The Vintage Streamer

The Vintage Streamer


“Are you kidding? That thing’s an antique!” Thomas had his doubts. After all, his aged swift-freighter had seen better days and it was nearly a decade since he retired. Then again, his daughter was just too much like him; a chip off the old block, they used to say. “You’ll never make it,” he discouraged.

“C’mon Dad, you know I’m the best bush pilot around.” That much was true. Ava pulled the tarp from the old vessel, only it didn’t look so old anymore. Polished aluminum glistened in the sun. The mag-lifters were tightly aligned and it hummed sweetly, hovering effortlessly above the deck plating.

Wide-eyed, Thomas ran nostalgic fingers along the cold aluminum, past the riveted patchwork hull, toward its newly painted, brilliant medallion. “What’d you do to it?”

“Fixed it, of course!” she declared proudly.

“The Vintage Streamer?” he noted its new designation with a raised eyebrow.

“Yup!” Ava beamed.

“Wait! Is that my particle scrubber?”

“Maybe.” The girl grinned guiltily and climbed into the open cockpit.

She was certainly tenacious and her mind was set. “You’re gonna to need a sponsor, you know.” He tossed her helmet up.

Ava snapped the chin strap in place. “I’ve already got one.”

“So, what’s your first run?”

A finger on the ignition and the lifters surged to life. “Medical supplies!” she shouted over the drone of grav particles streaming past the deck-plating. “They’re running low in New-New York! A pack of canyon trolls overwhelmed the Barrier and were almost thirty miles in before the mechs drove them back!”

Life was so much easier in the history books. No dragons. No trolls. But the price of science changed the world, and who knew if it was for the better. “They never should have opened that damned rift,” Thomas anxiously lamented to himself.

“What?!” Ava couldn’t hear him.

“Nothing! Listen, Old Chicago is crawling with goblins nowadays, so stay above ten thousand feet! And watch for dragons! They’re in rut this season and will take out anything within twenty miles of the Burning Mountain! Just be sure to stay clear of No-man’s Land, whatever you do! Got it?”

“Got it!”

“I love you! Stay safe!” His heart welled up with envy and dread for his daughter’s first run.

“I love you too, Daddy!” she replied then tugged the stick away. The Vintage Streamer dropped over the edge into the canyon before righting itself and soaring at full speed through the distant narrow gorge leading to the wilds. Ava disappeared into the mist that morning, the chum-chum-chum of the engines fading away.

Thomas just stared at the fog as it flowed over the canyon’s edge, his memories drifting back to his first courier assignment. Ironically, he was about her age and so full of confidence…so assured. It was so exhilarating! But that was thirty years ago and not without peril. He recalled soaring over churning seas of goblins on the march, countless boulders flung at him from far off mountain giants, and gremlins almost tearing his old machine apart mid-flight. And then there was No-man’s Land, where atomics had leveled the earth, rendering most of the old tech useless. The residual radiation still scrambled long distance radio communications worldwide. He regretted every time he’d almost died, then panicked remembering friends that actually did. “Ava!” he called out in vain but knew it was too late.


**********

“She should’ve been back by now,” Thomas worried. It’d been four days…four frustrating days since he watched his daughter drop over the edge and sore away. All the while, he couldn’t focus on his work, spending more time wringing his hands or simply staring into space. Any hope for distraction by working on an old Crimson Zephyr was definitely lost and he’d unfortunately missed his customer’s deadline. His mind was racing when he powered up the old landline. “Jacob, come back?”

“I’m here Tommy-boy! Checkin’ in again?”

“Have you heard anything else?”

“Ha! Not in the last hour, boyo! The city’s been on lockdown, after all. Those goblins don’t give up easily. But I’m sure you know that. I mean, how many deliveries where you actually on time for, old man?” Jacob had a point. “Anyways, I’m sure she’s fine.”

Thomas sighed and tapped the receiver to his forehead in frustration. “She’s two days overdue. I hope so.”

Then he heard it and dropped the receiver right away. His heart soared. It was still faint but unmistakable: the familiar chum-chum-chum.