Humber shook his massive head. “Not without ascore above ninety-five percent. Those are my orders, and therewill be no deviation.”
Annur stepped into view again, hiscompu-tablet in his hand. Then he murmured apologetically, “I haverecalculated at the ambassador’s request. It appears your score is94.23 percent, Miss Quito. I apologize for alarming you. You arenot a match for the colossus.”
“94.23?” She looked from his cowed expressionto Humber’s stoic one and knew the truth. They were lying to her—abenevolent lie to forestall further argument. It was a lie thatwould probably save her life—but a lie nevertheless.
“Well . . .” She backed away from them andtoward the door. “I’m disappointed but I’ll survive. Literally,right? Thanks, Dr. Annur. You’re the best. And Humber? I guess I’llsee you tomorrow morning at the launch.”
Chapter6
The endless procession of graduation partieshad morphed into a celebration of the news that three-time Exemplarwinner Jeremiah Stone wasn’t just a theoretical hero anymore. Hewas actually going into battle—on Malara no less.
Dressed in his brand-new white uniform, Remsat at the end of a bar in the posh hotel that housed the newlieutenants. From there he could watch the sun setting over thewater along the beach that ran all the way north to the Hacienda,where he and Zia had had their sky paddle game.
Surrounding him were newly minted officers.Some were dancing with pretty girls, some were proposing toasts,and more than one stopped by the bar to pelt Rem with questionsabout his future. Was he really going to the far side of thegalaxy? In less than twenty-four hours? Did he really think hecould defeat an experienced Alluvan pilot? Did he know that Malaranfemales had four breasts?
He tried to respond appropriately—orinappropriately, as the case required. But it was all anact. He couldn’t think about the transport that would take him toMalara, or the upcoming conflict, or anything else about hisfuture.
His mind was on Zia Quito, or more precisely,on the news that she had failed the genetic testing by a hair.
He had been so sure she’d be going with him,and while he was glad she’d be safe, he already felt lonely—forhumans in general and Zia in particular. Which was odd, because hehad despised her for so many years, not only for being a Quito butbecause she was such a foghead. Now he knew that wasn’t true—or atleast not exactly.
Frustrated, he instructed himself to look atthe silver lining. Malara was under attack, and he—a Stone—was theonly Earthling rushing to its aid. That had a nice ring to it,didn’t it?
If Zia came with him, the focus would alwaysbe on her. Even if Rem Stone single-handedly defeated a hundredAlluvan robots, the Quitos would get the credit. Jared Quito wouldsee to that by controlling the news through OmniVid, widely knownto be his personal pet, media-wise.
Wasn’t it better this way? The only Earthlinginvolved in the conflict would be a Stone. If Rem won, the glorywould be solely his. And if he died in battle—
Yeah, that would probably be enough toclear the family name once and for all, he decided wryly.
But it would be a hollow victory if no onewas around to enjoy it—to finish the job by proving that ElenaQuito lied about Aengus Stone on the witness stand.
“Hey, Rem. Looks like someone wants to pinanother medal on your chest.”
“Huh?”
He glanced toward the doorway and wasimmediately dazzled. Zia looked great—her long legs bare, her redsundress skimpy, her hair layered in wave upon wave down her back.She was flirting with groups of pilots and navigators as shethreaded her way through the crowd, but she had one eye on Rem atall times.
And he had both eyes on her, so much that healmost rushed over to her. But this was better, so he waited at thebar, watching and admiring, his pulse racing with insaneanticipation.
Finally she was there. “Hi, Rem.”
He slid off his bar stool and stood close toher. “Hey.”
“I love your new uniform.”
“Yeah? I like your dress.”
She flashed a mischievous smile. “Are yougoing to ask me to dance?”
“Yeah.” He licked his lips, then took her bythe arm and led her to the dance floor. He had a feeling CommanderLogan would hear about this and disapprove, but he didn’t care. Ifhe was going to die on Malara, he deserved this preemptive reward,didn’t he?
Pulling her into a close embrace, he began tosway to the music. Then he buried his face in her hair, inhalingtwo scents. One was cosmetic—lime, perhaps? The other was so primalit made his nerves implode to the drumbeat of the music. “I can’tbelieve you’re here, Zee. I wanted to come see you after I heardthe news. But Commander Logan ordered me to stay away. And Ifigured I’d see you tomorrow. At the launch.”
“Everyone’s so excited about it. Aboutyou,” she told him softly.
He tilted her face up so that he could lookinto her eyes. “I know you’re disappointed. But relieved too.Right?”
“Not exactly.”
“You’re confused? That makes sense.” Hestruggled to control his excitement at the feel, the sound, thehotness of her. “But think about it this way. You came so close. Itwas the best of both worlds. A 94.23 percent match with thegreatest hero Earth has ever known.”
She smiled up at him. “That’s what they toldyou? 94.23?” Before he could respond, she added simply, “It’s alie.”
“A lie?” Shocked back to reality, he glancedaround the dance floor, not wanting to be overheard, and knowingthat he and Zia were already the center of attention, not tomention gossip.
There was a courtyard adjoining the bar, andhe danced her toward it, his mind struggling with the possibleexplanations, all of them bad. As soon as they were alone in thetwilight, he whispered, “You’re saying it was lower than 94.23? Andyour uncle manipulated the results so we’d think it was closer?”When she just stared up
