Authors: Annie Laurie Cechini
Liberty
“Liberty
is the kind of sci-fi I crave, full of adventure, wit, and mayhem. Suit up and strap in—Dix and Berrett are about to take you on a flarking good ride.”Lydia Sharp, author of
Twin Sense“Totally fun! Like a YA version of
Firefly.
”Adam Heine, author of
Pawn’s Gambit
Rhemalda Publishing
Rhemalda Publishing, Inc. (USA)
P.O. Box 1790 Moses Lake, WA 98837 USA
First American Paperback Edition
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, dialogues, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright ©2012 by Annie Laurie Cechini
Edited by Diane Dalton
Text design by Rhemalda Publishing
Cover art by Melissa Williams of M. W. Cover Designs
http://mwcoverdesign.blogspot.com/
Author photo by Ashley Johansen
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.
ISBN: 978-1-936850-57-0 (print)
ISBN: 978-1-936850-80-8 (epub)
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012952983 (print)
Annie Laurie Cechini’s author website is
www.annielauriecechini.com
QED stands for Quality, Excellence and Design. The QED seal of approval shown here verifies that this eBook has passed a rigorous quality assurance process and will render well in most eBook reading platforms.
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S
OMEWHERE ON MY PUBLISHER’S HARD DRIVE IS A VERY
light-hearted, silly version of the acknowledgments. I fall back on silly when I feel anything serious, because otherwise I tend to get a bit weepy. I have decided that considering this is my only first book, a few tears are okay (and it’s late enough at night that no one is awake to see me sniffling while I type).
There is one statement from my goofier version that I’m keeping. That is my sincere gratitude for the poor, sweet person (or people) I will, inevitably, forget to thank. You know me, and you know it’s not that I don’t love you, so I am going to assume you will not hate me forever and will understand.
Heartfelt thanks go to:
Every single teacher I’ve ever had. I’d name you all, but I was in school for a long time, so there are a lot of you. I want each one of you to know that while I will always be grateful to your dedication to the noble profession of education, I value the kindness and patience each one of you consistently extended to me even more.
Ed, who first believed I could publish a novel and read multiple drafts of my first feeble attempts at writing (for which you should really be awarded some kind of medal of honor).
Sarah Mosny Belt, A.L. Johansen, D.B. Smyth, S.J. Gardner, A.C. Abram, Kathleen Jarboe, and Eve S. Nicholson, without whom Dix would have died under a falling piece of the
Misfit
(or the withering glance of the Grammar Goddess, whichever came first).
Heidi, for quick and clever edits, insightful counsel, and a sense of humor rivaled only by the cast of MST3K.
Mariah, Genevieve, Erin, Katie, Brittany, Stephen, Bethany, and Alissa. Their teen insights and perspectives were truly invaluable.
Diane Dalton, who not only saw a diamond in the manuscriptorial (is that even a word? It is now! I love English) rough, but also went on to beat the ever-loving daylights out of it until it was sparkly and shiny.
The Rhemalda Publishing team, for making the process of becoming an author infinitely less terrifying. Their commitment to excellence is rivaled only by their desire to help writers create novels without losing what little sanity most of us start our careers with.
Michelle, for being the most approachable author on the planet, a mentor, and a friend.
Lydia, who, in the middle of one of the most difficult periods of my life, gave me the extra push of encouragement I needed to soldier on with a book I never thought I could pick up again.
My brilliant and wonderful friends, for helping me work things out, challenging my point of view, and always being ready with a smile and a kind word.
My extended and immediate family, for teaching me faith, love, and the fine art of not taking things too seriously.
My parents, who assured me that I could do anything if I put in the effort and gave me opportunities to succeed. I love you dearly, parentses.
Matt Cechini, for making me laugh, giggling at my melodramatic flailing, and taking care of all the little details that seem to escape me. “Everything” seems a little too broad and a little too vague to really do justice to the sentiment, but I mean it when I say, thank you for everything. Have a code, my lovely: 25-26-8-7-18-12-13-8 23-2218-20-13
You, dear sweet reader! There are no words for how much it means to me that you read my story. *HUGS* Thank you so much!
XOXO,
Annie Laurie
To William Harry Jenks
A high school English teacher
Who never had quite enough
Time to read and write
Because he was so busy
Helping others to live.
by
Annie Laurie Cechini
Rhemalda Publishing
Chapter 6: Nasty Old Bars and Other Grossness
Chapter 8: In Which Tabitha is Renamed. Again.
Chapter 10: Master and Apprentice
Chapter 13: Picking Up the Kids
Chapter 17: In Which Things Are Awkward
Chapter 22: Return of the Eyeroll
Chapter 23: Ripping Off the Band-Aid
Chapter 26: Gone But Not Forgotten
The Unauthorized History of the Third War:
A
T THE HEIGHT OF THE DIGITAL REVOLUTION, A COMPANY
called Galileo Space Pioneering (GSP) announced they had developed terraforming technology. Amory Ninge, President of GSP, unveiled images of newly terraformed Mars at a press conference in Los Angeles. Terraforming a planet without authorization was in direct violation of the Outer Space Treaty of 1967, and within days of the announcement a second space race had begun. In less than a year, the entire planet was at war with itself.
Twenty years later, as the dust began to settle, the surviving nations established an alliance. The terraformed planets were divided into colonies. These colonies were required to “temporarily” ship a large percentage of everything they produced back to Earth to aid reconstruction.
However, as the goods and staples came to Earth, distribution was far from fair, hardly used for reconstruction, and nowhere near temporary. Those who had risen to power created the Settlements, havens of prosperity and technological advancement. The rest of Earth—and the entire solar system—languished under the burden of supporting the Settlements.
Over time, the alliance evolved into a totalitarian government called the System of United Nations. Largely made up of Settlement residents from around the planet Earth, the SUN ruled the system with ultimate authority. Through an aggressive drafting campaign, the SUN created a military force that was both feared and hated across the solar system.
Though it had been relegated to a ship building company during the Third War, GSP slowly began to gain ground under the new regime. Amory Ninge, Jr. inherited the company from his father. Being a shrewd businessman, Amory Jr. kept his nose down and worked hard during the war. When the SUN was established, Amory Jr. married Anna Forsythe, daughter of the first SUN president, Ethan Forsythe, as a means to return GSP to its former glory. In System Year 5, Anna gave birth to their daughter, Eira Ninge.
1
I
KNEW THE MINUTE I WOKE UP THE DEAL WAS GOING TO GO
bad. I had that sense in the base of my gut, the hairs rising on my neck, all the signs that point to impending danger—or paranoia. I usually attribute it to the latter, barrel through, hunker down, and it all works out.
I knew this was not one of those times.
I knew it, and I ignored it anyway. Captains should know better, and I had already been a captain for over a year. I shoved the sense of foreboding back into the pit of my stomach as my first mate, Elizabeth Bell, and I walked away from the hangar where my ship was docked.
“You ’ad the nightmare again, didn’t you?” Bell asked in her soft French accent.
Her question distracted me from my jitters. Bell stared into my face as we turned the corner and headed toward the tavern where our crew was still asleep, her brown eyes evaluating the purple bags beneath mine.
“Nothing new,” I lied. “I have the stupid nightmare all the time.”
“You’re lying. Something was different this time.”
I laughed. “Remind me to never play poker with you.”
“You can talk to me, you know.”
“I know.”
The truth was, the nightmare hadn’t changed all that much. I still took a small glass vial from a woman who looked just like me, only older. I still stared at the swirling silver liquid inside, still ran up the stairs of my family’s house to hide it, and in the end ... everyone died.
A gray mist whisked them away, one by one, a haze that carried with it the same metallic squeal I had heard the night of the accident. The mist surrounded my parents, my brother, everyone I loved, and destroyed them in an instant before dissipating in a sudden blast of wind.
This time there had been one key difference. Instead of standing in my childhood home, I wandered in a crowd, surrounded by strangers. I couldn’t help bumping into them. Every person that I touched disappeared in a flash of squealing mist.
And then I saw my crew walking toward me through the crowd.