The One with Bea Getting Portia out of the Slammer

“Say something, Bea.”
Bea fished around the interior of her large black handbag and pulled out a pair of white gloves. She stuffed her left hand in unceremoniously.
“I think,” she said, shoving her right hand in, “that you were very lucky the sergeant wanted my autograph.”
“I suppose,” Portia said meekly.
Bea walked stiffly to the curb and hailed a taxi.
Portia titled her head up. She could see the reflection of the moon on the mirrored walls of buildings. The moon was heavily colonized. Originally a debtor’s colony but the budgets were astronomically high, literally, that it was not profitable to house debtors and operate workhouses. The expensive nature of the Moon lent itself favorably to those with disposable income and became trendy because it was so unbelievably expensive. The Moon colonies fought for independence in the War Years. Currently they had a fragile peace where they believed they were independent and Earth let them believe they were independent so long as they continued to pay taxes. The moon was a Trade Partner of Earth and enjoyed an uneasy truce. Mars had also been a debtor’s colony but had resources to produce profit and therefore was never fashionable. It was firmly in Earth’s grasp.
Heinlein City was a visibly glowing splotch across the white face of the moon.
“What were you thinking? I mean, I would expect this from a teenager,” she spat out the word. “But you are nearly thirty years old. You’re supposed to be grown! And why can’t I get a smegging taxi in this city.”
Portia noted that Bea still referred to the Trade District as the city, sometimes even as Philadelphia. And it was always hard to get a taxi at two-thirty in the morning.
“I would expect this kind of behavior from your father, not you. You were always such a good girl.”
“I’m not a good girl,” Portia said. “In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t fit in. My hair’s the wrong color. I wear ruffled skirts to work. I love an inane children cartoon. I think I have a deeper connection to the Superpower Kung-Fu Koalas than another real person.”
Bea’s eyes softened. “Oh, sweetie, everyone feels that way. When I was your age…Well, I was always thinking I was not as brave as my sister, not as clever.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me find out on the morning news feed like everyone else?”
A bright yellow taxi pulled up. The vehicle hovered over the street but twelve inches. The rates scrolled across the marquee. 20 UGOs base fee for the first five miles and additional 3 UGOs for every mile after that. Taxi drivers were making a fortune on the strike, gouging the consumers.
Bea handed her credit stick to the driver.
“Let me pay,” Portia said. “You had to get a taxi here.” Portia gave directions to Bea’s home in Germantown.
Bea said nothing as she climbed inside the taxi.
“So what kind of stunts did my dad pull?” Portia asked, settling into the seat next to Bea.
“That boy was an idiot,” Bea said. “It’s a miracle the Stupids didn’t kill him off. Did you know that he did on his first time in a rowboat? There we were, on the Schuylkill, enjoying some quality parent-child time in a rowboat and he announces, “I’m bored,” stands up and walks out of the boat.”
Portia laughed. “How old was he?”
“Four, maybe, but clearly not old enough to know he couldn’t walk on water.” Bea chuckled at the memory. “Dove right in after him. He was thrashing around something fierce. I grab a hold of him and try to make for the shore. Then my foot hits the muddy bottom. We were in about two feet of water.”
“Are you still mad at me?”
“Damn skippy,” Bea said. Bea had picked up the salty language of military life and found the more colorful vernacular jargon difficult to shake. “My sister’s out there all alone.”
Portia did not feel like pointing out to Bea that Captain Kathryn Clovelly was hardly alone. She had a rather large ship and crew to keep her company.
“We were supposed to be on that ship together,” Bea said. Portia knew this story. The Hope was commissioned because of the two famous War Years heroic sisters. Colonist volunteered for the voyage, which was a first, and even the terrible holo The Courageous Clovelly Sisters ended with both sisters embarking on the next exciting phase of their careers: colonization. The story was pure propaganda. It never happened. Portia was sitting next to a Clovelly sister, one that had not left Earth since the end of the war.
“Why didn’t you go?”
“Kate didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go, did you know that? She was so use to being captain that she thought she could boss around anyone, anytime. Even her older sister.”
“What are you saying, that she signed you up?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Kate signed up the Clovelly Sisters. You should have seen her face when I told her I wasn’t coming.”
Bea grew silent.
The taxi pulled in front of Bea’s home.
“You might as well come in for the night. It’s too late to even pretend you’re going to work in the morning,” Bea said.
Portia didn’t feel like telling her grandmother that setting the alarm for work in the morning was no longer her concern. Portia nodded. “That’s what sick days are for.”
Bea house smelled like she had been baking cookies all evening. The scent must come standard with all grandmothers.
“So why didn’t you join your sister on the ship?”
Bea turned away and disappeared into the kitchen “You know where you’re room is,” she called.
Portia began to climb the stairs. She paused and asked, “Did my dad ever get arrested for vandalism?”
“That boy was on a first name basis with every officer in town”

“Good morning, wonderful,” Franklin said, landing heavily on the bed next to Portia.
Portia scrambled out of the bed as quickly as she could, clutching the blanket to her chest. “You…traitor!”
“Why do you call the names, huh?”
“Because you left me and ran away like a coward.”
“Again with the names. You’re really hurting my feelings.”
“I was arrested. Me! I’m a good girl.”
“Apparently not so good, sweetheart.”
“No, I’ve never done anything like that before in my life. I’m a good citizen. I’m productive. I have good credit and no debt.”
“For such a good girl, you didn’t need much prompting.”
“Because you’re the devil.”
“You wound me, really you do. I don’t suppose you’d be interested in any breakfast, would you.”
“With you, no.”
“Really, because your delightful grandmother thought differently and had no qualms letting me have the run of her kitchen.”
“My sweet old granny would never let a…a…” she was at lost for the proper words. Was that aroma bacon and pancakes? “A rogue such as yourself into her room.”
“Yet here I am.” Franklin smiled warmly.
Portia stalked to the closet and threw open the door. The sheet was clutched to her front and only barely covered her upper torso. Portia was well aware that most of her ass was fully visible to Franklin. She reached in and grabbed jeans and a shirt left over from her last sleep over at Bea’s.
“Do you mind?”
“Certainly.” Franklin turned his head away and covered his eyes to demonstrate his concern for her modesty.
“And just because my senile, trusting grandmother let you in this house does not mean you are welcome.”
“Of course. But she is rather charming. And I am a big fan of hers. Always found the Clovelly Sisters rather inspiring.”
“What leaving me like that you did is unforgivable.”
“Absolutely. Did Beatrice fill you in on the rescue mission?”
“What!”
“She wants to go find her sister since no one else seems to want to do it.”
“You are the devil,” Portia said.
“Now, she hardly needed any encouragement from me.”

* * * * * *

“Bea, did you really let that snake talk you into a rescue mission?” Portia asked between mouthfuls of pancakes. While Franklin was a silver-tongued devil, he made fantastic pancakes.
“Don’t be silly, sweetheart,” Bea said, filling a glass of orange juice and sliding it towards.
“Good, because you’re eighty three years old and it’s preposterous to consider space travel…”
“It was my idea. Now we just need a ship."