by Brandon Mull
“Dalton and I are looking for some friends,” Cole said. “Googol told us you might be able to help.”
“Possibly,” Forge said. “Who are the friends?”
“We came here from Outside,” Cole said. “A bunch of other kids were brought here with us as slaves.”
“I noticed Dalton’s mark,” Forge said. “But you have a freemark.”
“It was a bondmark at first,” Cole said. “Long story. Anyhow, the High King bought the slaves with shaping powers and shipped them around the Outskirts. I found Dalton in Elloweer.”
“Do they have names?” Forge asked.
“Jenna Hunt,” Cole said. “Blake Daniels. Lacie Clark. Sarah, um, what’s Sarah’s last name?”
“I don’t know,” Dalton said. “I didn’t really know many of those kids well.”
“It might start with a P,” Cole said. “Anyhow, especially look for Jenna Hunt.”
“You know she came here?” Forge asked.
“No idea,” Cole said. “I just know she’s not in Elloweer.”
“The records I can check only cover Zeropolis,” Forge said. “And it’s a big city. I’ve lost access to some of our best databanks because they’ve swapped out crystals. Sometimes slaves are given aliases, especially new slaves, to wipe out the old life. I can’t guarantee success, but I’ll look.”
“What do you expect to do if you find somebody?” Roulette asked.
“Talk to them,” Cole said. “Free them if I can.”
“Fair warning,” Roulette said, folding her arms. “Freeing slaves doesn’t go over well. Once that mark is on there, you can’t really hide.”
“We freed Dalton,” Cole said.
“You found Dalton,” Trickster corrected. “You helped him escape. He’s not free. He still has his bondmark. He has to pose as a slave. That’s the best you can offer any slave. And if you take too many slaves, you get burned.”
“There are a lot of former slaves in the Unseen,” Roulette said.
“But they have to stay unseen,” Trickster said. “They can’t live normal lives.”
“This is still way better than actual slavery,” Dalton said.
“You were in Elloweer?” Forge asked.
“Yeah,” Dalton said.
“I can draft some ownership documents to match your new ID cards,” Forge said. “You want to belong to Cole?”
“Sure,” Dalton said.
“What about me?” Jace protested.
“Anyone but Jace,” Dalton replied. “No offense.”
“I’d be a good master,” Jace said. “I’m way more fun than Cole.”
“You can really create slave documents for Dalton?” Mira asked.
“I can make it all look fully legal,” Forge said. “Googol wants you to have the royal treatment.”
“Good,” Roulette said. “They could use haircuts.”
Cole fingered his hair. It was getting pretty long. He hadn’t cut it since . . . when? A few weeks before coming to the Outskirts?
“Your fakes are good?” Dalton asked.
Forge chuckled. “There’s a reason Googol sent you here.”
“He’s the best,” Trickster said. “As far as tech goes, this is Outpost 139. The cards won’t be fakes. Forge uses the same equipment as the government, and stashes the info in all the same places. These ID cards will be real.”
“Thanks for the oversell,” Forge said. “Takes all the pressure off me.”
“Let me see you,” Roulette said. She made Mira, Dalton, Jace, and Cole line up. Then she paced the line, inspecting them. “Yeah, okay. I see possibilities. I can make you guys look local. You’re not bad-looking youngsters. With the right clothes and some color in your hair? You could look tidy.”
“More importantly,” Forge said, “you’ll look different from your original ID photos. When we take pictures, I’ll want you to make faces. Nothing too drastic or the ID will look bogus. But scowl a little. Or smile really big. If we get it right, these new cards will let you start over.”
“And he can load up a bunch of credits,” Trickster said.
“We don’t want to get carried away,” Forge said. “Let’s just say you won’t be poor.”
“Will we get nifty names like you guys have?” Jace asked. “Can I be Wolfmaster?”
“You aren’t Crystal Keepers,” Trickster said.
“And we don’t put our code names on IDs,” Roulette added.
“I’ll handle the names,” Forge said. “You want some of the most common names in Zeropolis. Not the very most common. That can look like you’re hiding. Fifteenth to fortieth most popular is about right. Your original ID cards are compromised. Changing your looks and taking on common names will make it harder for the City Patrol to connect you to those original identities.”
“Try to make the new ones last a little longer,” Trickster said.
“It was out of our control,” Mira said. “Joe didn’t know his fake ID had been flagged.”
“That’s our other big challenge tonight,” Forge said. “Finding the best way to bust out Joe.”
“Do you know him?” Mira asked.
“He’s a good man,” Forge said. “We’ll find a way.”
“You mentioned you have access to thruports,” Dalton said.
“Right,” Forge replied. “You want to kidnap an old girlfriend too?”
Dalton blushed. “No. But it would be interesting to check my e-mail. Poke around a little.”
“As long as you don’t get your hopes up,” Forge said. “I’ve seen it a thousand times. Nobody you really want to contact will respond.”
“We’ve heard,” Cole said.
“I’ll set you up with thruports in the morning,” Forge said. “We’ll take care of the IDs then too. Tonight I have to help plan a jailbreak. Scandal will show you around. We have food and hammocks.”
“Is this place safer than the other base?” Jace asked.
“Fair question,” Forge said. “Short answer? Yes. A lot less people know about my lair. Of the Crystal Keepers, only Trickster, Roulette, Duckling, and Jetstream know. Not many of the Unseen know either. Most of my forgeries are carried out remotely. Very few people come and go. The fact that Googol had you come here shows how highly he values you.”
“Which is what makes us so curious,” Trickster said.
“It also helps that we’re under a virtually abandoned storehouse,” Forge went on. “I have access to lots of weird spare parts when I need them, and nobody is ever around.”
“What about all the crystals you have?” Cole asked. “You’re connected to a lot of information. Could they trace those connections back to you?”
“Nice,” Forge said. “You’re thinking like a technomancer. Sure, there are ways, but I take lots of precautions. It wouldn’t be easy for them to figure out they could spy on me, and one of my alarms would almost certainly give them away if they tried.”
“Come on,” Scandal said. “Let’s get you some food.”
Cole and the others followed her through a tunnel to a low table. Dinner awaited them—cubes of meat, mashed potatoes, green beans, and cups of pale green liquid.
“Six settings,” Trickster said. “You didn’t think any of us would be captured?”
“I try to stay optimistic,” Scandal said.
They sat down on the benches on either side of the table. Cole skewered a meat cube with a fork, then sniffed it.
“Any guesses?” Dalton asked.
“Beef?” Cole tried.
“It’s kind of a mix,” Trickster said. “Don’t think of it as a certain type of meat or it seems gross. Consider it a highly processed celebration of all meat.”
Cole tried a bite. It was more tender and juicy than he expected, tasting more like sausage than steak. “Not bad.”
“If you want food fresh from a farm, Zeropolis is the wrong place to find it,” Scandal said. “But we have abundant food, it doesn’t cost much, it tastes pretty good, and unlike a lot of the processed food in your world, it’s highly nutritious.”
Cole sampled the potatoes. They didn’t quite taste real, but they had a nice buttery, cheesy flavor. He had never been a fan of green beans, but he tried to eat some to be polite.
“I like the drink,” Dalton said, taking a long sip.
“Me too,” Roulette said. “Limelicious. Sweet but not too sweet.”
“And lots of vitamins,” Scandal said.
As the food began to settle, Cole could feel the busy day catching up with him. Had he woken up today at that inn in Outpost 121? It felt like that had happened in another lifetime. His eyes were droopy.
“Let me take care of the plates,” Scandal said. “You guys must be exhausted. We’re not fancy here, but a good hammock can be pretty comfy.”
Cole followed her down a hall to a room with several hammocks at different heights. The room was kind of dumpy, the paint on the wooden walls stained and peeling, but the hammocks looked clean.
“We have several guest rooms,” Scandal said. “Take your pick.”
“Mind if I join you, Trickster?” Jace asked.
“Not a bit,” he said.
“Dalton and I will take this one,” Cole said.
“Sleep well,” Scandal said. “You’ll be safe here. Let me know if you need anything.”
Cole and Dalton went into their room. Dalton closed the door.
“Tired?” Cole asked.
“I feel like I just stumbled away from a plane crash,” Dalton said.
“Me too,” Cole said, flopping into a hammock. It swayed and creaked. He stared at the ceiling.
“How do we take off our exo rigs?” Dalton asked.
Cole laughed sleepily. “I have no idea. Hopefully I don’t do karate moves in my sleep.”
“Or jump.”
“Maybe the gear will help us sleep extra well.”
“Enhanced sleeping? Why not? The rigs improve everything else.”
“Don’t you want to see how high we can jump in them?” Cole asked.
“No way,” Dalton said. “I’d rather keep both my feet.”
Cole winced. “Can you imagine having part of your leg ripped off? Roulette is hard core.”
“They all are,” Dalton said. “It’s like we joined up with organized crime.”
“When the government is crooked, the outlaws can be the good guys. Like Robin Hood.”
Dalton sighed. “Are we going to be outlaws the rest of our lives?”
“Depends if the revolution succeeds.”
“Is it really our revolution?”
“You tell me. You’re the slave.”
“I’m serious,” Dalton said.
“Me too. As long as we can’t get home, it’s our revolution. And I may have an important part to play.”
Dalton snorted. “According to the evil creature from another world who got locked up for trying to take over the Outskirts.”
“Right,” Cole said drowsily. “According to him.”
“Did you notice that hanging out with Mira got us in trouble again?”
“It also helped us find people to get us out of trouble. Do you think the Unseen would have done all this for us without Mira?”
“Probably not,” Dalton said. “But we might not have been in trouble in the first place.”
“With all we’ve learned, we might get chased just as much with or without her,” Cole said. “We’re in pretty deep. Do you really want to leave her?”
Dalton paused. “I don’t think so. I just don’t want to forget our real goal—to find our friends and get home.”
Cole stared hard at the ceiling, mapping the discolorations. “Helping Mira is part of my goal now, Dalton. Trillian thinks I’m key to her winning. He’s creepy, but he supposedly can’t lie. Think about it. If Mira defeats her dad, we’ll be able to free all the kids who got taken and actually keep them safe. And we’ll have major resources to maybe find a way home.”
“Seems like we spend most of our time running,” Dalton said. “Is beating her father even possible?”
“If not, we at least try to save Mira. Maybe one of these days it will make sense to take off on our own. Until then, we help however we can. Or at least I will. What about you?”
“It’s all good as long as we stay free and can keep fighting. But what if we get captured? We came pretty close today to spending the rest of our lives imprisoned.”
“It’s not a game,” Cole agreed. “We could get killed. We could become prisoners. But they already took away our lives and our families. They already made us slaves. If we have a chance to fix things, I’m going to take it.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Dalton said.
“Maybe we’ll get some answers tomorrow,” Cole said. “Maybe we’ll even find Jenna.”
“You sound sleepy.”
“I’m pretty far gone. You’re mostly talking to my subconscious.”
“See you tomorrow.”
“If I ever wake up.”
Sleep came almost instantly.
CHAPTER
14
SUBSTITUTES
Subject: Life and Death
Dear Mom, Dad, and Chelsea,
Please read this! I’m sending it from our family account, so maybe you’ll open it. Or maybe nobody pays much attention to the family account anymore, since you all have your own e-mail addresses. You mainly had the family one for me, because you didn’t want me to have my own address yet.
You’re probably wondering who I am. I’m your lost son, Cole Randolph. You don’t remember me, but I used to live with you up until last Halloween. I got kidnapped with a bunch of other kids in the neighborhood and we were all forgotten.
I used to be in the room by the bathroom, across from the spare bedroom. I don’t know if you use my room for something else now, or if you just never go in there. A bunch of my stuff should be around if you haven’t thrown it out. Pay attention and you might notice my soccer things (uniform, cleats, shin guards, trophies), or my schoolbooks, or maybe my video games.
Anyhow, that stuff is around because you used to have a son named Cole. A sixth grader. Me.
I was taken to a world in another universe called the Outskirts. That’s why I didn’t take out the trash on Halloween. I really meant to. But I got kidnapped.
I love you and am sorry about all the times I made you mad or did dumb stuff. I even love Chelsea.
You probably won’t read this. And if you do, you probably won’t understand or will think it sounds crazy. But you have a kid or brother named Cole. I’m in a bunch of the family photos. If you focus, maybe you’ll notice me.
I’m trying to get home. I miss you.
Love,
Cole
After reading the e-mail for the tenth time, Cole felt he had rid it of typos and expressed what he wanted to say. Arrow hovering over the send button, Cole checked the e-mail addresses one more time. It would send to his dad, his mom, his sister, and also back to the family account.
He clicked send.
A long examination of the family account inbox had shown no mention of him after Halloween. The days following the holiday had only routine messages. There was nothing in social media about his disappearance. Nothing in the news. The mass kidnapping had gone unnoticed, all of the kids forgotten.
Would somebody open his e-mail? His family had forgotten about him, but the e-mail wasn’t coming from him. They should each think it came from some other member of the family. He also sent the e-mail to the family account, even though the inbox had many unopened e-mails. Based on what Joe had told him, his would join the disregarded spam. But he ha
d to try.
Cole wondered if it would help to send the e-mail a hundred times. Could they ignore a hundred of the same e-mail? Or would that make it seem even more like spam?
“Has e-mail ever looked so good?” Dalton asked, surprising Cole.
Cole turned. Dalton smiled awkwardly and waved. He wore a weathered green denim jacket, black trousers, and cowboy boots. His hair was buzzed short and had simple images engraved in it.
“Are you filming a music video?” Cole asked.
Dalton rubbed his head self-consciously. “I’ve never had my hair this short. I like how it feels.”
“Turn around,” Cole said.
Dalton complied. He had what looked like a sun on one side of the back of his head, and an anchor on the other.
“Your head is all marked up. Did Roulette do that? Or were you mugged?”
“Ha-ha,” Dalton said. “You’re next.”
“I thought they might be scars from this morning,” Cole said.
Dalton’s face got angry. Not long after daybreak, when he had rolled out of his hammock, Dalton had flopped headfirst to the floor. Somebody had tied his shoelaces to the netting of the hammock. Jace was the natural suspect. “I’ll get him back.”
“Might be smarter to call it even.”
“I’ll get him back,” Dalton said with increased determination. “Did you e-mail your family?”
“I had to try.”
“I’ll try too. Just in case. Did you find any info about us? Any news about a kidnapping?”
“None,” Cole said. “As far as the Internet knows, we never disappeared. It’s just like we were warned—nobody misses us.”
“Isn’t it weird to see a computer here?” Dalton asked.
“It’s too much like home,” Cole said. “I don’t really envision the Rogue Knight on a PC. Forge said the thruport machines especially are modeled after the computers in our world so they can run the same software. He said some of our designs influenced their designs here. Like mouses. They had great tech here, but no mouses until they saw us using them.”
