Daniel and Rachel paced around the wine cellar, studying the extensive collection. As they toured the racks of wine, Daniel studied the milling crowd. Meanwhile, Rachel focused her attention upon the expensive wine when her eyes caught sight of a particular bottle. She scurried towards the unique bottle and whipped her head around to stare at Daniel. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and Rachel tapped at his shoulder and then pointed at the bottle. “Daniel,” she exclaimed her eyes following her hand towards the wine. “I can’t believe they have a bottle of…”
“Not now, Rachel,” Daniel chastised, grabbing her wrist before she could touch the bottle of wine.
“But Daniel,” Rachel pleaded as she lifted her perfume atomizer. She turned to the bottle, and the finger hovered above the plunger...
As the garbage truck came to a stop, Leland took it out of gear and tapped his partner’s shoulder. “Veit, we’re back. Go on and start emptying the load.”
“I did it last time, Leland,” Veit complained.
Leland scoffed as he looked at his diminutive partner, “It’s not my fault you can’t drive the truck.”
“That’s not fair,” Veit grumbled as he yanked his door open. “You’ll have to take a turn doing this work eventually.”
“No, I won’t,” Leland replied as he threw the lever to open the garbage truck for Veit. “Come grab me once you’ve emptied the trash...
“Did the message buoy get dropped?” Someone in the back of the shuttle called out.
Rylan groaned and replied, “Yes, I dropped the buoy before we lost sight of the ship. When I dropped it, I made sure we could communicate, and they instructed us to stay the course.”
“Not what I asked,” the same voice called back.
Rylan ignored the comment and returned to his scan of the planet. Laria was just as dead as the other two worlds, and that stole the resolve from most everyone in the shuttle...
The lithe Olyver opened the door to the triumvirate’s office and walked through the doorway. He let the door slam shut in the silent room. The loud echoing boom caused Quinn and Caitlin to jump in their seats. They looked up at the dirty blood man as he strode to his desk.
“Good morning Olyver,” Caitlin murmured as the man took his seat at the desk of the third triumvir.
Olyver gave Caitlin a slight dip of his head, “Good morning, Caitlin. I hope you two are doing well.”
“What do you want?” Quinn asked as he shoved papers aside...