Liberty (3 page)

“If you’ve got it, anyway,” I said to the waitress. Good food was scarce in the Martian colonies.

The waitress looked tired, but she managed a half smile as she poured ice water into thick glasses on our table. “You’re in luck. Merchants came in last night and stocked the kitchens. Enjoy the ice while it lasts.”

“Don’t you have solar panels?” asked Salazar.

“They only go so far. We get a great charge in the morning, but it won’t carry us much past sundown,” she replied. “Once the power goes, the ice goes.”

As soon as she was done pouring, I grabbed my glass and stuck it against my sweaty forehead.

“Feel better?” asked Salazar.

“Well, my forehead feels aces, but the rest of me is still pretty sick,” I said.

“Pardon me for asking, but ‘sick’ as in hyperbolically very good, or ‘sick’ as in—”

“Very, very gross and sweaty,” I replied.

Adults. Yeesh.

“Ah. Just checking.”

Salazar was a short man, well-tanned with tight curls and a loose linen suit. He sat back in his chair, casually scrolling through something on his Cuff, which, I noticed, was brand new. I sighed and pursed my lips together.

Merchants like Salazar were wicked little mercenaries who lived high on the hog as long as they didn’t get caught doing something illegal.

Which is usually where I came in. My ship, the
Misfit,
could smuggle just about anything. Generally speaking, I tried to keep things on the level, not for any moral reason, but because it’s easier to avoid getting hung if you’re not doing anything overtly illegal. Every now and then, for the right price, I would “bend” the rules. Salazar had come with a request to snap the rules into tiny pieces, stuff them in a blender, and light them on fire, but I couldn’t refuse. He had managed to acquire a large shipment of food and medical supplies, and he wanted me to fly the shipment to the impoverished people on Earth. The legal part of the job consisted of a load of uniforms for the SUN army. My crew and I had loaded the smuggler’s hold to the hilt last night with the food and medical supplies, and then loaded the uniforms into the cargo bay. It would all look totally legit if the SUN found a reason to inspect the ship.

“Any interesting news today in the reports?” I asked.

“Just the usual. The SUN council is gearing up for the election, starting to look at candidates. What do you think of the SUN, Captain Loveless?”

“I don’t,” I lied. “My focus is on the safe transport of your cargo and doing everything I can to stay out of trouble.”

Salazar laughed. “I imagine in your particular line of work a strong opinion would be an inconvenience.”

“You could say that,” I replied. I leaned forward across the table and put my face right in front of his as I lowered my voice to a sharp whisper. “You could also say this bar is probably bugged, and you’re on thin ice.”

Salazar’s lips narrowed into a thin line.

I continued. “I read somewhere that the Senate recently passed a measure limiting exotic trade with Earth, and that the Cabinet and President Forsythe were rarin’ to sign it into law. You know what that law will do to inspections? Make them an ever-loving nightmare, that’s what. I would imagine that in
your
line of work, having any serious involvement with the System would be much more than an inconvenience.”

Salazar’s face relaxed as he exhaled and lowered his eyes to his Cuff. “You’re smart, Captain. I see now why you came so highly recommended.”

“I do my best.”

He coughed into his napkin. “Good. I’ll need your best. You and your crew sleep well, all crammed into one room like that?”

“We’ve had worse. Crew’ll be down in a minute. We’ll load up and take off whenever you’re ready.”

I threw back some ice water and tried to shrug off that nagging sense that something was wrong.

It’s just the nightmare. Or the stairs. Or the fact that I was actually eating breakfast for once.

I tried to keep a poker face as I threw back my glass. The water flowed down my throat and sent a shiver up my spine as one by one my crew came stumbling down the stairs. Breakfast arrived, and I let the food distract me from the tingling doubt in the back of my mind.

While my crew ordered their food, I inhaled mine and stared at the tavern around me. Faux wood paneling lined the walls of Williamson’s Dive, while ropes and guns and wrought-iron somethings draped them in a strange and lethal tapestry. The heat was irrepressible, despite the fact that it was still morning. Rickety solar-powered fans spun on the ceiling above us, and a dinged-up metal bar snaked around one side of the tavern. The rest of the room was occupied by characters almost as charming as the décor. Mars was pretty much abandoned once terraforming had been perfected, and hooligans of every variety flocked to the dwindling colonies.

Hobson and Rivera finished their breakfast first.

“I’m bored,” said Rivera.

“Oh, good. Take Hobs and go make sure the cargo is secure,” I said.

Rivera glared at me. “Thought you and Bell did that already.”

“Then start running the pre-flight checklist.”

“But—”

“Hey, you asked for it,” I said.

“I didn’t,” mumbled Hobs. He trotted along after Rivera anyway.

Salazar smiled. “You have a loyal crew, Captain Loveless. Rivera’s what, thirty?”

“Twenty-nine,” I replied with a full mouth. “I’m guessing he’ll be twenty-nine for the rest of his life.”

Salazar chuckled. “Well, it is rather impressive that a sixteen-year-old—”

“Seventeen,” I corrected.

“Sorry, that a seventeen-year-old could command the respect of someone nearly twice her age.”

I shrugged. “I’m an adult in the eyes of the SUN. Have been for a year now. I’m the captain. He’s on my payroll. Bet he wouldn’t be so loyal if I couldn’t afford to pay my bills.”

Salazar raised his glass of juice to me. “Valid point, Captain.”

The waitress came by with a handheld. “Scans, guys.”

We each scanned our finger to pay for our meal. As I let my fingertip hover over the handheld, I noticed that the false tip had started to come away from my actual finger. I held my breath and hoped to high heaven that the waitress wouldn’t notice. I thought I saw her squint at my finger, but the scan finished, and before she could say another word, a scrawny little kid threw open the swinging tavern doors. One of the doors flew off its hinges and landed with a crash.

Jake, the proprietor, threw a towel down on the bar. “Aw, for crying out loud, kid, can’t you—”

“There’s an execution in the town square!” yelled the boy.

“What?” asked Jake.

“You deaf? They’re gonna
kill
her!”

“Who?” asked Salazar.

“Tabitha Dixon! Come on!”

Half the bar ran out after the boy. I tried to keep my face free from reaction.

It has to be some bizarre coincidence.

“Let’s go check it out,” I said. Calmly. Very calmly.

“Captain Loveless, I don’t think watching that kind of thing is even remotely healthy,” said Miriam.

“Duly noted, Doc. Now let’s go.”

We tramped out of Williamson’s Dive and into the bright morning sun. The dust from the road curled up with the wind and painted everything in sight with a layer of light brown. At the end of the street stood a makeshift gallows. An old fashioned way of keeping order, but out here in the middle of nowhere, people used whatever worked.

Fear was normally all it took.

As we drew closer to the gallows, I felt the hair on the back of my neck rising. It’s not every day that someone races into the bar where you’re having breakfast and announces to the whole room that you’re about to be put to death. Usually, someone warns you about that kind of thing in advance.

Nobody knows that Trudy Loveless is an alias, except Hobs and Mrs. Ford. It’s going to be fine. Breathe.

I had a chance. It would have been the perfect moment to skip town and hit the skies. I could have scrapped the whole thing and gone back upstairs and hid under the covers. I could have done any number of things that did not involve ignoring my gut.

Never
ignore your gut.

A woman whose head was covered with a burlap sack was dragged up to the top of the gallows. Her clothes, once well made, were ragged and torn. She was barefoot, bruised, and bleeding.

Hobs and Rivera weaved through the crowd and stood on either side of me.

“Finished?” I asked.

Rivera nodded. I grabbed Hobs’s hand and pulled him closer.

“Torture?” I whispered to Hobs.

“Most likely,” he replied. “Who is she?”

“Tabitha Dixon.”

Hobs stared at me, wide-eyed. I raised my eyebrows and nodded toward the gallows.

The executioner forced the woman to her knees and she screamed out in pain. A horde of SUN officials and agents surrounded the gallows. One man whose chest was covered in medals bounded up the gallows steps and addressed the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m happy to announce that after years of concealment on Mars, we’ve found the fugitive Tabitha Dixon. Her acts of sedition have been well documented and she must pay the penalty for charting a course that could overthrow all the values we as a United System hold dear.”

“Flarking
skud!” screamed the woman.

The SUN official tore the sack away from her head and backhanded her with a force that knocked her to the ground. I stood close enough to see the lines of suffering carved into her face. I did not let my gaze linger on them long. Miraculously, she pushed herself up and stood in front of her captors.

“Your superiors asked me to find it, to see if it could be done. Well I did, didn’t I? I found it, and one day the whole universe will know. I’ll never stop trying to ...,” she trailed off.

Her eyes locked with mine.

I know her.

It was the woman from my dreams. The woman who handed me the vial, the one who looked like me.

My father’s only sister, my namesake.

The woman who had made my life a living death.

“Run!” she screamed. “Run!”

The SUN official looked baffled. I heard him ask the executioner if the torture had made her insane.

“Run!
Run now
!”

The other observers in the crowd started turning to stare at me. I shifted my weight, every muscle in my body tensing. I didn’t want to give the SUN a reason to suspect me, and if I ran, they would suspect me.

“She’s off her rocker,” I said with a nervous laugh. Even as the words left my mouth, I felt the color draining from my face and the strength in my legs beginning to run out.

I saw the SUN official signal to a few of his agents to head in my direction. As the agents approached, I felt Hobs scoot closer to me and put his face next to mine.

“Captain?” whispered Hobs.

“Yeah.”

“I think it might be time to run for the ship.”

“Right. Um, crew? Run for the ship.”

“Now?” asked CiCi.

“Now!” I yelled.

I threw myself into the crowd and weaseled my way out into the streets. I heard gunfire and saw a bullet lodge into a post in front of me.

“What the
flark!”
I screamed.

“On it!” yelled Rivera. He ran backward and let loose a firestorm of bullets as we tore for the ship.

“Faster, I can ‘ear choppers!” cried Bell.

CiCi ran as fast as her little legs could carry her, but she was lagging behind. I turned just in time to see her trip. I ran back to her, swooped down, picked her up, and raced toward the dock behind Williamson’s Dive. A bullet whizzed past my right ear and hit my ship just before I climbed in. I whirled around.

“Nobody shoots my ship!” I yelled. I drew my Colt and fired, but nothing happened. “Are you flarking kidding me?”

The SUN soldier I had been aiming at dropped like a rock, and I turned to see Rivera holstering his gun. “Out of bullets again?”

I glared at him. “I could kick you out the airlock, you know.”

“I know. But you won’t. Wanna know why? Because you need someone who actually manages to keep a steady supply of bullets in his gun.”

Before I could craft a cutting reply, Rivera slammed the door shut as a smattering of bullets hit my ship.

Oh no, they did not.

I ran full speed to the cockpit and launched myself into the pilot’s seat. “Come on, baby, hustle,” I whispered. As we took off, I saw the executioner push my aunt’s head through the hangman’s noose. I turned my gaze to the stars, grateful that the noise of the
Misfit’s
thrusters would drown out the strangled death cries of Tabitha Dixon. We blew into the atmosphere, leaving the SUN helicopters floundering in our powerful wake.

O
NCE WE WERE SAFELY OUT OF MARTIAN AIRSPACE, I RETREATED
to my quarters. I knew it was only a matter of time before the SUN made another appearance, and I needed a minute. Several, in fact, but five would do better than none.

I shut the door to my quarters, leaning back heavily against it. My room was beat up, faded, like most things on the
Misfit,
but it was my sanctuary and I loved it. The
Misfit
was a graduation present from my parents—something Mrs. Ford had tucked away in a hangar waiting for me to turn sixteen. I walked to my bed, sat down on the edge, and pulled the chain out from my shirt. I cradled the vial in one hand and stared at it, rolling it around in my fingers and thinking of the latest life that had been claimed in the name of freedom.

I knew little of my aunt, other than the fact that I was named for her, and she was the jackwagon who stuck me with the stupid Eternigen in the first place. Well, sort of. I mean ... the last time I saw her, things had gone very differently.

The rain came down in sheets that day. I was alone. At least, I think I was. I can’t remember why now, only that no one was there to answer the door but me. If I believed in time travel, I would have thought an older version of myself stood soaked to the bone on our porch.

“Who are you?” I had blurted out.

The woman stared at me from underneath the dripping brim of her hat. “Tabitha?”