Grand Theft Spaceship

The works of the Trade district were on strike. In solidarity, all the shops were closed, all the cafes and diners, all the municipal services were shut down, and the Elevated sat perfectly still above it all, slumbering in suspension the spaces between the buildings. If Portia had even wanted to legitimately purchase the StarMaster 5050, she couldn’t. NO retail, no business. The economy of the Trade district came a halt.
“Where are you taking me?” Bea asked.
“It’s a surprise.”
“You’re not going dressed like that, are you?”
“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” Portia held her arms out stiffly at her sides and looked down to inspect her outfit. She was wearing a trendy deep purple dress, mid-thigh length with a swooping collar and six large buttons down the front. It was paired with white tights knee high white boots.
“Hardly seems like it came keep you warm at all.”
“It’s plenty warm. It’s Smart Fabric.” Smart Fabric was meshed with tiny processors that acclimatized with the environment. On warm days the fabric was cool. In chilly weather, it generated warmth.
“What’s so wrong with an old fashioned coat?”
“Did you pack up everything you need?”
“Should I bring the juicer? Will I need it?”
“What do you think?”
“I do like juice an awful lot.”
“Leave the juicer.”
“But that’s the second best juicer.”
“The ship has it’s own juicer, Bea.”
“Really?”
No, not really but Portia’s fib let Bea set the appliance down on the counter.
Portia eyed the small mountain of luggage sitting inside the door. “Is all this really necessary?”
“Of course,” Bea said. “I’ve done my fair share of survival training and let me tell you, you’ll never regret bringing something useful along. The oddest things come in handy. One time I save the ship with chewing gum.”
Portia strongly suspected that the cases were not filled with useful and ship saving chewing gum.
“Benjamin will pick all these up and met us at the rendezvous point.”
“Why can’t we met here?”
“Because I can’t fly and I don’t want you to crash our new ship into the house.”
“Oh, I hardly ever crash into houses anymore.”
“We need space.” And an area that lacked supervision.
Portia crouched down and checked the animal carrier. Cloister looked good and sleepy and hardly concerned about being shot into space shortly. “Good kitty,” she murmured. Cloisters yawned and blinked slowly, contemplating Portia before deciding napping was a better alternative.
Portia left the house, Bea locking the door behind. Portia had already transmitted the code to Benjamin, who should have no trouble unlocking the door. He could probably just smile at the lock and tell a weak joke and it would melt open.
Portia and Bea started walking.
“What dealership are we going to? Rodeo Bob’s?”
“No,” Portia said dully.
“Crazy Carl. I hear you get your photo taken with Carl in a straight jacket.”
“No,” Portia said, alarmed.
“Smeghead Smitty?”
“No.”
Disco Dave’s?”
“Good lord, that sleaze ball?”
“When you think of space ships, think Hunch Back, Buck Tooth, and Furry,” Bea sang in a thin, high voice.
“That’s a terrible jingle.”
“Well, I’ve named all the best dealerships I can think of.”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Are we going to walk there?”
“Actually, yes.” Best not to leave a trail, just in case. “Now hike, old woman. Get thee to the spaceship dealership.”
“You think you’re so clever, quoting Shakespeare. Did I pack Shakespeare? I should pack Shakespeare. Everyone needs it and it’s hardly going out of style.”
“We already have an entire library on the Data Pad.”
“Nothing like the intimate pages of a book, though, for reading.”
“March.”

**

The lot was fully lit but the dealership was empty. The gate was, of course locked, but it proved little challenge to the persuasive powers of Portia’s coding. She slide up the flat panel, japed in a sharp tool and the gate slid opened. Security features were laughable but Portia knew the real challenge was not getting into the dealership lot but getting into the ships.
“Look at ‘em all,” Bea whistled lowly. “They’re all so shiny.”
The entire inventory hovered over the tarmac of the lot by ten feet.
“Do you know how long it took me to find the one equipped with the seat warmers?”
“Are we just going to stand here or are we going to do something about it,” Bea said, striding towards the StarMaster 5050 with the seat warmers.
Getting the ship to lower to the ground and open the hatch was a trick but Portia (somehow) managed. (Yeah, cheep trick, I know, but what you going to do about it? Huh, punk? Yeah, I thought so.)
“Ha!” Portia said in triumph. “My kung-fu is superior.”
Bea surveyed the cabin. “It’s large enough for a modest crew of two, a valet, and a personal chief. I don’t think I could possible survive with anything less.”
“I need your help,” Portia said.
She slid into the co-pilot’s chair and set her Data Pad on the consol.
Bea sat in the pilot’s chair. “My goodness, it’s like this seat is making love to my posterior.”
“Bea!”
“Hush, you really can suck the joy out of most things. Do we get code names?”
“No code names!”
“I’ll just smile and pretend you’re not a sour puss, but only because the pilot’s seat is so comfy. In the War, the ships were very stark, no luxuries and certainly no padding for chairs. You’d have to sit straight backed for hours and the whole ship was shaky, stabilizers weren’t very good, so you got thrashed around on the metal chair quite a bit. After a bumpy ride, my whole backside would be black and blue. Mind you, other parts of me were also black and blue, but for more pleasant reasons.”
“Bea!” Portia’s head connected solidly with the console. She rubbed the tender spot, sucking in her breathe.
“Calm down. You have to have realized that at some point I’ve had sex. Benedict was not an immaculate inception.”
“Yeah, but I don’t really want to be thinking about it. At all. Ever.”
“Sometimes I still have sex.”
“Bea!” More solid connecting with the console. Ignore her, Ignore her.
“You’re so funny. I don’t know how you can be crawling down there in the floor in such a short skirt, it’s like your father raised you without a sense of modesty …”
Portia was pretty good at ignoring Bea.
“…Which I do not know how that is possible because I am the soul of modesty. So, what are you doing? Why don’t you just use the key commands?”
“Because I don’t have the key commands. Not yet.”
“That’s ridiculous. Why wouldn’t the dealership give you the keys?”
Silence.
“You’re stealing this ship, aren’t you?”
“Don’t suddenly turn into a prude on me, Bea.”
“Everything good and shiny, my granddaughter’s a common thief.”
“You’re the one who told me to steal a ship!”
“I didn’t mean with me in it!”
“Well, I can’t very well fly, can I? What was I suppose to do, hot wire the ship and then push it to your house?”
Two circuits sparked.
“Start the engine,” Portia said, replacing the service panel.
Bea pressed the ignition button. Starships were not so complicated to operate once they believed the proper key command was entered.
Portia climbed into the vacant chair. The roof slid back and offered a less than stunning panoramic view of the dealership lot. A thin glowing new of blue lines criss-crossed the sky.
“Breath taking,” Bea said. “Ready for lift off?”
“You’ve got to fly us through the security grid.”
“And the margin for error?”
Portia chewed on her lower lip and wiggled her fingers in calculation. She looked up at the sky and back down at the console. “Slim,” she concluded.
“Never tell me the odds,” Bea said. She gripped the control and leaned back.
The ship lurched off the ground and pitched sharply to the right. Portia grabbed the Data Pad, which became air born and slid off her chair.
“Strap yourself in, sweetie.”
“Thanks for the head’s up.”
“This isn’t going to be pretty,” Bea said. She quickly hit buttons on the console.
Portia wasn’t sure what happened next but she didn’t strap herself in fast enough and fell out of the chair again, once more solidly connecting with the console.
“Everything good and shiny,” she muttered, climbing once more into the vacant seat. “Are we at least clear of the security field?”
“We escaped like…Well, I’m not really sure but something sly and quick.”
“I’m transmitting the rendezvous point into the nav system.”
“You’re a good girl,” Bea said, staring straight ahead but smiling.