It had been a long day, a day in a string of days filled with lots of nothing. Business lately was flatter than a Martian flat cat; and brother, that’s flat. Even the weather was depressed; it had been spitting rain all day, the kind of rain that ate holes in ceramacrete here on Chania 3, nice and acid. Anyway, I was sitting in my office, fighting the latest battle in the age-old war between income and expenses. As usual, the expenses were winning; I hadn’t seen a clipped credit in weeks. I was already a month behind on the rent; the landlord was beginning to give me the fish eye and tap on the commlink on his belt every time he saw me, which was turning into every morning as I walked in the lobby. I knew what that meant; he kept the name of his favorite bouncer on speed dial there, some critter big and blue and with six arms. When that guy bounced you, you stayed bounced.
I was getting ready to give it up for the day, when there was a knock on the door. A knock on the door meant one of two things: the landlord’s bouncer, or a paying client. Right at the moment, I couldn’t be fussy. If it was the bouncer, he’d just rip the door off if I didn’t open it, and the landlord was in the right, anyway. If it was a client, I might just make enough out of this to stave off Blue Boy’s advent. I keyed the door….
…and knew that this case was probably gonna be worth big credits, and that I was in a whole lot of trouble from the get-go.