Crystal Keepers (7 page)

“I'm getting there,” Joe said. “I checked with a Wayminder. Not Sallanah. She was long gone. He told me that bringing Gwen here wouldn't make her remember me. But Gwen fell in love with me once, right? I'd woo her again. I'd fix the emptiness I saw in her. And maybe fill the void inside of me.”

“But she'd be stuck here too,” Cole said.

Joe nodded, rubbing his hands together. “I thought that through. If you're not a slave, and you live quietly, keep your head down, it isn't so bad here. We could live fulfilling lives, especially if we had each other. What I had with Gwen was epic. Whether or not she could remember me, I knew we'd figure it out. I convinced myself that if given a choice, Gwen would want to be with me. So I hired the Wayminder. My plan was to kidnap my fiancée and bring her here.”

“How'd that work out?” Dalton asked.

Joe winced. “Could have gone better.”

“Tell us,” Cole urged, completely hooked.

Gazing down at the floor, Joe wiped a hand over his face. “I knew it was a risk. That she might see me as a villain. But I thought we could overcome that. She was still Gwen, right? And I'm still me.” He fell silent.

“It went badly?” Mira guessed.

“Imagine this. We open a way to the street in front of my fiancée's apartment. Ex-fiancée? Anyhow, I knew she was bad at locking the back door, and sure enough, I hop the fence into her little yard and find it open. I creep across her kitchen in the dark and up the stairs. It's all way too familiar. Almost like I never left. I'm going quietly. I know that to her I'll seem like a burglar. By the light coming through her window from the street I can see her sleeping. She's so pretty. Without the worst luck ever, she would have already been my wife. We would have been married for years.”

Joe folded his arms. “There I am, in her room. I just have to get her down the stairs and out front to the way. She's no weakling, but neither am I. I was sure I could get her there.”

“But,” Cole inserted.

Joe grimaced. “But there she was, snug and safe in a city without slaves, a place where she was free to live however she chose. How could I take that from her? Take away her home. Her family. Her job. Her life. Without permission.”

“What a nightmare,” Mira said.

“I couldn't do it,” Joe said. “I wasn't just worried about her
thinking
I was a villain. I knew in that moment that if I took her, I would
be
a villain. However much I loved her, however much she once loved me, I had no right to drag her here. So I left. I came back through the way empty-handed.”

“She's still there?” Cole asked.

“And I'm still here,” Joe said. He smirked. “The next time I tried to check up on her using a thruport, I got caught. City Patrol raided the place. The guys running the thruport got taken away. It was my first offence. I got probation. It's what
wrecked my true ID. The City Patrol is aware of me now. It makes me less safe to travel with.”

“You used your fake ID today without trouble?” Jace asked.

“Yeah, it went well,” Joe said. “We should be all right to take the monorail tomorrow. How backward is a place where it would have been legal for me to kidnap Gwen and bring her here, but I'm not allowed to browse the Internet? I could have made Gwen my slave without any legal trouble.”

“This is why you wanted to leave Zeropolis?” Mira asked.

Joe nodded. “I got depressed. Really low. I knew I'd never see Gwen again. I was on probation. I was done with Zeropolis. I needed to get away. I went to the Unseen and told them I wanted a mission as far from the city as possible. I'd done some good work for them. The right people trusted me. That was when they let me know about you, Mira, and sent me on a mission to warn you about the legionnaires coming for you.”

“You went straight from that to this?” Mira said with concern.

Joe flashed a tight smile. “This was exactly what I needed. Something to lose myself in. I threw myself at the danger. Part of me didn't mind the idea of dying. But I keep surviving. And now fate has brought me back here.”

“What are you going to do?” Cole asked.

Joe gave a grim chuckle. “I've been pondering that long and hard ever since I learned we'd be coming here to find Constance. I think I just keep helping you kids. Focus on the
work. Do I still miss Gwen? Take a wild guess. I'll miss her until the day I die. I know Cole hangs on to hope that there might be a way to get home. I'm open to that, but I don't dare to hope for it yet. I don't think my heart could take another disappointment. But I won't tell you to give up. If you find a way, please take me with you.”

Cole's throat felt thick with emotion. It was hard to feel hopeful after hearing Joe's experience. “Trillian told me that there might be ways to change how things work here. It kind of makes sense. Pretty much everything else can be shaped. I'm not giving up until we try every option. We'll bug the Grand Shaper of Creon. We'll find out more about shapecraft. We'll go back to Trillian if we have to. We'll figure something out.”

“Man, you guys really hate it here,” Jace said.

“It's not our home,” Dalton said.

“No, but it's my home,” Jace replied. “And I've lived most my life as a slave. So I get not loving it.”

“I admire your optimism, Cole,” Joe said. “I know you really mean to tackle the impossible. I'll help however I can.”

“First thing
I'm
going to try is getting some sleep,” Jace said. “Those days as a wolf are catching up with me.”

“We're all tired,” Joe agreed. “Sorry for the long story.”

“Don't apologize,” Mira said. “It was brave and generous of you to share it. We'll do our best to help you.”

“Sorry about Gwen,” Cole said. “That's really rough.”

“No worse than what you boys are going through,” Joe said. “You were ripped away from your families. I can only imagine what that feels like at your age.”

Cole didn't trust his voice. Dalton wiped at his eyes. Cole tried to ignore the pitying looks from Mira and even Jace.

“Thanks for telling us what we're up against,” Cole managed.

“It doesn't paint a pretty picture of our chances to return to our normal lives,” Joe said. “But you deserve to know.”

“We always knew it would be hard,” Cole said. “I sometimes suspected they were bluffing about people forgetting us. I wondered whether we'd really get pulled back here if we made it home. I wanted it to be propaganda. A trick to keep us here. That hope made your story kind of disappointing, but it's good to know the truth. We just have to find a way to change how it all works. Somehow we'll do it.”

“We start by surviving tomorrow,” Joe said. “Let's get some sleep while we can.”

C
HAPTER

6

MONORAIL

T
he monorail station was a spacious, modern structure of steel and crystal. After walking through the front doors, Cole almost felt like he was back in Arizona at some public building—tile floors, powered lights, service counters, people waiting in line. It could have been the lobby of an airport.

“IDs first,” Joe said, leading the way.

Cole was now dressed in jeans and a brown shirt. The others all wore new clothes too. Joe wanted them to look like true Zeropolites.

They got in a fairly short line at a counter marked
IDENTIFICATION
. Joe had explained that the city government used the monorail stations to provide services for the outposts. More than just transportation and shipping, the stations provided banking, processed identifications, registered vehicles and property, recorded complaints, and housed a modest garrison of patrolmen.

When their turn came, Joe and the kids approached the
counter together. Joe handed his ID card to the older woman on duty. She looked at it, held it under a bluish light, then scanned it into a machine. Staring down at her screen, she looked perplexed for a moment, glancing quickly at Joe.

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

Cole's gut clenched, but he tried to look calm.

The woman gave a small smile. “Your mustache in the photo threw me off.”

“I miss it sometimes,” Joe said, rubbing his upper lip.

“You look better without it,” she whispered loudly. “How can I help you today, Mr. Boone?”

“I'm traveling with my two nephews, my niece, and their slave. They're all first-timers in Zeropolis, so they'll need IDs.”

“Okay,” she said, fingers rattling on a keyboard. “Do they have any identifying paperwork from Elloweer?”

Joe shook his head. “I'm sure you know how badly organized they are in Elloweer when it comes to records.”

“All too well,” she said. “I deal with the sloppy results every day. Do you have papers for the slave?”

“He's marked, of course,” Joe said. “But we don't have papers.”

The woman behind the counter looked at Dalton. “Are these your owners?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he replied.

“Very well,” the woman said. “There's a two-hundred-credit processing fee for minors, and a six-hundred-credit fee for slaves.”

“Use my card,” Joe said.

“The fees double without papers,” she said.

“I understand,” Joe replied.

The woman held his card under a scanner. “Okay.” She smiled at the kids, her gaze taking them in. “Have you ever been to the city?”

“No,” Mira said.

“Are you sure you want to go there?” she asked playfully.

“Yes,” Cole said.

“Very well,” the woman said. “I need to take individual pictures, then I'll need your names along with the correct spellings.”

She gestured for Cole to come around the counter, so he did. He stood on a mark, stared at a lens, and smiled. It didn't feel too different from school photos.

“Name?” she asked.

“Bubba Boone,” Cole said. “B-U-B-B-A.”

As Cole watched, Mira went on record as Shannon Boone, Jace became Hampton Boone, and Dalton became Kevin son of Mark. Cole was the first kid to receive a dark green ID card. He hefted it, stroking the metallic surface with his thumb. “Why isn't it blue like yours?” Cole asked Joe.

“You're under sixteen,” Joe said.

Jace and Mira accepted their cards. Dalton got his last. It was bloodred.

“Slave color?” he asked, holding it up to the lady behind the counter.

She gave a curt nod, then looked beyond him. “Next.”

Joe herded Cole and the others over to a nearby wall. “Wait here while I buy tickets,” he instructed.

As soon as he walked off, Jace turned to Dalton. “I'm thirsty, slave boy,” he said. “Fetch me a drink.”

Dalton scowled.

“Don't make a scene, Kevin,” Jace warned. “We all have to do our part.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Dalton said.

“I'm not royalty,” Jace explained. “Master will do.”

“Knock it off,” Cole said. “It isn't his fault he wasn't around when Declan changed our bondmarks to freemarks.”

“Wasn't my fault I had a bondmark to begin with,” Jace countered. “If our slave just stands around all the time and never serves us, how realistic does that look? It's safer for him and for us if he plays the part.”

Cole could tell Jace enjoyed bossing Dalton around, and he was probably getting in some retaliation for the hidden saddle, but it was hard to argue against his point. They wanted to blend in.

“It's okay,” Dalton said. “Do you want a drink, Mira? Cole?”

“Sure,” Mira said. “Thanks.”

“Won't that be a lot to carry?” Cole asked.

“I'll manage,” Dalton said.

“Don't forget to hold any doors open for us,” Jace said. “Be the first to stand, the last to sit. Treat us like masters. Work to keep us comfortable. Anticipate our needs. And try not to jump into any conversations free people are having.”

“Aren't you getting carried away?” Cole said.

“I was a slave for a long time,” Jace said. “Believe me, I know how they're supposed to behave.”

“Thanks, master,” Dalton said with some sarcasm. He walked away.

“How is he supposed to find drinks?” Cole wondered. “He doesn't have any money.”

“A good slave would figure it out,” Jace said.

“I understand playing our roles,” Mira said. “But, Jace, you don't have to enjoy it so much.”

Jace chuckled and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I'm just grateful to be free.”

“I'd think that would include some empathy for those still stuck as slaves,” Mira said.

“We're just pretending he's our slave,” Jace reminded her.

“But we're not pretending he's a slave,” Cole said. “He's been a slave since he got here. His bondmark is real.”

“Sometimes you two are unbelievably boring,” Jace said, turning his back on them and shuffling a few steps away.

A few minutes later, Joe returned with Dalton behind him. Joe held a can of soda. Dalton carried four others. He handed one to Cole, another to Mira, and a third to Jace.

Cole inspected the orange can. The word “POW!” slanted across it in thick yellow letters. It had a pull tab just like the soda cans back home. Cole popped the top and took a sip. The bubbly liquid fizzed in his mouth and down his throat. It tasted sweet, the orange flavoring enhanced by a hint of vanilla.

“That's not bad,” Cole said, licking his lips. “I haven't had a soda since I came here.”

Jace squinted at the top of the can, first pressing the tab down, then picking at it. Mira held her soda unopened as well.

“Having trouble, master?” Dalton asked.

“I'm waiting for you to do your job,” Jace said.

Dalton held out a hand, accepted the can, and demonstrated how to use the tab to pop it open. He handed it back to Jace. After seeing the example, Mira popped her own can open. Dalton opened his as well.

“We have tickets?” Cole asked, taking another sip.

“We're officially going to town,” Joe said. “The monorail leaves in about fifteen minutes. We should get aboard.”

“Will our swords be a problem?” Jace asked.

Joe held up his travel bag. “Both are in here. Primitive weapons like swords should be okay. They don't really screen for weapons here. Not like on flights back home.”

Joe led them to a line waiting to pass through a door in a high crystal wall. A pair of patrolmen flanked the door, one checking IDs and tickets, the other watching the line. They wore gray-and-black uniforms with padding over the chest and on their limbs. Dangling from their shoulders by a strap, each man had a tubular weapon that looked like a miniature rocket launcher.

The line moved steadily. Cole shuffled forward beside Joe.

“What are those weapons?” Cole murmured. “Little bazookas?”

“No,” Joe said softly. “Those are trapguns. Most of the weapons used by patrolmen stun or entrap. You'll get gummed up by quicktar, or stuck to webby nets. Nonlethal, but very effective. There isn't usually much violence in Zeropolis. Crime happens quietly here.”

Joe stopped talking as they drew near to the door. Cole
clutched his ticket and his ID card. He thought about how he would hand over the ticket and ID card if he wasn't a wanted fugitive. He decided to act calm and polite, maybe a little distracted.

Joe held out his card. The patrolman scanned it with a device, glanced at his ticket, then waved him along.

Upon reaching the patrolman, Cole fretted about making too much eye contact. Or too little. The patrolman took Cole's card and scanned it, then waved him through. Cole didn't look back to watch the other kids, but soon they were all together beyond the crystal wall.

Up ahead, three elevators shuttled people up to the level of the track. Elaborate compartments of crystal and bronze, the elevators were not hidden within a shaft. Each had an operator and could fit roughly ten passengers.

“They look kind of old-fashioned,” Dalton observed, beside Cole.

“They're fast though,” Cole replied. He noticed Jace watching the elevators climb and sink. He looked both excited and a little uncertain. “Ever ridden in an elevator, Jace?”

“Nope,” Jace said.

“Me neither,” Mira added.

“They call them senders here,” Joe mentioned. “Like ‘ascend' and ‘descend.'”

After a short wait, Cole and his four companions entered a sender with a few other people. The operator raised a lever, and the compartment surged briskly upward.

When Cole exited the sender, the monorail came into
full view. Long and sleek, the streamlined train was composed of silvery metal and crystal tinted such a dark blue that Cole could only barely see the forms moving inside.

“Bonded crystal?” Cole asked.

“Very good,” Joe said. “They use it a lot here. Those elevators were made of bonded crystal and some sturdy alloy. Maybe renium. The crystal for the monorail is grade two, tougher than steel. The train moves fast—over three hundred miles per hour.”

Cole and the others joined the crowd making for one of the many doors of the long train. More patrolmen stood on the platform, trapguns dangling within easy reach. A conductor at the door to the monorail quickly checked tickets as people entered. Cole boarded after Joe, flashing his ticket to the conductor, then following Joe down the central aisle of the train.

From inside the monorail, the tinted glass didn't look nearly so dark, though everything outside had bluish tones. People were settling into the cushioned seats at either side of the aisle. Much as when he had walked into the station, Cole felt a sense of home. This monorail was too modern to fit his experiences in the Outskirts. It was too much like boarding the light rail in Phoenix or getting on a plane.

Joe led them down the aisle to the end of the car, through a set of doors, and along another aisle until the seats gave way to private compartments on either side, each with its own door. Checking his ticket, Joe opened the door of a compartment where two cushioned benches faced each other. The far wall was all window.

“Our own room?” Cole asked.

“We're not poor,” Joe said. “I thought a little privacy would be nice.”

Joe and Dalton sat on one side, leaving Cole, Mira, and Jace on the other. With the door shut, they could almost be alone on the train—only the faintest noise of other passengers moving around or conversing reached them.

Looking out the window at the platform, Cole watched other passengers approaching the monorail. The crowd thinned until only a few patrolmen remained.

A soothing female voice came from a speaker in the ceiling. “Now departing Outpost 121. Next stop, Outpost 45. Please keep your tickets handy and enjoy the ride.”