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.”
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.”
When Carrak didn’t respond, Zia continued. “There are only five giant mechs on Malara. Six if you count mine. There aren’t that many of us, right? Who have felt it.”
“It?”
“Synergy.”
Carrak turned off the display, then motioned for Zia to take a seat. “You want to know why I watch you? Because I want to believe you have Daniel Quito’s strong heart. I have seen glimpses of it in you. And I see it in this vid. I try to convince myself it is enough. But it is not. You are silly and undisciplined.”
“Well, it’s not like you made an effort to discover if I had any real talent. I was ready to try, you know.”
“No. You refused to cooperate,” Carrak reminded her curtly.
“Because you threw me in the kiddy pool! You were intentionally trying to humiliate me.”
“No! That is your skill level. You are not ready for the pilot’s simulator yet.”
Zia rolled her eyes. “I guess we’ll never know, will we?” Regretting the disrespectful tone, she added quickly, “The reason I came in here was to tell you I’m willing to try again. I’ll get those dumb diskettes in forty-five minutes. Assuming I can get the stupid gloves on.”
Carrak’s mouth relaxed into a less hostile expression. “Because you wish to be a pilot?”
“I already am a pilot.”
“You would like to pilot a colossus in tomorrow’s challenge?”
“No. Obviously I’m not ready for that. But eventually, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. Whatever Malara needs. If you get that desperate, it’ll be a bad sign for me anyway. The Vekzori and the Alluvans want to kill me, and if we lose, they’ll get that chance. So why not go out in a blaze of glory, right?”
Carrak shrugged. “It would take years of training to bring you to the necessary level. You do not have the attention span, or the commitment, for that. You wish a blaze of glory, but that blaze must start with a spark that is carefully tended and fueled by hard work and discipline.” Leaning forward, she asked Zia, “If we prevail against Alluva, are you willing to spend the next five years here? Training to be a mech pilot?”
“No,” Zia admitted sadly.
“I did not think so.” Carrak stood and gave her a smile that was more like a sneer. “It does not matter. You still have great value. Your presence here confuses Alluva. They fear you may have talent and discipline, and may even topple a giant the way Daniel Quito did. It is a powerful psychological weapon, and we are grateful to you for it.”
“Right.” Zia got up and moved toward the door, feeling depressed and useless. Then she remembered the real reason she had come to Carrak’s office, so she turned back toward the desk. “Good luck in the challenge, General. You’re a true hero, and that’s what Malara needs right now. So . . . I’ll be rooting for you tomorrow.”
“Thank you. Close the door behind yourself now.”
Once a bitch, always a bitch, Zia complained to herself, but it didn’t ring true. Carrak had a right to be judgmental and arrogant. She had earned it through years of hard work and heroism. To Zia’s surprise, she felt almost jealous of the general, even though she wouldn’t trade places with her for anything. Carrak was so isolated. So unfeeling and alone, even though she had a bright, talented daughter in the very next room. What kind of life was that? Certainly not one Zia would ever want to lead.
But tomorrow, she’ll put the helmet on. Remember how that felt?
Zia shook her head, confused. Because as strange as it seemed, she was pretty sure Carrak wouldn’t change places with her either.
Which either meant they were both right, or both wrong. And it was too late for either of them to find out which.
* * * *
Rem had never been so tired in his life. Practicing to be a hero was exhausting enough, but helping someone else attain that status? Goading them, prodding them, challenging them? Doing everything you could to ensure that they succeeded?
That was a real killer. Every muscle in his body ached, and a few bones too. All he could think about was taking a hot Malaran shower, downing a quick protein shake, and hitting the cot early so he could be up at dawn, rested and ready for the pageantry of Challenge Day.
But first he had to find Zia, and that was proving more difficult than he expected. She wasn’t on the observation deck, which was frustrating for two reasons. It meant she could be anywhere in the building. And it meant she hadn’t witnessed Rem’s feats of prowess on the practice fields.
He began searching the five stories of the building, one by one, growing more concerned by the minute. He trusted Gannor to be brave in the face of any Vekzor attack. But lately, it was Maryak who presented the real threat, because more often than not, when Rem returned from practice, he would find Gannor’s attention distracted by thoughts of sacking Carrak’s daughter.
When Rem exited the stairs at level two, his suspicions proved justified. Gannor and Maryak, always amorous, were locked in a particularly gymnastic embrace.
With no Zia in sight.
“Hey!” Rem growled.
“She’s asleep over there,” Maryak informed him, coming up for air long enough to point with her toe toward a blanket-covered figure in the corner.
Rem felt his whole body tense, primarily with annoyance, knowing these two had been going at it for hours. But with envy too, because quite frankly, they were making him crave things that he didn’t dare crave.
“You’re a crappy bodyguard, Gannor,” Rem complained.
“She is safe, is she not?” his friend insisted. “You did well today, Stone.”
“You really did,” Maryak insisted, sitting up and smiling. “Zia was impressed.”
“Right. Like any of you watched me?” He chuckled, then walked over to where Zia was sleeping. She looked so pretty. Amazing, really. The sexiest girl he had ever seen, even with a Malaran blanket covering ninety percent of her body.
And she wasn’t just good-looking. She was a great sport, giving him tremendous incentive to do well just to impress her. He was pretty sure she had been bored to death with another day at the rec center, watching but not participating. But she hadn’t complained once, knowing it couldn’t be helped. Rem didn’t dare leave her at the hotel, or allow her to wander around Pangua shopping or sightseeing.
He touched her shoulder gently. “Zee?”
“Hmm? Oh . . .” She opened her eyes and smiled. “I dozed off.”
“Yeah. I don’t blame you. I can’t take it anymore either.”
“What do you mean?” She followed his glare toward their friends, who were climbing all over each other. “Oh . . . that.”
“Yeah, that.”
“They’re so open about it.”
“Yeah, they’re obnoxious. Especially Gannor.” Rem grinned. “He keeps telling me how the female pilots lined up to sack him after that skirmish we had. And he lost worse than I did.” Realizing he had just betrayed a confidence, Rem added quickly, “But Maryak is the only one he did anything with. The others were just something to brag about.”
“Too bad there’s only one Earth female here. You deserve a long line of fans too.”
He winced. “I didn’t mean that. You’re more than enough—Damn. I didn’t mean that either.”
Zia laughed. “It’s okay. They drive me crazy too.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “I was so desperate to get rid of them, I actually got back into the kiddy simulator today.”
He caught the pride in her tone, and guessed, “You kicked its ass?”
“Yep. I’m the proud owner of five useless diskettes.”
“That’s great, Zee. How many tries did it take before you cracked it?”
When Zia raised an eyebrow, Rem said quickly, “Right, it doesn’t matter. The important thing is, you beat it. No wonder you’re so tired. Congratulations.”
“Thanks. Can we go back to the hotel now?”
“Yeah, I’m tired too. And we have to be up extra early if we want to catch the first battle cruiser to the challenge site.” He reached for her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Is that the real reason you went back in the simulator? All the focus this week on the battle inspired you?”
“No,” she corrected him quietly. “I did it for Carrak. She could die tomorrow fighting for her planet. The least I could do was follow one of her orders for a change.”
“She’s the hero of Zellot,” he protested. “She’s not going to lose. At worst it will be a draw.”
“You’re all so sure. Even Maryak, and it’s her mom who might die. I guess I should try to be more positive, right?” Zia raised her voice and called out, “Hey, guys. Rem and I are leaving.”
“Yeah, don’t get up,” Rem muttered.
“We will see you in the morning. On the cruiser,” Gannor told them cheerfully. “Do not be late.”
“We’ll be early,” Rem assured him. “Right, Zee?”
“You know how I live for this stuff,” she drawled. Then she grabbed his hand. “Come on, I want to go home.”
“Farewell!” Maryak told them. “Be vigilant, Captain Stone. You must protect the body of Quito’s granddaughter until we see you again tomorrow.” She then erupted into a fit of giggles as Gannor began kissing her again.
“Yeah, I’ll protect it,” Rem grumbled, adding to himself with a frustrated laugh, I can’t touch it, but I can protect it. How effed up is that?
* * * *
They had pink salad and grilled benk for dinner, and Zia watched in amusement as Rem consumed his entire meal and half of hers. She, on the other hand, had no appetite at all. She was too busy thinking about the battle. And especially about Maryak.
“You’re more worried about it than she is,” Rem told her when she raised the issue again. “The only thing on her mind is mauling Gannor.”
Zia smiled at the frustration in his voice. Apparently, all the sacking was truly getting to him, which surprised her since he seemed so otherwise focused on the upcoming challenge.
“You should get some sleep, Rem. It’ll be dawn in seven hours.”
“And we need to be at the launch point in six,” he agreed. “But first, Humber wanted me to brief you about tomorrow. About what will happen afterward. If things don’t go well, I mean.”
She winced. It was the first time Rem had acknowledged the possibility of failure. And the fact that he had discussed it with Humber without Zia present sounded fairly ominous.
“It’s all fine,” he continued quickly. “But if Malara loses, we’ll need to get you out of there right away. Technically, Alluva is only allowed to take certain prisoners—the pilots involved in the actual battle; their commander, who in this case is also one of the pilots; and the prime minister. But there’s something in the rules about dignitaries, so Humber thinks they’ll make a try for you too. You’re just too high-profile to resist.”
“Do they want to kill me?”
“Not exactly.” He rubbed his eyes, then gave her a strained smile. “It’s all fine. Humber will have the transport standing by. We’ll hustle over there and be gone before Alluva can react. Jackson and Harada will already be in suspension, so the Malarans will just stick you and me in the escort chamber and blast off.” Rem’s tone grew brisk. “It’ll all go fast, so we need to be ready. No time for good-byes, or any of that. Okay?”
She could tell he was tired and stressed, so she just nodded. “I can follow orders. And I will. Just this once, though.”
“Yeah, I know you will.” He stood and stretched. “I’m gonna check this place one last time, then we should get some sleep.”
“I need to shower. I’ll be quick though.”
“Take your time.” He pulled her up by her hands and gazed into her face. “It’ll be over soon, at least for a few weeks.”
“I’m fine, Rem.” She was tempted to kiss his cheek, but knew he was feeling a little under-loved, and she didn’t want to send the wrong message, so she just patted his arm instead, then went into the bedroom.
Like it would be so bad to give the guy a kiss? He’s been killing himself at those practices, and tomorrow could be a disaster. And it’s all on his shoulders. Meanwhile, he has to watch Gannor sacking Maryak around every corner. How fair is that?
She laughed at herself, admitting that being surrounded by Malaran porn had had its effect on her too. She missed flirting with Rem. Kissing him. Feeling his muscular arms around her.
Opening the armoire where she stored her clothing, she eyed the stack of humongous nightgowns. It seemed cruel to subject Rem to such ugliness tonight of all nights. But she hadn’t brought any sexy garments with her, other than underwear, and that might be a little too exciting for Rem.
On the bottom shelf, the Malaran housekeeping crew had stacked fresh laundry for Rem—gray shorts and gray undershirts. Picking up one of the shirts, she noted that it was softer than it looked. Just the perfect thing to sleep in on a warm Malaran night.
And given the military insignia, it actually seemed like the patriotic thing to do.
* * * *
Her body and hair were freshly washed and dried, and as she studied her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she decided she had made a brilliant choice. The shirt hung halfway down her thighs, making her legs look extra-long. It was loose enough to seem casual and cute, but the V-neck revealed a nice hint of cleavage without seeming slutty—always a good thing, and tonight, even more important, since she didn’t intend to do anything other than just remind him she was a girl.
He’ll go crazy anyway, she told herself with a nervous smile. Maryak and Gannor have been priming him for days.
They were definitely going to need some ground rules, she decided. And then there was the fact that they had to get up real, real early if they wanted to catch a ride on the first battle cruiser. That fact alone would probably be enough to control him.
Fluffing her fingers through her loose hair one last time, she peeked into the bedroom and saw that Rem had turned the lights down low. For a second, she thought he had guessed what was going on and was trying to set a romantic mood. Then she spotted his cot, which was already barricading the door. And she spotted him in the cot, already asleep.
Disappointed, she moved across the room to stare down at him. He looked so handsome. And peaceful for the first time in a long while. She didn’t have the heart to wake him up, even though she knew he’d welcome it.
Maybe tomorrow night, if we’re still alive and on Malara, she told him, turning the lights off completely. Leaning down, she kissed his cheek.
“Good night,” she whispered.
“Night,” he murmured, his thick tone telling her he was already gone for the night.
He’s dreaming of mechs, she decided, shaking her head as she climbed into her own bed. She had a feeling her own dreams would be a little more amorous, but warned herself to get out of that mood and concentrate instead on getting some rest.
Because in five hours, all hell is going to break loose out there. And for some stupid reason, they’re going to make you watch.