Mech Girl

by Kate Donovan

  Zia rubbed her eyes, trying her best not to panic. “Rem just talked about the warrior code of honor. If the Alluvans didn’t do this, won’t they be shocked by this traitorous act? And refuse to benefit from it?”

  “They would say it is an internal Malaran affair—something we brought on ourselves. Illness, bad weather—even global catastrophe—have never been grounds for postponing a challenge. It will go forward, Zia. And because the likelihood of failure is so high, we cannot justify keeping you here any longer. You will return to Earth tomorrow along with your fallen bodyguards. And you too, Captain Stone.”

  “I’m staying,” he corrected her. “Everyone else is sick. You need me. So I’m staying. That’s final.”

  Carrak managed a sickly smile. “I was hoping you would say that. At this point, I can still pilot one giant. And we can always substitute a skirmisher for a giant—the rules allow for a lesser robot to take the place of a greater one, even at the last minute. So that will make two functional warriors. And if we can keep a third pilot relatively healthy, we can mount a decent effort. Maintain our honor and our dignity, even if we eventually lose.”

  Zia leaned forward in her chair. “What about me?”

  “You’ll be safe,” Rem assured her. “We’ll make sure of that, so don’t worry. We’ve got plenty of time to take care of the details.” He seemed to be thinking out loud. “Dr. Annur says Harada’s doing great, so we’ll put him in the escort chamber with you. And we’ll find a healthy Malaran crew to transport you. Even if the worst happens, and they get sick during the voyage, the damned ship will be on autopilot most of the way, so you should reach Earth safely.”

  “No, I mean, what about me? I can pilot the Quito giant. Not very well, obviously, but I’m better than nothing. If all of the Malaran pilots are sick and getting sicker, we might not have any choice but to use me and my colossus.”

  Rem and Carrak stared at her for a long moment. Then Carrak assured her, “That is not an option.”

  “Why not? Why choose a skirmisher with a sick pilot over a giant with a healthy one?”

  Rem gave her a patronizing smile. “It’s an amazing offer, Zee, but it doesn’t work that way. Just having the mech isn’t enough. There’s a lot more to it. Things you can’t possibly be expected to understand—”

  “You’re the one who doesn’t understand,” Zia retorted. “Go ahead, General Carrak. Tell him.”

  Rem frowned. “Tell me what?”

  “That she sees something in me. Potential. Talent. Good DNA.”

  “What?”

  Carrak hesitated before shrugging her shoulders. “It is possible that Zia could help. Theoretically.”

  Rem’s blue eyes erupted into flames. “That’s out of the question. We won’t stand for it.”

  “We?”

  “Earth. The United States. Me.”

  “Well, luckily, I don’t need your permission,” Zia told him with a cool smile. “And you don’t speak for Earth. This has nothing to do with you, Captain. It’s my decision, and I’ve already made it.”

  She sat back in her chair, trying to look confident, even though her head was spinning. Rem was right. She knew that. But she was right too. Malara needed her. And while she agreed that she could get killed—in fact, she probably would get killed—the idea of putting the helmet on again, this time to save an entire planet, was intoxicating.

  Grandpa’s DNA, she told herself, biting back a shaky smile. He must have been such a wild man.

  “Remember what we talked about the other day, General Carrak?” she said, eyeing the monitor to remind the Malaran of the press conference vid. “At least I’ll go out in a blaze of glory, right?”

  “It will be exciting,” Carrak admitted with a chuckle that was subverted by a cough. “You have four days, Quito. Report to the dormitory for your bunk assignment and your Malaran uniform. Then meet me at the simulator.”

  “Which one?”

  Carrak laughed again. “The time for children’s games has passed. Taryak will escort you. Captain Stone will stay here to receive further orders.”

  Zia glanced at Rem, whose expression warned her not to get too invested in this plan. He clearly intended to talk Carrak out of it. To convince her to send Zia home like some helpless child. Some delicate flower.

  Zia stood and looked down at him. “Remember when I wanted to hook myself up to the giant back on Earth? You wouldn’t help me that night. But you told me later you’d never refuse me again.”

  “This is different.”

  “No, it’s exactly the same. My body, my safety, my life. I’ll do it with or without you, Rem. But I’d feel better if I had your support.”

  Without waiting for his answer, she gave Carrak a fist-chest salute, then flashed a confident smile and strode out of the room.

  * * * *

  As soon as the door was closed, Rem turned to Carrak and assured her dryly, “This isn’t going to happen. I’ll gladly give my life for Malara, but I won’t give hers.”

  “Hers is not yours to give.”

  “Don’t play that game with me. You need me. We both know that. But if you push this crazy idea, I’ll take Zia and stuff her into a suspension chamber and take her back to Earth personally. Then you won’t have either of us.”

  When Carrak scowled, he offered a more respectful explanation. “If I thought she could do it, it would be different. But she doesn’t know the first thing about piloting a mech.”

  “And you do not know the first thing about piloting a colossus. Yes, we only build giants for our best skirmisher pilots, but ironically, it does not take as much skill to perform basic moves in a giant because the mech automatically does whatever the pilot wishes it to do. She will be able to move about with great agility and to fire on command—just by willing it to happen.”

  Rem glared. “We both know why you only build giants for your best pilots. Because at that level, it has nothing to do with moving or firing. It’s all about strategy. Something that takes years and years to master. The colossus can’t supply it, only a real pilot can.”

  Carrak started to answer, but wheezed violently instead, as though the simple act of coughing was beyond the capacity of her huge lungs. For the first time, Rem realized she might not even make it to the battle. It was possible he wouldn’t have any help at all if the Malarans kept dropping at this rate.

  But still, that was better than having Zia there, providing a huge, inexperienced target for three healthy, bloodthirsty Alluvans. “They’d kill her, Carrak. I’m not stupid enough to think I can defeat two giants and a skirmisher with just a skirmisher of my own. If Zee’s out there, I’ll be so distracted, it won’t matter if she can supply some basic firepower. I won’t be able to concentrate on anything but the threat to her. It’s just not workable.”

  Carrak took a sip of water. “You are correct that strategy is an essential element. But it is one we can plan ahead of time. And during the battle, the rules allow the three pilots to be in communication with one another. So you and I can provide counsel to her as the battle unfolds. Aside from strategy, the most important skills for piloting a colossus are balance and aim. If her instincts are good in such areas—half as good as the first Quito’s were—she may perform well. If nothing else, she will be fearless. I have seen that. She is not only brave, she loves the thrill of putting on the helmet. And today I learned that she can be selfless. It is a promising combination, especially given the alternatives.”

  Rem wanted to protest, but forced himself to consider what Carrak had said. Aim and balance? Zia had both. He had learned that during their sky paddle game. Instincts? Yeah, she had those too. And courage to the point of recklessness. Just like Daniel Quito.

  And selflessness? Wasn’t that the real problem? She had too much of it. She was willing to give her life for Malara, which would have been admirable, except it wasn’t her responsibility. It would make more sense to stick Lieutenant Harada in a simulator for a crash course in piloting—at least he was
a trained professional who had chosen a military career.

  Carrak’s brow arched as though she could hear Rem’s thoughts. “Perhaps you worry over nothing. I did not promise Captain Quito she would pilot a giant in the actual challenge. I promised she could help, and she can. By trying her best to become a pilot. Three days from now, if she has not developed sufficiently, we will choose someone else. But in the meantime, her loyalty will inspire all of Malara. And our Alluvan enemies will hear that she is practicing with us—ready to bring the Quito giant into the challenge—and they will be unnerved.”

  “Another mind grub? Now?” Rem shook his head. “She deserves better than that, General Carrak. She made that offer in good faith. If you’re just using her for show, you should at least tell her. I know you don’t respect her, but that’s because you don’t know her. If you did, you’d want to protect her with your life, the way I do.”

  “By sending her back to Earth?”

  Rem nodded.

  Carrak motioned for him to move to her side of the desk, and he did so quickly, suspecting that her lungs were hurting with every ounce of effort she expended.

  When he was right in front of her, Carrak said, “If we lose the challenge, there will be no place on Malara or Earth that is safe for Zia Quito.”

  Rem winced. “What do you mean?”

  “She is the object of their challenge.” Carrak took another sip of water, then explained. “Everyone thinks Alluva wants to punish Malara, or to win ten percent of our great wealth as their challenge bounty, but that is not so. Why did they rebuild so quickly? Why are they willing to risk all that rebuilding on this challenge? Because they were humiliated by Daniel Quito—an inferior Earthling—and they wish to prove to all their potential enemies that it was a fluke.”

  Rem stared in disbelief.

  “It is true,” Carrak murmured. “The only reason they came after Malara first was to cripple us so that we could not rush to the defense of Earth again. Once they are done here, they will go to Earth and threaten to annihilate it if President Jared Quito does not turn Zia—the last real Quito—over to them. And what do you think he will do?”

  “No,” Rem whispered. “Not even Jared Quito would be that foul. To betray Zia? The people of Earth wouldn’t stand for it.”

  “He will do it in secret. The Alluvans will assure him that she is all they want. He will hand her over. They will send her to Alluva to be humiliated and executed. And then they will kill Jared Quito and plunder Earth. Or at least,” she added coolly, “that is my guess. Are you willing to gamble that I am wrong?”

  Rem walked back to his chair and sat down, completely shaken. “We can’t send her back, then.”

  “She is safer here with us,” Carrak agreed. “And Captain Stone?”

  “Yes, General?”

  She surprised him by getting up out of her wheelchair and towering over the desk, her expression livid. “Never again question my allegiance to Zia Quito. I will not tolerate it. Your feelings for her are conflicted because of your father. Mine are not. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, General. Crystal clear.”

  “Well then . . .” She sank back into her chair. “I need to rest. And you need to find her and encourage her. She needs your support, so give it without question.”

  “Yes, General.” Rem stood and walked to the door.

  “Captain Stone?”

  “Yes, General?”

  Carrak gave him a sympathetic smile. “Much rests on your shoulders. And on mine. But as you said, we chose this life for the glory of it. I have had the honor of proving myself in battle. In four days, you will have the same opportunity. A chance to show the universe what you are made of. Think about that when the weight grows heavy.”

  “When the weight grows heavy, I’ll think about Zee,” Rem replied, adding quietly, “You said my feelings about her are conflicted because of my father, but that isn’t true. At least, not anymore. So don’t you ever question my allegiance to her again. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Captain. That is clear.” Carrak waved him away dismissively. “Pick up your Malaran uniform and select a bunk. You are going to need them both.”

  * * * *

  Rem found Zia on the observation deck, staring out at the Quito giant, which had been towed to the middle of the practice field. Beside it was the red-and-silver Quito skirmisher, all prepped and ready for battle. It was an inspiring sight, and he had a feeling Zia was reacting the same way he was—with worship coupled with excitement coupled with a sense of complete and utter confusion.

  “Zee?”

  She turned to him, and he noted that she was wearing a black leather Malaran vest over her usual one-piece flight suit.

  “That looks good,” he murmured.

  “I decided the leather pants were too much,” she said with a halfhearted smile. “See the emblem they designed for us?”

  He moved closer and nodded with approval at the patch, which depicted the letters Q/S superimposed on a blue-and-green Earth. “Nice. Quito and Stone—together again. Our grandfathers would be proud.”

  “I know you want me to go home—”

  “No. I changed my mind about that. Or rather, Carrak changed it for me.”

  Zia nodded. “She thinks there’s more of my grandfather in me than—well, than anyone else sees.”

  He moistened his lips, then admitted, “I see it too. I have for a while. I wish you had more time, but we’re going to make the next four days count. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “And you’re not mad at me anymore?”

  “I don’t have time to be mad. All I care about is helping Malara get another draw in the challenge. Buying them time to get better so they can eventually win. And that’s all you should care about too.”

  “Okay, Zee.” He gave her an encouraging smile. “Let’s hit the simulator.”

  “Okay. But Rem?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think you should call me Captain Quito—or just Quito—from now on.”

  “Zee—”

  “Not because I’m mad at you. Just to help me remember who I am. Why I’m here. Please?”

  The vulnerability in her voice made him want to grab her and hide her—from the Alluvans and from Carrak. And maybe he’d end up doing just that. But for now, he remembered what she had said—that she wanted to go out in a blaze of glory.

  Not a captive or a war prize. Not a delicate flower, running from planet to planet, always frightened, always hunted. As much as Rem needed to protect her, he couldn’t blame her for wanting to be a warrior instead of a victim.

  So he gave her a confident grin. “Okay, Captain Quito. Whatever you say. Let me grab one of those vests for myself, then we’ll find out once and for all what you’ve really got.”

  Chapter 16

  Zia was fine as long as she was in the simulator, where the pace alone was enough to keep her from thinking about anything else. Unlike her stint in the student machine, or her experience in the Malaran tube, this was not a friendly game. Mechs were looming everywhere, trying to destroy her, and every time she was hit—either by a blast or a collision—the simulator made sure her whole body knew it by racking her with shock waves and burning sensations.

  As bad as that was, she preferred it to the “breaks,” when she recuperated with a cool drink for her dry throat and a cold rag for her aching eyes while Rem and Carrak conferred nearby, analyzing the results from her latest session, determining her strengths, which were insignificant, and her weaknesses, which were apparently legion. She could hear them murmuring, arguing, worrying. Doubting. And her doubts would begin to grow too.

  What was she thinking, volunteering like this? It was nothing less than suicide! Her dream of making a difference—of giving Malara an edge before she died in a glorious blaze—seemed ludicrous, given her inability to survive even two minutes in the simulator when matched against an Alluvan giant. At this rate, she presented more of a liability than anything else.

 
; And Carrak and Rem knew it. The question now was, what would they do about it?

  Zia wasn’t sure how she’d respond if they told her they weren’t going to let her join the battle. If there were any other options—any Malaran pilots that weren’t wheezing or puking their guts out in the overcrowded infirmary—she would have stepped aside gladly. But Carrak was the only functional Malaran warrior at this point, and that was only because she was living with tubes in her arms, keeping her hydrated while also plying her with anti-nausea medicine and painkillers.

  Even so, the physicians had warned that the general couldn’t go on much longer if she hoped to participate in the battle. She needed intensive rest—in a bed. Preferably asleep, but in a medically induced coma if necessary.

  Ironically, even if they decided not to let Zia fight, she knew they’d still work her to death in the simulator and thereafter on the practice fields. She had long since guessed that that was part of Carrak’s plan. To mind grub the Alluvans—make them think Zia was gearing up for some spectacular display of Quito power.

  If only they could see what she really was—a frightened, untrained, hopeless specimen. They’d probably declare victory on the spot. Instead, the challenge would ensue, even if Zia didn’t participate. Even if Carrak dropped dead in the meantime, and there weren’t any Malarans capable of traveling to the challenge site.

  The battle would still take place.

  Because Malara still had its real secret weapon: Rem.

  * * * *

  At the end of the first day of training, Zia’s body felt ravaged. She could only imagine how she’d feel the next day, when she was scheduled to pilot the Quito giant in a session against the Quito skirmisher. Even if Rem was gentle, she knew he’d jump that crazy mech right down on her, jangling her spine in a way the simulator could only pretend to do.