She licked her chapped lips. “I guess you’remaking sense. Do you think Rem will be back soon?”
“I am certain his return is imminent.”
“Don’t tell him I acted so crazy,please?”
Young Annur smiled. “It is our secret.” Hebegan to loosen her restraints. “Are you hungry yet?”
“No. Just icky. Any chance I could take ashower?”
“Of course. You will find your uniformwaiting for you in the shower area.” Stepping back, he touched hisfist to his chest and told her in a voice rich with hope, “Welcometo Malara, Captain Quito. May you pilot your giant to victoryagainst Alluva, and return to your planet a hero.”
She didn’t want to admit that her onlyambition at that moment was to take a shower without slipping, soshe remained silent as she tested her bare feet on Malaran ground.Then she realized that the other members of the medicalstaff—including the nurse whom she had apparently spit on—weresaluting her the same way Annur was. Acknowledging them with arueful smile, she silently reminded herself that they were all deadwrong—she wasn’t here to pilot a giant. Her only job was to mindgrub the Alluvans by creating the illusion she might join thebattle.
Apparently to the Malarans, that was a subtledistinction. She only hoped that to Humber and the Malaran ministryit was crystal clear. Otherwise, she intended to be on the nexttransport back to Earth.
* * * *
Rem paced the streets of Pangua, the capitalof Malara, cursing the incompetent fools that had allowed him tovolunteer for duty here, and worse, had allowed Zia to come along.He had believed himself prepared for this—the dirty Malaran air,the resultant twilight even when the sun was high in the sky, thebizarre creatures who passed by and stared at him as thoughhe were the odd one.
Even with his respirator firmly clasped overhis mouth and nose, he was sure he was inhaling grit. He couldn’tsee it of course—perhaps because of the goggles protecting hiseyes—but he could feel the particles on his skin, and sensed moreof them in his path. This was the reason Malarans had such enormouschests—to house two sets of lungs. Or rather, one set of lungs andanother of pre-lungs, which filtered the particles and sent them toan auxiliary stomach, where they were digested and processed. Asstrange as it seemed, Rem knew that the Malarans could not survivefor long without this “nutrient.” Those who visited Earth actuallyhad to inhale a special blend of “particulated” air twice a dayfrom a breathing machine to ensure proper functioning of theirdigestive systems.
But humans couldn’t breathe this atmospherefor more than a minute or two without damaging their lungs. And ifan Earthling spent more time than that, or exerted himself in thisenvironment unprotected, he would die a slow, painful death.
“Nice place,” he muttered into his oxygenatoras he clenched his fists at his sides. “Tell me again why we’re sohot to save it?”
A Malaran female walked past him, her tworows of furry breasts prominent. She had five children hanging offher, and Rem realized sheepishly that three of them were infantswho needed those breasts to survive. The other two, who were olderand looked like twins, were laughing and joking. One had a toy inhis hand—a miniature replica of a giant robot made completely ofsilver metal except for a few splashes of crimson.
Quito’s giant.
The child pointed at Rem, and the mothersmiled warmly, as though she recognized and admired the humanpilot. Was it true? Did they all know about him—the Earthling whohad come here with Daniel Quito’s granddaughter to fightAlluva?
As the mother hurried away, her other youngmale twin gave Rem a wave, then pulled a toy from his vestpocket.
A skirmisher—fiery red with sliver trim.
Rem’s skirmisher.
Charmed, Rem waved back. Then for the firsttime since his angry walk had begun, he slowed to a stop and lookedat this strange environment through new eyes. Yes, the light wasdim. And certainly, the folks were huge and hairy. But that wasn’tthe whole story. The place was alive and bustling with Malarans onfoot and in air scooters. Above them, on the tops of tallbuildings, were three-dimensional billboards, each one depicting awarrior scenario—robots, battles, clashes of some sort. Remcouldn’t begin to read the writing, but he guessed that this wasMalaran advertising, touting a myriad of products by using theincentive Malarans understood best—robot warfare.
They love this stuff, he remindedhimself. You’ve got that in common with them, at least. ThoseMalaran kids would give anything to sneak into a hangar and touch askirmisher. They dream of the glory of a warrior challenge. Ofbeing a mech pilot. Just like you.
He turned and walked back toward thehospital, inspired by the thought. As a child, he really haddreamed of that. Then that dream had been crowded out by the needto vindicate his father. To avenge the Stone name. To crush theQuitos.
But the hours he had spent in the Haciendahangar had been different. He was just a kid again during thosemoments, imagining himself piloting a mech, clashing with Alluvanwarriors in the Battle of the Canyons side by side with Quito theGreat. For an hour or so, every once in a while, it had been Stoneand Quito on the same side again. Not rivals. Not enemies. Butrather allies, bound by honor, watching each other’s backs.
Now his dream was coming true, but it wouldbe Zia’s back he’d be watching. She was so brave. So inspiring.He’d do almost anything for her. Anything but turn his back on hisfather. She needed to understand that. And so, even if Rem’sresponse to the OmniVid reporter had been painful for her, maybe itwas for the best. For both of them.
Don’t think
