Impostors

by Scott Westerfeld

  “They don’t have to,” I explain. “My father doesn’t go anywhere without his favorite officers, his most loyal units. Whatever’s left in the city will be easy to sway to our side.”

  “Even if the revolt isn’t total,” Col says, “our forces will be there to tip the balance.”

  He waves a hand, and the airscreen projector sputters to life. A scale model of my home city appears on the table. The stolid skyline, the new defenses and the suborbital pads. The ragtag Victorian fleet appears in the surrounding farm belt.

  I stand and point a ringed finger at my father’s tower on the outskirts.

  “This is our objective—the seat of his power.”

  Dr. Leyva stands beside me. “From there, we take control of the city feeds to broadcast Frey’s speech. We’ll also corrupt the dust with a virus. For the first time in a decade, the people of Shreve can say whatever they want about their dear leader. Freedom, all at once!”

  The third boss starts to shake his head. He’s the oldest of them, with an unsurged face and static tattoos. He has an accent I’ve never heard before. And a strange name—Andrew Simpson Smith.

  According to Yandre, he once fought alongside Tally Youngblood herself.

  “I have seen that tower,” he says. “Many drones protect it.”

  “You’re right,” I say. “It’s the best defended spot in the whole city. We’ll have to take it by stealth, not force.”

  A low growl comes from Boss X. “So you’re sneaking in? I was promised a stand-up fight.”

  “A fight is what you’ll get.” I fix his yellow, lupine eyes with my best Rafi stare. “We’ll launch a full-on assault on the city. And once the sky is full of damaged Shreve hovercraft in retreat, my team will slip in alongside them.”

  With a wave of my hand, the cityscape is replaced with an image of one of our captured hovercars. Zura has skinned it to match the Shreve Home Guard. She’s also added some bogus battle scars and smoke bombs on two of the engines.

  “This is our Trojan horse—a damaged Shreve car fleeing from the front line. We’ll crash-land near the tower, fight our way through any household guards, and grab my sister. Then we take control of the feeds, and I declare a new era for the city.”

  Yandre speaks up. “What if Rafia’s with your father?”

  I draw a slow breath, trying not to show any emotion.

  “She won’t be.”

  Yandre looks sympathetic, but says, “You can’t know that, Frey.”

  “It won’t matter,” Col cuts in. “We’ll have his tower, his dust, and our own Rafia, ready to make the speech that the people of Shreve have always wanted her to make. All he’ll have is a reluctant daughter.”

  The three rebel bosses look at me.

  “Reluctant?” Charles asks.

  “My sister despises him.” There’s certainty in my voice again. “Even if he puts her on the feeds to show that I’m not real, I’ll be the more convincing Rafia.”

  They look like they believe me, but then Artura Vigil speaks up.

  “It seems like a gamble, putting everything we’ve got into one battle.” She looks at Major Sarcos. “Isn’t that the riskiest thing a guerrilla army can do?”

  Sarcos looks uncomfortable. He’s never liked the idea of shifting from sabotage to all-out battle.

  Vigil turns to me. “And isn’t this exactly the sort of dangerous venture your father would want us to try, Rafia?”

  I give her a cold glare. “My name is Frey.”

  “So you keep telling us. And yet your plan seems designed to deliver us straight to your father.”

  Col sits up straighter. “What are you saying, Artura?”

  “She tells us there’s a real Rafia back in Shreve. But we’ve only seen that girl for a few moments on a balcony, waving and smiling. That other girl has given no interviews, no speeches on the feeds—as if she’s trying to hide something.” Artura’s eyes sweep the room. “While here in front of us sits a much more convincing Rafia, telling us to send our army into danger. What if this whole story about twins is a lie?”

  The world turns inside out for a moment. What if I’m the real Rafi, and the girl back in Shreve is the impostor?

  I grip the edge of the table, reminding myself that I’m real.

  Col places a hand on mine. “This is absurd. There’s no way anyone could’ve planned all this from the beginning.”

  “She is no doubt improvising,” Vigil says. “But Rafia’s already admitted coming to Victoria to make us lower our guard. Why shouldn’t she play the same trick twice, if we’re foolish enough to fall for it?”

  They’re all looking at me, but I don’t know what to say. I’ve spent my whole life convincing people that I am Rafi. How am I supposed to do the opposite?

  Maybe dressing up like my sister today was a bad idea.

  “Her name is Frey,” Col says softly, and the world settles a little around me. “And we know she’s on our side. She could’ve captured me on the way here!”

  “Me too,” Teo points out.

  Vigil only smiles, her cool expression reminding me a little of Srin.

  “Even with you two captured, there’d still be an army, Col.”

  “No, there wouldn’t,” I argue. “I could’ve told my father where this base is. He’d be here already!”

  Vigil’s smile doesn’t fade. “Isn’t it easier if we come to him? And better for his reputation he wins this war defending his own city instead of hunting down strays?”

  “Frey is exactly who she says she is!” Col shouts. “I’m certain of it. That’s the last we’ll hear of this ridiculous theory.”

  Vigil bows her head, and the table falls silent.

  But that glimmer of distrust stays on all their faces. It’s an unlikely story that Vigil is telling, but no stranger than the truth of me.

  I was born a lie. Why should any of them believe me now?

  I want to speak for myself, to keep the argument going in spite of Col’s orders. But the words don’t come, because part of me is never really certain who I am.

  It’s Boss Charles who breaks the silence, letting out a huge laugh.

  “What a mess!” She claps me on the shoulder. “Maybe you’re Rafia, maybe you’re Frey. Maybe your little coup works, maybe it fails. But my Raiders are in either way. It’ll be the most chaos we’ve seen since Tally Youngblood disappeared!”

  “She’s not coming to save us,” Boss Andrew says reverently. “Which is why we have to take chances. My people will join as well.”

  It’s hardly a ringing endorsement, but at least they aren’t running away.

  We all turn to Boss X.

  For a long moment, he doesn’t look human at all. The corners of his mouth droop and his ears go back against his head. I don’t know what the expression means, but it charges the air in the room.

  “My pack will join on one condition,” he says. “I’m coming along in your captured hovercar.”

  “Um, okay.” Col gives him a frown. “But I thought you wanted a stand-up fight, not sneaking around.”

  “There’ll be plenty of fighting.” A ripple goes across Boss X’s fur as he turns to me. “And a little sneaking is worth a visit to your father’s house.”

  “For what purpose?” Col asks.

  “It’s personal,” Boss X says. He leans back and doesn’t say another word.

  “Rebels,” Zura mutters softly.

  I give Col the slightest shrug. Boss X’s personal business doesn’t matter to me. Nor do I care if the rebels are more interested in causing chaos than in trusting me.

  All that matters is that we have a plan to save my sister.

  As our hoverboards rise above the lip of the crater, the freezing wind sets my blood humming. It’s almost sunset, a week after our meeting with the rebels.

  At this altitude, the sky is upside down—a layer of red-tinged cloud spreads out beneath our mountaintop, with only cold blue overhead.

  It’s just me and the brothers Palafox. A
last dinner before we leave Teo behind in safety. By this time tomorrow, Col and I will be headed into battle.

  “Thank you both,” I say. “For trusting me.”

  Col turns from the sunset. “You’re not still worried about Artura, are you? Nobody believes her stupid theory.”

  I sigh into the cold wind. “She believes it. And I bet she’s still whispering in your officers’ ears.”

  “Then she’s brain-missing,” Teo says. “Srin says that’s the problem with psych warfare. You drive yourself mad along with the enemy.”

  Col smiles. “Frey and I know all about that. When we met, we were so busy lying to each other, we almost forgot who we were.”

  “Almost,” I say, taking his hand.

  A cloud of steam swirls up from the depths of the caldera, setting us wobbling on our boards. We descend to the solid rock of the crater’s edge, where the warm volcanic air alternates with the mountain wind.

  Teo pulls a few self-heating meals from his pack. He places them in a neat, ceremonious row. This could be our last dinner together here at the White Mountain. It could be Col’s and my last dinner ever.

  “I’ve got PadThai, SpagBol, and SwedeBalls,” Teo says. “Three timeless classics of camping cuisine.”

  Col sighs. “Anything without rabbit.”

  “Same,” I say. In the last month, I’ve seen plenty of volcano rabbits, and eaten most of them.

  Teo passes out the meals, and we pull the heating tabs. I cup mine in my hands, grateful for the warmth as it boils the prefab noodles into something edible.

  If we win tomorrow, I’ll never have to eat camping food again.

  And if we lose, it’ll be my fault.

  Artura Vigil was right about one thing—throwing the whole Victorian army into one battle is a dangerous plan. And now that she’s doubted me in front of everyone, they won’t ever forget that it was my plan.

  Their enemy’s daughter.

  I look up from my food. “You think your soldiers still trust me?”

  Teo shrugs. “You heard the rebels—they don’t care whose side you’re on. They just want to shake things up.”

  “And my officers will obey orders,” Col says.

  “Great,” I say. “Nothing like comrades-in-arms who have to be ordered to trust me.”

  “Zura trusts you,” he says. “That counts for something.”

  It does, because Zura is coming with me in the stolen hovercar. No other Victorian officer is willing to go on a crash-landing commando mission.

  Col himself will stay with the main fleet.

  “What if Artura’s right about the rest?” I ask. “That it’s a terrible plan to begin with?”

  “It’s the perfect plan,” Col says, blowing on his food. “A coup will end the war quickly. And it means freedom not only for Victoria, but for Shreve too.”

  “But we’re risking your whole army, Col.”

  “Better than risking the soul of my city.”

  I shake my head, not sure what he means.

  “It’ll take years to win a guerrilla war,” Teo explains. “Long enough for the dust to choke everyone. No one daring to say what they think, or to keep a diary, in case some Shreve warden arrests them for having the wrong opinion.”

  “Everyone in Victoria has their own feed,” Col says, “and tells their own story. That’s the soul of our city.”

  “I grew up breathing spy dust,” I say. “And I have a soul.”

  “Sure,” Col says quickly. “I just meant, freedom’s easy to lose and hard to get back.”

  I look away. From the moment I learned to talk, I’ve had to watch my words, my gestures, the way I stand and walk. I know the value of freedom more intimately than anyone. But I don’t have time for philosophical discussions.

  Not until my sister is safe.

  “You’re right,” I say. “If we can end this tomorrow, it’s worth the risk.”

  “Which is why you should take me,” Teo grumbles.

  Col just stares into his food. They’ve had this argument a dozen times in the last week.

  “We have to leave someone in charge here, Teo,” I say.

  “In charge of what?” he cries. “You’re taking everyone else with you!”

  Col turns to his brother, and for a moment I think he’s going to be angry.

  But his words come softly. “Frey’s plan will work, but something might happen to me in the fight. If I have bad luck, we need a Palafox to pull Victoria back together.”

  I wonder if that’s really true. Certainly everyone in this army thinks so, or they wouldn’t follow Col’s orders just because of his last name. And maybe that’s what matters—people believe that the first families bind their cities together, and that belief makes the magic work. At least, I hope so.

  Because when Rafi declares war on our father tomorrow, it has to tear Shreve to pieces.

  We take the captured hovercar down a riverbed. Beneath the treetops, out of radar coverage.

  Yandre, Boss X, and I are up top, spotting for Zura as she pilots us through tight spots. We crouch behind the rail gun turrets, ducking branches, X’s fur rippling in the wind.

  There are ten of us in the raiding party—three more of Zura’s Specials down below, along with Dr. Leyva and his two best techs. Their job is to take over Shreve’s feeds and spy dust, once we have control of my father’s tower.

  Col’s back with the main force, in the largest Victorian ship.

  “Why so glum?” Yandre calls to me above the engine noise.

  I shrug. “I’ve never been on a mission without Col before.”

  “Chica, how sweet.”

  Boss X is staring at me. “So what are you, exactly?”

  I give him a confused look.

  “He means, are you a ’Fox or a rebel?” Yandre says. “I’ve been wondering that myself.”

  “A Palafox?” I stare at them both. “Are you asking if Col and I got married?”

  Yandre lets out a long laugh. “Frey, we know you like Col, but that’s different from being a ’Fox. That army back there, they need a first family. It makes them feel complete, having someone in charge.”

  I remember how Aribella made me feel that first day. Like she deserved to command a whole city.

  But I shake my head. “I’m not in Col’s army. I’m not even a Victorian.”

  “I’m a Victorian,” Yandre says. “It’s my city too. But I’m not a ’Fox. You get it?”

  “Sure—you’re a rebel. That’s bigger than any city.”

  “Exactly. I’m against anyone who messes with my planet.” Yandre waves their hand at the sky, the river, the forest. “This is what we rebels are fighting for. So what about you?”

  Both of them are watching me now, but I don’t know how to answer.

  Last night, Col was talking about saving our two cities. But cities don’t mean anything to me. My whole life has been spent as a prisoner of my father’s schemes, or running from him. Those are the only two realities I understand.

  Before I can answer, the hovercar eases to a halt. The banks of the river are tightening, the trees bowing in to scrape our armor.

  For the next few minutes, we talk Zura through the squeeze, meter by painstaking meter, pushing aside branches as we go. It’s slow going, but we’re too close to Shreve to rise above the treetops.

  Finally the river widens, and the car can fly freely again.

  It’s Boss X who gets back to the conversation.

  “Ask yourself a simple question,” he says. “Who do you fight for? Col Palafox?”

  I find myself shaking my head.

  Boss X lets out a grumbly laugh. “Don’t feel bad if it’s true. When I first joined up, it was for a boy. Took me a while to see anything bigger.”

  “No. I’m fighting beside Col—not for him.” I shrug. “We’re allies. And I’ve never even thought about the whole planet.”

  Yandre shrugs. “Not everyone’s a rebel.”

  “The truth is, I’m fighting for R
afia,” I say. “I was only supposed to be an extension of her, but she saw me as a real person. That’s why I exist.”

  I look away at the lifting fans, wreathed in spray from the river. The sunlight turns to arcs of color in that mist.

  “And I’m also fighting against my father. There’s something wrong with him, worse than his strip mines and his spy dust. Even if we all lived back in the old days, before humans had the power to wreck the planet, I’d still fight him.”

  Boss X makes a sound between a growl and a laugh. “Nothing wrong with making it personal. What matters, Frey, is that you fight beside us—up here.”

  It takes me a moment to understand. The ’Foxes are all down inside the car. The three of us are up in the cold wind, getting whacked by tree branches.

  Maybe that makes me an honorary rebel.

  “I’m glad you trust me,” I say.

  “I like a girl who carries a knife,” X says. “Blades make it personal. Muscle and metal, point and edge.”

  “It’s higher-tech than it looks,” I admit.

  His yellow eyes narrow. “Too bad. A knife should be simple.”

  For a moment, I consider asking him what his personal business is in my father’s house. But then the hovercar glides to a halt again.

  The riverbanks aren’t the issue this time. We’re within sight of the valley where Col plans to lure the Shreve army into battle tonight.

  This is our hiding spot.

  Soon Zura’s voice crackles in our ears.

  Setting down in thirty seconds. Hold on to something.

  And if you rebels don’t object to hurting trees, we could use a little camouflage.

  We spend the afternoon hidden there, moving our solar panels out of the shifting shadows, getting back to full charge before night comes.

  The rest of the Victorian army, along with our rebel allies, will come in high and hard when the sun goes down. We want the added cover of darkness, and for the citizens of Shreve to be home from work and watching the feeds when I declare my coup d’etat.

  The waiting gives me time to miss Col.

  When his officers didn’t let him join the tower raid, it was fine with me. I’d rather have just Rafi to worry about keeping safe tonight.