J Mauldin - Final Solution

Liberty took another drink of water, staring off into space. She sighed. “But you know what the worst part is? One of those unexpected bits no one tells you?”

My excavating finger froze. “What’s that?”

“If you run into a burning building or face down a maniac with a gun, or hell, punch a guy in a bar for that matter, your adrenaline kicks in and carries you through the fight. You feel like a superhero, physically and emotionally, like you’re made of titanium alloy and wind. In those short moments, you can do anything. When my blood runs hot, it feels as if I can reach out and pluck the enemy’s projectiles from space with a set of chopsticks and eat them for dinner. But in here, in this bucket?”

“Coke can,” I said, raising a finger. “It’s a Coke can.”

“Alright, whatever.” She grinned but seemed uncertain. “Here in this, Coke can, all you get is dread, and dread doesn’t see you through. It consumes you like a cancer, eats you up from the inside out, and there’s no cure for it. None. You just wither away in not knowing what tomorrow will bring. That’s the part they don’t tell you when signing up for the Brethren military, and thinking about it makes me sick. Look at me, I’ve not even been here all that long and I’m already fed up.”

Truer words had never been said. All of us were losing our edge. Before we knew it, César would be trying to hug me in the dark for comfort, or worse, freebasing bathroom cleaner. Maybe Griffin and he should be stationed together for firing solutions.

Liberty reached into one of her leg pockets and removed a silver tube, then proceeded to put it to her lips, depress a button on its side, and breathe in. A moment later a cloud of white vapor trailed out of her nostrils.

“Holy f-ing shit! How did you get a vape pen on board?” I raised my hands. “And whoa, why isn’t it setting off the moisture alarms?”

She took another hit and shrugged. “Don’t have a clue on the alarms, it’s pretty moist in here as it is, but you forget who I am. I’m Captain Fryatt’s daughter. They didn’t check me for contraband when I came on board, and those Russians were all about this stuff.”

The scent of her vapor dispersed, reaching for my nose. “Blueberry,” I said hungrily, long-sleeping memories rising to the surface. Saturday mornings. Mom baking muffins. Two bites, a sip of cold milk. My sister laughing. Dad chasing us around, threatening to tickle us. A red world. Peace.

“Always,” Liberty tipped her head.

“Can I?”

“Sure, but be careful, it doubles as a ten-thousand-volt stun stick. Don’t flip open the safety.” She tapped the side.

“No way.”

“Way.”

She handed me the tube with a wide, knowing smile. I took a hit. It had been so long since I’d had nicotine. It was almost as good as sex. Actually, I think both things had occurred on the same day, and they were not part of this calendar year. But there was a hint of something else in the finish that wasn’t blueberry. It was earthy and bright with a whisper of damp sweetness. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it

“Whoa, whoa,” she said. “Slow down, Kemosabe, that shit’s strong. Not like I can drop by a drug store and get more if you vape it all up.”

I handed it back, a gentle buzz already filtering down from my head and into my limbs. The aftertaste told me all I needed to know. “It’s a blend, isn’t it? Got a little Earth side green in there, huh?”

“Like I said, Russians. Hash oil.” She grinned and put the tube away, then crossed her legs and moved closer, resting a hand on my knee. “I ever tell you about the caves?”

I shook my head and felt the space around me work to catch up. The concentration of THC in the oil swapped places with the anandamide neurotransmitters in my head, attaching itself to cannabinoid receptors, stimulating the pleasure centers and releasing a flood of dopamine, washing away all anxiety. This was fun.

“Well, when I was young, before we met and long before the war, father used to take me out in a skimmer to what he called the Crystal Caves.”

“Fancy name,” I interjected, raising my hand to get a better look at it. Had I always had those lines on the back of it? Hot damn, they were deep. Like valleys in my skin. I could almost imagine myself shooting through them on the silver wings of a shuttle, twisting and banking, zipping mere feet from the rock walls and certain death.

Focus, man.

“I liked it,” she admitted, and cocked her head in an abashed fashion. “But things were better back then, different. Father was the head foreman of a high carbon mining team, the kind that was banned back on Earth for its emissions. Perfect for terraforming. His men were like family, just as much as mom and I, and so he cared for them as best he could. On his off days, and when mom needed a break from his constant prattling about gemstones and mineral veins and new drills they were bringing into service, we would spend the day together. He took me out to the mines and showed me off to his boys and cadre of Ginas. So many times that his work family even gave me a nickname, Rudolph. Somehow I was always ended up getting red dirt on my nose.”

“Can I call you that instead of Lib?” I raised an eyebrow and felt my legs begin to melt into the floor. I hoped I wouldn’t ooze my way through the hull and suffocate. That was a terrifying thought.

Calm down. Everything’s okay. Calm down. My face was numb.

I watched her downturned expression as she considered what I’d asked, her lips pushed out in a pouty gesture. God, she was so beautiful it made my chest ache.

“Rudolph? No, you can’t,” she said with a matching glare that brooked no discussion.

“Fine, fine, but Rudolph was Santa’s savior that foggy Christmas Eve. We can overlook the fact that he was a he and you’re not. Or wait, did you look boyish back then? Did your parents give you one of those bowl cuts that were so hip for a while? Made everyone look like a damn friar from the Middle Ages, and sure, they got lots of game. Right…”

She sighed and shook her head. “Shut up, jackass.” Then nudged me with the toe of her boot. “I’m telling a story. Geez.”

I was compelled to press even harder, but at the heart of it I’m a gentleman and obliged her request, zipping my lips shut.

Why weren’t we sitting on the grass? It would feel better than this. Oh, yeah, hiding.

I rubbed my forehead. Stay focused.

“But I loved the Crystal Caves the most.” Her voice took on a distant tone, singing of glorious days past, never to be revisited. “We would pack a picnic, tuna fish sandwiches, a few cans of Coke, even a bag or two of crisps. The caves were about fifty miles out, so in the time it took our skimmer to get there, the crisps had been eaten. Without fail, father would steal my last bite and laugh about it, before producing a fresh bag.

“Down in the caves there was a strange, pocket atmosphere his crew had discovered while scouting for drilling sites that we could take off our helmets in. The sparse flora of Mars and some microbiotic creatures made breathable levels of oxygen and nitrogen as a result of their symbiosis. We’d play board games like Palzor or Hexon, or read books. Ender’s Game and The Princess Bride were two of my favorites . We’d chase each other through the tunnels in matches of hide and seek, and talk about school and friends. He’d always warn me about boys.” Her eyes began to turn glassy. “Only after one thing.”

“What happened?” I asked, softening my expression. I reached out and put a hand on top of hers. She gripped back.

“I turned thirteen and the world went to hell. The Axis bombed my father’s mine and everyone died. He grew very cold, very quick, and got actively involved in politics. Before I knew it, he was trying to cram religion so far down my throat it made me shit blood. So, I rebelled, I pushed back. He had always given me the freedom to choose when I was younger, but he changed, saying now that our beliefs were what truly unified us. That if I didn’t follow the same neo-puritan shit those assholes he was mixed up with did, it would divide our colonies. I kept away from that as much as I could, venturing deeper and deeper into Arsia Mons, and that’s about the time I met you.”