Rowlandos and his brother were sober.
Neither could believe it, but they were.
They hadn’t seen the news, hadn’t known why everybody was panicking and rushing around like headless poultry. They had seen looting from their hotel room; what was left of it after their depravities.
Last night had been their last, booze-filled and stomachs filled.
Now they had checked out, heading for the spaceport and their next destination, neither sure where they were going once they reached the transport. Their previous ship had left without them, their drunken state preventing them.
This time, they were doing things properly.
They were ready for what would come next for them.
The spaceport was packed to the gunnels, but their tickets were considered VIP and allowed them to bypass it all.
Unfortunately nobody had bothered to mention that the ship had already left an hour early, packed with people trying to get off the planet, and willing to pay anything. They had thought they would have guaranteed seats.
But instead, they were left standing in the middle of the chaotic landing field, staring at an empty space where the transport should have been standing.
“Balls,” groaned Row. “What now?”