Blushing, she knelt up on the bed so thatthey were eye to eye, then she leaned forward and kissed himgently. He wanted to stay in control, but couldn’t resist slidinghis hand down her bare arm again, then down along her shirt untilhis fingers contacted the furless skin of her soft, silky thigh.She didn’t balk, so he deepened their kiss until their tongues andbodies were breathlessly tangled together.
Mech battle, mech battle, mech battle. . .. Pull it together, Stone!
Stepping back, he said hoarsely, “Tonight.Okay? It’s a date?”
Her cheeks were scarlet with excitement. “Ifwe’re still on Malara, it’s a date.” Jumping off the bed, shegrabbed a fresh uniform from a hook beside her armoire and dashedfor the bathroom. But not before he got an eyeful of long hairlesslegs.
Immediately he put the image from his mind,forcing himself to picture skirmishers and giants instead. Becauseif that battle cruiser launched without him aboard, he was going tohave to gouge out his traitorous eyeballs.
* * * *
The scene aboard the airship was filled withcontradictions: grim-faced soldiers patrolling the corridors; eagerobservers peering through huge windows as though on a sightseeingtour; and across one entire wall, a sumptuous buffet that remindedZia of the fancy spreads in the cloud-boxes at the sky paddlechampionship games she attended with her uncle every year.
“Yum.” She nibbled from a plate ofappetizers. “Is this cheese? I didn’t even know you had cows onMalara.”
“We do not,” Humber told her. “But there aremany sources of milk here.”
Zia felt her stomach sour, and didn’t blameRem when he announced, “I can’t eat anyway. I’ll be over there withthe other pilots. I want to see the island the minute it comes intoview.”
When Rem was a safe distance away, Humbersmiled. “He is so eager for the battle. But attentive to you too, Ihave noticed.”
“He’s got a lot on his mind. A lot ofresponsibility. But so do you.” She bit her lip. “He told me aboutthe escape plan. That’s why you’re here, right? When you should beon the prime minister’s battle cruiser? I’m sure that’s moreprestigious—”
“It is prestigious to be with Daniel Quito’sgranddaughter. The prime minister wanted to have you as his guest,but his advisors worried it might make his ship a target for theVekzori as soon as they realize you are not one of thecombatants.”
“How will they know? You said the rules don’tmake you identify the pilots.”
“Everyone knows what the Quito giant lookslike,” he reminded her. “And they will recognize Carrak’s in aninstant too. In her own way, she is equally famous, although Quitowas a greater phenomenon because he was human.”
“And because he toppled a giant with askirmisher,” Zia reminded him proudly. “Don’t forget aboutthat.”
“Never.” Humber chuckled. “Go and be withyour friends. You do not want to miss a moment. I will be in thecommunications area if you need me.”
“Waiting for a signal that you need to whiskme back to Earth?”
“I do not anticipate that. But yes, we needto be ready.”
“Poor Humber. I wish you could just relax andenjoy the battle,” she began, then she laughed at herself. “Yeeesh,I’m as bad as Rem. Like this is a good thing.”
“It is a magnificent thing,” Humber assuredher. “The cornerstone of Malaran culture, and our greatest sourceof pride. You will understand shortly. Go and watch with yourattentive bodyguard.”
“Okay.” She wandered over to where Rem hadjoined Gannor and Maryak. They had a view of the other two Malaranbattle cruisers, which were also speeding toward the challengesite, where they would meet up with the transport carrying theirmechs and pilots. Alluva’s brigade—also three cruisers and a mechtransport—was already on site according to the news vids that wereflashing across overhead screens. Each side would offload theirrobots soon, and then, precisely at noon, the battle wouldcommence.
Zia noted that Maryak and Gannor werestanding a few feet apart, rather than entwined in one another’sarms. She was about to ask Maryak if they had had a fight, thenrealized it was because Gannor couldn’t afford any witnesses whomight report signs of inappropriate hotplay to Carrak.
Assuming Carrak survives . . .
Zia looked around herself in quietresignation. Everyone was so enthralled. Animated. Unbelievablyalive and energized.
Everyone except her. All she could thinkabout—care about—was whether Maryak’s mother would survive thebattle. Maryak apparently didn’t see it in those terms, but Ziaknew better. She knew that if Carrak died, Maryak would bedevastated. And the poor girl didn’t even see it coming.
Zia knew all about that kind of ignorance. Itwas still fresh in her mind, even though three full years hadpassed since the night her mother’s presidential shuttle hadcrashed into bits. Zia had been partying with friends, howling withlaughter at a new comedy vid, when the press secretary had arrivedto tell her the news: Elena Quito had died instantly. Jared Quitowas the new president as of 11:47 p.m. And Zia Quito needed to comehome right away.
Sobered by the memory, Zia patted Maryak’sarm. “Did you get a chance to talk to your mom last night?”
“Yes. We dined together.”
“Oh, what a relief.”
Maryak shrugged. “Nothing was said. She wasvery tired. Confident, though. She is always confident.”
“You must be so proud of her.”
“Yes.”
Zia gave her a warm hug. “She’ll kick theirasses back to Alluva.”
“I am sure of it,” Maryak agreed. Then shepointed at the window. “Look, there is the island of Jairqua. Thebattle site.”
“Oh, God.” Zia’s stomach took a dive, and shewondered how the others could behave so normally. This was it,wasn’t it? There was no turning back. Not that there had ever been,but still, every new milestone seemed to seal their collective doomeven more certainly.
“Do you see why Malara chose this location,Zia?” Maryak was asking her. “The terrain is demanding. So muchsand and dense vegetation. So many dunes.”
Zia nodded, remembering how the maneuvers hadtaken place in a variety of spots on the practice fields during thedays before the site was announced to Alluva. But during the lastfive days, Rem and the others had spent most of their time sloggingthrough sand, up and down hills, and basically clawing their waythrough brush. Now she understood why.
“It’s a jungle,” Zia agreed. “But the beachesare gorgeous. Is it a vacation resort too?”
“No, the
