Chapter 8

"Listen, Bus driver, don't be touchin' any of the controls. Got it?" She slapped Garth's gloved hand as he tried to help her with piloting. "I've been flying this lunker for five years by myself an' I've been scrapping the zone for ten." She kept one hand on the small control stick while the other was busy punching buttons on the thrust equalizer panel. "And I ain't never needed anyone's help yet."

Garth winced as the pieces of junk whizzed by; each one seemed a little bit closer than the one before. "I can't help it, besides, you don't need to be figuring thrust equations, you need to be flying the ship."

"What I need, is for you to stop botherin' me an' let me fly this thing. Remember rule one?"

Garth mocked her with a child's voice, "Yes Miss Fargo, don't touch the controls."

"Very good, Bus Driver. You were listening."

Garth tried to relax as Red swerved in between pieces of junk, dodged old satellites and wrecked cargo transports. He stared at her flying the ship and realized he found her fascinating and even attractive-this tough, independent Scrapper woman working solo in the Kohlner Zone. It was unusual to find someone like her in an environment as harsh and unforgiving as this. Akin to being a miner in the 1800's or one of the first settlers on the moon-life out here was usually for loners or outcasts. Red seemed to be a little bit of both. She had a certain spirit of adventurousness, which was just the opposite of 'safe' Garth. It was this quality he lacked that he found most attractive.

He looked around the tight control cabin of the small Bosco work ship or 'Little B" as they were commonly known. She kept this vehicle in good order. She had to. Scrappers depended on two things: their ships and their brains. There were double seats next to each other with dual controls and a large 5-foot high vacuum-shield in front. Many switches and dials lined the walls and ceiling around them.

However, it was, by comparison to other ships, uncomplicated and easy to operate.

Above the left seat where Red sat were two mechanical arms tucked away into receptacles and removed when needed in order to operate the manipulator arms on the outside front of the ship. On the bottom, a large round pod housed the gravity generators and four spindly looking landing legs were folded against the side that also served as grapples to latch on to odd shaped pieces of junk. These craft were not pretty, but they were tough and could take a lot of abuse before giving in to the torturous chores they performed. It reminded Garth of the Solo-horse tugs he used to operate with Lockheed-Epoc years ago.

"What'd you name her?" inquired Garth.

"Who?"

"The ship, your little B."

"Ohh, she's called 'Rascal'."

"Rascal, huh. Where'd that name come from?"

"You ask a lot of questions, Bus Driver. You know that?"

"Look, I'm not asking what your politics are or what you think about mandatory organ donation. I'm asking how you got the name for your ship. It's not that complicated, really."

Red looked over at Garth, realized he meant no harm and turned the corner of her mouth as she remembered the origin of the name.

"Rascal... was what my father used to call me. An 'incorrigible rascal', as he put it. I was a wild little thing back then. Had quite a reputation on Kolibri Station. An' I guess since that computer you call Rosie spilled the rest of my life's guts, I don't have to tell you much more."

"Your dad was in the PTC. That must've been tough."

"It was for him, but he never let us see just how. When he walked into our living module after work, we were the most important thing."

"You're lucky. A lot of the people he moved into orbit weren't as fortunate." Garth flashed back to his own youth when he and his family moved into Folden Station. He remembered the tens of thousands of people who couldn't seem to make the adjustment to living in space.

"Most of the orbit stations were already built by then. He was transporting mostly stragglers and industry by that point." She pointed out the view shield to the right. "There's one of the Liberty Blast Ships now. I scrapped from that one a few times."

Outside, the Rascal passed by the tremendous hulk of a cigar shaped craft the size of two football fields. Used to transport the doomed populous of Earth by the millions into stations already in place around the planet, they were named after the famed Liberty ships of World War II. Built quickly and suited to one purpose, once their job was done they were obsolete. Much of the outer skin was gone revealing the inner super structure skeleton of the nine decked vehicle. What was left of the skin was visibly scared and pitted with the blisters of multiple atmospheric reentries.

The locator panel on the ships console indicated their position relative to their destination as well as to their starting point. Garth was quite familiar with this type of navigation system and could see their destination was not far off.

"Looks like we're almost there." Garth studied Red's face, intense and focused on the job at hand. "So, what do you think of Rosie?" he asked.

"Rosie." Red said with an air of exasperated insolence. "She's a..."

Garth shot her a look, which Red caught.

"Just like me," she smiled. "I'm jus' kidding'. She's pretty cool actually. I think she's gonna come in real handy."

Red continued to fly the ship, scanning outside one minute and then moving her eyes over the instruments the next. She glanced over at Garth. "What about you, Bus Driver? What's your real story? If you're such a class one engineer, what are doing driving kiddies around?"

"Hey watch it, they're more than just kiddies. Besides I love flying and I get to work on the systems in the yard." Garth pondered the true meaning of her question for a minute. "I was supposed to be on The Fletcher with my brother."

"Now that's beginning to sound interesting. Please continue."

"Fletcher was a lunatic, even back then. He basically brainwashed all those people, including my brother, into believing they were gods and they would rule humanity on Mars."

"You're kidding? How'd you get out?"

"My folks rescued me, but my brother was too far gone at that point. I was one of the only ones to get a message from him before the ship blew."

"What was it?"

"He told me that he loved me and our parents and that everything was going to be okay. Fletcher was going to do for Mars, what he did for the Earth."

"Yeah, well we all know how that turned out." Red gave a thumbs down.

"I worked for a bunch of companies after that and then Lockheed-Epoc, but I just lost my drive. That's when I started doing this. It's nice and easy, safe."

A red hailing light just above the COM panel started flashing and then in each of their helmets the voice of a Kohlner patrol pilot crackled through.

"Bosco work ship, Rascal, this is the Kohlner Patrol. Please cease all drive activity and come to a complete stop."