Livy didn't stop the Nomad until noon, and then only after a long argument about the lack of bathroom accommodations on board. Boniface Young flatly refused to use the johnnie, a portable urinal with attachments for both men and women, and demanded they find, for the third time since leaving Whitelock, a suitable bush.

"Did you really believe I had a toilet in here?"

"I honestly didn't think about it," Boniface scowled as she slid ungraciously back into her seat. "I suppose I assumed you freelancers had a little dignity."

Livy shrugged. "Dignity is a small sacrifice if it means not getting shot at with your pants around your ankles."

"But there's nobody out there! I haven't even seen a tree in miles, it's just dust and tumbleweeds."

"That's what everyone says until they take a bullet in the ass."

Boniface eyed her warily. "You're so full of shit."

Livy was, in fact, full of shit. Apart from the occasional rodent, there were no credible threats in the western foothills, but she was still annoyed at Duncan, Collins, and Polly, and took it out on her passenger.

"Don't worry, princess, we'll be in Haven by evening and you can take a dump in the penthouse suite at Mont Claire tower."

"Gauche." Boniface leveled a glare at the runner. "But that's out of the question."

"I'm reasonably sure they have bathrooms."

"No, I mean nobody can know I was there."

"I've heard the ventilation in those five star shitters is pretty decent."

The vidstar wrinkled her nose in disgust. "Will you be serious?"

"Fine," Livy glowered, easing the Nomad back onto the road. "What's your point?"

"If I intended the world to know where I was going I wouldn't be sitting next to you in this thing you call a transport."

Gypsy crackled through the earpiece, "Change of plans, boss. Shoot her and dump the body."

Livy ignored the A.I. and shrugged. "They'll get a heads up as soon as we pass the first checkpoint."

"Drive around it then."

"Haven isn't a Cartel border town, it's the third largest free state in North America. We need to clear all cargo and passengers at the gate before they'll let us through."

Boniface stubbornly crossed her arms. "No."

"I know this will come as a big shock to you, but it's not on you to decide. Hao Tec security patrols the preimeter. They have the biggest guns so they make the rules."

"What kind of smuggler are you, anyway?"

Livy's eyes narrowed. "The kind that doesn't want to end up tagged for collection on a corpo spreadsheet."

"Then we'll just have to avoid Haven."

"I have a payload to deliver," Livy snorted, almost amused. "And I'm not stopping again until the customs agents wave me in. If you want to avoid the checkpoint, you'll have to jump."

Boniface Young looked as if she was seriously considering it, stuck somewhere between anger and fear. "What if I compensate you for the shipment?"

"Not interested. My ride was nearly impounded for contract violations the last time I was in Haven. If I was willing to risk that again I never would have accepted yours."

"Then maybe I'll have to have you and your vehicle tagged instead."

Livy grinned. It wasn't the first time she'd been threated by a spoiled client. "Cities can't function without runners and they're not going to tag one without a valid reason. If you had conditions that required bypassing state checkpoints, it should have been explicit in your arrangement with Archie. At least he wouldn't have given me a second contract."

"Listen," Boniface changed tactics again and laid a gentle hand on Livy's shoulder. "I can't be identified, you have to help me."

"Give me one good reason."

"Because I'm in trouble!" the vidstar blurted out all at once, then flinched back as if shocked by her own words. "If they find me here they'll drag me back to Whitelock and you won't complete your contract anyway."

A litany of curses ran through Livy's mind. "What brand of hell did you drag me into?"

"It's not important, and everything will be fine as long as I reach Brannon. They can't know it's me." She laid a hand once more on Livy's shoulder. "Please."

Livy knew she was being manipulated but she appreciated the value of anonymity, even without her name and photo smeared across the top of every slick and gazette on the continent. She closed her eyes for almost a full minute, trusting Gypsy to keep the Nomad steady, then sighed in resignation.

"There's no way you're getting past anyone dressed like that."

Boniface's relief was palpable. "I have changes packed."

"What, a Lambourne dinner dress? Side strapped runway slacks and a Marciante bolero?"

"No," she said, offended but blushing, suggesting Livy had hit close to home. "I brought a casual outfit too."

"You're not getting it, princess. Even if you're not made on sight, they have biometric scanners matching face and voice prints with census archives. Piss them off and they might even run your DNA. The only chance you have is if we can convince them you're not worth the bother."

The vidstar's worry returned. "How do we do that?"

***

A detour through Hightown, the last settlement before Haven, cost them another two hours. The shabby, fenced town was populated by surprisingly savvy, disenfranchised city-dwellers, surviving as a trade hub for mountain villages that were too remote for commerce with Haven. They let the Nomad through the gate in exchange for half a crate of meal bars, and before long the two women were staring at the marketplace through the Nomad's window.

"Is this really necessary?" Boniface sulked with obvious disdain.

"Not at all, we can just roll up to Haven's gates with 'Pretentious Vid-Queen On Board' painted on the side of my ride. Going in under the radar was your idea."

"What about back entrances? Smuggling tunnels?"

Livy nearly laughed in her face. "You spend too much time on the streams. Passive scanners blanket the approach 100 meters out on all sides. You can't throw a rock at the outer wall without security coming down on you."

"It can't be that tight," Boniface scoffed. "Half the vid industry has huffed Haze or Exo at one time or another and they don't pull it out of thin air."

"Drugs don't count, anything that isn't made in the city enters through sanctioned channels."

"Bullshit. You can lose citizenship for dealing."

"That's the council's dog and pony, sure, but corps couldn't care less and they pull the strings. People are easier to control when they have an easy means of escape."

"Have you done it?"

"What, huffers? Just military stims. That was a long time ago."

"I meant drug smuggling."

Livy shrugged. "I've moved classified containers so I guess it's possible, but it's safer to transport the illicit stuff in caravans, in blackout compartments beneath ordinary trailers. Security knows they're there, but as long as it's a company rig they won't check. The huffers and hypos are probably even on the manifest."

Boniface seemed skeptical but didn't press the issue. "So why are we here?"

"I told you, we need to turn you into someone beneath their notice."

"And dressing like you will do that?"

Livy bit back a retort. "It's a start. Your creds won't spend here, Hightown runs on a barter system. We're going to trade your wardrobe for something more practical."

"Trade?!" Boniface's shriek was incredulous. "I could buy this whole stupid town with what's in my suitcase."

"The suitcase stays here too."

"Son of a bitch," the actress muttered under her breath and stopped to collect herself, but whatever reason she had for remaining unseen was stronger than her pride. "I'm keeping my jewelry."

"Fair enough, as long as it fits in Gypsy's cubby."

"Gypsy?"

Livy cursed herself for the slip. "The Nomad. It's her name."

"Cute." With dramatic resignation, Boniface pulled her pack onto her lap, revealing a collection of designer wear that cost more than Livy would earn in a lifetime. She withdrew an elaborate pouch and after a brief hesitation, what looked like a sequined body stocking.

"Everything has to go, princess, even your fancy underwear."

"It's not lingerie. You said I could keep what fits in your cubby."

"You know that's not what I meant."

"This is worth more than the rest combined, I'm not leaving it."

"Fine," Livy gave in, deciding it wasn't worth the argument. With a rough tug she took the suitcase from her passenger and reached behind her chair for a blanket. "The rest too. You can cover up with this until I get back."

"You want me to strip?" The vidstar was clearly reaching her limit. "Screw you."

"If you want to risk it that's your business, but if security finds even a scrap of your original clothing they'll know something's not on the level and come at us with questions I won't have answers for."

"Why don't you just... I don't know, tell them it's yours."

Livy gave her a blank stare that said more than words could.

"Oh, fine!" Boniface spat and began removing her dress. The lights woven into the fabric went out as she peeled it off, revealing a body that matched her perfectly sculpted face. She pulled the tattered blanket over herself before removing her underclothes and thrust them spitefully at Livy. "Here, take it, just hurry back or I swear I'll make your life a living hell."

"You're half way there already," Livy muttered before opening her door and slipping outside. She didn't see what the fuss was all about, she'd sat bare-assed in the Nomad more than a few times when road trips went long and sponge baths were the only thing preventing her from becoming indistinguishable from the landscape.

The market at Hightown was a chaotic mashup of mid level tech and handmade goods that ranged from ugly, utilitarian hacks to artisan crafts, but Livy was looking for one seller in particular and found him at the far end, kicking his feet up in a deck chair.

"Well hump me rolling sideways, is that you, Pilgrim?" the dusty old man drawled from under his rat-chewed baseball cap.

"Owen Stickles," she nodded without matching his grin. She hadn't seen him in more than two years but he hadn't changed a bit, right down to the torn clothes and bare feet. The aged hillbilly look was one he'd cultivated since leaving the Hao Tec flight program six months before they discharged Livy along with the rest of her unit, and there weren't many left alive who remembered flight commander Stickles. He was the sole reason she had bothered with the detour to Hightown.

"How the deuce have you been?" he sneered.

She lifted Boniface's suitcase onto his card table, beneath the sun shade where he conducted his business. "I need to turn this into something I can spend."

"Straight to it huh? Still got that stick up your ass?"

"Get humped, Owen, I'm in a hurry."

"Jiggle it a little, might loosen up."

"Get. Humped."

He chuckled to himself, then pulled the suitcase close and opened it. "Hell, the case alone is worth that piss bucket you're driving."

"So I've been told."

"Well hello, Dolly." He held up a transparent bra that sparkled with patterns of pinhead lights, just like Boniface's evening dress. "Doesn't seem your style."

"Client ran out of cred, this is all she had to pay with. Are you going to help or not?"

"You're a shitty liar." He poked through the contents. "You fencing? Some of this looks custom, makes it hard to find a buyer."

"I didn't steal it."

"I'll have to pawn this off for cred to the next convoy that comes up the 25. There's no way I'll find a trade for it here."

"That's why I'm bringing it to you."

"What do you want for it?"

She peered at the stacks of random goods behind him. Stickles was a master when it came to logistics, and was likely, by Hightown's standards, the richest man within five hundred miles. He could have set himself up with almost anyone after Hao Tec and Genetika, but like many ex-military he'd had enough of the corporations.

"What about the medpacks?"

He shook his head. "Expired. Waiting for someone too stupid to ask or too desperate to care."

"Microcells?"

"Not today, sorry."

"Fine, then what's good?"

"Salt always moves decent." Stickles turned to scan his inventory. "Good for swapping with the mountain folk so everyone here will be interested. Got some iodine, a pair of inductive comm sets if you can get them working... you still carry that shotty? Got a box of dragon's breath under the counter."

"Any boomers?"

"A dozen or so. Throw in a case of buckshot too if you're interested, I've got 12-gauge coming out my ass."

After a bit of back and forth, Livy walked away with four pounds of coarse salt, a crate of meal bars to replace her entry fee, the comm units, several hundred rounds of ammunition, and a wagon to carry everything. He also made her promise to stop by again, a promise she had no intention of honoring if she could help it. Stickles wasn't a bad guy, but being around him stirred memories she'd rather keep buried. The entire haul was worth less than a single link on Boniface's gold belt, but if they had any chance of passing beneath the radar at Haven they'd have to leave it all behind anyway.

Two more stops cost her the salt and the wagon and replaced them with a satchel full of badlands clothing, a nice pair of handmade leather boots, and a little piece of pirated technology that would complete the masquerade.

"It took you long enough," Boniface chided before the door was fully open, still wrapped tightly in the blanket neck to toe. Her blush wasn't visible through the makeup, but her ears were bright red, and Livy found her modesty odd.

"Do you want me to give you some privacy?" she asked, handing over the satchel.

"I'm fine," she said, though she clearly wasn't. "What's in here?"

"A few changes and some basic accessories that'll help sell the story."

The vidstar found a pair of cotton underwear and a loose tank in the bag and pulled them beneath the blanket. "Which is what, exactly?"

"You're going to be my property."

The Toscano Oasis "Port-a-Suite," a mobile apartment for the wealthy. The interior is suspended over maglev countervalence panels, which reduce vibrations from transit to near zero, and they're operated by a crew of three. The Oasis includes luxury accommodations in a small (by comparison) suite of rooms, and a mobile entertainment archive. They typically travel with a corporate caravan for protection.