YA-ing

Another teaser from a work-in-progress. 77,000 words and no title, yet.

Chapter 203

Anuraga, The Dust Cloud

Mason Fowlkes went straight from lunch to a partially shut-down docking terminal, its boarding passage absent of patrons, occupied only by a shipwright replacing airlock seals.

Mason told him, “I’m going out of slot five in a few minutes for a podcast interview. I’m cleared with the house, but …”

The man held up a hand. “I’m done with five.”

“Okay, because I didn’t want to …”

“You’re not in my way. Where’s your boat?”

“I told the house to hold up when I saw you.”

He smiled. “Better get it in here, then.”

Mason stood with his back to an Armor Light panel through which could be seen the terminal’s maneuvering chamber, an open hatch, the glow of electrostatically-charged space dust, and a FastVan Plus gliding into slot five.

An icon on a virtual display invited him to join a session. A prompt said, “The host knows you’re here.” The host said, “Mason, can you see me?”

“Yes, sir. Good connection.” Mason flew his camera drone with gestures, pulling back for a wide-angle shot. “Hang on while I install a lighting mask, so your audience can see what’s behind me.”

“I thought you were standing in front of a green-screen.”

“No, sir. This is real. I’m taking you for a ride.”

“Terrific!” The host grinned through his beard. “Call me Matt.”

“Mason. Nice to meet you.” Mason adjusted the collar on his Fleet uniform. “Ready.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, today we’re talking to fourteen-year-old Mason Fowlkes, whose work at Anuraga Media you’ve seen from behind the camera, but whose face you might not have seen until two days ago, when mainstream news exposed not just Mason but his younger sister to worldwide attention.”

Mason shuffled his feet. “It might not have been a big deal if they hadn’t targeted Erin. She’s ten. You don’t do that.”

The podcaster made a sympathetic look through the session frame. “So, that same day, a size one maroli coasts into a Manhattan coffee shop and beats the crap out of a morning news producer.”

“And I’m about to be in trouble with my parents.”

“You did it.”

“I’m Zirna Zapha. We don’t lay down for that kind of thing.”

The man rocked his head. “You’re fourteen.”

“Sir, a year ago, I was just out of eighth grade at a Catholic middle school in Las Cruces, New Mexico, when the Air Police came to our neighborhood with orders to arrest my family.”

“And Elbert Harrison shows up in his space yacht.”

“Landed right outside our back door. I was excited. I thought Doc was a space marine, and we were all going off to some big adventure, which it was, and is, kind of. Except …”

Matt waved hands in the air. “I’m just trying to get my head around this. Your dad didn’t tell you he’d taken a ride with Doc Harrison to the cloud what, ten days before?”

“He told Mom, but not us. And then we settle into an apartment on Anuraga, because we couldn’t go anywhere else, and eight thousand people are living here, and nobody’s my age, and there’s no windows, no grass, no sky …”

“A big change.”

“I acted out. It wasn’t good for me or anybody, and I didn’t know what to do, but my dad did.”

Matt slapped the surface of his desk. “What’d your dad do?”

“A lot of things, but first off he reminded me there’s places where a man better be grown up by the time he’s twelve or he might not make it, and said I was living in the right place to learn how to do it.”

“Was he right?”

“Yeah, I suppose.” Mason performed the ‘follow me’ gesture. “I’m hanging out with soldiers. Might have gotten ahead of myself with the maroli business.”

“I don’t want to second-guess your parents, but I suspect you earned points with the clan.” The host full-screened Mason’s camera feed. “What are we doing today?”

“Our tugs are out moving cargo for a pair of visiting fleet ships.” Mason led the audience through an airlock. “After that, they’re going down planet for another job. We’re following.”

“Are you flying the van?”

“I have a student license.” Mason took a seat in the pilot’s chair. “Operator only. No passengers.”

“You’re a space pilot. That’s a big deal. What do your parents say about it?”

“Nothing, yet.” Mason looked aft. “Dandin. Confirm air tight.”

A cabin speaker announced, “The boat is air tight.”

“Disconnect terminal sleeve.”

“Disconnected.”

The FastVan glided into sunlight. The host said, “So, your parents don’t know you’re taking flight lessons.”

“I’ll bet they do now.”  Mason’s camera drone flew aft to capture the cockpit view from over his shoulder. “No telling what Dad thought I’d do with his advice, but here we are.”