// I blame the opening scene on having listened to "Island in the Sun" by Wheezer for the entirety of writing it. :-P I always think of summer when I listen to that song.

Corneria city was in the middle of a spectacular summer, the kind where Earthers became very thankful for the lack of rubber on the road (levcars were the mother of all inventions, indeed). This was the kind of heat that split people into two groups: the ones who hurried, running so they wouldn't feel the sun scorch their skin; and the ones who lounged, trying to overcome the heat through sheer lethargy and copious amounts of water. The result was a lot of large groups of people milling around with the occasional harried cell phone talker running like mad in between them.

The scene being thus chaotic, Rob, Arcturis, and SCS had been assigned to make sure that nobody boarded "by accident"--or missed the loading times due to drunkenness and/or heatsickness and/or insanity. That last one was especially likely, knowing the crew. Currently, Rob and Arcturis were sitting by a sign that said, "MSSers load here" in gritty black marker, some of the ink melting down the page; SCS was trying (and failing) to get them something cool to drink.

"God, it's hot as hell out here. When are we scheduled to lift, again?" Rob asked, fanning himself and watching SCS's posture sink as yet another vender told him to look somewhere else.

"I don't know," Arcturis answered, lighting a cigarrette. "Ask the attendant."

"No, thank you," he said. Said attendant looked like he was going to rip someone's eyeballs out and put them in his martini. "How can you smoke in this weather? Seriously, I think you're going to make yourself sick."

Arcturis just grinned. "Get yourself addicted to tobacco, and you might surprise yourself."

Meanwhile, SCS was returning back from trying (and failing) to get drinks for all of them; he collapsed next to his companions. "Auuuugh, could it get any hotter out here?"

"Probably not," Rob groused.

As if to second him, a pidgeon roosted on the stand in front of them and croaked; but it was soon knocked away by one of the more overzealous travelers, and it croaked again and settled somewhere else. They watched it--mostly because they had nothing else to look at. After a moment Arcturis took a last long drag of his cigarette and crushed it beneath his heel. Then he pointed over near one of the scattered shops; a white vixen was making her way over with a bag slung over one shoulder, another vixen--black this time--following.

"Hey," Arcturis said, when the first had arrived--Adriana. So far, he was probably the only one feeling charitable enough to talk to her that day. Not that it seemed to bother her very much. "How'd it go?"

Adriana shrugged and looked the other way; SCS raised his eyebrows at Rob and checked her name off the list. Trying to get her to talk was like trying to get Andross wannabes to stop surfacing.

"You don't look much bothered by the weather."

"I come from a desert place," she answered, shouldering her load. Stoic as ever. "Excuse me."

They collectively watched her walk out of earshot, each thinking his own version of "What's her problem?"

SCS, after she was gone: "You know, I think I've heard maybe two words come out of her mouth since she came here."

Rob: "You just heard eight."

"I know. It's a record."

"What are we talking about?"

That was Kirstyn, the black vixen. She unshouldered a similar load.

"Adriana just spoke," SCS answered.

"Eight words," Rob said, holding up the appropriate number of fingers.

Kristyn made a face at them.

"What?" they said simultaneously.

"She's really not that bad," Kirstyn said. "She's just tired. I would be, too."

"Tiredness is no excuse for permanent PMS," Rob said.

Kirstyn looked at Arcturis for help, but he shrugged. "Can't say I disagree, Kirs."

She sighed. "I think she's nice."

"You think everyone's nice," Rob said.

"You make it sound like it's a fault."

"It isn't?" he said, grinning.

Her eyebrows raised, but she didn't pursue the line of conversation any further, muttering that it was too hot.

"How many people do we have left?" Arcturis asked.

"I'm looking for names," SCS answered.

"And?"

He showed them, smiling. "I don't think there are any more left."

"No more?" Rob asked, his eyebrows raising. Then he jumped up with an exagerrated gesture of 'rock on!'. "SWEEEET! C'mon, c'mon, let's get moving!"