Col looks unslept, exhausted. “Put us down ten klicks away. I want to approach on foot.”
Zura frowns but doesn’t question the order.
“You think this is a trap?” I ask.
“Your father’s been a step ahead of us since the beginning,” Col says. “Until we know who’s got the codebook, I’m not trusting anything I can’t see with my own eyes.”
“Fair enough.”
He turns away from me, his expression hard.
Col wept when he thought that Aribella was dead. But he hasn’t shed a single tear about his missing brother. Maybe he can’t cry in front of his soldiers.
Zura brings the hovercar down in a narrow gorge, where a stream has nurtured a clump of trees. For long seconds, we slew back and forth, hacking away the branches with our lifting fans.
I’m already motion-sick, and we don’t need the room to land. This last bit of rocking makes me want to either throw up or punch someone.
After another sick-making minute, we’re on the ground at last. When my hatch pops open, I jump down gratefully onto the hard earth.
Rocks scrabble under my feet. Scrubby grass climbs the walls of the gorge, and the sunset turns the distant mountains pink and orange.
I suck in gulps of fresh air.
While Col and Zura confer, the commandos hide the car under the broken branches—hence our slashing descent. I join in the work, happy for anything that stretches my cramped muscles.
It’s hard not to stare at the commandos, they move with such uncanny grace and speed.
After a long day’s training, I used to ache for surgery to make me faster, stronger. But I can see why my father never let me have it. These commandos look almost inhuman, as swift and twitchy as insects.
“So down this gorge, then north?” Col is saying. An airscreen map hovers between him and Zura, mountain passes marked in red.
“Right.” Zura points at a ridge on the screen. “We’ll need cover. A sniper rifle or two up here.”
“A plasma gun,” Col says.
She pauses to look at him. The cruel beauty of her surged face makes it clear she’s unhappy.
“In case a hovercar comes at us,” Col adds.
Still no response.
That’s when I realize—they’ve been trained not to question the orders of the Palafox heir.
“Col,” I say. “A plasma gun can take down a cliff. You don’t want one pointed in your direction, even by someone on your side.”
He gives this a moment’s thought, as if there’s any question, then nods.
“Rifles, then. But you’ll be next to me, Frey. You can carry a plasma gun, just in case.”
“Sir, I doubt she has the necessary—” Zura begins.
“We can trust her judgment,” Col says.
And that’s that.
We start off as night falls.
Col and I are in borrowed sneak suits. Mine’s the wrong size, too tight, and hot even as the desert cool comes down. Ten seconds after putting it on, the suit feels sticky inside.
I wonder if Specials sweat.
I stare down at myself as the camo adjusts, taking on the mottled browns of the desert.
Zura puts two of her commandos on overwatch duty. They scuttle up the mountainside, disappearing into the darkness of the cliffs. The last commando stays with the hovercar.
It’s quiet as we walk, our suits fading into blackness as gradually as the sky. Col’s carrying his hoverboard and bow, Zura a rifle, and I’ve got the plasma gun and my knife.
“Strange mix of firepower,” I say. “Can’t tell whether we’re hunting dinosaurs or rabbits.”
Col manages a smile at this. “I’ve still got a few explosive arrows, in case we spot a T. rex.”
“We have extra rifles, sir.” Zura sighs. “When I taught you how to use a bow, I never thought you’d bring one to a war.”
Col shrugs. “We might have to kill someone silently.”
Those words end the conversation—a reminder that this is not a hunting trip.
A moment later, Zura comes to a halt.
“Just so you two won’t be startled, there’s a small animal ahead. Probably a rabbit.”
Specials must have night vision. Better than mine, it seems, since I can’t see a thing out there.
“Check it out,” Col says. “We’ll wait.”
“But it’s just a—”
“Check it out.”
Zura salutes and heads off into the darkness.
“I hope it’s a volcano rabbit,” I say. “Still want to see one of those.”
Col smiles again, leaning his board on the ground. “They aren’t as exciting as the name implies.”
I want him to keep smiling, but jokes don’t seem right. This is the first time we’ve been alone since finding out his brother is missing.
“Col, I’m sure Teo is—”
“That’s not why I sent Zura away.” He turns to me. “You have to prepare yourself. It’s probably my mother with the codebook—I hope it is, anyway.”
“Of course. I hope so too.”
“Just know that I’ve got your back, no matter what she says or does.”
I stare at him a moment, the gears in my tired brain meshing slowly. But finally I understand.
The rebels would welcome me, with my combat training and my store of family secrets. But when Aribella learns the truth of me, how I set her family up, she might have a different opinion.
And ultimately she commands these soldiers, not Col.
Then I realize something amazing. His little brother’s missing, and Col’s worried about … me.
“I’ll be fine,” I say.
“Don’t be so sure.” He looks ahead into the darkness. “You’ve never seen my mother angry.”
“Trust me, I don’t want to.”
“Just stay calm when she gets going,” he says. “I’ll make her see who you really are.”
“Col.” For a second I can’t say more.
The words are too much. Who you really are.
“You okay?” he asks.
“It’s just … no one sees who I really am. It’s not allowed. My whole life, it’s been my job to make sure they don’t.”
“Not anymore.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. “From now on, you’re Frey. You don’t have to lie.”
The desert prisms with tears around me. It makes no sense. Col’s the one with a missing brother, a wounded city, a home of smoke and ash …
And I’m the one crying.
He’s too busy thinking about how to defend me from Aribella’s wrath.
Before today, only one person in the world has ever spoken up for me. I’ve only ever had one ally, one friend. Two seems like more than I deserve.
“Did you mean it, back there in the bunker?” I ask. “That our kiss was real?”
He sets the board on the ground and pulls me toward him, our bodies pressing tight. The sneak suits feel as thin as a film of liquid between us.
“I’m not faking anything now,” he says.
“But if it wasn’t for me, you’d be—”
“In a smoking crater. Or caught by that scout car.”
I press my ear against his chest, listening to his voice.
“And even if I’d survived all that, Frey, I’d be alone right now.”
When he swallows, I can feel the pulse of his throat.
“You aren’t alone, Col. I’m here.”
“I know.” He pulls away a little. “And I’ll make sure Jefa understands what you mean to me.”
He takes a breath to say more, but a scrabbling sound is coming from the darkness. It’s Zura coming back.
She’s running.
“Move!” she cries. “It wasn’t a rabbit!”
In my night vision, I can see something following her.
Lots of somethings.
They’re the size of rabbits, but their leaps carry them farther than any living creature. And I don’t think rabbits come in packs of a hundred—
—or hunt humans.
Col steps onto the hoverboard. “Let’s go!”
I jump on as it lifts into the air. We lean into motion, skimming downhill, loose stones skittering under the wash of our lifting fans.
With two people aboard, our top speed isn’t much. Zura is running almost even with us, her surged legs taking inhumanly long strides.
When I glance back, the things are getting closer.
They look more like one-legged frogs than rabbits, their heads wrapped in camo skin, set to blend into the rocks. Their single feet are gleaming jackknives of metal that fling them high into the air.
I have no idea what happens if they catch us.
A stream of cracks comes from above—the Specials firing down from the cliffs.
One of the jumping machines is hit and goes careening sideways. It crashes into the side of the gorge and bursts with a blinding pulse of light.
The shock wave hits a second later, swatting us off the hoverboard. We go tumbling down the sandy slope.
When I bounce back to my feet, the taste of blood is in my mouth.
The blast lingers in my night vision—I can barely make out Col, who’s been knocked to his hands and knees.
Zura skids to a halt to pull him to his feet. The board is just ahead of us, swerving to a riderless stop.
I jump on the board and look back at our pursuers. My pulse knife might take out two or three of them, but not dozens.
“What are they?” I yell.
Zura lifts Col back onto the board. “Jump mines.”
My tutors have never mentioned those.
We lift off again. If there was only one of us on this board, maybe we could climb higher than the mines can jump. But I’m not volunteering to step off.
Covering fire streams down from the cliffs. Two waves of the mines break off and head up the slopes, hunting the Specials protecting us.
The Special back at the hovercar must have heard that explosion. I hope she can fly and shoot at the same time—the car’s firepower would come in handy about now.
I’ve got the plasma gun, but I don’t know how big its blast is. Or if the recoil will knock me off the board. Or if plasma rings are bright enough to see from orbit, bringing the entire Shreve army down on us.
Col’s confidence in my judgment may have been misplaced.
I hit the priming trigger.
The gun begins to whine, its hydrogen battery growing hot. I glance back—maybe twenty of the mines are still after us. The rest are climbing up after the commandos.
The sooner I fire, the safer all of us will be.
“Brace for a weight shift!” I shout in Col’s ear.
“What are you—?”
I leap from the board, skidding to a halt in the dirt. The gun’s ready light turns green.
I shoulder the stock, aiming at the cluster of jump mines closing in on me.
And fire …
A spheromak of plasma spills from the rifle, like a smoke ring made of lightning and flame.
It streaks across the desert, lighting up the hills around us, bright as daylight. The jump mines bounding across its path flash into nothing.
The plasma ring keeps going. Mines crash together in its wake, drawn into the sudden column of turbulence.
I’ve aimed high enough that the plasma ring doesn’t take down a cliff. It just streaks away into the atmosphere, a wrathful angel of flame.
There are still a dozen mines leaping toward me. More rifle fire comes from the Specials above, taking out one, two—
I drop the hot, expended plasma gun. Draw my knife.
“Frey!”
Col has come around on the board, ready to pick me up. But Zura leaps on with him and tilts them into motion.
“Wait!” Col yells. But he’s the heir to House Palafox, and Zura is stronger and determined to save him. The board makes a wobbly turn and flies away.
Just a bodyguard doing her job, I guess.
I turn to face the jump mines.
Only eight are left coming at me. But on the cliffs above, a dozen more have reached one of the commandos. A mine soars over him, explodes in midair.
He falls.
The other commando is still shooting. More mines fall to the ground and twitch.
How many can my pulse knife take out?
Two? Three?
Racing away ahead, Col is invisible in his sneak suit, but Zura’s arm shows a bright smear of body heat. She’s been hit, her suit ripped open.
Another explosion sounds from the cliffs above. The covering fire goes silent.
I’m alone now. All I can do is run.
Then from the darkness ahead comes a sound—lifting fans.
The hovercar rises into view, its engines a bright constellation against the black sky.
I switch off my night vision just in time—the guns open up with a blinding salvo, fléchettes tearing up the desert behind me. As the car swoops a meter over my head, the rotor wash sends me sprawling.
A moment later, the mines chasing me have been cut to pieces. The car slews to a halt in the narrow gorge.
“No!” I stand up, waving. “Keep moving!”
The jump mines up on the cliffs are leaping back down.
They fall on the hovercar like exploding hail, pounding its armor. An engine fractures, and white-hot pieces fly in all directions.
I drop down and cover my head.
The hovercar tips over, hits the ground, cracks open. Two of the fans are still spinning, sending what’s left of the machine skidding sideways toward a deep gorge. The car tumbles in and down, racks of burning ammunition crackling as it falls.
I stand up, stunned and deafened.
There are exactly two jump mines left.
And they’ve spotted me.
They leap through smoke and burning wreckage, twenty meters away and closing.
I let my pulse knife fly.
It sweeps through the first one, which explodes, knocking the knife off course. It catches the second with a glancing blow.
The mine crashes and rolls across the ground, landing at my feet.
I stare down, waiting for it to detonate.
One breath. Two.
Nothing happens.
One of the jump mine’s feet jabs at the ground, trying to get it moving again. But the device only manages to roll back and forth a little, like an upended turtle.
It’s too damaged to realize that it’s right next to a target.
I stand there, motionless, counting another ten breaths.
Then, very slowly, I seal up my sneak suit till it covers everything but my eyes.
Nothing to see here.
Except—what happens when the mine decides it’s broken? Does it self-destruct?
The lurching foot finally connects with dirt, and the mine rolls against my ankle. I pretend to be a tree.
Every little clank makes me twitch.
Then I hear something worse—footsteps.
“Frey?”
“Stop,” I hiss. “Don’t move.”
“What are you …” A pause. “Oh.”
Zura’s a few meters behind me.
Two of us. Great.
“Stay back,” I whisper.
There’s no way out of this situation but to creep away and hope the mine is too damaged to spot us moving.
I slide a foot back through the dirt.
“Frey,” Zura says softly. “Wait.”
I freeze again. Give her a tiny, questioning shrug.
“Don’t move. You could set it off.”
No kidding. But is her plan for us to stand here until we starve to death?
The mine clanks once more, bumping against my ankle again. I don’t dare whisper my question aloud.
Then something flies through the dark, strikes the dirt ten meters away.
An arrow.
The broken-sounding clank comes from my feet again, the mine pushing itself off across the ground. It struggles toward the arrow for a fe
w meters, then comes to a halt again.
Another arrow whizzes past, buries itself in the dirt farther away.
The mine clanks into motion again, moving with painful slowness, a wounded animal. But with every meter, it’s less likely to kill me.
A third arrow lures it farther away.
I spot my knife hovering in the distance. Pull off a glove and signal to Col that he can stop using up his arrows.
I send my knife closer to the mine, then straight up at full pulse.
The mine hears the roar and explodes. The blast knocks me back on my heels and into Zura’s arms.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Fine.” I blink away the spots in my eyes, call the hot knife back into my hand. “But you should check on your commandos.”
“I have,” Zura says.
I turn to face her. She’s wounded, one leg bloody, staring grimly at an airscreen in her palm.
“Two suits sending null vitals. No heartbeats, no EKG.” She looks down into the gorge, where flames still flicker. “And no signal at all from Samon.”
It hits me in a slow wave—there are only the three of us left.
Col glides up on his board, staring at the airscreen blankly. At every step of this battle, the soldiers endangered themselves to protect him.
I begin to see how that constant bubble of security weighs on Rafi. How watching me injure myself again and again to protect her must have hurt.
“You were right, Col,” I say. “It was a trap.”
“No, just bad luck.” Zura closes her fist on the airscreen, snuffing it out. “Nobody sets up an ambush eight klicks out. They couldn’t have known which direction we’d come from.”
“Then what were those things?” I ask.
“The latest rebel trick,” Zura says. “Mine fields that move at random, setting up in a new place every day.”
“Rebels,” Col breathes. “How long before they show up?”
“No telling. We might get Shreve units sniffing around too, after all those fireworks. We have to move.”
I stare at them both. “Fine. But where are we going?”
For a moment, we look at one another, wreathed in dust and lit by the flames of the burning hovercar.
“Where the orders told us to go?” Zura suggests.
Impostors Page 14
