"Excuse me," Zyron said as he motioned to an attractive flight attendant, "could you bring me an aspirin, please?"
She placed her hand on the cybran's shoulder, replying with a warm smile. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't hear you, could you repeat?"
Zyron set his gaze upon her bright emerald eyes. "I asked if you could bring me an aspirin, please," he said, returning the smile as well as he could.
"An aspirin?" She looked surprised. "Aspirins became obsolete a decade ago, sir. We now have carbonated black tea with paracetemol, which is much sweeter and more effective."
"So be it, please."
"Alright, I'll bring it to you right away, sir." In a matter of seconds, the appealing attendant poured the tea in a fancy glass and brought it to the cybran, who drank it slowly yet all at once.
“Ah, thank you, ma’am. I feel much better already,” he said. Their eyes met once again as handed her the empty glass.
“I’m glad the tea worked so fast,” she said, holding on to the glass.
“Perhaps it was your presence and care that healed me, while the tea simply served as a… catalyst,” he commented with a flirty smile. “But I suppose every man with a headache would tell you that.”
She giggled. “I wish they would, sir. My experience tells me that, unlike you, their lust is often too strong for them to act… courteously in a flight.”
“Well, I’m glad you consider me an exception, although I simply try to treat you the way such a beautiful young woman as you are should be treated by all men – without any exceptions.”
She giggled again. “Oh, stop it, Mr.…”
“Shaffer,” he replied before kissing her hand discretely.
“Well, Mr. Shaffer, I’d love to spend more time with you, but there are other passengers that need me. My name’s Lania; call me if you need something.” With an enticing smile, the attendant walked away, carrying with her a vixen’s beauty and elegance, along with an empty glass of tea.
“You men are all the same…”
Zyron looked to the passenger beside him. A woman in her mid-forties sat with a grimace of indignation, clearly upset with the cybran’s successful (and seemingly effortless) seduction; her sullen eyes were set upon “Mr. Shaffer”’s, which in turn gleamed with youth and vivacity. “Excuse me?”
“That’s right,” she replied with cold demeanor, “you men are all the same! You guys just can’t miss the chance to flirt with a bombshell like her, can you?”
Zyron chuckled for a moment. “That is for me to know, and for you to find out.”
“Oh, but I know what you’re up to,” the woman said, pointing her finger relentlessly at the cybran. “Oh yes I do!”
His eyes widened. “And what is it that I am up to… ma’am?”
“It’s so evident,” she replied, “you… you wanna ‘boogie’ once the ‘mothership’ lands!”
“Yes, you… you just wanna ‘get down’ with that Venus, that-”
“Quiet, foolish wom-” A loud noise and a tremendous impact interrupted the cybran. It was sufficient to set most of the passengers in panic. Not that they did not have a reason to panic; in fact, they had every right to. That noise and that impact could mean only one thing: a boarding pod that breached the fragile vessel’s hull. The terrified passengers knew that the true danger did not lie on the pod itself, but on whatever that was to come out from that pod.
The stomping of feet grew nearer at every second. Blast fire erupted from the cargo compartment, where the pod had breached the spaceship. Security had been swiftly neutralized before it could intervene, and it was with relative ease that a group of mean-looking fellows, conveniently armed for a quick and profitable raid, entered the passenger compartment. These men and women – eight in total – hailed from all over the galaxy; all they had in common was their purpose – to waylay small crafts passing nearby.
“Ladies and gentleman,” cried the raiding band’s leader, a menacing Deathwillow with a haunting voice, “your money or your lives!”