I am looking forward to getting to know my new students in the fall. Somehow, I am always reminded of my favorite student when I see the brightness shining in the eyes of each new class. Write when you can, my girl. I know the path you are on is not the one you would have chosen, but if you continue to give it your best, things will work out in the end. All my best hopes and wishes go with you. Be careful.
Follow your dreams,
Me
I read the letter again, twisting my mother’s ring back and forth on my finger. Mrs. Ford was the closest thing I had to a mother now.
Maybe someday I’ll actually get to talk to her again. Maybe, if everything works out like she says, I’ll get to live like I want. Away from all this skud. My own rules, real freedom.
I wanted and feared real freedom at the same time. It’s easier to let go of something you never really had in the first place. I opened my eyes and put my dreams back inside my carefully guarded heart.
Stupid, flarking SUN.
I pulled a lighter from my pack, ignited the letter, and dropped it into the sink. I watched the flames wrap themselves around the paper until there was nothing to see but a bright flash of fire. It faded quickly enough, and I washed the ashes down the sink.
I pulled up my sleeve to look at my Cuff, running my fingers deftly across the two-inch touch screen. I checked the weather and the flight plans for takeoff later that morning. Everything looked normal. Well, as normal as it could look through the cracked, beat-up screen. I’d had the same Cuff for years. Children in the SUN were issued one when we went to secondary school, and we were expected to make it last for as long as possible. The Cuff charged on the pulse in the wrist, and my job never failed to keep my heart pumping. The screen was exceptionally bright after my narrow escape from the Doom Steps.
I heard somewhere that, once upon a time, women in the old United States had to stop wearing tights or something to support a war effort. When the Third War broke out, the governments of Earth informed the populace they had to give things up too. Factories had been leveled, resources invested completely into military endeavors and the ultimate space race. There was little left over to invest in anything more than survival by the time it was all over.
All the technological resources of the SUN went to more important things, like maintaining the good morale of the system. That, and a massive army designed to help us all ‘get along’.
I reached into my right pants pocket and pushed my hand through the hole I had cut inside. My fingers stretched for the thigh holster I had strapped to my right leg. I felt reassured by the cold handle of my silver Colt 45. Army-schmarmy. I would have my freedom and chase my dreams, whatever rules I had to break, whatever price I had to pay. I grinned as I remembered how impressed with myself I had been when I figured out how to hide my thigh rig beneath my baggy cargo pants. I glanced once more into the mirror before I opened the bathroom door and stepped back into the drab and dusty bedroom.
Light filtered in through the dirty window and spilled over my zonked out crew. Bell had perched herself on the arm of the dingy couch and was engrossed by her own Cuff. I smiled as I watched my little crew of misfits sleep. I wasn’t sure how I got so lucky, but I didn’t care. I had the best crew in the flarking universe.
Of course, that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to thoroughly enjoy waking them all up.
FAMILY OF MISFITS 2
“GUYS? GUYS. TIME TO GET UP.” I GRABBED MY LEATHER VEST from the back of the chair I had crashed on the night before.
“Mph, don’ wanna,” mumbled Chiu Chin Adams.
“Don’t care,” I said. “Up and at ‘em, CiCi. We gotta get Mr. Salazar and his cargo to Earth by 2000 hours.”
My lethargic little mechanic curled into an even tinier ball on the couch, grabbed her windbreaker, and pulled it over her head.
“Come on, Ceese. Don’t make me pour water on your head.”
CiCi sat bolt upright and started stuffing the windbreaker into her pack.
Bell shook her head. “It is so disgusting in ‘ere. ‘Ow can any of you still sleep when it’s this ‘ot? Also, I call dibs on the bathroom.”
“Hurry up, then,” said Diego Rivera. “Anybody wake up the sleaze?” He grabbed one of his guns from under his pillow and wrapped his holster around his waist.
“He is not a sleaze, he’s a paying customer, and don’t talk so loud, you goon. He’s next door, and these walls aren’t exactly soundproof,” I said.
“Hmph. I don’t like him,” muttered Rivera.
“Well, tough, seeing as you’re the bouncer, not the guy putting names on the list.”
“Easy, you two. Diego, you just need some breakfast,” said Miriam Porch. I rolled my eyes. Miriam drove me crazy with her gentle-fuzzy-feelings skud, but Rivera thought our resident healer was the cure for his love fever. Instantly, he went from gun-slinging tough guy to cuddly kitten. He gave her an awkward smile and slid off the bed and into the bathroom.
It was sickening.
Bell suddenly realized Rivera had cut in line and started banging on the bathroom door. “‘Ey! I don’t care if you are ‘eavily armed, I called dibs! Rivera, this is so unfair!”
“You snooze, you lose, Bell. Now shut up! How am I supposed to pee while you’re yelling at me?”
I concealed my smile with a fake cough, stunned that Hobson, my best friend, was managing to sleep through the morning mayhem.
I knelt down next to him and gently shook his shoulder. “Hobs? Hobs.” He was snoring, sprawled out like a starfish under a thin blanket on the floor, his head resting on his jacket. I patted his cheek. “Hobson!”
No response.
Time to take things to the next level.
“CiCi, hand me my canteen, will ya?”
“You’re not serious.”
I raised one eyebrow at her, and CiCi rolled off the couch and tossed me my canteen. I unscrewed the cap, bent over Hobs, and dumped the water on his face. “Wake up!”
“Ack! Rflge larn snortfuzzle,” he spluttered.
I grinned. “Oh really?”
He swatted me away and wiped his face off.
“‘Mupalready.”
“Sure you are. Get moving. I’ll meet you all downstairs. I’m gonna go make sure Salazar’s up. If we’re gonna make Earth at 2000, we need to hustle.”
I extended my fist toward Hobs, who was now at least sitting up. “Live free or die?” I asked.
He half-heartedly pumped his fist into mine. “Live free or please-for-the-love let me go back to sleep?”
I laughed as I patted him on the shoulder. “Not a chance, Hobs.”
I threw my knapsack over my shoulder, closed the door on my stirring crew, and knocked on the door next to ours.
“Salazar?”
No answer. I walked through the smoky hall and down a set of carpeted stairs so worn that the faux wood was beginning to peek through. I figured Salazar had either died in his sleep or was sipping on coffee down in the tavern. Fortunately for me, he was sipping coffee—dead guys don’t pay well. I sat at the table next to him and ordered a wheat roll with strawberry jam and an orange juice.
“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 ver
y 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.
Liberty Page 2