Lincoln Cole

Victor waited outside the office building of Markwell, leaning against a car and tapping his fingers against the hood. It was the middle of the day, but on a weekend so there were very few cars in the parking lot. His was in a back corner, tucked out of sight.

Jim stormed into the little corner bar in the brewery district called the Blue Daisy in a foul mood. He needed a drink to take his mind off of just how bad his life had become.

Lyle hadn’t expected it to be so hot.

Vivian set the digital book down on the copilot’s chair when the comm rang through. Her feet were propped up on the terminal of her little ship, and she was beginning to feel sleepy.

“Did you get the peyote?” Beck asked.

The speakers of the little box-shaped freighter, Cudgel, chimed. It made a high pitched whistling sound, alerting the two men sitting inside the haphazardly-converted shipping bay that they had received a new message.

“Is it heavy?”

“When I went to the market today they didn’t even have bread.”

“Do you think they are staring at us because of how we smell?” William asked.