Memories of Baby Bear
Twenty years later, she ambushes her father in a parking lot.
As the moon rises, the grizzled bear of a man strolls alone down the force-field ramp from the graphencrete monstrosity towering behind him.
On the expansive parking lot beneath, the penultimate ground-effect vehicle whistles away, leaving a lone young woman standing in the rain, her resplendent red raincoat a splash of livid hue against the corroded grey of a rented hover truck.
The man passes by, stops, and turns to face her, bemused.
“Young lady, I am the final one out from this month’s parole list, and the guy you’re waiting for is obviously not emerging from the Stinkhole. I apologise for my bluntness, but you do not look the kind of person that would find comfort in this district as night deepens.”
“Hello, Father,” she says, giving him an inscrutable stare.
“Last time you saw me, I was twenty months, and Ma moved us off-planet when they canned your ass, so there is no reason you would recognise me.”
He leans closer, squinting at her wet visage. “Miss, I don’t think so. You …”
“Can it, Pa,” she interrupts him. “I’m not that girl anymore, and you for sure are no longer the slickest space-unfolder out there, and we both don’t give a fuk about the other!”
“But,” she catches her breath, “you owe me for betraying our genetics and ruining my childhood by letting yourself get caught by the Commonwealth, smuggling chickenshit contraband out in the Lesser Arm.”
“Listen, lassie,” growls the man with a sea of facial scars, now blooming with anger, “those were proper singularity warheads we were hauling while you were still in your diapers and clutching that beat-up droid bear!”
But life in a convict-run prison is brutal, and only the quick-minded survive, so his sad eyes suddenly sparkle as he tilts his head at her.
“So what’s in it for me?”
She pats her pocket, grinning back. “How about not being shot dead right here, right now, on this armpit of a planet?”
“You have a spaceworthy vessel?”
She nods, mock bowing, opening the waggon’s passenger door for him.
As he slids in with surprising agility, she takes her time moving to her side of the conveyance, feeling the need to avert her face from him.
She lets the downpour dilute the bear’s tears that returned from nowhere.
This text was first published on X (Twitter) and is © 2024 by David Pahor. No part of my stories should be used to train AI technology to generate text, imitating my writing style.
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