A tarmac jockey pulled up in a gravcart. “Two galacti to save you a hike?”
“No, thank you,” she said, strolling away, her yacht not far.
“Never shoulda' given up my spot at Kyoto,” he muttered.
Serena stopped. “Two galacti to give those two gentlemen a lift.”
“Done!” he said.
“Just get me their names.”
“Uh …” His eyes shifted left, then right. “Hai!” And he grinned and swung the gravcart around.
He'll probably charge them five galacti, she thought, walking up to the yacht, its engines at a low hum already.
Inside, the infrared vids showed the two interlocutors just climbing on the gravcart. The tarmac jockey headed out toward a scout. Serena noted the registration numbers on the side of their ship.
The tower gave her a liftoff in ten minutes. The yacht humming softly under her, Se
