“Ceese. Let it go,” I had told her. “Focus on the ship right now. We can worry about shining up a shuttle later.”
“But I—”
“That’s an order, CiCi.”
Still, my orders didn’t seem to stop her from asking.
Hobson had also been hard at work on the Eternigen formula, each day drawing one step nearer to unlocking the door to freedom. We could usually smell how close he was getting on any given day. Fortunately, the Aventine had an excellent air circulation unit, or we would have died before we ever left the asteroid.
Berrett and I were on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I had packed and unpacked all the supplies on board so many times it would make a healer squirm. Berrett had labeled and alphabetized everything.
Twice.
We were both extremely relieved to hear CiCi’s announcement.
“All she needs is a name, and we can go get Bell and Rivera and Miriam!” she cried.
“I think we should ditch Miriam,” I said.
“You’re evil,” said Hobson. “You just don’t like her fiddling with your psyche. And that’s illegal, anyway. We have to fly with a healer. We can’t afford to do anything that might raise a red flag during an inspection.”
“Yeah, well, you’re secretly a mad scientist, which means you find my evilness insanely attractive,” I quipped.
Hobson gave me one of his coy little half-smiles. “Yeah, that’s it.”
I patted him on the back. “What are we going to call her?”
“I think we should call her Mián Qiú” said CiCi.
“What does that mean?” asked Berrett.
“Lint ball.”
Berrett raised his eyebrows at me. I just shrugged.
“Maybe we should think of something a little more ... intimidating, Ceese,” I said.
“How about ... the Cyclotron!” cried Hobson.
“The what now?” I asked.
Hobson sighed. “Atom smasher? You can’t get more intimidating than that!”
“Um ... nope,” I replied. “Maybe intimidating was the wrong word.”
“Aw, come on! Explain to me how an atom smasher is anything but intimidating.”
“Liberty,” said Berrett. “You should name her The Liberty. You’re always chasing her, so you might as well name your ship after her.”
Nobody could argue with that. We donned our space suits and took a walk on the floating side.
Walking in space was one of the best perks of being a pilot. Everything about me felt lighter, and the immediacy of normal steps forward was swept away by the total lack of gravity. It seemed to me that was nature’s way of trying to get me to slow down and take in the System. Even though we were nestled into an asteroid, we could still see the stars and the immensity of space around us. That view was one of the few things that consistently blew my brain. The beauty and enormity of space was spiritual and electrifying all at the same time.
Trying to get paint on the side of a ship in zero gravity? Not so much.
Fortunately, CiCi had the foresight to pick up compressed oil paint sticks on Mars. We each took a couple of letters and started to go to work. I had T, I, and R. Slowly and painstakingly, I crafted my T, making sure that everything was even and straight. By the time I got ready to do the I, we noticed a problem. We each had done totally different letter styles.
“Aw, you guys, this looks terrible!” I cried.
“Isn’t that kind of the point?” asked Berrett.
“I like it,” said Hobs. “Gives her character.”
I frowned. I supposed they were both right, but I liked Hobson’s point better. I went back to painting the I.
We were out there for a good six hours. The letters were large, and everything moves slower in zero gravity. By the end, we were tired and hungry, anxiously waiting on CiCi to finish a very swirly letter Y
“A..... done!” cried CiCi. “Captain?”
I examined our handiwork and shook my head.
Aces.
CiCi handed me a juice box.
“..... thanks?”
“You’re supposed to slam it into the side.”
Hobson laughed. “Ceese, that only works if you are using a glass bottle and working with gravity, not without it.”
CiCi frowned. I put a hand on her shoulder and then threw the juice box as hard as I could toward the hull.
I was the last one back inside after our christening ceremony. I unzipped my space suit and shimmied out of it. As I was pulling my boots on, I overheard Berrett and Hobson talking in the chamber next door.
“No, she’s always been like that. Well, almost always. She was pretty quiet our freshman year,” said Hobson.
“I have a really hard time imagining Dix being quiet,” replied Berrett.
I felt my temperature rise, but I held my tongue. Interrupting would stop their conversation, and I was dying to hear what else they had to say.
“Heh, yeah. Well, she’s been through a lot. I mean, on top of the stuff with her family. There was this one guy at the Académie, a soccer player a year older than us who really broke her heart halfway through our freshman year. Kid named Riley.”
My breath caught when I heard that name. I didn’t want to waste a single second thinking about Riley, but I wanted to hear what Hobs had to say about him, so I kept listening anyway.
“I couldn’t understand why she liked him so much, but she’s smart,” Hobs continued. “He was a total jerk, and she figured it out in the end. Still, it was kinda the straw that broke her back, you know. One more loss she couldn’t handle. After that, she wasn’t quiet. Very much the tough, brash Dix you know.”
“How’d you guys meet?”
Hobson laughed. “The first time I saw Dix was in our Intro to System History class. She always sat with one leg curled up under her and she always knew the answers to every question. She was kind of annoying, actually.”
Berrett laughed. “Why does that not surprise me?”
I bit down on my lip to repress a response.
Hobson continued. “Dix and Liz Bell, the first mate, were roommates. They hated each other at first, but eventually they became really good friends. I think reconciliation arrived after a fight involving who got top marks on our first semester exams. If I remember right, the brawl ended with large quantities of flour being hurled about.”
“Seriously?”
“Oh yeah. Covered the girls’ dorms with it. It took them a week to clean it up.”
“Girls are weird.”
“Especially those two. Intense little maniacs. I think the reason they didn’t get along at first is because they’re so much alike. Anyway, I knew Bell from primary school, so eventually she introduced us. During the Riley fiasco, I was the one she confided in, and I’ve been her go-to guy ever since. She’s everything to me,” said Hobson.
I smiled. I won the lottery with Hobson, I thought. Not many have such a great best friend.
“She’s lucky to have someone like you in her life,” said Berrett. “She was really worried about you guys when she got shot down. Almost went crazy over it.”
“Yeah, well, we were worried about her too. We knew we had to wait for her to contact us. It was too risky to try to get a hold of her with the monitored communication. It was hard to wait, not knowing whether or not ... you know ... whether or not we’d see her again.”
Berrett must have nodded, because I didn’t hear a response before Hobs started talking again.
“We’re good for each other. A lot of things have just always made sense for me, but girls? Not so much. Dix could tell you horror stories, in fact.”
“I dunno, Hobs, you were pretty smooth with Alice Johnson.”
Hobs laughed. “Yeah, the one girl at the Académie who found me attractive, and I just never felt the same. No zing. And there has to be zing.”
“Agreed.”
“Anyway, I’m sure there’s a very legitimate scientific reason why girls are so confusing, but I could ne
ver figure it—or them—out. ‘Cept my Dix. She’s amazing. Totally overclocks my processor.”
“What?” asked Berrett.
“What?” I cried. I slapped my hand over my mouth, but it was too late.
“What?” cried Berrett and Hobson.
I swore under my breath and marched into the other room.
“You guys have something you wanna share?” I asked.
The pair of them shook their heads at me, their eyes as wide as saucers.
“Right.”
Wait—my Dix?
My head tried to wrap around the meaning of that statement. He probably meant that in a Hobsy sort of way. I was his the way sisters belong to their brothers and ... suddenly I was feeling awfully uncomfortable.
“Well, uh, fasten your seatbelts, boys. Takeoff’s in five minutes.”
I walked—okay, fine, I ran—out of the room, and then ducked just outside the doorway and put my ear against the wall.
“That was close,” said Berrett.
I heard the smack of a fist on fabric.
“Ow! What was that for?” asked Berrett.
“You seriously think she’s not outside the door listening?”
My face flushed as I turned and ran as silently and quickly as I could down the corridors.
Later that night, after the four of us had something to eat, I walked the crew quarters and checked in to make sure everyone was happily settled. CiCi was already fantasizing about how she was going to upgrade the guts of the Liberty. Pictures of her plans were strewn about her quarters. Hobs was doing whatever it was Hobs did in his lab, and Berrett was asleep by the time I made it to his room.
He hadn’t even managed to change. He had fallen asleep on his back, his cabby hat covering his face, his arms folded across his chest and the tiniest of snores accompanying his slow and steady breathing. I couldn’t help the smile that came out of nowhere and spread itself across my face. I snuck in, took his hat off, and turned his light out.
“Night, Jordan,” I whispered.
CITY OF LIGHTS 18
“PAPERS?” ASKED THE SUN AGENT.
We held our collective breath as CiCi hit send.
“Headed your way,” said CiCi. She looked up and smiled sweetly at the communications monitor. Hobs, Berrett, and I huddled on the floor of the cockpit, every muscle in our bodies tensed and poised, waiting for any intimation of trouble. Hobs tipped his Cuff up to catch the view on the comm monitor. Berrett and I strained to see the reflection. The jump gate hovered in front of the space shield, a giant, curving metal archway. I ached down to my bones to bolt through it, but there wasn’t a flarking thing I could do until the SUN agent stationed at the gate gave us clearance.
The seconds crawled as we waited to know whether or not Max’s papers were legit. We had a backup plan in case they weren’t, but none of us were thrilled at the prospect of ditching Liberty and tearing back to Williamson’s Dive in one of the shuttles.
I crossed my fingers, my toes, my legs, and my eyes.
“What are you doing?” hissed Berrett.
“Shh!” whispered Hobs.
CiCi kicked at us from the captain’s chair.
“Okay, you’re clear,” said the agent. “You can now use all the jump gates, and I went ahead and got you permission to land at Giverny airstrip on Earth.”
“Thank you!” said CiCi.
“My pleasure. Congrats on the purchase of your new cargo vessel!”
She reached up and switched off the communications monitor. “You guys need to seriously work on your stealth skills. You are so loud!”
I rolled my eyes. “Sorry, Ceese. We’ll try to behave better next time.”
“Hmph. I don’t like lying to people in order to explain away random whispery noises coming from underneath my chair.”
Berrett snickered.
“What?” cried CiCi.
Berrett instantly pulled himself together. “Nothing.”
CiCi narrowed her eyes. “I’m gonna go play with Liberty,” she said.
“Okay, Ceese, have fun!” yelled Hobs.
“Who’s running this ship, anyway?” I muttered.
“Good question,” replied Berrett.
I glared at him. “You know what? I have a job for you. Why don’t you and Hobs go to the galley and get some lunch for everyone?”
Berrett shot me an irritated look, but he and Hobson trotted off to the galley, whispering back and forth.
A sudden thought occurred to me.
“Don’t be spitting in or doing anything else weird to the food, either!” I cried.
“Okay!” yelled Hobs. He and Berrett started laughing out loud.
Dangerous combination, those two.
I took my seat and flew Liberty through the jump gate. I shook off the sensation of my stomach dropping as we were launched through the portal, across the solar system and into the atmosphere of Earth. The rest of the flight down to earth was, mercifully, far more uneventful than my last. Nevertheless, every second of the flight, the nerves in my stomach wound tighter and tighter until I thought there was a reasonably good chance that my guts had tied themselves into a giant knot. Before we started the landing process, I ran back to the galley to try to eat something. However, as I rifled through the storage units, everything we had sounded awful. Instead of foraging for food, I spent the last few minutes before landing raiding the cabinets for some medicine to quell my stomach.
Fortunately for everyone involved, I found some, popped it into my mouth, and ran back to the cockpit. I was a nervous mess until we landed in Giverny, a small village about fifty miles outside of Paris. Once upon a time, the town of Giverny had probably been quite beautiful. Hints of that beauty peered through the dark, steam-rolled landing block nestled into the right bank of the Seine. At the edge of the block were the ruins of a very old church covered in moss and ivy. Red poppies poked up through a couple of cracks in the asphalt. A large landing tower had been erected, but the ivy was starting to claim it as well. Giverny seemed to refuse on a fundamental level to give in to the SUN’s visions of standardization.
Suddenly, I understood why Bell loved France. Dread wrapped a cold hand around my heart as I considered what her fate might be. I focused my gaze out the shield and tried not to think about it. Bell was tough. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.
The sun was just starting to rise over the Seine as Liberty touched down. Few things made me happy anymore, but the tenacious beauty of the French countryside, illuminated by the rising sun, countered my budding terror with the tiniest sliver of hope.
As soon as we landed, I turned to my crew. “Berrett and I will take a shuttle into Paris. We’ll dock at one of the landing blocks and use sailboards to get to Bell’s house.”
“Where’d you steal those from?” asked CiCi.
“We didn’t steal them!” Berrett yelped in disgust. “The Aventine was designed with a locker full of them.”
CiCi narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “Are you sure you didn’t steal them?”
Berrett shot me a disapproving look. “This is what they expect of you?”
“Don’t get all self-righteous. We do what we have to do sometimes. Look, CiCi, if anything happens, you get out and get back to Mars. We’ll be harder to catch if we’re separated.”
“Aye, Cap.”
“Berrett, are the sailboards in the shuttle?” I asked.
“Loaded and ready to go.”
“Good. Hobs?”
He raised his eyebrows and smiled, ready for any request I would issue.
I hesitated. I didn’t want to give voice to the fear that had spread from my heart to the blood in my veins. I looked down, noticed my hands were shaking, and realized I didn’t have to say a word. He knew. He always knew.
“Make my day and get that shiny skud in the vial replicated.”
He threw his arms around me.
“She’s okay, Dix. Trust her.”
I pulled away and gave him a nod. Berrett followe
d me into the shuttle. We stuffed our limbs into the cramped cockpit and Berrett hit the button to lock the doors.
“I do not miss this.”
“You helped design it, didn’t you?” I asked.
“Well, yes, but I never thought I’d be spending so much time in it.”
I laughed at him as I brought the shuttle to life and we sped through the countryside, wending our way toward Paris.
We flew down the old Normandie highway, past other shuttles and cruisers making their way in and out of the last great city of pleasure. Paris was the getaway for almost every System of United Nations bigwig. Most of them had chateaux here. Bell’s family had worked in the government for years, though Bell had often told me that these days their loyalty to the SUN was out of necessity, not the pure feelings of their hearts. The Bell family residence was a Parisian institution, and both the SUN and the Bell family had their reasons for keeping it that way.
We flew past the bright green trees and lush farmland that edged up against the highway. Neither Berrett nor I said a word to each other, the pair of us utterly engrossed in our own thoughts.
Halfway there, Berrett broke the silence.
“You ever been to Paris?”
“Nope.”
“Me either.”
An awkward heaviness that I didn’t know how to erase lingered in the air between us. I thought of questions I could ask him, but they all seemed so stupid. Finally, I settled on a comment that seemed relatively safe.
“So, you and Hobs and Ceese all seem to be getting along well.”
“Oh, yeah. They’re great. CiCi’s brilliant,” said Berrett.
I nodded.
Oddly, the heaviness did not evaporate.
I cleared my throat.
“So, I should just warn you that when we get to Paris, the house may be guarded by agents or on lock down. She might not be there at all, but it’s the only place I know to start looking. I know Bell—even if she isn’t there, she’ll have left us something to point us in the right direction.”
Liberty Page 15