“I’ll be back in two minutes,” he replied,saluting her smartly. Then with a warning glance at Rem, he strodedown the hall toward the lavatories.
“So?” she demanded, trying to sound asannoyed as possible.
Rem took her by the arm and steered her intothe dormitory, then closed the door behind them. Then he confessedwith a sheepish smile, “I can’t sleep in the men’s dorm. It’s toofar from you. Can I grab a bunk here? That way, I can help Haradaif the Vekzori make a move.”
“They’ve made their move—the big one.To kill me now would be counterproductive.” She leaned against thewall to take the pressure off her aching body. “Why aren’t you inpain too? You spent two hours in the simulator yourself today.”
Rem chuckled. “I don’t get hit very oftenanymore. That’s the whole idea. You learn to anticipate theopponent’s moves just to avoid the impacts and the burns. You’lllearn too. Trust me, pain is the best teacher.”
She smiled wistfully, knowing there weren’tenough hours left for her to test that theory. “You can sleep in abunk by the door as long as you don’t try to talk to me. I’m toobeat, Rem. Really.”
“Yeah, I can see that.”
“The Vekzori are as sick as the otherMalarans by now, you know. They couldn’t assassinate me even ifthey wanted to.”
He shook his head. “They might have anantidote. Or at least, since they were on notice, they might haveused O2 masks during the worst of it to keep themselvesfrom getting infected.”
“That’s true,” she admitted. “I hate thosecowards so much. Endangering children and civilians this way. Iheard that a couple of babies have already died. I keep wonderinghow many other casualties there have been.”
“Actually, Carrak says there haven’t been toomany. The symptoms are harsh, but as long as the victims stayhydrated and get enough rest, they’ll make it through.”
“That’s good, at least.” She pointed to anearby bunk. “Sleep there. No more talking. I’ll see you in themorning.”
“Zee?” He stepped up to her. “I know you’rescared—”
“Don’t baby me, Rem. It makes it worse.”
“Yeah, that makes sense.” He exhaled sharply.“I just want you to know, you’re not the only one. We’re allconfused and scared.”
“But we’re mech pilots, so we power up andget through it.”
“Yeah.” He chuckled, then cleared his throat.“Just for the record, I think I might be falling in love withyou.”
“Does it matter? We’ll both be dead beforethe week is over. And even if we weren’t, it would be over when wewent home and you cleared your dad’s name by trashing Mom’s. Sojust drop it, okay?”
“Zee—”
“Drop it now or go back to the men’sdorm. I’m too frigging tired to argue about it anymore.”
“Okay, okay.”
“Don’t bring it up again, Rem. Not ever. Imean it.” She pushed past him and opened the door, thensmiled at Harada, who was standing guard again, his expressiongrim.
“Captain Stone is going to sleep here too. Ifyou need anything, wake us up. Meanwhile, we’ll leave this dooropen. Okay?”
The bodyguard grimaced but nodded. “Whateveryou want, Captain.”
“Thanks. I appreciate the supportiveattitude. See you in the morning.”
She saw that Rem had already climbed into hisbunk, so she returned to hers without saying another word. Shecouldn’t wait to get back under the covers and fall asleep. Tearswere streaming down her cheeks, but she needed to ignore thembecause they didn’t mean anything—at least, not anything new.
She and Rem had never had a chance for a realfuture together. He had warned her about that from the start, andhe had been right. Ironically, it didn’t really matter now, becauseas she had so bluntly explained to him, neither one of them had afuture anyway, together or separately.
But they could still play a part in thefuture of others by making a lasting contribution to it, just liketheir grandfathers had done. Hadn’t they both been raised to dojust that? Hearing the stories, seeing the Quito mechs—their wholelives had been a pageant leading up to this moment. But there wasonly so much their grandfathers could bestow on them throughstories and DNA. Now it was time for them to earn theirlegacies.
To go out in a blaze of glory . ..
“Which means: no crying,” she chided herselfas she burrowed into the bunk, searching for a sleeping positionthat didn’t make her back hurt. But there wasn’t one, so she justimagined how Daniel Quito must have felt after his first mechbattle, and somehow, that was enough to help her fall asleep.
* * * *
For Zia’s first lesson in the colossus,Carrak insisted on unhooking herself from her IV, getting up out ofher wheelchair, and accompanying the new pilot right into the mech.They donned jet boots, and then, since the air was now hostile toMalarans as well as humans, they each affixed oxygenators overtheir noses and mouths before striding onto the practicefields.
Zia had learned a lot during the lasttwenty-four hours—not just about piloting, but about the mentalityneeded to be a true warrior. Rem and Carrak, along with the handfulof Malaran soldiers who were still on their feet, simply refused toacknowledge the possibility of defeat. In fact, they seemedoblivious to the insane obstacles—including the full-fledgedpandemic—that confronted them.
They focused on preparation, usually withserious faces, but never with temperamental displays or sulking,and often with humor and good spirits. At first, Zia had found itdifficult to mimic their attitudes while hiding her own fears andemotions, but it was getting easier and easier to take her cue fromthem.
And so, as she and Carrak approached theQuito colossus on the practice field, she smiled up at the giant asthough it really was her grandfather. Then she playfully introducedCarrak as the hero of Zellot. To her delight, Carrak went alongwith the charade, giving the colossus a fist-chest salute soboisterous it induced a thirty-second coughing jag.
Activating their jet boots, they soared tothe hatch and entered. As soon as they had secured the door, Carrakpulled off her oxygenator, but she urged Zia to wait until thegiant had powered up and the filter was running before doing thesame.
“I just love it in here,” Zia admitted. “Ihave no idea what
