Free The World Forgot by Martin Leicht Page A

space station with the dregs of humanity?”
    â€œWhere d’ya reckon undesirables go when they want to do business?” Marnie says. “They go where they think no folks are watching. So, what better place to watch?”
    â€œI’m confused as to why you would need contacts like that in the first place,” Cole asks, still banging the tracker.
    â€œWe can’t all be as selective about our friends as the Almiri,” Marnie says.
    â€œHa-ha,” Cole says. He flips another switch on the tracker, and it starts frantically beeping. “Holy shit, Elvs! I got it working!” He’s waving the tracker around like a maniac. “Olivia’s here! She’s, like, two meters away or something!”
    I roll my eyes. “Cole, any chance you switched it to frequency one again?”
    He checks, then presses his lips together, all chagrinned-­like. “Um . . . ,” he says slowly. “It’s possible, yeah.”
    â€œ I’m frequency one,” I tell Cole for, like, the four-billionth time. I grab the tracker from him to flip the switch back to stop the inane beeping. “Our daughter is frequency two .”
    â€œIt’s hard to remember,” he says by way of defense as he takes the tracker back.
    â€œTry to make up a mnemonic,” Ducky calls from his chair. And he doesn’t even need to turn around to sense that Cole is staring at him blankly. “A memory trick,” he clarifies. “Like . . . ‘Frequency two, which rhymes with ‘coo,’ which is what babies do.’ So two for Olivia.”
    â€œOr how ’bout ‘eejit,’” Marnie chimes in. “Cuz there’s two E s in ‘eejit,’ and if yer so daft ye cannae remember that, then that’s what ye are.”
    â€œI’ll remember,” Cole says.
    â€œSo,” I say, turning my attention to Marnie. “To the Rust Belt, then? To find this contact of yours?” It’s the best—sorry, only —plan any of us have had so far, and if anyone can give us information that leads to Olivia, I’m all for it. “All agreed?” I ask.
    Marnie gives an emphatic “Aye!” Cole on the other hand . . .
    â€œGuys!” he shouts. “I found her! I found our daughter! She’s, like, two meters aw— Oh, wait. Frequency two , right?”
    And that’s when Ducky barfs on the floor.
    Clearly, Marsden and his cronies don’t stand a chance.
    â€¢Â Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â Â â€¢
    The station, designated New Moon A-1138 according to my navigational readouts, looms large in front of us as I bring the ship in closer. Did I say large? I meant uge , as in so huge that there isn’t any room left for the h . I’ve been to New York City only twice, once on a middle school field trip to the Museum of Pretentious Art and once when Dad took me and Ducky to see 2 Fast 2 Furious on Broadway for my eleventh birthday, so I don’t have a great sense of the actual size of the island of Manhattan, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s roughly the same as the floating hunk of metal that I’m currently steering toward.
    â€œLook at the size of that thing!” Cole whistles from behind me.
    â€œCut the chatter, Red Two,” Ducky says, half-snorting.
    â€œRed what?” Cole asks.
    â€œIt’s just . . . It’s from . . . Forget it. Hey, but, guys, I was thinking. We’re working a reconnaissance mission, right? Gathering intel?” Ducky is still green, but it’s an excited green. I can tell he’s about to nerd out on all of us. “Don’t you think we should all be incognito? Like, with secret identities and stuff? I’ve been working on mine.” He sits up a little straighter. “Alfred Sniggle, new junior sanitation engineer. Thoughts?” He looks expectantly to the rest of us.
    I am not the only person concerned with things besides Ducky’s