Liberty (17 page)

He nodded. “Dix?”

“Yeah?”

“You be careful.”

I walked into his cabin and sat down next to him on his bed. “You know I will be.” I pushed his curls away from his face and kissed the tip of his nose. “You be better when I get back.”

He smiled weakly. “You got it, Captain.”

The dirt of the desert clung to the treads in my boots as Berrett and I hiked along the valley floor. When Mars was terraformed, the results were pretty ... kind of. The desert isn’t for everyone, and Mars is mostly desert. Still, the patterns of rock and sediment wove across the hills and mountains in broad, wobbly strokes. If you could turn a sunrise into something you could touch, that’s what the mountains of Mars looked like to me.

You had to look for what was beautiful about Mars. It wasn’t obvious and showy, like Venus with its incredible architecture or Neptune’s mind-blowing landscapes. I forced my mind to focus on the subtle intrigues of the desert.

The alternative was to start screaming and throwing skud.

The strange emotional surges and sloughs had dragged my heart all over since I saw Eira’s message two days ago. It was like permanent PMS. Each time I breathed in, I would focus on a cactus, a splash of pink streaking through the rocks, a sagebrush rolling along beside me in the tepid breeze. Slowly, I would exhale, and then start the whole process over again.

In and out.

In and out.

It was the only way I knew of to keep myself from losing it.

CiCi had gone off to the junkyard in search of parts. Berrett and I, loosely disguised by our cabby hats and a shabby change of clothes, decided to head to Williamson’s Dive to see if we could ferret out any more information and another set of ID tags for the ship.

As we turned down the main street, I saw the gallows towering over the square. The rope swung in the lazy breeze. For a moment, my mind went blank. I couldn’t tell if I was walking or even breathing. Before I could stop it, another image flashed into my mind—the image of Caleb’s dead body dangling from the mast of the old water ship. I reeled internally and reached instinctively for Berrett’s hand. To my surprise, he had reached for mine as well.

Great minds think alike, apparently.

We held on to each other and walked over to the tavern. I let go of Berrett’s hand and squared my shoulders as I pushed open the doors, which someone had managed to fix in the time we had been gone, and crossed the dusty floor.

I slammed my palm down on the bar.

“Two—”

“Root beers,” finished Berrett.

I glared at him. “You don’t even know what I was going to order!”

“Whatever it was, you shouldn’t have it,” he said.

“Ginger ale?” I hissed. “Are you seriously going to sit me down and lecture me on the evils of
ginger ale
? What the flark is wrong with you? I can make my own decisions.”

“Easy, I was just trying to make you laugh.”

Oops.

I leaned against the bar and sulkily scoped out the room. Any of the usual clients here would know who to talk to about forging new tags. I looked around the room for the most friendly and approachable of the thugs. As I took a sip of my root beer, I noticed a well-dressed fellow staring at me from underneath his fedora.

“Berrett. Back corner.”

Sharp dressers didn’t hang out at Williamson’s Dive, but the guy checking us out was dressed to the nines. A formal cloak draped around his shoulders and the fedora cast a shadow over his nose and goatee. Two narrow scars ran the length of his left jaw and disappeared into his stubble. His black shoes practically sparkled despite the dust that seemed to cover everything. He shined the way an oil slick does.

Running cargo had taught me which slicks to avoid. I had heard about this one. He was first on my list of Sketchy People to Studiously Dodge.

“I see him,” said Berrett.

“Know who he is?”

“Nope. I’ve never seen him before.”

“Why did I bring you along again, Berrett?”

“Because you love me, remember? Or do you love Hobson?”

I laughed into my root beer.

“Hobs? He’s my best friend, of course I love him. But not like
love,
love. You know.”

Berrett’s expression was awash with confusion. “Like
love,
love? Is that even a sentence?”

I rolled my eyes. “Never mind. Fedora Guy is more commonly known as Maxwell Jones, but I seriously doubt that’s his real name. He’s the mother of all merchants.” I turned around to pay the barkeep.

“He’s a guy, though. Wouldn’t that make him the father of all merchants?”

“Semantics.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ve run cargo for him a couple of times, and I can tell you two things about him. One, he’s loaded, and two, he’s sneaky. If anyone can get us fake tags, it’s him, but I don’t know if it’s worth the risk.”

“Think he’d turn you in?” asked Berrett.

“Depends. If it’s worth his while, he might. Or he might turn me into shoes.”

Berrett shot me a skeptical look over his glass of root beer.

“I’m serious,” I said. “I don’t scare easy, but he sets off my creep-dar every time.”

Suddenly, Max was standing behind us, a hand on each of our shoulders.

“My ears were burning, so I came right over. Hello, Tabitha. No, no, don’t turn around, either of you. Not a single word. Go calmly to the back doors—they lead down a hall. Room number sixteen, here’s the key. You have five minutes, assuming you don’t want me to alert everyone in this room as to who you are. Oh, and in case you have doubts, that extremely large, scary-looking fellow at the end of the bar has been tracking Tabitha Dixon and her new partner, Jordan Berrett. He’s President Forsythe’s very own bounty hunter, and he’s
anxiously
anticipating collecting the hefty reward he’ll get by bringing you two in. Good thing I found you first. I think he’s had a few too many to pay close attention at the moment.”

I swallowed hard. Right then, it hit me—I was so done. I was so,
so
done with all of this cloak-and-dagger chase me across the solar system skud. I wanted so badly to whirl around and yell, “Hey, scary bounty hunter guy! Lemme save you the trouble! I’m Tabitha Dixon! Come ‘ere and put me outta my misery! Take the dratted vial and just
shoot
me already!”

Berrett seemed to sense that I was on shaky ground. He grabbed my hand and hauled me to the door at the back of the bar. I let him, following him as blindly as I had done the night he saved my life.

Berrett opened the door and pulled me inside the hallway.

“Hang in there, Dix, the room’s right here.”

I nodded. I watched Berrett turn the key and open the door to Room #16. I felt him pull me inside and put his hands on my shoulders. The room, not too different from the one my crew and I had been sleeping in not even a week before, reminded me of all the things I wanted to forget. A heavy mist descended on my mind, and for a moment it was like I was somewhere else. Somewhere far away.

“Dix?
Dix.
Look at me.
Tabitha,
are you okay?”

I had no reply. I felt the world spin around me, the laughter and booze and the smell of dust tangled around my legs and pulled me to the floor. I couldn’t speak. My feelings burst out of the blocks of ice I had frozen them into, curled around my words and sentences, and strangled them. I could hardly breathe.

Berrett pulled me to my feet and grabbed me by my shoulders.

“You are strong enough for this. You jumped out of a ship, for crying out loud. You can do this. We aren’t dead yet, which means there are still options open to us.”

“But Max knows who I am and—”

“And doesn’t seem to want us immediately dead. Let’s just wait and see what he has to say, alright?”

I nodded. I stuffed all my loosed emotions into my stomach and locked it down as best I could, but I still felt shaky. About two seconds later, our captor walked in. His eyes narrowed as he examined Berrett and me.

“I’m Maxwell Jones, but everyone calls me Max,” he said. He walked over and shook Berrett’s hand. “She already knows me.”

He strolled across the room and opened a suitcase. “So, here’s the deal. You’re going to take a message to the Governor of Mars at a ball being held at the capital tonight.”

“What? You might as well hand us over to the SUN!” cried Berrett.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll have you two so disguised your own mothers wouldn’t recognize you.”

“And why, exactly, would we be willing to do this for you?” I asked.

“One, because you want to live. Two, because I can get you IDs and papers for that stolen ship of yours, enabling you to resume your little mission of freedom.”

Max grabbed the silver chain around my neck and waved it in front of my face.

“Third, I think I could profit more if you’re the one holding the Eternigen in the end instead of her.”

It was my turn for the wide-eyed stare. “You know about Eira?”

Max laughed. “Tabitha, I know about everyone. That’s how a guy like me stays in business without getting caught. Also, there’s been a development I’m pretty sure you aren’t aware of yet.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

He showed me his Cuff and hit play on a news report video. The newscaster’s voice was nasal, confident, obnoxious.

“In other news, there are reports of a brutal murder on Mars. Though murder is not an unusual crime on a planet where the dregs of society go to hide, the method of this particular murder is very disturbing. We go now to our Mars correspondent, Stephen Glen, for details.”

“Thanks, Ashley. Hank Jackson was a carpenter here on Mars, an honest man in a sea of crooks and thieves. He did work for the—”

“Hank?” I cried. “Hank was the first guy to give me work! He can’t be dead! How did that happen?”

Max hit pause on the video. “How do you think? Your customer list is a matter of public record. You know she isn’t going to stop with just one murder.”

“Flarking skud,” I whispered. I sat on the edge of the bed. “How’d she do it?”

“Trust me, you do not want to know. They won’t even show pictures, it’s that bad. All you need to know is that Eira will keep killing until she gets what she wants, or until someone stops her. You need my help, Dix, and for the moment, I need yours. Do we have a deal?”

He extended his hand.

“You’re kidding. You’re just going to shake on this?” I asked.

“Yes, and so are you. Ponder on that before you shake,” said Max.

I put my face right up next to his. “If you do
anything
to jeopardize my ship or my crew, I will—”

“Spare me the melodrama, Tabitha. I don’t want to jeopardize you. I just want to own a piece of you so I can call in a favor later if I need to. The falsified documents will be waiting for you on your ship after the ball. Just get this message to the governor and you’re free to go.”

I shook his hand. It was the only thing I could do.

“Right then. Disguises for you both. Tabitha, I don’t know what your natural hair color is, but you’re going with black. I’m assuming those purple lenses match your latest alias, so I won’t fiddle with those. They look good. As for you, Berrett, take that filthy cabby hat off and let me see what I have to work with here.”

Berrett pulled off his cap and shook out his chocolate colored curls.

“Interesting. Let’s see what we can do. Tabitha, to the shower with you. Get that mop clean.”

I cocked my head to the right and stared. “Um ... how do you know about—”

“Fashion? Look, just because I’m a devious, self-absorbed, money-grubbing merchant doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate style. Once you get to know me a little better, Dix, you’ll realize I always come prepared.”

“I don’t want to get to know you better.”

“Hmm, well, that’s your loss, isn’t it? To the shower with you! Move!”

I wobbled my way to the bathroom and locked the door behind me. The bathroom was dingy, small, and covered in a hybrid of neon yellow and green tile. It did not help my sense of vertigo in the slightest. I turned the shower handles and peeled off my clothes. I hadn’t managed to find a complete change of clothes yet, so I threw my underthings into the sink to soak. I stepped into the shower and let the water run hot on my tight shoulder muscles, sweeping the stress away with the dust and dirt. The soap ran along my skin and magically changed my coloring from dusty tan to pale pink.

I guess I was a little overdue for a shower.

I dried off, wrapped the thin and faded towel around myself, and yelled for Max.

“I’m decent!”

“That’s a lie, but I’m coming in anyway,” said Max. He opened the door and threw a stool in front of the sink. “Sit.”

I sat.

Three hours later, I was showering the extra black dye out of my hair. Max added extensions and styled my hair.

Eyebrows were plucked.

Makeup, which was altogether unfamiliar, was applied.

Jewelry was hung from my ears, neck, and wrist.

I stared at myself in the mirror.

I looked
aces.

I still didn’t feel real great, but I was distracted from the fact by the appearance of the woman in the mirror across from me. I had no idea where she had been hanging out, but certainly that woman couldn’t be me. I was a scrawny seventeen-year-old kid. What Max had done might have been considered ordinary by some, but to me he was a magical wizard or fairy godfather. I had never been able to achieve results like this.