, anyway. So let’s just drop it for now. Or better yet, for good.” She walked to the door of the transport, trying not to let him see how close to tears she was. “Looks like we have a welcoming committee.”
“Huh?” He joined her as the door slid open.
There were five Malarans waiting for them—four exhausted-looking soldiers with bloodshot eyes and the mech strategist Taryak, who had a strained expression on her face as she approached Zia and Rem. “General Carrak needs to see you right away.”
“What’s wrong?” Zia wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Are you sure she needs us both?”
“I am sure. There is no time to waste. Please, follow me.”
* * * *
Rem tried to take Zia’s arm as they followed the entourage to the second floor, but she yanked it away, and he didn’t blame her. She was upset—more upset than he’d ever seen her. So upset he was pretty sure she hadn’t noticed what was going on around them. Or more accurately, what wasn’t going on.
The building was almost deserted, and through the huge viewing windows, one could see that there were no maneuvers taking place outside. Not a single skirmish, even though the next challenge was less than four days away.
“Something’s going on,” Rem murmured to Zia.
“Something’s always going on around here. I’m sick of it.”
“Zee, look around.”
She finally seemed to notice, and quickened her pace to catch up with Taryak. “Where is everyone? Why aren’t they practicing?”
The strategist motioned toward Carrak’s office at the end of the hall. “The general is waiting for you. I will give you some privacy.” Bowing, the Malaran moved to the side with her guards.
“Someone’s dead,” Zia guessed.
Rem tried to slip his arm around her waist, but she knocked it away. “Don’t! You’re just making it worse.” Looking straight at him for the first time since their argument, she added softly, “I don’t want Carrak to know we’re fighting. So please? Just act normally.”
* * * *
Without waiting for Rem’s reply, Zia walked ahead of him into the office, where Carrak was seated in a wheelchair behind her desk. It should have been a good sign that she wasn’t in bed anymore, but Carrak actually looked worse, not better. Her eyes were bloodshot and her blue-black fur lacked its usual intimidating luster.
“Close the door,” the general ordered them, and Rem hastily complied.
Then Carrak’s tone softened. “Zia? How are you feeling today? Are you well?”
Zia winced, wondering how the general could have noticed so quickly that she was upset. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“And you, Captain Stone? You are well?”
“Yes, General. I’m fine.”
“Good. Sit down.”
Zia studied the situation soberly. It wasn’t like Carrak to care about anyone, especially not Zia, but there was no doubting her sincerity. She was worried about them.
But why?
“If someone died,” Zia murmured, “just tell us. Is it the prime minister?”
“No one is dead. Not yet. But we cannot rule that out.” Carrak’s breathing was shallow and wheezy. “Our situation is precarious. Many Malarans are sick. Virtua
lly every Malaran pilot, and many civilians as well.”
Zia gasped. “Ambassador Humber has it, and he sounded terrible. And you’re sick too? And Maryak? Gannor?”
“All of them. The early stages of a lung infection. I was concerned you were infected too, but it appears humans are not susceptible. I am glad of it.”
“Do you suspect foul play?” Rem demanded. “Some sort of bio-weapon?”
“Our scientists are studying the situation.” Carrak paused for a violent fit of coughing. Then she continued. “It is a particulate-borne germ. But it can also be spread by contact from Malaran to Malaran. It affects our pre-lungs initially, but for those who have been symptomatic longest, there are gastrointestinal complications. Our doctors say the danger of dehydration is the most serious concern in regard to health. Obviously,” she added with a growl, “health is not the most important issue here.”
“The challenge,” Zia whispered. “Can’t you just postpone it? Tell Alluva you want the entire thirty days. And if it turns out they really did unleash a bio-weapon against you, then all rules are off, right? Just attack them and blow them to bits. Earth can help with that, you know. We may not have many robots, but we’ve got some powerful weapons in our arsenals.”
“Zee’s right,” Rem said angrily. “If they’ve broken the code of warrior combat—”
“We do not know that,” Carrak cautioned them. “It may be a natural phenomenon. Inconvenient but unplanned. And if it is sabotage, we suspect the Vekzori, not the Alluvans.”
“That’s crazy.” Zia shook her head. “They’re right here on Malara with us, so they’ll get sick too! I get it that they hate Earth—and me—but why hurt their own friends and families? And why give Alluva an advantage in the next challenge?”
“They are zealots. In their most extreme form, they would rather see Alluva win than see Malara allied with Earth. And if our doctors do not develop a remedy for these infections in the next day or so, they will get their wish. Malara will fall to Alluva.” Before Zia could ask, Carrak added firmly, “The rules do not allow for any extensions of time. When we gave notice of the date, place, and configuration yesterday, we became bound by those specifications.”