by Kate Donovan
“Excuse me?”
“Your grandfather toppled one giant with one skirmisher. Rem toppled two, but he used two skirmishers to do it,” Logan reminded her with a shrug. “The average is the same.”
“Oh, my God! You’re competing with him, just like in my dream.”
“Pardon?”
She arched a teasing eyebrow. “I had a dream where you and Rem turned into mechs and fought each other.”
“Who won?”
“I don’t know. But Rem’s pretty sure he did.”
“That’s unlikely. I’m a bigger man with more maturity and military experience on my side. It would be close,” he added magnanimously. “But I’d win.”
Zia rolled her eyes. “Now I’ve heard everything. If you’re so down on him, why did you offer to support him if he ran against my uncle for president?”
“He told you about that?” Logan grinned. “I respect him. I wouldn’t want to compete with him or support him if I didn’t.”
“I guess that makes sense,” she murmured.
The commander’s expression grew sober. “Why was Dr. Annur here, Zee? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” She hesitated, then asked him cautiously, “You knew Aengus Stone, right? Were you competitive with him too?”
“Absolutely. He was one of the finest men I ever met, so naturally I wanted to be better than him. That’s how it works, Zia,” Logan explained. “Why do you ask?”
She gave him a weary smile, then motioned to a nearby sofa and warned him, “You’d better sit down for this, Commander. You’re not going to believe it.”
Chapter 20
Over the next few days, Zia continued to refuse Rem’s calls, but now she had an additional reason. She didn’t want to get his hopes up, either about their romantic future or the possibility that his father had a bold new defense against charges of murder and treason.
Unfortunately, her own hopes were rising, and that was dangerous. She didn’t dare do that to herself unless there was a real possibility she and Rem could have a future. And for the moment, there was no such possibility. There was only a mech girl’s crazy theory, unsupported by any facts. So for the time being, it was best to avoid Rem altogether.
But on the morning of the ceremony, she had no choice but to see him, even though she hadn’t heard back from Annur yet. So she put on her “dress whites” for the very first time, brushed her hair until it shimmered, then allowed the Secret Service to escort her to the parade grounds.
Her uncle had wanted her to go with him, so that they could arrive together, but she had pretended not to be ready. She had lost all faith in him because of his treachery in telling the world that Rem had been playing games during the Vekzor attack. Plus, since her return, he had made a couple of nasty references to the fact that she had “made Stone into a hero” on Malara, implying it would have been preferable for her to die there with Rem rather than allow him to return triumphantly.
She didn’t really care. Not anymore. Any illusions she had had about family bliss—or even family loyalty—were gone. And apparently her uncle felt the same way, because he hadn’t made any real effort to spend time with her until now—the first public event since her return.
An important event, too. Even Zia had to admit that. It was a day worthy of respect, which was why she had worn her dress uniform. Still, she had never appeared in public in anything resembling a suit, and she kept pulling at the slim knee-length skirt and tailored white jacket, while bemoaning the lack of style in the two-inch-heeled blue shoes. But the uniform was part of the Air-Space Service, and she wasn’t about to give that up—not after what she’d gone through to earn it. If wearing bad clothes was part of it, she’d have to power through.
She was the last of the dignitaries to arrive, and when she saw how huge the audience was, she almost turned back toward home. Thousands had been expected, but tens of thousands had turned up, from OmniVid, to Air-Space pilots, to regular families with their children in tow, some traveling across oceans. They wanted to see a real live hero in person, and Zia wanted them to see one too—Rem Stone.
But she suspected they wanted to see her as well. It was a source of pride, of course, but she knew the truth—Rem had toppled two giants. He had made history. It was his destiny to make history throughout his life. The last thing she wanted to do was confuse that with being a celebrity like ZeeZee Quito.
As she climbed the steps to the stage, the crowd started chanting “Quito-Stone, Quito-Stone,” and she stole a look at her uncle’s face, just to see how livid he was. As usual, he was controlling his expression expertly. But his hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists in his lap, and she knew he’d make Rem pay for this if he had half a chance.
Hopefully, he wouldn’t.
She noted with amusement that Ambassador Humber was applauding briskly, as was Commander Logan. She almost expected them to break into their own chorus of Quito-Stone, but they were too discreet for such an overt show of support for Rem. At least, for the moment.
Rem himself was at the far end of the stage with Harada and Jackson, and as soon as Zia turned to them, they stood tall and saluted her proudly. Rem gave her an inquiring look, as if asking for permission to join her. But she shook her head, then walked right up to the master of ceremonies—her uncle’s press secretary—and said quietly, “I’ll take it from here, thanks.”
He placed his palm over the microphone. “What?”
“You heard me. This isn’t a press conference. It’s a public celebration for Captain Stone, and for me, and for the other officers that served on Malara.”
The man’s eyes narrowed. “And for President Jared Quito—the forward-thinking patriot who authorized the mission in the first place.”
“Like he had a choice?” Zia glared. “This is my day. And for once, I earned it. Are you really going to argue with me in front of all these reporters?”
The press secretary gulped, then stepped away and took a seat next to the president while Zia faced the audience and flashed a dazzling smile. “Hi, everyone. Did you miss me?”
They roared with approval, and she studied them for a moment, knowing exactly what they wanted. Heroes? Absolutely. Exciting stories to entertain their grandchildren? Definitely. But mostly, they wanted Zia to tell them they were safe. She didn’t blame them for that. She wanted it too.
She just wasn’t sure she could tell them what they wanted to hear. At least, not yet.
So she waited until the exuberance died down. Then she told them gently, “Thanks for the warm welcome. It’s sooo wonderful to be home. And I have so much to share with you, but let me start by honoring our Malaran allies. Ambassador Humber?” She turned to him and smiled. “The alliance is strong again, thanks to our joint effort. We thank you for that.”
Once Humber had taken a modest bow, she gestured toward Rem and the other officers. “It was my great privilege to serve with, and to be protected by, Captain Jeremiah Stone, Lieutenant Robert Harada, Ensign Matthew Jackson, and Sergeant Michael Pao.” She waited for the applause to subside, then reminded the crowd, “As you know, Sergeant Pao gave his life in the service of his planet. I had the privilege of visiting with his parents yesterday, and they told me some amazing stories. It seems he was destined to be a hero, right from childhood. Always playing soldier. Always protecting the defenseless on the playground. Always a credit to his family, his country, and his world.”
A sob rose in Zia’s throat as she remembered the tearful conversation she had had with the grieving mother, father, and two brothers. There had been nothing she could say or do for them. They had lost their precious Michael, and nothing would be the same again. Not ever.
She knew from experience that their raw hurt would fade, but the knowledge of what they had lost never would. Nor would they want it to.
“I’ll never forget what Sergeant Pao did for me,” she continued sadly. “The way he protected me. They way they all did. Lieutenant Harada risked his life for me. So did Ens
ign Jackson. And Captain Stone did it so many times, I lost count. Give them a hand now, won’t you, please?”
The crowd erupted in noisy tribute, and while Zia knew it was partly for Pao, she was pretty sure it was Rem Stone they were really excited about. And why not? Any doubt her uncle had created about Rem’s willingness to protect Zia had been permanently refuted by vids of the battle. There were probably some in this crowd who had misjudged him, and they needed to clap extra loudly now, in apology as well as appreciation.
And she owed it to Rem to show her appreciation too, so when she turned to the row of handsome military men, she let her smile linger on him. He flashed a proud grin, and she felt a shiver of excitement that she couldn’t afford to encourage, so she turned back to the podium and quieted the crowd.
Leaning toward the microphone, she told them, “I have something important I’d like to talk to you about today. I—oh . . .” She bit her lip, noting that Dr. Annur was ascending the stairs to the stage. He walked over to Humber and handed him a piece of paper, then faded into the background without a glance in Zia’s direction.
“Excuse me,” she murmured into the mike, then she walked over to Humber and arched an inquiring eyebrow. His expression told her nothing as he handed her the folded paper, and her knees went so weak, she had to hurry back to the podium and hold on tightly before opening the report.
The print was tiny, and there was lots of it. Too much to read right now, so she skimmed until she saw the phrases she needed to know.
Not an approved calmative . . . Euphoric . . . Docile . . . Suggestible . . . Hallucinogenic . . .
Her eyes flooded with tears at the thought of what she held in her hand. There had been so much heartache. So much tragedy. Young lives ruined. And now . . .
Forcing herself to take a deep breath, she looked out at the crowd. There was so much trust in their expressions as they looked back at her. And confusion too, because she was taking so much time.
Scaring them, probably.
There was no need for that, so she wiped her eyes and continued. “As they used to say, I have some good news and some bad news. I’m going to give you the bad news first. Please don’t worry. It’s a shame—and I wish there was some way to avoid it—but I promise you, everything is going to be fine. It’s just that . . .” She took another deep breath. “After many, many years of devoted service, my uncle—Jared Quito—has decided to tender his resignation as president, effective immediately.”
The crowd gave a collective gasp, but remained oddly quiet otherwise. From the corner of her eye, she saw her uncle start to protest, but Logan leaned over and said something to him, and it must have been persuasive, because Jared just sat back and stared into the distance without saying or doing anything else.
So Zia continued. “As part of his resignation, my uncle revokes the appointment of his vice president. The next person in line for succession is Commander Sean Logan, so he will become our next president effective immediately.”
The spectators were starting to mutter, and some were calling out questions, while others were expressing veiled contempt for Jared. Zia shushed them quickly, reminding them, “Didn’t you forget? I said there was good news too. Wouldn’t you like to hear it?”
A few riffheads shouted that they thought Jared’s resignation was the good news, but she ignored them and steadied her voice again, not daring to look at Rem, whom she imagined was completely confused by now. “New evidence has arisen in an old case, conclusively proving that Vice President Aengus Stone was completely innocent of all the charges brought against him twelve years ago—”
This time, the audience reacted swiftly, rising up as one, alive with noise, even before they had completely grasped what she was saying. And then, as though seized by a primal wave of joy and relief, they began whooping and shouting, and rushed the stage in a show of power that stunned Zia. She tried to calm them, but they were swarming all around her before she could think of what to say or do. But it was Rem they were really after, and they quickly hoisted him onto their shoulders, shouting, “Justice for Stone!” and “Quito-Stone for President!”
Zia laughed out loud, thrilled for him, and loving the dazed look on his face as he enjoyed the insane show of support. He struggled to get back to his feet, and she knew he was worried about her, as were the Secret Service, who finally managed to surround her and escort her from the stage.
“Help Captain Stone too,” she pleaded. “They love him so much, they might accidentally kill him.”
“Another squad is headed his way,” an agent promised. “And if anyone can take care of himself, it’s Stone. The man’s a legend, and he’s only twenty-two.” Taking her by the arm, he added firmly, “Come on, Miss Quito. Let’s get you back to the Hacienda.”
“It’s Captain Quito,” she reminded him.
“Right.” He gave her a respectful nod. “Sorry, Captain Quito. I won’t ever forget that again.”
Epilogue
“So let me get this straight. Dad never actually took the codes at all? Not even to make his point about the vulnerability of the GARD system?”
“Right.” Zia smiled at Rem across the dining room table in Commander Logan’s spacious condominium, which was located a few miles down the road from her house. Her uncle was still at the Hacienda, with orders to vacate the place by midnight and to surrender himself to the authorities for further proceedings.
“Dr. Fuller admitted the whole thing to the FBI, and me, a few hours ago,” Zia explained. “Apparently, on the very day your dad made that passionate speech to Congress, saying how easy it would be to break into the command center, Fuller and my uncle decided to frame him for doing just that. They knew Mom still planned to support Aengus for the next term as president, and they wanted to stop that. The rift over the GARD system was the perfect opportunity.”
“It’s so bizarre,” Logan murmured. “Once Aengus admitted that he was the one who took the codes—and that he was the guy in the first half of the vid, we only looked for evidence that the second half was falsified. It never occurred to us that he never stepped foot into that room in the first place.”
“Exactly. That was the key to their whole plan—convincing Aengus of his own guilt, so he’d convince everyone else. They didn’t really expect it to go to trial. Just wanted to discredit him in Mom’s eyes. But when the guard got killed, it became more than a scandal with a hint of treason. It became murder.”
“Unbelievable,” Rem murmured.
“After you dad’s speech to Congress, Dr. Fuller and my uncle made a phony vid. Then they drugged your dad with the experimental calmative and showed him the vid over and over. That’s how the drug works,” she added ruefully. “As a euphoric and as a hallucinogen. In stage one, it makes you loopy, so that you don’t form any concrete memories of your own. And it makes you docile, so you don’t even realize you’re being manipulated. In stage two, you’re extremely susceptible to suggestion—someone shows you a vid of what you supposedly saw or did, and voila. You’ll swear on your grandpa’s grave that that’s exactly what happened. Remember, Rem?” she said, smiling sheepishly. “Every time I talked about how romantic it was when you carried me off the stage at the medal ceremony, you reminded me that I was unconscious and couldn’t possibly remember it. But I did. Just like your dad remembered breaking into the command center, looking at his watch, and stealing the codes.”
“But not shooting the guard. Because the fake vid didn’t have that in it.”
“Right. It was only when the masked man from the dummy vid really broke into the center on the night of the real crime and tried to duplicate every move he had made on the dummy vid, that the guard surprised him, and he shot him. And worse, Mom witnessed it. Lucky for my uncle, the masked man had been carrying your dad’s service weapon—and your dad ‘remembered’ carrying it, so even that couldn’t be disputed at trial.”
Logan eyed Zia proudly. “And you figured all of this out because of a false memory of the medal c
eremony?”
“It wasn’t just that. Remember when I told you about my dream? The one where you and Rem turned into mechs and battled each other? I dreamed that in suspension. And since I had taken some of the bad calmative right before I went to sleep, that dream seemed so real, it was scary. It stayed with me like a real memory, not a dream one. I think that’s why I kept identifying with Rem’s dad every time I watched the trial vid. I could sense his frustration—I just didn’t know why. Until Jenni brought me that second vid of the medal ceremony, and I found myself sounding just like him.”
Logan shook his head. “I sill don’t see why they took a chance by giving the same drug to you. Twice.”
“Fuller said they needed to make me docile for the ceremony. It seemed safe, since the worst symptom—suggestibility—only matters if you show the subject the same scene over and over. They couldn’t have predicted that I’d sit in my room and watch that vid of me and Rem over and over, until it was real-er than real.”
Rem nodded. “Then the second time, it seemed safe because we were going to go into suspension right after you took it. Fuller thought it would wear off before you woke up.”
“But my dreams were so vivid—so intense. They had the same effect. Lucky for us, or we still wouldn’t know the truth.”
Rem exhaled sharply. “And Fuller made a full confession implicating Jared every step of the way?”
She nodded. “He insists they were being patriotic. Their only motive—supposedly—was to keep Aengus from becoming president because Aengus wouldn’t properly protect Earth from alien invaders. No one expected things to spin out of control the way they did when the guard was shot. Fuller says he wanted to tell the truth then, but Uncle J wouldn’t let him.”
“Was Fuller the man in the mask?”
“No, that was Uncle J’s press secretary—big surprise. All Fuller did was drug your father. Apparently, Fuller’s brother had invented the formula a few years earlier, but abandoned the experiment when he realized how potentially dangerous the side effects were.”