Bright Red Line (Backyard Starship #22)

by J.N. Chaney

So I added, “In space terms, thank you very much. I’m a married man.” “There are buns in the oven,” Funboy offered as we loaded Torina’s luggage into the ground car. B smiled. “You know, as euphemisms go for pregnancy, I’ve always loved that one. It’s so… homey.” Funboy heaved a case into the ground car’s trunk. “I wasn’t referring to the incipient arrival of squalling infants covered in all manner of unpleasant biological fluids. Rather, I was speaking of my darling, who is baking, it seems, for an army.” Gabby, splotched with flour and wearing an apron emblazoned with Will Smooch For Sugar—a souvenir from Frankenmuth—waved from the Fafnir’s airlock. “I am! Tor offered us his permafreeze room so we can preserve these treats for years, if necessary.” I glanced at Tor. “Never knew you were a prepper, Dad.” “Aww. He called me dad. And a prepper.” Tor frowned. “What’s a prepper?” “Earth term for someone who hoards food and water and stuff in their basement or a bunker, prepping for the end of the world. Hence, prepper,” I replied. Kay laughed, “Oh, in that case, we’re both preppers. We’ve probably got three years of goods, perhaps four for certain items.” She shrugged. “I’m the first to admit we’re well off, but all of this”—she gestured around at the estate—“can be ripped away in a moment. And you can’t eat bonds.”