Far removed from the joyful chaos on the other side of the sandsteamer, Mara slowly descended the rungs of a maintenance ladder welded to the outside of the hull. She was swathed from head to foot in a shapeless gray traveling cloak, the hood pulled up over her head to hide her face. In one hand she carried the strings of a drawstring duffel bag, and was lugging the heavy bag down the ladder with her.
As she reached the last rung, she peered down to try and judge how far it was the ground below, then shrugged and let herself drop. She landed with a thump on the sandy ground, raising a cloud of dust that dirtied the black leather of her thick-soled boots. The mid-calf length boots were her prize possession, with their four-inch heels elevating her to a more imposing height than her original 5'4", and six buckles holding them tight to the bare skin of her calf. With a slight sound of effort, Mara hefted her bag and slung it over her shoulder, before rounding the giant, blunt nose of the locomotive and slipping, unseen, into the crowd.
Carefully, the 16-year old wove her way through the mob of people, avoiding eye contact and trying her hardest not to draw attention to herself. As a stowaway, she would be in a lot of trouble with the sandsteamer company, and with the local authorities, if she was caught. Once free of the thronging press of people, Mara turned onto a deserted side street, and from there found the nearest dark alleyway. When she emerged, the voluminous traveling cloak was stashed away in her bag, and she was wearing dark khaki-colored cargo pants, slung low on her thin hips in a strangely feminine way.
She was also wearing a dark olive-green jacket of a heavy, rough material, tied in a loose double knot just below her ribs. Underneath the jacket she wore a form-fitting dark red leather crop top, the shortness of the top baring her midriff and the plunging square neckline baring almost everything else. Almost immediately, the jacket slid down her bare shoulders to catch at her elbows, but Mara paid it no mind. She ran a hand through her short, sandy blond hair, tousled from the hood of the traveling cloak, before she hefted her bag and set out to find the nearest tavern. Even though she was still too young to drink legally, though she sometimes did anyways, she had found that bartenders were often a town's best and most reliable source of information.
It took a few minutes of wandering around the quiet, dusty town before Mara found the nearest bar, a small establishment, the faded sign proclaiming it as "Frank's Bar & Grille". Stepping up onto the raised boardwalk, she pushed open the classic old-west shutters that served as a door, and stepped inside. The shutters swung shut behind her, whooshing back and forth a few times before swinging to a stop. Faint country music was playing from a dusty jukebox in one corner, barely loud enough to hear. A few rough-looking men sat at the bar, and a pair of old men were playing chess at a corner table. But all eyes were on Mara as she entered the building, mostly because of her rather revealing top, but also because she was new in town, and an attractive young woman. She seemingly took no notice of the eyes upon her, and sat down at the bar two stools down from the nearest man. She dropped her bag to the floor with a loud thump, and then smiled up at the bartender, drying glasses in front of her. With one hand, she pushed her dirty-blond hair out of her face, revealing bright, aquamarine eyes.
"You lost or somethin', miss?" he asked.
"No sir," Mara replied, and then slipped a hand into one of the pockets hidden inside of her jacket. Her fingertips brushed smooth metal and glass, and then she slowly drew out a pair of yellow-tinted sunglasses. The glasses looked to be in good condition, except for the fact that one of the small, perfectly round lenses had a crack in it. The frames were made of thin wire, and both earpieces had several zigzags in the wire, making the glasses unique and rather memorable.
"Actually, I'm looking for someone who might have passed through her a while ago. He's a tall, blond-haired man who wears glasses exactly like these." Mara held up the glasses for the bartender to see. "When he passed through, he was probably traveling with another man who looks almost exactly like him. I believe he goes by the name Ericks now."
"Oh, Ericks!" the bartender exclaimed. "Of course I know Ericks! Why didn't you just tell me his name in the first place?"
"Really?! You know him?" Mara burst out, half rising from her seat with excitement.
"Of course I know 'im! Nicest man in the world. Seemed kinda sad, though, although he did one good job of covering it up. He stayed here for a few days with his brother…what with his brother's name again? Something that started with a 'T', I think…Oh, well. He was here a few months ago. Stayed a couple of days then got on the bus going the town of Tuesday. Why he would be wanting to go to a tiny little ramshackle town like Tuesday, I haven't the faintest. But that's his decision, ain't it?" There was a few moments pause as the bartender picked up another glass to dry and Mara sat speechless on her stool, grinning like an idiot.
"If you don't mind me asking, miss, why are you looking for Ericks in the first place?" It took a few moments for Mara to react to his question. "Well, you see…" she started to say, then decided to tell the man the truth and not another variation of it. "He's my father," she said bluntly. "I've been searching two years for the man, following the stories across this entire sun-blasted planet. This is the closest I've ever gotten to him." She paused, smiling down at the sunglasses in her hand. "And to think, it all started with a pair of forgotten sunglasses and my mother's tale of a man in a red coat."
"Ericks' daughter? I wouldn't think he would be old enough to have a daughter your age. How old are you, anyways?"
"I'm 16. Ericks is a bit older than he appears."
"Ah," came her only reply. As the conversation seemed to be over, she changed to subject to something that had been bothering her for quite some time now.
"So…D'ya think I could get somethin' to eat around here?" The bartender nodded slowly, finishing with the glass he was drying and setting it upside-down on a shelf underneath the bar.
"Oh, I bet I could whip you up somethin'," he said finally. "You got money?" Mara smiled uneasily. "Erm, no, not exactly," she said, and then continued quickly before he could cut her off. "But I'd be glad to wash dishes or sweep or something in exchange for it."
"Eh, I can use the work. I'll go make ya something, and then once you've eaten, I'll put you to work in the kitchens. Sound fair to you?"
"Yes, sir!" Mara agreed readily.