Scene: The Grinning Skull, a shady establishment in a shadier part of town, Altair City, Altair system, year 3295. A young woman in a grimy bomber jacket walks in and nearly collapses into a seat at the bar.

“Long day, huh?” the barkeeper asked. He was busy wiping down some glasses left behind by customers.

“Long week,” Krystal replied. “Whatcha dishin’ out tonight? Need somethin’ to take the edge off.”

“I’ve got just the thing.” The barkeeper slid her a glass of cloudy yellowish liquid. “House special. Nothing too heavy.” Krystal eyed the drink for only a moment before downing nearly half the glass. She winced and coughed.

“That doesn’t go down so smooth, does it?” That was an understatement. The whiskey burned her throat.

“Hey, it’s not top shelf booze. Either it hurts your throat, or it hurts your wallet. Pick your poison.”

“Point taken.” She grabbed the glass and gulped down the rest of it. She winced again and felt her eyes tearing up, but this wasn’t her first drink. She’d get used to it.

She always did, on nights like these.