The office door was open, and Zia started toknock on the jamb, then stopped herself. Carrak’s attention wasfocused on a small screen beside her observation window. It was avid of the prelaunch press conference back on Earth—the one whereRem had made his offensive comments. But Carrak wasn’t watchingthat portion. She was focused on an image of Zia responding to aquestion from the vid press.
“Tell us about your experience with the giantlast night,” the reporter was asking. “What were your feelings whenyou put the helmet on?”
“Honestly?” Zia responded in a soft,breathless voice. “I felt like my life was just beginning. Like itfinally had a purpose.”
Carrak murmured “replay” and the scenerepeated, giving Zia a chance to confirm what she had seen. Theimage on the monitor was captivating. Her eyes shining, her voicehushed—and Zia remembered why. She really had beentransformed, at least for a short time, by her experience with thecolossus. That feeling had faded during the long journey to Malara,but watching this now, she could almost remember it—the surge ofpower, the sense of connection. Of fusion with the mech.
And then: synergy.
“Carrak?”
The general spun toward Zia and scowled. “Idid not send for you.”
“Why are you watching that?”
“I am interested in Captain Stone’s speechabout his father.”
“No.” Zia walked up to the desk. “You werewatching 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 motionedfor Zia to take a seat. “You want to know why I watch you? BecauseI want to believe you have Daniel Quito’s strong heart. I have seenglimpses of it in you. And I see it in this vid. I try to convincemyself it is enough. But it is not. You are silly andundisciplined.”
“Well, it’s not like you made an effort todiscover if I had any real talent. I was ready to try, youknow.”
“No. You refused to cooperate,” Carrakreminded her curtly.
“Because you threw me in the kiddy pool! Youwere intentionally trying to humiliate me.”
“No! That is your skill level. You are notready for the pilot’s simulator yet.”
Zia rolled her eyes. “I guess we’ll neverknow, will we?” Regretting the disrespectful tone, she addedquickly, “The reason I came in here was to tell you I’m willing totry 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 hostileexpression. “Because you wish to be a pilot?”
“I already am a pilot.”
“You would like to pilot a colossus intomorrow’s challenge?”
“No. Obviously I’m not ready for that.But eventually, I’m willing to do whatever it takes. WhateverMalara needs. If you get that desperate, it’ll be a bad sign for meanyway. The Vekzori and the Alluvans want to kill me, and if welose, they’ll get that chance. So why not go out in a blaze ofglory, right?”
Carrak shrugged. “It would take years oftraining to bring you to the necessary level. You do not have theattention span, or the commitment, for that. You wish a blaze ofglory, but that blaze must start with a spark that is carefullytended and fueled by hard work and discipline.” Leaning forward,she asked Zia, “If we prevail against Alluva, are you willing tospend the next five years here? Training to be a mech pilot?”
“No,” Zia admitted sadly.
“I did not think so.” Carrak stood and gaveher a smile that was more like a sneer. “It does not matter. Youstill have great value. Your presence here confuses Alluva. Theyfear you may have talent and discipline, and may even topple agiant the way Daniel Quito did. It is a powerful psychologicalweapon, and we are grateful to you for it.”
“Right.” Zia got up and moved toward thedoor, feeling depressed and useless. Then she remembered the realreason she had come to Carrak’s office, so she turned back towardthe desk. “Good luck in the challenge, General. You’re a true hero,and that’s what Malara needs right now. So . . . I’ll be rootingfor you tomorrow.”
“Thank you. Close the door behind yourselfnow.”
Once a bitch, always a bitch, Ziacomplained to herself, but it didn’t ring true. Carrak had a rightto be judgmental and arrogant. She had earned it through years ofhard work and heroism. To Zia’s surprise, she felt almost jealousof the general, even though she wouldn’t trade places with her foranything. Carrak was so isolated. So unfeeling and alone, eventhough she had a bright, talented daughter in the very next room.What kind of life was that? Certainly not one Zia would everwant to lead.
But tomorrow, she’ll put the helmet on.Remember how that felt?
Zia shook her head, confused. Because asstrange as it seemed, she was pretty sure Carrak wouldn’t changeplaces with her either.
Which either meant they were both right, orboth wrong. And it was too late for either of them to find outwhich.
* * * *
Rem had never been so tired in his life.Practicing to be a hero was exhausting enough, but helping someoneelse attain that status? Goading them, prodding them, challengingthem? Doing everything you could to ensure that theysucceeded?
That was a real killer. Every muscle in hisbody ached, and a few bones too. All he could think about wastaking a hot Malaran shower, downing a quick protein shake, andhitting the cot early so he could be up at dawn, rested and readyfor the pageantry of Challenge Day.
But first he had to find Zia, and that wasproving more difficult than he expected. She wasn’t on theobservation deck, which was frustrating for two reasons. It meantshe could be anywhere in the building. And it meant she hadn’twitnessed Rem’s feats of prowess on the practice fields.
He began searching the five stories of thebuilding, one by one, growing more concerned by the minute. Hetrusted Gannor to be brave in the face of any Vekzor attack. Butlately, it was Maryak who presented the real threat,
