Family Drama!

According to fellow author Ashley Manning, that's what I've been writing these last several years, in a Sci-Fi framework, which he could have said is very avant-garde of me, but didn't. Nevertheless, here's a fresh example from the work-in-progress. You decide.

There were no federal authorities on hand to witness a CH Banks spacevan landing in the street, but Russell and Nancy’s next-door neighbors were absolutely on station.

The man’s fourteen-year-old Chihuahua barked herself wheezy and had to be picked up. His wife came out with their granddaughter, all of them in pajamas, forcing Brandon Lopez to deboard and apologize for the ruckus, even though it wasn’t his fault and everybody knew it.

The granddaughter was star-struck, delaying their getaway by running into the house for a glossy mail solicitation from February, featuring United States President Carmen Benequista at a charity auction on the arm of her frequent companion, former NSA security auditor, U.S. Navy veteran, number two executive at CH Banks International, Space Mafia heavyweight, Filipino-American Brandon Lopez, age 45.

While Brandon applied his signature, the girl asked, “Are you going to get married?”

He replied, “I certainly hope so.”

Nancy ribbed him about it during boarding. “I’ll bet you haven’t even kissed her yet.”

Brandon pulled the hatch shut with solemn ceremony. “Kissed her at the White House Christmas party.”

She tweaked his ear. “That doesn’t count.”

“I assure you, it did.”

Russell sat in the co-pilot’s couch. Nancy stood behind the pilot’s station, watching Las Cruces drop away without even the slightest sense of motion, city lights replaced by Earth’s shimmering ionosphere, the sun coming around to light up the oceans, the moon suddenly very, very close from low orbit.

Russell gaped through the windscreen. “This spaceboat has a lot of glass. Is it safe?”

Brandon paused the vessel at the far side of the James Webb telescope. “That’s three-inch Armor Light, stronger than tempered steel.”

“So, it’s brittle.”

“No, it’s bouncy.” He touched a gesture pad. “Do you want to see the International Space Station?”

Nancy replied, “I want to see the Star Forge.”

The van’s Oma said, “Autopilot engaged.” The windows clouded up. Brandon leaned back in the couch.

Russell asked, “Are we running on Saraf Drive?”

“Yeah. Sorry. I’m distracted; wasn’t thinking about this being your first ride up.” He cracked a smile. “Engineering; warp factor ten.”

Nancy settled into a second-row seat. The van’s windows cleared up. She gasped. “That’s all the time it takes to travel two trillion kilometers?”

“Yep.” He pointed at an artificial nebula in the distance. “A hundred klicks is as close as I’m allowed to get to the forge. It’s the red spot at the far end.”

“Wow. This is pretty cool.”

“Listen, you guys …” Brandon rotated the pilot’s couch. “I’m embarrassed about having neglected our friendship.”

“Dude.” Russell fussed with his seat. It wouldn’t turn around. “You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about.”

Nancy said, “So, Mason’s graduating from reform camp.”

Brandon nodded. “Maybe it’s a rite of passage. Not sure. All I know is his counselor told me to gather up his people, other than the parents, to receive him back into the tribe.”

“Is it just us?”

“Mason said if you were coming, I should just park it.”

“Park it? Is that how the space kids talk?”

“Beats me.”

“How old is he now?”

Brandon’s eyes flicked away. “He’ll be sixteen in August.”

Russell finally got his seat to turn around. “Lemme get this straight. It was you, Tim Fowlkes, Colonel Clarke and Pam Carlson who took the first spaceship ride with Elbert Harrison.”

“July 15, last year. A couple weeks later, Clarke and I got arrested, the Air Force tried to capture Harrison, Harrison snatched Tim and his family out of their grasp …”

“And the Fowlkes family ends up living on a windowless spaceship, hiding from the authorities.” Russell made a sour face. “Mason was what, fourteen?”

“And his little sister was nine, but she took it better than he did.” Brandon held thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Mason was this close to going steady with his first girlfriend.”

Nancy laughed. “Now there’s a reason to get upset, if I ever heard one.”

“Or you might think a teenager would be in Sci-Fi adventure hog heaven, but there was no place to go, no dependents his age, no orientation for the Earth kid who doesn’t fit in, and 8,000 other residents going to work every day, with no time for him.”

Russell groaned. “So, he acted out.”

“According to his sister, he wasn’t getting along with their parents. There weren’t any fights, just sulking.”

“What broke the camel’s back?”

Brandon sighed. “He raided his mom’s stash of cannabis gummies. Made the mistake of coming back to the apartment stoned.”

“First and only time?”

“That’s what he says.”

“Let me guess who busted his balls; Myra.”

“Yep, and he didn’t roll over for it. They had words. Next thing you know, our young man went right out the door into the arms of the ship’s juvenile correction apparatus.”

Russell produced a deep frown. “That really sucks, man.”

“I couldn’t believe it when his dad didn’t stand up for him. I’m telling you, Tim Fowlkes and I used to be the best of friends, but not anymore.”

Nancy made a sad face. “He came by my office a year ago, in May, to bring me a Mother’s Day card.” She put a hand over her heart. “It felt weird on account of my professional involvement with his issues at school, but I was so touched.”

Brandon took her hand. “You did great by him, made a real difference, and you’ll see it again today.”

“Is he all right?”

“Yeah, missus. He’s fine.” Brandon spoke over his shoulder to the van’s Oma. “Dandin. Tell Autopilot, take us to Anuraga.”

Image by qwertygo from Pixabay