Furieux kicked the vending machine in the passenger lounge on Tavarez Enterprise as he waited for a fare. It didn’t budge at all. The can of ready mixed Centauri and Tonic had become well and truly stuck and he was becoming increasingly frustrated with both the lack of refreshment and the lack of clientele in this dump of a system.
He looked around the empty hall, making sure no one was watching him before he lifted and threw a particularly handsome artificial plant pot at the glass panel. It shattered, spilling fragments of glass all over the floor and he reached in and grabbed a couple of the previously reluctant tins. Cracking one open, he took a big swig followed by a very audible and satisfied sigh.
“Going to Bessemer Vision?” a voice cut in.
Furieux spun around to take in the visage of an attractive woman with long, purple hair and a figure to die for.
“Sure! Lets swap credentials and we can be on our way.”
The woman laughed coyly as Furieux tapped his dataslate against hers, but pulled a face almost immediately after his info was transferred. .
“I’m sorry,” she said, “It seems the party I work for don’t regard you highly enough to ship me anywhere. I’ll wait for another transport.”
Furieux rolled his eyes.
“Sometimes”, he said – half to himself, half to the woman – “I wonder if there isn’t some guy sitting at a desk in front of a computer coming up with ideas to make life difficult for us.”
He kicked the vending machine once more for good measure.