First drink in two weeks:
‘Devil and damned territory’ that’s what they called his situation, and going by the crap about to hit; it was more than apt. “Penny for your thoughts, ten credits for a bottle” the bartender chimed in.” “I’ll take a bottle and a hole to the head” Bob’s tone could depress an optimist convention, as he fished through his pockets for the last dregs of cash. Two weeks in a rocket propelled tin can to pay off a debt and then a crooked security officer relieves him of his cash, the arsehole didn’t even bother to make it sound official, just a bloated looking senior security officer demanding a ‘docking fee’ or ‘your ship will be removed’.
“Here’s your bottle, but the hole in the head costs extra” Bob figured/hoped the bartender was joking, but given the place he found himself it wouldn’t surprise him if…
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