First, We Need a Ship

“We don’t need a ship,” Portia said.
“Don’t be silly. How else are we going to mount a rescue mission without a ship?”
Portia realized with dread that Bea was serious. “You’re not serious,” she said, just to clarify.
“I never should have let Kate leave without me. We needed each other, you know. She was always the smart one but I was the one with the guts.” Bea turned towards the vid screen mounted in the wall beside the table. The news feeds were still playing old footage of the Clovelly Sisters from the war. This one was of a parade. The sisters sat side-by-side, blond hair gleaming brightly in the sun, chest full of medals, waving to the crowd.
Franklin watched Bea with a gleam in his eyes that Portia took to be greed. She suddenly remembered his first words to her, his reverent fanhood of her grandmother and their holo.
“Do you know what he is?” Portia asked.
Bea smiled and taped her Data Pad. “Oh, yes, he sent me his resume. I’m rather flattered, actually. Imagine, my own Entourage.”
“You must know she can’t afford you,” Portia said, addressed the air next to Franklin.
“It’s my privilege to be in the company of such a noble and historic lady.”
“Historic,” Portia repeated.
“Perhaps historic was a poor choice of words.”
“Nonsense,” Bea said. “I’m eighty-three. I deserve to be referred to as historic. I am historic.”
Portia sighed and helped herself to another pancake, generously covered in butter and syrup. “Why the need to send in the calvary, Bea?”
“You know I was suppose to be on that ship, right?”
“Right.”
“Only I chickened out.”
This time Franklin state the obvious, “But you were the sister with the guts, with the nerve, and the steady hands…”
“Amazing what a war can do to you, huh? After the Battle of Moyamesing…You have no idea what it was light. The Core was down. We had no power. Tiny hole punctured the hull, turned us more into a giant sieve than a ship, and it was so cold.”
Portia had never heard Bea speak of the Battle of Moyamesing, even though it was the turning point in the War and Bea and Kathryn’s quick thinking not only saved their ship but the fleet.
“What did you do?” Franklin asked.
“My duty,” Bea replied. “But I never wanted to set foot on a ship again. I was done, all used up, but Kate couldn’t see it. Her life was on a ship. So she wanted to go on the colony to some rock called Eden Twelve. To hear her talk about it, it sounded like paradise. All the space we could ever need, no more rationing, famines, clean air, and rain that didn’t eat through the paint on a car. The only thing that stood between me and paradise was a twenty year voyage.”
Portia reached across the table and squeezed Bea’s hand. The grip was sticky, she wasn’t sure who’s fault that was. “It’s okay to be afraid,” she said.
“But I didn’t tell Kate, you see? She was already at the station with her little girl, waiting, preparing the ship. Every day she was on the transmission asking me when I was going to take the shuttle to the station.” Portia knew that back in the day before the Elevator to the orbital station, crude launch vehicles were used to break free of the gravity of Earth.
“Every time I had a new excuse, one more thing that absolutely had to be done. And before you knew it, I was pregnant with your father.”
“I take it you were surprised by this?” Portia asked.
“Sweetie, back then we had to use Escape Velocity Vehicles and the forces put on a person was enough to make a strong person sick. Can you imagine a fetus? I couldn’t go. They wouldn’t let me on the ship. But I said I was going to be on the Crosby, right behind her. Just like the Calvary.”
But obviously Bea never made that appointment with the Crosby. “What happened?”
“I’m a coward.” Bea sniffled and one winkled finger wiped at her eyes. Franklin magically produced a tissue.
“You’re not a coward, you have a phobia.”
“I do, and I could anymore bear the idea of twenty years on the Crosby than I could on the Hope. And I had your father…How could I sign up a child for something like that? He didn’t have a choice, he was subjected to my whims and to take away a planet and exchange it for life with artificial gravity and halogen lighting hardly seemed fair.” Bea applied the tissue gracefully to her eyes. “And now she’s out there, if she’s out there at all…”
“She’s out there,” Portia said.
There was a quick gleam in Bea’s eye, quickly disguised with more tissue blotting. Bea really could push all Portia’s buttons.
“So,” Portia said, “what kind of rescue mission were you thinking of?”
The tissue quickly vanished and Bea pushed the Data Pad towards Portia. “Well, we’ll need a ship capable of intergalactic as well as interplanetary travel, something flexible but durable, courier class. I was thinking a StarMaster.”
Portia reviewed the advertisement for the StarMaster 5050, designed for the comforts of a lengthy journey but nimble enough to dock in any station or land on any planet surface. (Any planet surface does not include: fire, lava, water, rocky surfaces, or hovering in one place for an extended period of time.) It had enough steerage for a modest crew of two, a cook, and personal attendant as well as generous quarters for the lucky consumer. As a side note, the StarMaster was easily modified into a touring vehicle for day trip and could graciously escort two-dozen people about the stars. The StarMaster 5050 offered large cargo space for luggage or supplies for an extended voyage. Panoramic windows offered lush starscapes at every turn and every voyage was a splendid voyage on the StarMaster 5050.
“How many servants do you need, Bea?”
“I don’t need any servants, but the StarMaster is something, isn’t she? Automatic Identity Signature recognition, touch response control panel, quantum drive engine, and a seat warmer.”
“It sure is something,” Franklin said.
Portia glared in his direction before returning her attention to the Data Pad. The StarMaster sounded nice but… “Rather pricey, isn’t it?” Portia asked.
“I suppose, but really, you can’t expect me to find my sister after fifty years in some old second hand, held together by luck and chewing gum, rust bucket boat, can you?”
“I guess not, but how were you expecting to afford this?”
“Credit,” Bea replied.
“Oh, no,” Portia said. Too many people fell prey to easy credit and had to live with debt and the consequences of debt. Most of the colonies were populated with people driven off world by debt, that’s why they were called Debtor’s Colonies.
“It’s not like I’m coming back,” Bea said.
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s a long journey. It’s probably be better just to stay wherever Kate is and settled into happy old age together.”
“You’re not taking out credit.”
“Then you buy the damn thing, use that Corporate salary of yours.”
“That could be a problem.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I may or may not be fired,” Portia said.
“And this situation is confusing to you how?”
“Well, Viktor Ang fired me but then I threatened him and we exchanged this nonsense about the rewarding nature of rewards and I think he bribed me not to sue him for sexual harassment.”
“So you’re still employed.”
“Maybe.”
“Then steal a ship if you have, too,” Bea said, dismissing the notion of Portia being unemployed. “I’m not really picky on the method. I just need something I can fly.”
“Wait, why are you coming?” Portia asked.
“Because you need a pilot.”
“Not you.”
“Do you know how to fly a ship? Would you know what to do if the engine stalled? If we were under fire and need to take evasive action?”
“If you don’t mind me asking,” Franklin said, “what exactly are you planning on doing out there?”
“I just want to be prepared,” Bea said. “And being prepared means expecting the worse. And you, sweetie, might be able to take a ship off the ground and take it on a joy ride, but you can not pilot a plane.”
Portia hates it when Bea was right. Despite being the daughter of a pilot and the granddaughter or a pilot, she knew how the turn the engine on and that was about it.
“Fine, I’ll get the ship. Somehow. Make a list of supplies.”
“Done.” Bea tapped a sequence on the Data Pad and Portia’s rang with an incoming message from Bea. It seems Bea was up all night planning.
“I suppose you’ve charted us a route.”
“Nearly.”
“Any idea how we’ll get to Eden Twelve in less than twenty years?”
“Slingshot,” Bea replied casually.
“And you’ve already book us a launch.”
Bea smiled. “No, I thought I’d let you make some of the arrangements.”
Right, leaving the difficult sticky points as Portia’s responsibility. Portia supposed it might be possible to fast talk her way onto a Slingshot and flash a Corporate badge quickly with an evasive story. It was possible, not likely, but possible.
“I can’t wait to Kate’s face,” Be said, rubbing her hands together. “And I bet little Ofelia all grown up by now.”
Portia did the math. “Little Ofelia is fifty-five by now. She probably has grandchildren of her own.” Most likely she did. Colony ships encourage the passengers to be fruitful.
“Did you know she cried and cried when she found out she couldn’t take that old cat of hers on the ship? Poor thing was neutered. It was policy to only bring breeding animals. Left the creature with me, can’t remember it’s name thought. Probably something silly like Fluffy. Do you think she’d like photos of her cat?”
“Probably doesn’t remember her cat.”
“Nonsense. And photos of John. Kate never did get to see him. She’ll like photos.” Bea stood up from the table and left the little kitchen for the dinning room. The walls were lined with photos. She began to take down frames, setting them in neat stacks on the dinning table.
Portia admired the way Bea never referred to her sister in the past tense. For ten years she had worried about the end of transmission from the Hope and never complained, years of static filled up the database but Bea knew her sister was out there.
“I need to get back to my office,” Portia said. “I need D.I.C.C.”
Franklin coughed.
“You bastard, I need the database. We need all the transmissions before we go.”
“Let me help.”
“You’ve help enough. Thank you for breakfast. I need to be going now, Bea. Got to see if I still have a job.”
“Hmm? Oh, yes. Do remember, the StarMaster 5050, with the seat warms.”
“Sure thing,” Portia replied merrily. She didn’t have the credit to buy the scandalously high-heals strap shoes she wanted, but she could make a StarMaster 5050 materialized and use her zero clout and authority to schedule a launch on a Slingshot.
She left the house, walking down the street to the main thoroughfare, where she could catch a cab. First she needed to go back to her apartment and change. While she may have been wearing a comfortable pair of jeans and a Superpower Kung-Fu Koalas tee shirt, it was clearly not work appropriate. But then again, what the hell? Either she didn’t have a job and could walk around naked if she liked, or Viktor Ang was cowed by her threats and she could damn well wear what she pleased.
Portia heard the unmistakable sounds of the door slamming and feet running along the pavement.
“Let me help,” Franklin’s voice sound behind her, panting faintly.
“No.”
“I want to help.”
Portia stopped and turned sharply on her heel. “Just like you wanted to help me last night?”
“Not exactly like that,” Franklin said.
“You want me to do something dangerous and foolish and then run away to let me deal with the consequences?”
“No, you’ve got me all wrong.”
“Really? Then how do I got you?”
“I want to be my own man.”
“Excuse me.”
“Last night, I saw potential in you, the clay which I could make something really great, but this morning, I realized that I had an opportunity to make myself great.”
It was a pretty speech, all right. “You want to be your own man?”
“Let me follow you.”
“You want to be your own man by following me?”
“Yes, and I so lucky to have you lead me into the wilderness.”
“You’re so lucky,” Portia repeated flatly. She rolled her eyes and continued her walk.
Franklin would not be so easily deterred. He walked alongside of her, keeping pace. “You’ll need a crew, right? I can do that.”
“I don’t need an Entourage on the ship. What skills could you possibly bring to the crew? What job could you do?”
“I can cook.”
“Any fool can cook.”
“Give me a chance. I’ll surprise you.”
“No.”
“What if I could schedule us a launch on a Slingshot?”
Portia paused. “Okay,” she said cautiously. “If you can schedule us a lunch on a Slingshot, you can have a spot on the crew.”
Franklin smiled broadly and kissed her enthusiastically on the lips.
It was not all together unpleasant.
“But only if you come through on your half of the deal,” Portia said, pushing Franklin away.
“We’re so lucky to have each other, about to embark on a great adventure. We’re like Mallory and Irving, Burke and Wills, or Pierre and Marie Curie.”
“I’m not comfortable that with example.”