Mom & Pop's Space Travel, LLC

"Mom, you have those sandwiches ready?"

Aggie raised her eyebrows at her husband. "Harold, when have I not? Do you have the paperwork finished so they can get underway?"

Harold resumed putting his chicken scratches on the pad of forms.

She smiled at the newlyweds on the other side of the counter. "Don't you worry, dears. We'll get you all fixed up."

The young wife spoke up. "Sandwiches? I thought the brochure said fine dining."

She clucked her tongue. "Oh, hon, the boat's kitchen is fully stocked. Ever been weightless before? No? Most folks' stomachs are a bit queasy. Good old comfort food the first day, that's the ticket."

Harold patted the bag. "Aggie's PB&Js and a couple of raspberry wobblers to suck on are just what you need, trust me. Been doing this for--for how long now, Mom?"

"Close on fifty-four years." She scolded, "The same number we've been married, Harold."

The new husband looked at this wife. "Hope we're still together after that long."

She hugged his arm and smiled, like they all did.

Aggie watched Harold shuffle down the hall, taking the couple to the dock. She knew they thought they'd be in for a romantic time of it, making it the whole way, but by the time they actually got used to the weightlessness, their week would be just about over. Still, without these birds renting their boats, she and Harold would have been out of business long ago. Wasn't like the old days, when the station was new, and those big liners weren't running.

Harold was shaking his head when he came back. "I bet I wind up having to go get those two. Neither one of them were ever in a magsail before. No idea how it worked. Fella doesn't want to admit it, I can tell."

"There's always the autopilot."

"And I showed him how to use it three times, but I don't expect much."

Aggie shrugged. "Just as long as we don't have to hose it out again."

The desk bell rang behind them.

Inspector Graal hissed between his fangs, the closest his kind came to a friendly greeting.

"Manifests. Now."

Graal grabbed the clipboard out of Harold's hands and flipped the pages. When he found the one he wanted he tore it out and threw it on the counter in front of them.

"Return. Autopilot override."

Aggie glanced down at the sheet. "No, we won't."

Rage shuddered from every inch of Graal, his muscles flexing into a combat stance.

"Whoa, there," Harold interjected, stepping in front of his wife. "What she means is we can't do that. It would be illegal."

Graal resumed his normal surly pose. "Explain."

Aggie stepped out from behind her husband. "The Freedom of Movement Act of 2219 prohibited computer control that couldn't be overridden without consent of the pilot. It was right after those AIs tried to take control of everything. We can't bring Mr. Smythe back without his ok unless he misses his payment, in which case he's no longer the rightful operator."

"Wanted. Smuggler."

Harold tapped the sheet. "Indigo credit line with the Bank of Earth, as you can see."

Graal paused, then smiled.

The effect of the smile shook Harold to his loafers. "What?"

"Provide transport. Intercept. Graal arrest."

Aggie put her hand on her husband's arm. "Better take him."

Harold shrugged. "Whatever you say, Mom."

Harold gently tapped out the rhythm of an old tune against the buckle of the harness that held him in the pilot's chair. Floating in midair next to him, Graal appeared flustered by the weightlessness.

"Raspberry wobbler?" Harold offered, popping one into his mouth.

The noise Graal made reminded him of an angry tiger, so he moved his hand out of easy biting range.

A beep brought his attention back to the panel.

"We're now crossing the Free Space border, which is the edge of your jurisdiction, Inspector. Mr. Smythe's ship is just past that. Your warrants are no good."

Graal's claws clenched. "Engage! Catch!"

Harold sucked hard on his candy. "I'll have to go at him from the side to keep the sails from hitting. If you look out the door, you should see him."

Graal peered through the narrow window slot on the door.

Harold took a deep breath and clenched his eyes shut.

A thunderclap shook the ship as the hatchway blew out.

Hurricane-force winds howled through the doorway.

Graal's claws dug into the ceramic of the doorframe, holding him fast. Through the maelstrom, he roared his death challenge at Harold.

Harold jammed his fingers in his ears and prayed his harness would keep him in place.

A broom swung down from above the outside of the hatch, breaking across Graal's snout. The Inspector lost his grip and tumbled into open space.

The abrupt silence of vacuum surprised Harold. He wanted to look around but dared not open his eyes. His skin was pins and needles all over. All too soon, his lungs burned.

A gloved hand touched his arm, and he felt something start to slide over his head. He yanked the helmet down as fast as he could. A moment later, he heard the hiss of air.

"You ok?" a voice asked.

Harold opened his eyes.

Aggie smiled back at him through her spacesuit's helmet. "I closed the door. In a couple of minutes we'll be all pressurized again."

"He gone?"

She nodded. "I recorded it all from outside. He ordered you to attack a legal ship in Free Space. Clear piracy. We're covered. Those wobblers do their job?"

Harold smiled. "Kept my tissues full of oxygen. You were right as rain, dear."

Aggie turned to watch the body of the inspector as it tumbled away. "That was my favorite broom."

"Indigo credit doesn't come by that often."

She patted his shoulder. "The Ratherford's will be in at 3, and we'll need this boat cleaned and stocked for two weeks by then."

Harold chuckled. "Honeymooners. God bless 'em."

Find more by N.J. Kailhofer in the Author Index.

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