Rem exhaled in relief. “You had me worried. Iwas sure you still wanted to make that damned robot dance.”
“Are you kidding? I do my partying withhumans, not mechs.” Her eyes twinkled. “Your solution is much moremy style. We’ll go to Malara and be heroes together without firinga single shot. Right?”
“Right.” He hesitated, then stood and leanedinto her, ready to return her kiss and take a little more, but shepulled away again.
“I have a limo waiting, so . . . Go have funat your party. But don’t fall in love with anyone else tonight,okay?”
“Don’t worry,” he promised in a hoarse voicecompletely unfamiliar to his ears.
She flashed a final smile, then disappearedback into the bar, leaving him to stand and grin like an idiot,alone but no longer lonely.
“Hey, Rem!” One of his best buddies appearedin the doorway. “She ditched you? Big surprise. Come on back inhere. We’ve got a bunch of jokes—I mean, tributes—ready for you.You’re the guest of honor, so start acting like it.”
He laughed, knowing that they would now roasthim with stories of his various screwups and misadventures—romanticand military—during their five long years together. He didn’tusually enjoy this sort of ribbing, but for once he could afford torelax and enjoy it. His family name was going to be vindicated—thatwas just a matter of time now. Lieutenant Jeremiah Stone was goingto see to that.
And so maybe, just for once, he could simplybe “Rem” tonight. That actually sounded pretty frigging goodtoo.
* * * *
By the time Zia returned to the Hacienda, itwas almost nine thirty, and the sun had long since set. She stoppedby her uncle’s office to say good night, but there was no sign ofhim, which was just what she had hoped. It only took a second tograb the solenoid—a tiny energy-packed glass sphere that he kept onhis desk as a symbol of all things Quito. It had once belonged toQuito the Great. And tomorrow, Jared Quito would hand it toAmbassador Humber as part of the launch ceremony. But tonight, itwas all Zia’s.
Hurrying to her room, she changed from herred dress into her black warm-up suit. Then she bundled her hairinto a knot and smeared charcoal eye shadow across her cheeks andforehead so that she wouldn’t reflect any lights as she snuckacross the compound toward the giant.
Her heart was pounding, even though she hadrun off like this dozens of times—sometimes to do somethingdangerous, and always to do something forbidden. But this was newterritory, doing something that could actually kill her. Scrambleher brains, as Rem had described it.
You scored ninety-five! It won’t kill you.It’ll welcome you like an old friend, she scolded herself.Don’t fall for Rem Stone’s mind grubbing. He can’t decide ifhe’s your best friend, your sworn enemy, or some guy who wants tosack you. One thing’s for sure, he’s not your hero, despite what hesupposedly promised Grandpa.
She had been so sure he’d help her, but nowshe was relieved he had turned her down. She didn’t want to get himinto trouble, or ruin his chances of being president someday. Plus,she didn’t need him. She had the solenoid and her air boots. Whatmore did any girl need for her first date with a colossus?
Workmen had moved the giant robot into theopen in preparation for the launch ceremony, after which it wouldbe loaded into a cargo vessel along with the skirmisher for thelong trip to Malara. According to her uncle, it had taken hours tomove the giant. Unlike the skirmisher, which had been piloted outof the hangar and onto the field, the colossus couldn’t be piloted,or even safely activated, and so they had had to tow it—thousandsof pounds of steel, titanium, and weaponry.
As Zia crept along the edges of the field,she kept her eyes on the prize. It was only partially illuminatedby the runway lights and a single spotlight that lit up its face.That alone was almost enough to keep intruders away. The steel hadbeen shaped by Malaran craftsmen into a forbidding expression. Andof course there was the fact that the head rose out of powerfulshoulders that were twelve feet in width. Even without any color,or maybe because of that, it was a frightening sight.
The only splashes of paint on this robot werethe red epaulets on his shoulders and his scarlet breastplate. Ziahad seen vids of other giants in battle and knew that Malaranpilots were allowed to design their own color schemes, sometimesgoing to elaborate lengths to re-create family crests or detailedMalaran dragons.
“If this works, I promise I won’t paint youpink,” she told the robot as she crept up to it. “Just don’t fry mybrain, okay?”
She could see the door in the side of thechest cavity, and knew it wasn’t locked. The only lock, accordingto reliable sources, was the one allowing the pilot to keepintruders out, so it was on the inside of the robot.
Taking a deep breath, she activated her airboots and rose slowly, staying in the shadow of the giant’sweaponized arm. When she reached the portal, she discovered therewas no knob or handle, so she ran her fingers along the edge untilshe found a recessed latch. Immediately, the four-foot panel beganto open outward toward her.
Hopping into the dark, cavernous interior,she pulled the door closed behind her, then gave her eyes a fewseconds to adjust to the light—or rather, the lack thereof. Shehadn’t thought to bring a flash-stick, and realized she might haveencountered her first real challenge. Even if she could discoverthe spot where the solenoid fit, she didn’t dare install it untilshe was absolutely ready, for fear it would power up in a way thatwould alert the guards, either by sight or sound.
Opening the door again seemed like the onlysafe recourse, so she did so slowly. It only took a two-inch sliverof light to make the necessary difference, and she prayed itwouldn’t be noticeable from the field. Then she stood back andsurveyed the piloting chamber.
It was a large room filled with instruments,but most of those appeared to have nothing to do with the pilot,since there was no way they
