Chapter 9: Divine Auric Drake

Chloe didn't follow the tournament scene, but she'd been subjected to plenty of recorded mecha bouts. Her father made a point of keeping up with the latest military machines and tournament stars. She'd always tried to weasel out of watching the recordings before. Now she'd watch every tournament ever filmed, if she could just do it with him.

Regardless, she’d never seen one in person before.

In one sense, it seemed far more impressive. The Mother Goose's small screens and speakers couldn’t begin to match the sight and sound of dozens of powerful military or tournament mecha crunching their way across the platforms. Some showed off sleek, elegant moves, like Rudy’s Epee. Others were even more massive, but bulky, like not-very-miniature ships compressed into humanoid form. Every variety came garishly painted to show off its owner’s equally garish moniker. Crimson Phoenix, Rocket God Gil, Black Rook, Iron Bear – if she searched long enough, Chloe figured she’d run into an actual Invincible Battle Princess.

But the Mother Goose's systems didn’t capture the tournament’s smell, either, and she considered its absence a blessing. It made an unpleasant cocktail, rich with the sickly-sweet odor of coolant for mecha engines, the acrid smoke of last-minute armor and weapons tests, even the nervous sweat of the individual mechaneers. The warm sea breeze, far from providing a pleasant contrast, only served to stir the stinking mix to new levels.

Chloe wished she had her flight suit. Even leaving aside the immodesty of the getup Rudy gave her, the suit could filter the air or even offer up a few blissful minutes from its internal supply.

She wished she had Gosling Two. Its life support systems were good for hours.

Of course, considering the number of wishes she’d made lately, and the number she’d had fulfilled, it hardly surprised her that the scent continued to assail her nostrils.

The rest of Rudy’s pit crew didn’t improve her mood. They watched her with sullen resentment, and, she thought, even a trace of menace. Considering the number of dangers inherent in rapidly repairing and refueling mecha, Chloe wished she hadn’t thought of the latter.

Rudy emerged from the Epee’s cockpit. He jumped from the boarding ladder to land beside her. “You want to grab something to eat before the preliminaries?”

Chloe frowned. “Shouldn’t we go over your pre-mission preparations or something?”

She heard muffled laughter from the pit crew. She tried to ignore it.

“I don’t have to screw around with these preliminary rounds,” Rudy said. “My record’s good enough to bypass them entirely.”

“Oh.”

As she followed Rudy toward the lifts, she caught something along the lines of “not even a fan” from the pit crew.

She hung her head as the lift carried them up into the stands.

“Don’t let them bug you,” Rudy said. “They figure I’m letting you fool around back there because you’re my girlfriend.”

“Why are you letting me fool around back there?” Chloe asked. “That’s all I’m doing. I really don’t know what’s going on.”

“I told you not to worry about it.”

“But –”

He silenced her by pointing at a group of uniformed men. “Look, there’s the Reformer delegation.”

Chloe paled. “What are they doing here?”

“Whenever there’s a military vessel in orbit during a tournament, they always send their best pilots ‘to defend the honor of the Federal Navy,’” Rudy said. “Geez, you really aren’t a fan, are you? Anyway, I was hoping to feel them out a little.”

Chloe managed to grow paler still, which she wouldn’t have imagined possible. “Y… you want to talk to them?”

“Hiding in plain sight,” he said. He flashed a confident grin, but it didn’t put Chloe’s mind at ease. “How else do you expect to find your parents? Blind luck?”

By a hunch, Chloe thought. But in three weeks, she hadn’t received any about her parents, or anything else. Her intuition’s silence terrified her. Did it mean her parents weren’t around to get hunches about?

She didn’t have time to think about it, because Rudy’s arm had found its way around her uncomfortably bared waist and his stride led her toward the cluster of uniformed men.

Their apparent leader, a tall, platinum-blonde man in a sleek gold and dark green flight suit, turned his amber eyes to Rudy and Chloe. He had to be the handsomest man Chloe had ever seen, by far. Even when his amazing eyes were narrowed to slits with suspicion. “Crimson Phoenix.” His voice, though like his eyes low and wary at the moment, was every bit as deep and melodic as she imagined it.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Well if it isn’t the Divine Auric Drake,” Rudy said. He grinned. “What’s that hunk of junk the Reformer doing out here? Shouldn’t your mighty self be defending the capital from our numberless foes?”

“My business here does not concern you,” the navy man said. “Nor am I interested in yours. The young lady, on the other hand…”

Before Chloe could react, the navy man took her hand and bent to kiss it. His hypnotic eyes smiled up at her.

She flushed.

“Who is this beautiful creature slaved to your crude service, Crimson Phoenix?”

“Chloe,” Rudy said.

Chloe fought back an urge to whirl on him and demand an explanation. Did he mean to turn her over to the Federal Navy after all?

“A lovely name for a lovely maiden.”

“T, thank you, sir,” Chloe managed.

Rudy stepped between them. “All right, Marcel, you’ve made your point. Unhand my girl.”

“But Crimson Phoenix, you have yet to properly introduce us.” The navy man released Chloe’s hand and stepped back far enough to offer a polite bow. “I am Marcel Avalon, Second Admiral of the Federal Navy and commander of the destroyer Reformer.”

“It’s an honor, Admiral Avalon,” Chloe stammered.

“You may call me Marcel.”

She nodded enthusiastically. A first name basis seemed less incriminating than including the ‘Hughes’ in her name.

“Marcel Avalon,” Rudy said, “Chloe Derringer. You may call her my new secret weapon.”

Avalon raised a magnificent platinum eyebrow.

“She’s a good luck charm,” Rudy said, “and a trained mechanic.”

Avalon laughed. “And here I thought you meant she would improve your piloting, Crimson Phoenix.”

“Well, I’m afraid that’s impossible.” Rudy heaved an exaggerated sigh. “No room to improve on perfection.”

Chloe felt like sighing, too. She didn’t see how any of this helped find her parents or win the tournament.

With a start, she realized she actually cared about the latter, too.

Only natural, she supposed. Rudy had helped her a lot, and in doing so possibly risked a great deal of trouble from men like Marcel Avalon. Why shouldn’t she pull for him to win, when it obviously meant a lot to him?

She couldn’t afford to get too grateful. Whatever else happened, finding and rescuing her parents took precedence. If Rudy Kaine Algreil thought otherwise, he would be in for a rude surprise.

Avalon’s rich tenor drew her back to the moment. “Perhaps you and your delightful ‘mechanic’ would consent to join us at the planetary governor’s box, Crimson Phoenix. No one else in this tournament seems likely to present a challenge, and I prefer to know my enemies.”

Rudy shrugged. “What do you think, Chloe? Wanna spend the preliminaries with this stiff?”

A great part of Chloe wanted very much to spend the preliminaries with Avalon. The rest of her, the sentient part, was terrified to do so, not least because of the effect he had on her at an instinctive level. “I’d like to, but…”

“Fine by me,” Rudy said. He motioned toward the screened off and heavily shielded private boxes above the arena. “Lead on.”

Lead Avalon did, flanked by a trio of other flight-suited mechaneers and a lone bridge officer in naval dress uniform. They fanned out to surround their guests.

Chloe cast a nervous glance at Rudy.

He winked.

She didn’t know what to make of his eagerness to throw them both into the proverbial lion’s den. She didn’t dare make a scene to stop it, lest she rouse suspicion with their Federal Navy escort.

Unless…

“Wait, Rudy,” she said, grabbing his arm. “I can’t go to the private boxes dressed like this, can I?”

“Doesn’t bother me,” he said. “How about you, oh Divine Auric Drake?”

“A lady of such rare beauty shines through the drab attire she’s no doubt acquired from associating with the likes of you,” Avalon said.

“Well it bothers me,” Chloe said. “It’s embarrassing. Please?”

Rudy’s face creased in annoyance. “Don’t be stupid, Chloe. It’s a mecha stadium, not a ballroom. Who cares how you’re dressed?”

“I care.”

“Fine.” Rudy threw up his hands. “Sorry, Marcel. Maybe we’ll catch up with you later.”

“An unfortunate development,” Avalon said. “Nonetheless, I can understand your desire to conform to the caprice of this beautiful nymph. I’m sure your accounts will cover her desire for proper attire, no?”

Rudy didn’t bother answering. He returned Chloe’s grip and all but dragged her from the encircling officers.

“Until we meet again,” Avalon said, “Crimson Phoenix, Miss Derringer.”

He turned crisply and strode into the crowd, who parted for him as though he were a laser cutter. His men fell in behind him.

Rudy guided Chloe into an alcove and gripped her shoulders, hard enough to hurt. “What the hell got into you back there? You trying to make a fool of me or something?”

“I –”

“I’m trying to help you out, but if you ever pull crap like that, Chloe, you are gone.”

“What? What did I do?”

“What did you –! You embarrassed me in front of Marcel Avalon, that’s what. A former Etemenos Cup champion. A guy I’ve beaten. And now he loses all respect for me, and so does anybody else who was watching.”

Chloe drew back. “Why would he lose respect for you?”

“Fighting is all about control,” Rudy said, shaking his head in disgust. He released her arms and turned away. “How can I control a battlefield if I can’t even control my own so-called girlfriend?”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said.

Rudy didn’t answer.

She risked reaching out to clasp one of his shaking shoulders. “Being around all those Feds made me nervous,” she whispered. “If I’d known it would make you lose face, I wouldn’t have done it. Honest.”

“I know,” Rudy spat. He pounded a fist into his palm. His voice dropped as he repeated the words, his anger apparently spent.

“If there’s any way to make it up to you –”

“Just one.” He turned. His cocky grin returned to its customary place. “Make sure I don’t lose.”