 
Copyright © 2014 by C. M. Lanning

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

*****

Table of Contents

Chapter 1: A Drive to Europa

Chapter 2: Fare is Fair

Chapter 3: Time to Let it Go

Chapter 4: She Wanted some Attention

Chapter 5: A Peculiar Old Man

Chapter 6: One Sick Dog

Chapter 7: Pulling Strings

Chapter 8: A Little Chat with God

Chapter 9: A Visit from Mother

Chapter 10: Stubborn

Epilogue:

About the Author:

Chapter 1: A Drive to Europa

Some static played in between stations as he struggled to tune in to a jazz station from Europa. He was on his way to pick up a passenger there, and he wasn't quite in range to reach the intergalactic sounds of trumpets and saxophones.

"Come on you piece of garba- . . . there we go. That's all I wanted," the driver said, as his right hand pulled away from the knob of his radio, jazz starting to fade in.

He finished off his cigarette and put it out in the ashtray that folded out from underneath the radio.

A saxophone bounced from note to note in a swingin' beat as the driver's yellow cab raced along Intergalactic Roadway 75 toward Europa.

The driver reached up to scratch his shaggy brown hair and muttered something about needing to patch another hole in his brown pub hat.

His right hand scraped along the blistered brown leather passenger seat feeling for his pack of cigarettes he'd only bought before leaving Earth.

Feeling the softness of the package, he knew immediately he was out.

"Dammit. Those smaller packs really do run out fast," he muttered, as he came upon his exit.

The yellow beams of the intergalactic roadway beneath the space taxi started to look a little less blurry as the driver slowed to exit the roadway and head down to Europa.

His taxi shook a little as he entered the atmosphere of Jupiter's moon, but ultimately, the old cab held up fine; it always did.

As he came down onto the white tundra, he found the village he was looking for. Astara, population of 10,045, was where his future passenger sat in waiting. The town below looked worn; several older metal buildings of various heights lined the main road. Every other part of the town slept. . . except for the area with the bars.

When humans had terraformed a number of the planets in the galaxy, they brought a number of different materials to each celestial body they made habitable for mankind as intergalactic roadways were first established. The one resource that every planet had in common? Booze.

As the driver brought down the taxi, he cranked up the heater.

"I hate the damn cold here. . . hope the girl I'm waiting on is quick," the driver said.

He stopped his vehicle, and he heard the ice crunch under him as the space cab came to rest. Europa was covered in ice, and underneath was a vast ocean. That meant there was money to make pulling water out of the moon, commencing the desalination process to purify the water, and shipping it to whomever could pay for it.

The driver was a little antsy. He hated Europa. The moon was a little tougher than most inhabited worlds because most of the population consisted of roughnecks working drills to pull out water. Booze and roughnecks didn't make a good combination in the driver's mind.

A knock at his back passenger door caused him to crank his neck toward the sound. He saw a rather petite woman with long straight purple hair blowing in the icy wind. She was wearing a thick brown coat and had no gloves on. All in all, he considered her a little punkish and out of sorts with the area.

He rolled down his back window a little and asked, "Karmen?"

"That's me. Can you open the door? My ass is freezing out here, and I need to go," Karmen said.

"I'll knock 30 units off your fare if you run back into the bar behind you and get me a pack of Redillo cigarettes," the driver said.

"Open the door, let me put my bag in, and you have a deal," she said.

He unlocked the door, and she tossed in a small black duffel bag with some kind of jungle cat pattern on it.

"Shorts or longs?"

"Longs," he said.

She closed the door and went back inside. Five minutes later, she had returned. She got into the cab and tossed them up at him. They hit his pub hat and bounced into the passenger seat.

"Nice catch," she said.

"Nice throw," he muttered back at her.

He looked back at his client. She had a simple nose piercing and some kind of small Japanese marking tattooed above her right eyebrow.

"Nice hat. I don't think I've seen a single person wearing one like it," she said.

"It was my grandfather's," the driver said, taking it off and rubbing it a little before putting it back on his head and reaching for a cigarette.

"Nice piece of history you got there. . . kind of like this cab," she said, looking unimpressed with the interior.

"Don't you go insulting Starla like that," the driver said, turning the radio up a little.

"Starla?"

"The cab you're sitting in is named Starla. I've driven her for 25 years, and she hasn't ever let me down. She's a one-of-a-kind classy machine. The body of Starla is actually made from the leftover shell of a taxicab from over 200 years ago, before vehicles even really left the planet," the driver said, clearly proud of his vehicle.

"You named your taxi?"

"Yeah, Starla. You know, like I work for Starlight Taxi? Is it really that hard to understand?"

"Whatever. . . can we please just get to Mars? My sister's birthday party is coming up," Karmen said.

"Sure thing," the driver said, as the taxi slowly buzzed back to life, leading to a gradual, but altogether, successful takeoff.

As the driver put Starla onto Intergalactic Roadway 32 to Mars, he heard his radio station go back to static.

"Well crap. . . that was the one good thing about that moon was KKTP 91.4 jazz hits," the driver sighed.

"About time. Care if I plug in my music pod?"

"Starla only has a ZM radio. Sorry about that," the driver said.

"This thing really doesn't have-" Karmen was cut off by a flat stare in the rearview mirror from the driver.

"I mean- Starla really doesn't have anything but a radio?"

"No, but the heater works, the oxygen filtration system works, and at least two of the four power windows work. Not to mention, she flies from planet to planet. I'd say that makes her a decent machine," the driver said, rubbing the steering wheel.

Karmen sighed, and Starla was silent for another hour before the driver finally asked if she was cool with some small talk.

"Asking permission for small talk seems a little odd to me," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"You'd be surprised. I get two kinds of passengers, ones that want to chat and ones that don't. Which are you?"

"Chatting is fine," Karmen said, leaning on the seat in front of her with her elbows.

"You're a bartender?"

"I am. I'm considering a transfer to Mars to be closer to family, but the money on Europa is just too good since they have trouble getting workers," Karmen said.

They talked about the particulars of her job for a while. The driver appeared to be generally interested in her career. He only stopped asking questions when she explained a particular part of her job or when he needed to grab another cigarette.

As they approached Mars, Karmen was finishing up with yet another gripe about Europa.

"So we're constantly running out of supplies because shipments are so far and few inbetween," she said.

"You run out of booze?"

"No, just the things you'd never think of."

"Like?"

"Tiny straws and napkins. Right now we're using these little bendy straws from the town's only store. They're pretty pathetic," she said.

Starla handled Mars' atmosphere about as well as Europa's. The vehicle came down into the small city of New Denver, population of 120,000.

A few skyscrapers stood out in front of a small mountain range, just outside of which, New Denver sat.

The driver maneuvered Starla through traffic and finally came down in front of a smaller red townhouse on a busy street. He pulled off to the side, and Karmen paid him before going to get out.

"I have a question about being an intergalactic cab driver," she said.

"Shoot," the driver said.

"Don't you ever get lonely?"

"I'm an orphan with no family, not too many people to miss. I have a few friends here and there at the cab company," the driver said.

"You're only friends are other cab drivers?"

"And Starla," he said, rubbing the dashboard.

Karmen laughed and tapped her black nails on the hood of the cab.

"Thanks for the ride, Starla, and you too. . .," she trailed off, not knowing his name.

"Do you really wanna know my name? Are you ever really going to see me again?"

"I might invite you to my bar if you're ever lonely," she said.

"I'll keep that in mind. Have fun at your sister's birthday," the driver said, slowly lifting Starla off the ground.

Karmen pouted for a moment and said, "Fine. Be that way. You know where my bar is."

"I do. . . on that stupid ice ball with all the roughnecks. . . great destination," he said.

She winked at him and then closed the door.

The driver's eyes getting heavy reminded him that he was in need of a good night's sleep.

He headed toward the nearest cheap motel, reaching for another cigarette, only to realize he was out again.

"Dammit. . .."

Chapter 2: Fare is Fair

The driver's stomach growled as he rushed down Intergalactic Road 12 to Larissa, a small moon of Neptune. The cosmic body of Larissa really only served as a sort of ship stop for those on their way to the outer stretches of the galaxy.

It was popular among commercial ship drivers because of a legendary pizza place inside. It was called Sizzerano's Pizzeria, and the pies there were hefty in price to say the least.

"Damn Italian pizza shop owner. . . making pies that I couldn't afford without saving money. No self-respecting pizza lover should have to save money just to get a pizza. One of the staples of the food is that it is supposed to be affordable," the driver muttered angrily.

He was in a foul mood as he always was when he was hungry. He was actually about to go on his lunch break when he got called out on this job. He had to take his lunch break at 12:30 p.m. every day he worked, or he simply did not get a lunch.

Trying to eat any later resulted in his boss jumping down his throat for "timecard irregularities."

The driver could hear his boss yelling at him the more he thought about it. "Lunch is taken at lunch time. That's why it's called lunch!"

The problem with today wasn't simply that the driver was hungry; it was that he missed his lunch break on top of that, and he really wanted a hot meal.

"I guess this makes reason #12 why I shouldn't skip breakfast every day," the driver sighed.

The driver liked to stay up late watching movies, so, he usually slept in as much as he could in the mornings. The problem with this was he was usually running out the door to get to work on time, meaning, no breakfast. He always counted on lunch being his first meal of the day.

He put his thoughts on something more exciting to get his mind off of hunger and out of bittertown. Scenes from the previous night's movie began to play in the driver's mind. He had taken a chance on a thriller titled "The Call," and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

His immediate thought was he hated it, but the more he thought about the slow pace of the movie, the more he realized the writing was actually rather intellectual and artistic. He didn't normally enjoy movies like that, but this movie was getting difficult to forget about.

As Starla jettisoned past Uranus, he began to think about food again, primarily. . . pizza.

The person he was going to transport was actually being picked up from Sizzerano's Pizzeria.

"Talk about adding insult to injury. I can't afford the pizza, but I can pick up the people that make it," the driver said, his mood souring once more.

He reached over and banged on top of Starla's glovebox a couple times, and it opened, a pack of cigarettes falling out.

The driver grabbed one and pulled it out of the package.

"This ought to help kill my appetite," the driver said, lighting up.

As the nicotine entered his system, his sour mood lifted ever so slightly.

"Well that's about as good as I'll get," the driver said.

Half an hour later he set Starla down in front of Sizzerano's. The old cab groaned as it came to rest softly on the ground.

The station was actually pretty busy. The driver noticed several large ships being parked, and their drivers were going inside to relieve themselves after choosing not to stop at the casino moons that orbited Uranus.

Most of the people were men, but there were some women. . . and then there some women that might as well have been men. They may have been missing the "y" chromosome and necessary reproductive organ to be considered a male biologically, but as far as they could spit, and as much as they could eat, they may as well have been one of the boys.

The driver saw his client coming straight for the taxi. That was one of the advantages of video calls as opposed to simple audio calls. He got to see his passenger before he met them. It was just fortunate that the driver happened to be near a video monitor when the call came in.

A slow moaning could be heard as Starla's power locks opened to allow the passenger in.

He was very young and seemed to be of Korean descent. The driver had taken people of all nationalities and races wherever they wanted to go for 25 years, so, he could identify someone by their looks or even the language they spoke nine times out of 10.

As the older teen got into Starla, the driver turned and got a better look at him.

He had a very thin goatee that the driver figured he had been working on for quite some time.

The passenger caught him staring and said, "I'm old enough to ride in a cab."

"I didn't ask," the driver said, turning back around.

"I just turned 18. That means I can legally take a taxi anywhere I want," the teen said.

He spoke great English and had no specific accent.

This kid's parents are probably legitimately Korean and raised him outside the region, the driver thought.

"Listen. . .-"

The driver was cut off by the legal "adult" saying, "You can call me Jin."

Sighing, the driver said, "Jin. . . I didn't ask for your age. If you say you're 18, you're 18. I can't afford to be picky about my clients."

They sat in an awkward silence for a moment as Jin, who was clearly a firecracker of a repressed teen/legal adult, thought about how to unembarass himself. Of course, when that process was determined to be futile by Jin, he asked, "Why haven't we left yet? Do you need fuel?"

"I need a destination," the driver said.

"Oh. . . Midwest City please," Jin said.

"You commute from Earth to Larissa to work at Sizzerano's? Damn that Italian must pay good," the driver said, bringing Starla back to life as he flew the taxi out of the atmosphere.

Jin scoffed and said, "If that man paid good, I'd use the electron transporter and be at Earth instantly instead of riding in this beat-up machine. As it stands, he gets away with paying lousy because the One Galaxy Republic's tax enforcers generally don't care about anything beyond the casino moons of Uranus."

After snapping at Jin about calling Starla by inappropriate adjectives and lighting up another cigarette, the driver thought, This kid just randomly surrenders any and all information about his life. . . who does that?

"And no, I don't commute. I rent a small room above the pizzeria. . . or at least I did. . . before I quit," Jin said, looking at Neptune as Starla started to put distance between herself and the blue planet.

The driver stifled yet another sigh putting the pieces of Jin's life together. The kid had a duffle bag with him and some other kind of large square black nylon bag. It looked like a pizza carrier he'd swiped. . . probably to put some of his things in.

He had run away from home to try to prove a point to his overly strict parents. . . and he'd had enough after a year or two. He was admitting defeat and going home because he hated his boss more than his father.

Jin stayed surprisingly quiet until they passed Jupiter, and he started to ask questions, which annoyed the driver.

"So. . . what's your name?"

"You can just call me driver."

"That's a strange hat. . . where'd you get it?"

"Gift from my grandfather."

He would normally make conversation with his passengers if they wanted, and Jin clearly wanted to talk, but he was hungry again, and that knocked his already questionable levels of happiness down another few notches.

"You got any tips on what to say to parents you haven't seen in two years?"

"Nope. I'm an orphan, never had any parents to say anything to," the driver said.

That shut Jin up again and sent him into another awkward spiral.

The driver didn't mind the awkward silence. Silence was silence, and it was what he needed since he didn't have the energy to make small talk.

When they got to Mars, Jin stepped up to the plate one more time, attempting to draw some kind of personable reaction from the driver.

"Man, I'm glad to be out of that place. You have no idea what it's like to waste your life at a job that hardly pays anything," Jin said, only catching himself after he was finished speaking.

"I. . . didn't mean that-"

"None taken. I actually enjoy driving Starla for a living. It has paid my bills for the last 25 years," the driver said.

"Good grief. . . how old were you when you started driving? You don't look that old to have been driving for 25 years," Jin said.

"I was 16 when I first started. I ran away from the 10th orphanage I'd been in, and my current hard-ass of a boss took pity on me, giving me a job and something to do," the driver said.

As they neared Earth, the driver decided to give Jin a little break and offer some advice.

At least he's making an effort to return home. . . that took takes some guts. He was, at the very least, smart enough to realize maybe he didn't have it quite so bad at his former home. I can somewhat respect that, the driver thought.

"Listen, Jin. I'd just tell your dad what he wants to hear. Say that you were wrong, and he was right. Your family will probably just be so happy to see you alive that they won't give you too much of a hard time, especially when you admit your wrongs," the driver said.

"What if I still don't think I was wrong?"

"Then you'd better be prepared to beg for your job back from that stingy Italian man," the driver said.

Jin said nothing but looked outside at the traffic that was increasing as they got closer to Earth. The yellow light of the intergalactic road they were on showed deep thought on Jin's face.

"Admitting you're wrong gets a whole lot easier when you realize that 90% of the time what you're fighting over is something stupid," the driver said, guessing that Jin's parents doubted his ability to make it in the real world, and that set him off.

Angry, he ran away from home, only to end up near the edge of the galaxy on Larissa, working for a pizzeria owned by an apparently stingy Italian man.

Jin was silent the rest of the trip except to give the driver an address to land at. Midwest City was located in what used to be the United States of America, and it was the agricultural capital of the Earth.

It was a city surrounded by thousands of miles of farmland and the giant spaceport city was where Earth exported its largest resource. . . food.

The driver took Starla into the west part of the city that was mostly made up of blue-collar workers. . . lower middle class.

He stopped outside of a red brick apartment building that went up for at least 20 stories. The street was mostly empty, and it was about 9 p.m. local time.

"This is the hard part of the trip," Jin said, shrinking in fear.

"Just say what I said, and you should be fine," the driver said.

"No. . . I meant. . . the part where I tell you that I don't have any money for the fare," Jin said, squinting and raising his arms to protect himself just in case the driver decided to punch him.

The driver yelled at the irresponsible "adult" for at least ten minutes before Jin reached for the black nylon case and handed it to the driver.

"I did manage to swipe this before I left. I was hoping you'd accept it as payment?"

The driver furiously unzipped the black nylon case to reveal a pizza box from Sizzerano's Pizzeria. His scowl faded immediately when he realized what he held.

"Are we cool?"

"Get the Hell out of Starla, Jin. Don't ever call me for a ride again," the driver said, giving the kid an out.

"Yes sir," Jin said, rushing out of Starla, but still taking care not to slam Starla's doors, lest he make the driver mad again.

"Well. . . that's fair, I guess," the driver said, opening the box and taking a slice of cheese pizza.

As he took a bite of the surprisingly still-warm pizza, his eyes widened. He was in love.

"Oh yeah. . . no wonder I can't afford this," the driver said, taking time to enjoy his dinner.

Chapter 3: Time to Let it Go

The driver's mind drifted. It'd been at least 20 hours since he'd last slept, and it was starting to wear on him.

As Starla coasted between Earth and Phobos, a moon of Mars, he began to to wonder about his next clients. They claimed to be a couple of actors over his earpiece, but the driver was always cynical of people's claims.

He'd driven far too many bad people to operate under the One Galaxy Republic's justice system of "innocent until proven guilty."

That was something they'd picked up from an old country on Earth before national borders were erased.

In the driver's mind, everyone was guilty until proven innocent. Even little girls who sold cookies could possibly be guilty of swindling people out of hard-earned money. And as someone who didn't make or have much money, he got tired of that real quick.

The driver turned up Starla's heat a notch and looked at the yellow beams of Intergalactic Road 26 in front of him.

"Come on, man. Don't stare at those beams or you won't ever stop looking at them," the driver told himself.

He knew if he stared at the yellow light under Starla, he'd fall into its hypnotic gaze and want to sleep all the more. This was his last run of the day. He couldn't take any more.

"I swear, if I didn't have tomorrow off, I'd kill that bastard of a boss," the driver muttered.

As Phobos came into view, the driver remembered his clients' claim to be actors. He realized that may have been the case as Phobos was nothing more than a giant movie set. It contained small patches of environments used for movies.

Hollywood had paid to have the ugly thing terraformed just so movies and television shows could be filmed there. There was a small forest, a two-mile wide lake, a jungle, a desert, and even a mountain. Somehow, they fit all that and a hotel for the celebrities to stay in on the small moon that had dimensions measured in just a few kilometers.

Starla entered Phobos, and the driver noticed the forest underneath him. The lake was visible not long after going over the forest.

At the end of the desert was the hotel. The 50 story gray building was a magnificent piece of work. . . and it'd have to be to contain a shopping mall, bowling alley, archery range, swimming pool, movie theater, and more.

"Son of a bitch," the driver said, pulling under the large overhang in front of the hotel. Two massive glass doors slid open as the two men he guessed were his clients walked toward the taxi with duffle bags.

Following behind them was a heavy-set balding man, and he was yelling pretty loud. He was wearing a black suit and red tie, and his arms were flailing about as if independent from his body.

The two men walking in front toward the cab were ignoring the balding man's yelling. When they got to the cab one tapped on Starla's trunk.

The driver hit a small red button to the left under the steering wheel, and a hiss was sound as hydraulics came to life and the trunk opened.

One of the driver's clients was taller than the other and a little lankier. He had long wavy brown hair that covered his ears but didn't go below his shoulders. The other client was a little shorter but built like a brick outhouse. His hair wasn't buzzed, but it was shorter and spikey.

The balding man was yelling more, "You can't leave yet! We still have five scenes left to shoot before the end of the week!"

"We'll see you when we feel like it. Until then, screw off," the client with short hair said, opening the back passenger door and getting into Starla.

He slammed the door angrily, and the taller client threw up his arms at the balding guy and said, "Look. Just give us a day or two to chill. Don snapped, and I can't guarantee I won't do the same if I don't get off this rock. Let me talk to him, and I'll see what I can do, but until then, you have to give us our space."

Gritting his teeth, the balding man was silent as the client with longer hair closed Starla's door. He was much more calm than Don.

"Okay driver, haul ass to New York City," Don said, leaning back in his seat.

The driver turned around to look at his clients. Don was wearing a brown jacket over a white t-shirt. He was wearing a pair of expensive jeans and a pair of costly brown boots to go with the shirt.

The other client looked at the driver with a glance that said, "You'll have to forgive my partner here."

He was wearing a blue button-down shirt over a green t-shirt and khakis.

"Am I taking you both to New York City?"

"Yes please," the other client said.

"Sammy, you gonna crash at my place? Maybe we can have a sleepover and braid each other's hair. Oh! And we can talk about who Bobbie is going to take to the prom!"

"Shut up, Don. I'm only going with you to get you back here in a couple days," Sammy said.

"I am not coming back for the next two weeks at least," Don said, closing his eyes.

"I'm going to give you two days before I drag your ass back by force," Sammy said.

"Bring it, idiot," Don said.

"Moron," Sammy muttered.

As Starla began to head back toward Earth, the driver recognized the two men sitting in his back seat, and he didn't know why it took so long for him to.

They played brothers on a television drama called "Pieces." The two weren't related in real life, but they might as well had been. They bickered like brothers, and they'd had plenty of time to get that routine down. They'd played the same characters for 19 years.

Who'd have thought I'd have Detective Garth Lewis and his partner Cas in the back of my taxi, the driver thought, smiling.

He was a few seasons behind, but he did enjoy watching "Pieces" in his spare time.

As Starla took the three men back toward the Earth, the actors began to discuss how long they'd be gone. Don kept trying to negotiate, but Sammy wasn't budging from two days.

When a frustrated silence fell over the two, Don leaned forward and asked, "So. . . do you know who we are?"

"I do. . . Detective Garth," the driver said, smirking.

"I knew it. . . I can always sense a fan," Don said.

Sammy asked, "You watch the show?"

"Yeah. . . I mean I am a little behind. It has been a few months since I watched an episode, but I think I left off where Cas' second wife was killed," the driver said.

"Poor Meg," Don said, chuckling.

The three discussed the show as they drove back toward Earth, and then Sammy asked a question the driver didn't feel comfortable answering.

"So. . . do you still like the show?"

Don turned to look at Sammy, and the driver could sense tension building. This clearly wasn't a question Don wanted asked.

That said, the driver was beyond tired, and he didn't shy away from telling the truth even when he was fully rested.

"I still consider it entertaining," the driver said.

Don smiled, leaning back in his seat again. Sammy wasn't quite done with his questions, though. He said, "But. . .?"

Don scowled and looked at his coworker.

"But. . . I do find myself wondering when you two will end it," the driver confessed.

"Oh Lord. . . why did you have to say that? Geez, Sammy," Don said.

He put his hand over his eyes and sighed. He looked like he had been punched in the gut 20 times. This was clearly a subject Sammy wanted to be on, but Don could not have wanted to be any farther away.

"I'd like to end it with this season. We have a good wrap up, and I think it might be time to move on," Sammy said.

"Sammy! We have been over this! We are not leaving the show. We have a great thing going here. Why do you want to wreck that?"

"Don. . . I wanna go out while we've got a good thing going. I told you this on Wednesday. Why haven't you processed it yet?"

"Because you're talking nonsense. I've got nothing to process. You and I are renewing our contracts when we get back, and they'll carry us into season 21," Don said, still scowling.

"And then what, Don?"

"What do you mean and then what? Then we negotiate for more episodes like we have for the past 19 seasons," Don said.

The two continued to bicker about what they wanted to do, and the driver sensed a silence coming up. He figured Sammy would drag him back into their argument, and he didn't want to get involved. He didn't have the energy.

He reached down to his left between the seat and door and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He'd gone through the first half of the pack on the way to Mars, and he'd probably finish before he got home.

"Oh, hey. Could you not smoke please? I've got asthma," Don said.

Or maybe I won't finish these before I get home, the driver thought, grumpily putting the pack back.

"You don't want the show to end though, right?"

Don wasn't the driver's favorite person right now, so the driver answered his question candidly.

"I think the show should have ended when the first director envisioned it to. . . at the close of season five," the driver said.

Don scoffed.

"Oh. . . you're one of those fans," he said.

Sammy punched him in the shoulder and said, "You asked him, remember?"

"Shut up. . . I don't want to talk to you. You want to ruin what we have going."

"Don. . . come on. I'm tired of arguing with you. We've been the same characters since we were 17 years old. Don't you think it's time to give something else a try?"

He looked down and refused to make eye contact with Sammy.

These guys are in their 30s. . . they've spent the majority of their lives as these characters. I don't blame Don for not wanting to leave his comfort zone, the driver thought.

"Come on. . . even you were saying you'd like to try movies. You can't do that if you're Detective Garth every year," Sammy said.

The space between the actors was practically nonexistent as Earth came into view.

"I know you didn't ask, but my two cents are. . . you finish this last season. You go out with a bang, and then you two can move on to other projects," the driver said, chiming in.

Don looked over at Sammy and said, "You think the fans feel the same way?"

"I think we've worried about the fans for 19 years. It's time to think a little bit about what we want," Sammy said.

Starla's engine was the only thing heard for a few minutes until Don said, "Take us back."

"Excuse me?"

"Take us back. I think we have a painful conversation to have with our director," Don said.

"You got it," the driver said, changing directions in Earth's atmosphere and heading back to Phobos.

Sammy put his hand on Don's shoulder and said, "Thanks."

"Shut up, idiot."

"You shut up. . . moron."

The driver sighed. He realized now that by convincing these two actors to move on with their lives, he'd added more time to his shift and delayed his own moving on. . . to bed.

"You're both assholes," the driver muttered.

Chapter 4: She Wanted Some Attention

The driver sat in a cafe. He hated coffee, but there was something about the environment of coffee drinkers he always admired. They lived in their own world, poets, word magicians, sorcerers of syllables. The driver also hated all the healthy food cafes served, so, he couldn't figure out why he occasionally tried different ones for breakfast in the morning.

He sat in a red leather chair looking over the day's news on a glass tablet computer. It had an 11-inch screen and was completely transparent except for the content he was viewing. His eyes moved from left to right as he read a story about a small group of freedom fighters who killed a cop in Istanbul.

The driver had given his breakfast an honest attempt before giving up altogether. He liked greasy food for breakfast. . . sausage. . . bacon. . . fried potatoes. . . but what sat at his side was none of those things.

"I didn't think you could screw up a sausage biscuit," the driver muttered as his stomach growled.

His eyes wandered over to what the cashier had said was a piece of sausage on an English muffin. The bread was completely flat and tasted weird. Its texture betrayed the driver, and that made him angry.

On his right he had a glass of milk that he'd finished half of. It took that much to wash the horrid taste of the nasty flat bread from his tongue.

"Quit looking at me. You had your chance to be my breakfast. Now you're going to be fed to that dog outside as soon as I finish my milk," the driver muttered, looking at the pathetic breakfast he'd attempted to eat.

His earpiece buzzed, which meant that in another second or two, he'd be getting directions to his next passenger.

The driver took off his brown pub hat and scratched his shaggy brown hair.

"Driver 2269, a passenger has requested a ride from the Neo Rome back to Earth," a woman's voice said.

"Roger that. I'll head that way," the driver said, reaching over to grab the last of his milk.

After finishing it in two gulps, he grabbed his breakfast and put the glass tablet back on the table in front of him.

The sliding glass door leading out of the cafe opened up, revealing a large crowded walkway encased in metal and glass.

The cafe was part of a floating plaza. Dozens orbited the Earth and usually contained three or four different shops and restaurants that travelers would stop at. This one was a little out of the driver's route, but he got up a little early to try the cafe's breakfast. . . unfortunately for him, it wasn't worth the trip.

Along with the cafe was a bookstore next door and a small shipping warehouse on the other side. The entire plaza was encased in glass and had its own atmospheric controls and stabilizers to keep the place level and full of artificial gravity. The entire plaza must have been about 300 yards long and at least half that wide.

Lying down outside the cafe tied to a metal sign was a red husky. The driver approached slowly, but the dog didn't get up. Its owner was inside drinking coffee with her girlfriends, and the dog was docile enough not to care too much. It had faith she would return within 30 to 60 minutes and finish the walk they'd started.

The husky's ears picked up as he approached. Now that the driver got a good look at the creature, he realized it was an older dog. The fur was faded somewhat in color, and it explained how the animal was so calm with all these people walking by.

The driver respected its calm demeanor and slowly head out a hand for the dog to sniff before moving any closer.

The animal lifted its nose to his hand and smelled it. Deciding the driver wasn't a threat, it stretched and slowly got up on all fours to greet its new potential friend. As it rolled over on its side stretching, the driver saw he was dealing with a girl dog.

He placed the English muffin in front of the husky, and the animal proved she wasn't as picky about her food as the driver.

She chowed down on the thing while the driver patted her head.

Her left eye was brown while her right eye was blue, and she had tiny patches of white fur above her eyes that looked like eyebrows.

"You're quite a beautiful gal, you know that?"

It was then that the driver heard yelling. Before he could look back into the Comet Cafe, a gunshot rattled off, and a man with a small revolver ran out the door before it could even fully open.

He didn't notice the driver, but the driver noticed him well. He had slicked-back black hair with spiky bangs facing downward. His red eyes were long and narrow, and he was wearing jeans and a denim jacket.

The gunman took off running for the port and was gone rather quickly. The husky didn't appear scared, but she was keenly aware of the commotion.

Authorities and paramedics showed up within minutes, but the commotion settled down when it was clear that the victim of the gunshot was dead. They moved her carefully out into the walkway on a hover stretcher. Her face hadn't been covered yet, and the driver noticed at once that it was the husky's owner.

Her pretty young face now forever frozen in a look of shock was quickly covered with a white sheet, leaving only her blonde hair to see.

The dog noticed her too and began to bark and pull on its leash.

One of the officers walked over to the dog and the driver.

"My name is Lieutenant Bradley with the One Galaxy Republic Law Enforcement Division. Did you get a good look at the suspect?"

"I did. You got a pen and paper?"

The lieutenant, a larger bald black man reached into the pocket of his black pants and pulled out a small notepad.

He opened it and pulled a small pencil out from the top of the notepad.

The driver gave an accurate description of the man and discussed what he'd seen with the officer for a minute or two. He showed the officer his ID card and identified himself as a cab driver with the Starlight Taxi company.

"I see. Looks like based on what I found here, the young lady killed was just unlucky. . . wrong place, wrong time. Did you notice the suspect in the cafe while you were in there?"

"No, but to be honest, I was just reading the news. The only person I noticed was the girl when she tied up her dog here," the driver said.

"Right. . . the dog. Well, I don't really know what to do about him," Bradley said, scratching his head and putting his notepad away.

"It's a girl," the driver said.

"Oh. My bad. You seem to have bonded with the dog in a short bit," Bradley said.

"I just gave her some leftovers is all. What's going to happen to her?"

"Well, to be honest, we're really swamped during this time of the year. Tracking down her owner's family will certainly be done, but taking the dog to them. . . well that's not exactly on the top of our minds at the moment. You wanna take her for the time being?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. You don't have to. If you don't, I'll just leave the dog in the custody of our animal control officer until we can get her owner's family to come up and get her, but that could be a while. . . and there's always the chance the family won't want her," Bradley said.

"What happens then?"

The officer sighed and just shook his head.

"There are a lot of dogs in the universe. If this one isn't claimed right away, it'll probably just be put down, considering how old she is. She probably only has a couple years left in her anyway," Bradley said.

The driver sighed. As calm as the animal was, she'd probably ride in the passenger seat just fine and nap most of the day. He could take her out and play with her at night when he got home or even just let her run around his small fenced-in yard.

"Yeah, I'll take her. If the family wants her back, you have my information," the driver said.

He walked over to the dog and kneeled down.

"I'm sorry about what happened to your owner. I can't bring her back but. . . do you want to come with me?"

The dog sat down and put up her paw.

The driver took it and gently moved his hand up and down.

"Someone clearly taught you how to shake," the driver said, smiling. He untied the dog, and his earpiece buzzed again.

"Driver 2269, is there a problem? We indicate that your cab is still in the same place it was when last we spoke," the same woman's voice said.

"Sorry. I'm leaving now. A gunman shot a woman at the cafe I was in. I had to stay behind to give my statement," the driver said.

"Are you okay to drive?"

"Yes. I'm not injured," the driver said.

His hand brushed over the husky's blue collar, and he noticed there was a small metal tag on the bottom.

He saw a name inscribed on it.

"So, your name is Solstice? That's pretty," the driver said as the husky looked up at him when he said her name.

He walked her back to Starla and opened the passenger door.

She didn't hesitate to hop in and sit in the seat.

"Well, you've clearly ridden in a vehicle before," the driver said.

He walked around and got into his seat, starting Starla up. Her engine whined a little, as it always did when he started her up, but it stopped after a few seconds.

Taking Starla up to the entrance, he waited patiently for the airlock to open. When it did, he moved forward slowly leaving the port and entering a closed off section where outgoing ships wait for the outer gate to open. The system kept the inner section of the plaza from losing pressure and oxygen.

As soon as a green light appeared, the exit opened, and the driver accelerated Starla forward and got onto Intergalactic Road One, heading straight for the moon.

Neo Rome was one of many cities on the moon that took its name from its counterpart on Earth but had no relation to it.

Most of the "neo" cities were creative havens, places where those with tastes for high culture gathered and celebrated their love of fine art. Art could be anything from dancing, to music, to paintings, to all sorts of other things the driver didn't much care for.

A majority of the people in the lunar cities simply used electron transporters to get where they wanted to go, so, the driver didn't get many calls to service residents who lived on the moon.

As Starla entered the moon's artificial atmosphere, she immediately got onto Lunar Highway 34 and followed the signs for Neo Rome. Twenty minutes later, the taxi was pulling into the downtown area and navigating through traffic. It was roughly 12:45 p.m. local time, and traffic was heavy as everyone headed to lunch.

Solstice dozed off quickly upon entering the moon's atmosphere, and she hadn't stirred since then. Every once in a while her ears would twitch, but other than that, she was gone.

"You have the right idea, girl," the driver said, running his fingers through her soft fur. He couldn't help but notice she didn't smell at all. Her previous owner must have bathed her often.

Surrounded by skyscrapers, the driver started to get claustrophobic. He didn't like driving in big cities or staying there for long. He looked around at the commotion and people walking when he finally saw a little spot where the sidewalk cut inward, and a small vehicle could parallel park off the road.

He pulled Starla into the little area and reached over for a cigarette. He pounded the top of the glovebox, and it opened. A small white pack of cigarettes fell out. His hand fumbled for them, and when he pulled the pack back toward him, Solstice awoke and gently grabbed the driver's hand with her mouth.

"What the Hell," he gasped.

She wasn't biting down on him in the least, but when he tried to pull his hand free, she wouldn't let him go.

"Let me go," he growled.

She did not, and he realized at once she must smell the cigarettes.

He loosened his grip, and the pack fell to the floorboard. Before he could grab them with his other hand, her head snapped down, picked them up, and nestled them under her. She then went back to sleep, cutting the driver off from his source of nicotine.

"I don't believe it," he muttered.

When he tried to pry them from her, she refused to budge, still laying on top of them.

His feud with his new companion was interrupted by a knock on the back window.

A young woman with long black hair was outside. He cracked his back window and asked for the woman's name.

"I'm Josephine, the one who called for you," she said.

He unlocked the door, and she got in.

"I was waiting across the street for you. I almost didn't see you pull in here," she said.

"Sorry. I couldn't cut across the traffic easily," the driver said.

He looked at her, and she was wearing a small black dress with random red stitching sewn across it.

I'll never understand these artistic kids and their fashion, the driver thought.

"Where to?"

"Tulsa," she said, almost sort of depressed.

"Yes ma'am," the driver said, pulling Starla back out into traffic and then working his way out of Neo Rome.

Once they were back on Lunar Highway 34, the driver looked back at his silent passenger. She had been staring out the window watching the city get smaller and smaller. At one point, he was even sure he saw a tear in her left eye.

She had brown eyes and a round figure. She wasn't overweight. . . she was healthy, having curves in the right places. Josephine had a little bit of meat on her bones.

Her face was what set her apart though. She looked sort of like a gypsy. There was something exotic about her, and the driver immediately sensed a rebellious spirit in his presence. She had probably left home, but not in the same way his pizza boy passenger from a few weeks ago did. She had a much more clear goal. . . trying to make it big in the city.

The driver hypothesized that Josephine was the kind of girl who was trying to shake off her small-town life like dust from an apron. It was humiliating to her to be born in such a small place when she had such high and dramatic aspirations.

"How did the audition go?"

"Excuse me?"

"I see the script sticking out of your purse. How did the audition go?"

"Wow. . . you're observant," she said.

"I try to be. It's how I make conversation," the driver said, petting Solstice lightly as Starla left the moon and headed back toward Earth.

"It was a failure. . . like everything else I tried in Neo Rome," Josephine said, looking out at the stars.

"You didn't have what they wanted?"

"Oh, I had what they wanted. The problem was. . . as soon as I got done screwing the casting director, I didn't have what they wanted anymore," she said.

The girl was blunt for a young lady in her early 20s. The driver found that somewhat refreshing.

"Sorry to hear it. . . but. . . you're aware Tulsa doesn't have as many theatrical opportunities as Neo Rome does, right?"

"I've no choice. I'm out of money," Josephine said, still not making eye contact with the driver.

After a slight awkward silence, Josephine caught what she'd said and changed her story slightly, "I mean. . . I have enough to pay you for the ride, but I don't have the money to keep living in that city."

That took a load off the driver's mind. After he accepted that pizza as payment, his boss had taken the cost of the fuel from his paycheck that week, which made him mad at that punk-ass kid even more.

"Family in Tulsa?"

"South of Tulsa by about an hour or so. I have a friend in Tulsa who I'm going to stay a night or two with in order to detox. Those lunar cities just have a way to putting something into you. . . and although I loved being there. . . I did not enjoy wasting all my saved money for a few blown opportunities," she said.

"Maybe you can save up a bit more and head back in a year or two," the driver suggested.

"Yeah. . .I'll probably work for my parents for a bit and then try again," she said, sighing.

"What do your parents do?"

"They're jewelers," she said.

"Jewelers. . . that must make them a pretty penny," the driver said.

"It buys them a small house in a small town and gives them enough money to fill a small fridge," Josephine muttered.

The driver thought about trying to make another swipe for his cigarettes but decided against it when Solstice, seemingly reading his mind, awoke again and just stared at him blankly.

Damn dog, he thought to himself.

"Well, ya know. . . a full fridge in the middle of nowhere is better than an empty fridge in Neo Rome," the driver said.

She scoffed and said, "I'd happily eat nothing for a week just to get another shot at one more gig."

This cost her a little respect in the mind of the driver. He sighed and realized she was ungrateful. She was going home to a family that would care for her and pay her salary for a year or two. Then, when she had what she wanted, she'd pack her bags and leave to try again at an unlikely acting career later.

She probably hadn't even spoken to her parents until she needed to come home, the driver though, scowling a little.

"Have you ever been so desperate for an audience that you'd give anything to have their love on stage for a night?"

"Missy, look at me. I'm a cab driver in his early 40s that smokes and drives around with a husky in my front seat. Do I look like the kind of guy who has ever desired an audience?"

"You mean you drive this car because you want to?"

"This car's name is Starla. She's the one hauling your butt back home to your friend's residence on Earth. And yes, I drive her because I want to. I happen to like my job and the fact that I come from a small town," the driver said, almost boasting.

"What a dull existence," Josephine said, clearly unimpressed.

The driver said nothing, and she filled the silence with her own thoughts and dreams.

"Just imagine it. You walk out on a lit stage, spill your guts delivering lines straight from your soul, and they applaud, crying, unable to get enough. That's the kind of life I want and will have someday," Josephine said.

"Do you feel you need the attention of others to be satisfied with your life?"

"That's just it, mister cab driver, I don't want to just be satisfied with my life. I want to live every day in ecstasy, my existence being pushed to the max. Someday, when I've got the heart of every man and woman in Neo Rome, I'll have that life," she said, smiling, lost in her own world.

The driver was sure he hated her at this point. She was too stupid to realize it, but she'd never be satisfied.

I feel sorry for your parents, the driver thought to himself.

When he came down into Tulsa, which was much smaller than Neo Rome, she paid him in wrinkled cash. He didn't want to know what she'd done to get the money, but he had his fare. It wasn't his job to care about her past this point. She grabbed her purse and was out of Starla without saying another word.

The driver left Tulsa and went south for about 30 minutes. When he stopped the cab, he was in the middle of nowhere. He opened the passenger door and let Solstice out to stretch her legs and do her business.

"Well Solstice, I don't know about you, but I'm glad to have that girl out of my cab. She's a time bomb waiting to explode, and that ecstasy she wants so bad is only going to get her in some big trouble down the line," the driver said.

She cocked her head sideways listening patiently to him, and then he said, "Hell, no need to bog you down with thoughts of her. Go do your business."

Instead, Solstice took off running after a rabbit in a nearby field. While she ran, he reached inside his passenger seat to grab his cigarettes. He smoked and thought a little more about the tough life her parents must have.

"Some people just don't appreciate what they have, Solstice."

She ran up to him with a stick in her mouth, but she stopped about ten feet away, growling.

The driver sighed as a northern wind picked up. He held onto his hat with one hand and threw his cigarette to the ground with the other. Stomping it out, he said, "There, are you happy now?"

He started to walk toward her to take the stick and throw it, but she walked past him and peed on his cigarette.

"That's just lovely. Do you want me to throw that for you or not, you horse's petute?"

She walked over and gave him the stick. He then turned around and hurled it as far as he could.

"This dog is going to kill me," the driver muttered, hanging onto his hat as another breeze picked up.

Chapter 5: A Peculiar Old Man

The driver was showering when he heard his earpiece buzzing on the counter. He didn't have to clock in for another two hours, so, he didn't usually answer his ear piece. If his boss truly needed him, he'd dial his home phone.

As he ran the bar of green soap over his body, he looked at the long scars that covered his torso and remembered the accident that put them there. The deep lines looked like small canyons running both vertically and horizontally across his body.

"Sure wish I could afford the surgery to get rid of those ugly things," the driver muttered.

He said that, but he knew in the back of his mind that he would hesitate before deciding to go under the knife and remove them. For starters, he hated doctors, and he avoided them as much as possible. Second, he operated under the belief of "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."

Although the scars were clearly a sign of a broken body, they didn't really bother him physically. It wasn't like he felt constant pain or they kept him from doing anything in life.

Deciding to put his thoughts on the day ahead, he wondered who he'd pick up today.

Scratching on his bathroom door made him realize it was time to get out of the shower. He sighed and absorbed another minute or two of hot water. In truth, he loved taking scalding hot showers, and he'd stay in there all day if it wouldn't run up his water bill to a ridiculous level.

Turning off the shower, he got out and was hit by the colder air in his bathroom.

"Go lie down, Solstice. I'll be out in a minute," the driver said.

The scratching on the door stopped, and his red husky walked across the floor to her bed to lie down and wait patiently for her friend to get her breakfast.

The driver wrapped his towel, a personalized brown cotton bath towel with his initials sewn into it, around his waist and went out into the living room where Solstice was waiting on him. His usual routine in the morning was to get up around 6:30 a.m. and hop into the shower. If he went too far past 7 a.m., she'd come scratch on the door, wanting breakfast.

She sat up and stared at him from her brown and white doggie bed as he walked behind his black leather couch and into the kitchen. Reaching above his fridge, he opened his wooden cabinets and pulled out a can of turkey flavored dog food, her favorite.

Solstice had followed him into the kitchen and was panting excitedly next to her red plastic food dish that was a little to the left of the sink on a small towel with her blue plastic water dish.

Pulling out a white can opener, he put the dog food on the counter and attached the tool to the can. Turning the hand key, he watched the can slowly spin on the counter.

Solstice waited patiently until he put the food in her bowl and stepped away before she devoured her meal.

"Well, I gotta hand it to her. . . the gal does have some restraint, waiting until I put the food down and not jumping on me while I'm getting it ready," the driver muttered going back into the bathroom.

Fifteen minutes later, he was almost ready to leave. He walked into his living room and opened the sliding door that went back out onto his small patio.

"Solstice. Go do your business," he said.

She did as she was told and trotted outside.

She was usually good after that. She rode in his front seat and didn't bark or anything. Some customers were a little wary of her at first, but she usually slept when others were in the vehicle, so, they couldn't care less.

The red husky pawed lightly on the sliding glass when she was ready to come back inside.

The driver didn't have a big yard, but his little single story blue townhouse did have enough of one that she could roam around the back part of it inside a fence and be okay for a while. There was a large fastiaga tree in the back that was about 40 feet tall. It provided shade for half the yard, and Solstice had grown accustomed to an afternoon nap under it on the driver's off days.

The driver and Solstice exited his blue townhouse and walked over to Starla.

Before he made it to his cab, he saw his neighbors Travis and Krickett next door. He saw what appeared to be Krickett in a tiger costume laying on the grass while Travis attempted to paint her.

I'll never understand those two, the driver thought to himself as he got inside and turned on Starla. Her engine hummed to life, taking a few seconds to wake up.

"Well, at least they never cause me trouble," the driver muttered.

The driver had mostly good luck with his neighbors in the small city of Lefont. Travis and Krickett were a little weird, but he never had any trouble from them. . . although one time their cat had snuck into his house through an open window and pounced on his bed.

The black furball was immediately grabbed and carried by the scruff of his neck back over to his rightful home. They were very apologetic, and the driver never had another problem out of them.

Still, if that cat insisted on breaking and entering again, he'd find a nice surprise with multiple teeth waiting for him.

Solstice had never attacked anyone, but she was growing rather possessive of her new owner as of late. She didn't like to be away from him for long, and she didn't like anyone else getting too close. When someone did get close, she'd usually walk between the driver and the other person and sit down, acting as a barrier.

The red husky didn't growl. . . she simply placed herself there to let the stranger know that the driver was HER friend.

The driver was heading for the Starlight Taxi hub in Lefont when his earpiece buzzed.

"You didn't pick up when I rang this morning," a familiar voice said.

Great. It's always a wonderful start to a day when my boss calls me personally, the driver thought.

"Sorry Chris, I was in the shower at the time," the driver said.

"I have told you repeatedly to call me Mr. Thompson," Chris said.

"Sorry, Chris."

"I get nothing but attitude from you even after all I've done. You're a piece of work."

"Chris. I'm on my way into the hub, and I'm really early this time. Stop riding my ass. You can't afford the fare," the driver said.

"That is no way to talk to your boss!"

"I've worked for your slave-driving self for 25 years, Chris. When I consider you my boss, I'll let you know," the driver said, chuckling.

"Just get your smart ass to the Central Mall in Citeria on Saturn! Your client will be an older gentleman wearing a suit and sitting on a bench outside of the restaurant circle. Marty would do it, but he took off an hour early due to feeling sick," Chris said.

"Working the assignments switchboard today? Where is Pattie?"

"She is out sick, and I don't have a replacement coming in for a couple of hours," Chris said.

"Well shoot, Chris. You might actually have two hours of work on your time card this week," the driver said, laughing.

"Listen here, asshole! If you aren't at that mall in three hours, you'll be working double shifts all weekend," Chris yelled.

"Now you and I both know you won't do that. Your budget wouldn't allow for all the overtime," the driver said.

A loud click was heard in the driver's ear.

"Old man has quite a temper. I love getting him riled up," the driver said, laughing.

Solstice looked up at him from the passenger seat.

"Oh come on. Any blood pressure issues he has are on him. It isn't my fault if he gets carried away," the driver said.

She sneezed and went back to sleep.

"Don't you get an attitude with me, missy! Dealing with the old man is bad enough," the driver said, his hand slowly reaching for the pocket of his green button-down shirt.

His fingers pulled out a cigarette cautiously and put it in his mouth. Then, he quietly pulled out a lighter, glancing over at the husky. As soon as he clicked it, her ears perked up, and she sat upright and howled incessantly. It was loud and hurt the driver's ears.

"Okay! Okay! I won't even light it, you dumb animal."

He mashed the unused cigarette into the ashtray grumpily and continued on his way to Saturn, hopping on Intergalactic Road 33.

There were a large number of truckers on the road with him, which didn't surprise the driver one bit. He didn't like driving next to large trucks, but it couldn't be helped. Saturn had been terraformed into a plant haven. There were forests, jungles, and rainforests all over the planet, and wood was the number one number one export.

Scientists had spent decades working to terraform the planet, stabilizing the atmosphere, installing several satellites to act as miniature artificial suns, and even making the surface suitable for plant life.

It truly was incredible what space exploration had done over time. Engineers took a planet that had an average temperature of -280 degrees and brought that temperature up to make the planet more like that of Earth.

That was all above the driver's head, though. He just drove a car through space and took people where they needed to go. And now, he'd added the responsibility of feeding a dog to his list.

Solstice got up and stretched as Starla came down into the atmosphere of Saturn. The driver was in the southern hemisphere of Saturn below the ring and heading for the biggest city on the forest-covered planet.

He flew above the trees staying out of the way of truckers loading up lumber and taking it to various destinations for high fees.

After about 30 minutes, the driver came to one of the few parts of the planet where the trees vanished and were replaced by skyscrapers.

"Welcome to Citeria, Solstice," the driver said, scratching the side of her head.

Geez, it's been a few months since I've picked up anyone here, the driver thought to himself as he found his way through busy streets and made it to the mall.

He drove around the mall a couple times before finding the restaurant circle. It was a newer part of the complex that wasn't here the last time he picked up a client at the Central Mall.

They'd made the mall even bigger, included a few dozen more stores, and added nine new parking lots.

There really is a lot of money in Citeria because of timer exports," the driver muttered, looking around at the four story-mall before him.

White flowers lined the sidewalk he parked next to after he spotted an old man in a suit on a bench a few feet behind the mulch where the plants were. It was covered in shade provided by a small urban-type tree, the kind cities usually plant along sidewalks to look nice.

The elderly man appeared to be in his 70s and was balding. He still had some white hair growing on the sides and rear of his skull, though. He had a long wild white beard that matched the color his hair.

The driver got out of Starla and walked around to open the door for him. The man was carrying a small potted tree in one hand and a small brown satchel in the other.

"Can I put one of those in my vehicle for you?"

"No. I have them," the man said, firmly.

The driver didn't judge his tone to be rude. He was just very direct. The driver had taken enough passengers across the galaxy to know the difference.

This man's tone wasn't intentionally rough; it was just stiff because he didn't beat around the bush, even slightly.

He muttered a quiet word of thanks to the driver for coming to open the door for him.

"Not a problem," the driver said.

He didn't mind helping out polite customers. It was the rude ones he told to go to Hell. He'd done that a few times, and Chris had taken the cost of fuel for those trips out of the driver's paychecks.

It was worth it eating nothing but canned soup and cheap frozen pizzas for a week to tell those assholes off, the driver thought.

The elderly man did not let the driver close the door. He did it himself, and that made the driver smirk as he walked back around to get into Starla.

As he closed the door, he saw Solstice sitting up and turned around, sniffing in general at the old man. She kept her distance, but the driver could tell she was curious about the plant he carried.

"I don't mind your animal being in the cab, but please be sure she stays in the front seat. I don't want her hopping back here," the man said.

"Don't worry. In dog years, she's about as old as you are. She ain't doing any hopping. Solstice, lie down," the driver said.

She did as she was told and dozed off a few minutes later.

The driver looked back at the elderly man and asked, "Where am I taking you?"

The old man handed me a business card.

"Ralph Timaka?"

"My home address is on that card. I want you to take me there," the man said, looking down at his plant.

"Sure thing," the driver said, heading out of Citeria and looking for the nearest place he could pop back up through the atmosphere and get on an intergalactic road.

Finally finding a spot he could head out of, he gunned Starla to get ahead of a few space freighters carrying lumber and hopped onto Intergalactic Road 27, heading back toward Earth.

The old man lived on the outskirts of Kyoto. The driver didn't think the old man was Asian, but it wasn't like one had to be in order to live in that part of the world.

The driver's client actually had pretty tan skin and strong hands with some blisters on them. He clearly worked outside.

"Quite an interesting plant you have there," the driver said, testing the waters to see if Ralph wanted to talk.

Ralph's demeanor immediately changed when the topic of his plant came up.

"It's a bonsai tree. Have you not seen one before?"

"Maybe in an old movie. . . looks kind of small for a tree," the driver said.

"Yeah, and your car looks sort of old to have made that maneuver in front of the freighters back there. Looks can be deceiving," Ralph said.

The driver's right eye twitched at the insult to Starla, but the driver had unwittingly insulted the man's tree.

"You have a garden you're going to put it in?"

"A nursery actually, I've been growing these trees all my life. I have lots of a land near Kyoto that I grow these trees on," Ralph said.

"Wow. . . so has that been your occupation for your life?"

"It has. I used to sell these plants all over the galaxy since they could only be grown on Earth. Even if a planet was terraformed to sustain other plants, these trees never seemed to make it. I was quite proud of my trees," Ralph said.

The driver wanted a cigarette, but he didn't want to get Solstice upset and howling again.

Damn dog, the driver thought, his nicotine craving starting to nag him.

"Seems like it'd be hard to make a living selling trees," the driver said, looking back at Ralph in his rearview mirror.

"Well sure, if you're a nobody it's hard. My trees are the finest south of Tokyo. I don't sell many anymore, though. I mostly teach people how to grow them now," Ralph said.

"Did you grow that one?"

"I did. It's the first one to be grown on Saturn. It's a couple years old, and I've decided to take it back to Earth to see if it can survive in the homeland of its ancestors," Ralph said.

The two continued to talk trees, which surprisingly was more interesting than the driver anticipated. Then again, it wasn't the trees he found interesting. It was the man who grew them for a living. He was particularly peculiar, and the driver began to like him somewhat.

He'd grown trees for actors, politicians, and some all around very important people. In the plant world, this guy was pretty famous.

As they approached Earth, Ralph said, "You sure seem interested in my trees and life. Do you moonlight as a reporter?"

The driver chuckled and said, "No. My hobby is just getting to know intriguing passengers."

"Do you write stories about them or something?"

"No. I just remember them. It's one of my favorite things about this job," the driver said.

"If you say so," Ralph said.

"No wedding ring. . . does your girlfriend like you driving all over the galaxy throughout the day?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm single."

"Family?"

"Orphan."

"Damn. I'm zero for two on those depressing subjects," Ralph said.

The driver smirked and said, "It's fine. I don't regret my situation. Besides, I'm thinking of going to visit a girl pretty soon anyway."

"Oh? What's she like?"

The driver pulled up to Ralph's nursery and got out to open the door for him.

Ralph's house was an older Japanese style home. It was raised off the ground a little, made mostly of wood, and even had a sliding door entrance.

His back yard was surrounded by a metal fence and ran up a hill that was full of bonsai trees.

Ralph paid the driver and actually tipped him.

"Thanks," the driver said, leaning into the car and getting his tree for him.

Ralph took it and said, "You didn't answer my question about the girl. What's she like?"

The driver closed Starla's door and walked back around to the driver's seat. Before he got in, he looked at Ralph and said, "She's a bartender on Europa."

Chapter 6: One Sick Dog

The stars were blurring for the 75th time as the driver brought Starla back home toward Earth. His breathing was erratic, and his stomach felt horrible.

Everything was sore for an inexplicable reason. He just needed to get home and get to bed. Bed would make everything better.

"I'll sleep it off like I always do," the driver whispered.

Solstice was watching him like a hawk. She could sense all was not well for her friend.

It was stupid really. He had taken one day off to go visit a bartender that he had picked up on Europa once before. She seemed interested in him, and he thought, What the Hell? It couldn't hurt to take her up on her offer and visit.

He started feeling funny just past Mars. . . and not in a good way. The driver was never one to take drugs, but he was a drinker on occasion. He got free rides from Starlight Taxi, so, that made the perfect designated driver.

As Starla entered the atmosphere and swerved slightly from side to side, she somehow found the highway that led to Lefont. The driver's dull reaction time actually caused Starla to skid a little on the cement of his driveway. In between wheezing, he stopped Starla, got out, and stood on unsteady legs.

Solstice, ever the faithful red husky, hopped out and walked backwards slowly to lead the driver to the front door of his small townhouse.

His neighbor Travis was out mowing the lawn and saw the driver stumbling. He stopped his mower and walked over to the short metal black fence that separated his yard from the driver's property.

"You okay, neighbor?"

The driver looked up, forcing his vision to focus for a second. He saw his neighbor with a concerned look on his face. Travis was wearing some sort of jungle explorer outfit.

I'll never understand that guy, the driver thought.

"I'm good. . . just need to get some sleep," the driver said, raising his hand slowly to wave.

"If you say so. Want me to have Krickett make some soup and bring it over later?"

"No. . . thanks. Just need. . . snooze," the driver said, stumbling forward.

His steps from the door to his bed were a blur, but he collapsed on the black futon in his bedroom without even transforming it into a bed.

He coughed as he tried to doze off, but he was burning up.

"Damn. . . air on, set to 68 degrees," the driver yelled.

He felt his air kick on as he slipped off his red canvas shoes and slowly reached up to pull his earpiece off his head and throw it on the floor. He'd need no disturbances tonight if he was going to work tomorrow.

His stomach just felt more and more nauseous, and his mind refused to quit thinking about random things. . . movies. . . what he'd read in the newspaper earlier in the day. . . details about some of his clients.

His mind wandered aimlessly, Wasn't there an old man. . . and a tree?

Then, as he wished, his mind stopped, and he passed out.

A falling feeling engulfed the driver as he landed in a pond. He looked around to see where he was as he swam to shore and tried to brush some algae off of him. No one appeared to notice his falling, but the driver had no idea where he was.

Slowly, as though a parting fog lifted from his memory, he realized his exact location. . . the Lieutenant Richard B. Ridick Park in Dallas.

"How the Hell did I get here?"

He looked around. It was a cloudy winter day, which was odd because when the driver fell asleep it was. . . spring?

"Man, I must have been more messed up than I thought when I hit the bed. I don't even remember getting up, let alone. . . coming to Dallas," the driver said, scratching his head. His hat was missing, and his keys and wallet were also gone.

His wet shoes squeaked as he walked over toward a large man standing at the shore of an even bigger pond.

Before he made it halfway to the big guy, someone ran right through the driver.

"What the Hell?"

He looked down at himself and touched his stomach. He felt his wet gray long sleeve t-shirt.

The kid running away from him was actually a teen, the driver realized, but that wasn't what scared him. What scared the driver was he recognized the teen.

"That hat. . . it belongs to my grandfather," the driver muttered.

His familiar brown pub hat was given to him by the first orphanage he stayed in. They told him it belonged to his grandfather who dropped him off. It was the one thing he kept with him all the time.

Then, he remembered this cold winter day. The adolescent running at the fat man ahead was 16, and the driver knew exactly what was about to happen to the teen.

He watched it unfold as the fat man turned around with one lightning quick motion and stopped the kid from grabbing his wallet. He then flipped the teen over in the grass and went back to his hobby.

"Him and those ducks," the driver muttered, walking over.

This must be some sort of dream, the driver thought.

He listened to the fat man laugh as the teen growled and held his head in his hands, still not getting up.

"What'd you do that for, you stupid fat man?"

"What'd I do that for? You were trying to steal my wallet you little pissant! You're lucky I didn't throw you into the pond with the ducks!"

The two continued to fight, and eventually, the teen settled down as the larger man continued to feed a group of Mallard ducks from the loaf of bread by his feet.

"Why are you feeding those stupid things? What a waste of food," the teen muttered.

"Should I instead use my food to feed horrible thieves that attempt to rob me of my wallet? Feeding these ducks makes me happy. I feel peaceful. What would I get out of feeding a hungry turd like you?"

The teen's stomach growled so loud that the driver could hear it clear across the park.

He got up to walk away when the fat man turned and tossed him a slice of bread. The teen caught it and immediately tore it to pieces, wolfing it down.

"I'll buy you dinner on two conditions, brat."

The teen hated being called a brat, but his pride was too weak having been starved over the past couple days.

"Name them."

"You wait patiently and quietly while I finish feeding the ducks, and you have to take back calling me fat," the man said, turning to the kid.

The driver smirked. This guy had lots of class, even if he was a tightass.

His short black hair and graying stubble were all too familiar to the driver, but the teen was seeing him for the first time.

"What do I call you then? Ugly beard man doesn't have quite as nice of a ring," the teen said, laughing.

"You can call me Chris, you weird hat-wearing freak."

The teen said nothing but kept up the first condition of the bargain while he waited for his meal.

Chris fed the ducks for another five minutes while he emptied his bag of bread. The teen held his end of the bargain and said nothing. He really needed the food.

"I'm impressed. Even a dumb failed thief like you can keep a bargain. Come on, I know a good burger cart. You like bacon cheeseburgers?"

"I like food that keeps me from starving," the teen shrugged.

The driver watched them disappear as he felt that falling feeling again.

This time, instead of falling into a pond, he fell onto a green carpeted floor.

He moaned and felt his forehead. It was burning up, and even a simple space cab driver like him knew that was bad. Solstice was at his side, licking his face and trying to get him up. He struggled to move, but his body responded sluggishly.

"Where is my. . . earpiece," the driver muttered softly, feeling on the carpet for it unsuccessfully. He knew he needed to call emergency medical services. He broke into a horrible coughing fit as a little blood dripped down from his lips.

Solstice was done sitting idly by. She grabbed the driver's left pant leg and dragged him slowly out of the bedroom, across the living room, and up to the front door. Then, she began to bark and howl as loud as she could, clawing on the door.

The driver wanted to move, but he passed out yet again.

More falling led to him hitting another pond. This particular pond was in the middle of a road.

He swam to shore, and as he climbed out, a speeding taxi blew right through him.

Angrily, he brushed more algae of his gray long sleeve t-shirt that had previously been dry.

"Aw come on! What, is Dallas just full of ponds or something?"

His angry shouting was silenced by laughter. He looked around the road, and a flying red truck passed right through him.

"Okay. Cars are going to have to stop with the whole ghost thing," the driver muttered.

Running to the sidewalk, he looked around noting the neon lights that decorated downtown skyscrapers of Dallas. To his right he saw one of the oldest buildings in the city, even if it wasn't functional anymore. It was a giant yellow lit ball.

It was previously used to celebrate the New Year's holiday, but people had stopped doing that about 150 years prior to the driver's birth.

Laughter again caused him to look around. Just up the sidewalk was a metal picnic table outside a food stand of some kind. The stand looked like it had seen better days with a red and yellow umbrella. The small metal hovering box had a tiny grill on top that the driver knew from experience made the best bacon cheeseburgers in the city.

Seated at the table were Chris and the teen.

The driver remembered this night. It was one of the first times he'd had someone genuinely show kindness to him.

One Galaxy Republic regulations on orphanages weren't too strict. The government wasn't tyrannical by any means, but there were plenty of homeless kids in the galaxy. It was all the government could do to provide some form of shelter for them. The homes that the teen had been bounced to and from hadn't been the best places.

He'd been raised by a drug dealer at one point and even a sex trafficker that was using foster kids to rent out to clients. That was the last one the teen ran away from.

Now this Chris guy was engaging him in actual conversation and buying him a meal. The teen began to have a little faith restored in humanity, especially considering he'd previously attempted to rob the guy who bought him dinner.

"Alright, I'll get us a couple ice cream bars, and we have got to hit the hay. You're going to have to get up early tomorrow to help work off this meal," Chris said.

The teen finished his burger and began to fish around in the brown paper bag for any remaining curly fries.

"Give me two ice cream bars, Jeff," Chris said.

Jeff, a taller middle-aged man in his 40s with gelled spiky hair, reached into the cooled compartment of his food cart and pulled out a couple objects wrapped tightly in foil and plastic.

Chris paid him in cash from his nonstolen wallet and handed one to the teen.

"What work will I be doing tomorrow?"

"You'll be going to get some registration identity documents from the Central Bureau of Identities, applying for your Small Class Ship Operator's License, and then filling out paperwork for me to become my employee," Chris said.

"What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a manager at a hub for Starlight Taxi. I need a new driver pretty bad, and you're going to be that driver. You can start driving at age 16, start making a living, and then start saving up for a place of your own so you don't have to sleep on my couch," Chris said, finishing his dessert and wiping his mouth with a red and yellow napkin.

"Why go through all the trouble for me?"

"I need a driver, and you need a future. It works out," Chris said.

"What if I don't want to be a cab driver?"

"Then run, either now, or after my sweet wife Nancy gets you set up on the couch for the night and goes to bed. You can go another couple days trying unsuccessfully to steal from people and starve to death before the weekend. It's your choice. I just figured you might be smart enough to have the desire to live," Chris said, nonchalantly.

Nice way to put it for a street kid, asshole, the driver thought, mouthing word for word what Chris had said from memory.

The next few years wouldn't be easy for the teen, but Chris would ride his ass into a success story.

The teen would spend the next 25 years driving a cab, eventually earning a diploma from a school system he had long given up on. He would grow into a responsible adult who didn't make much money but always paid his bills on time and had a place to live.

"Sometimes I forget how much I owe the old man," the driver muttered.

As Chris led the teen home and they faded from view, the driver began to fall once more.

"Not again!"

This time, he felt a weight on his legs and heard beeping machinery. His eyes slowly opened, and the bright light made his head throb.

Something sharp was in his arm, and there was a thin blanket covering him.

As his eyes slowly adjusted, he saw that Solstice was laying on his legs napping. She must have heard his breathing pick up. She looked and saw her owner awake and excitedly crawled up to lick his cheek.

"Okay, okay, I get it. You're happy I'm not dead. Down girl," the driver muttered, feeling the effects of cotton mouth.

"Do I dare ask where I am?"

He looked around and noticed the IV in his arm. It was a small private room with a curtain pulled back revealing a door to the bathroom and a small TV hanging from the ceiling.

"Southeast Mercy Hospital near downtown Lefont," a woman said.

The driver looked over and saw a familiar sight walking into his hospital room.

"Karmen! What are you doing here?"

The tall woman stood before him wearing a very simple and short velvet dress. The driver didn't realize this the last time he'd seen the bartender from Europa.

There was no design on the low-cut red velvet dress. It simply outlined her figure and went down to her thighs.

I need to wake up in hospitals more often, the driver thought.

"Well, I saw you leaving the bar from Europa, and I assumed you'd come to find me and weren't successful. So, I got in another cab and followed you back. We were a few minutes behind you when we got to Earth due to traffic, but once we landed outside your home, I heard your dog howling and barking like mad. I called for help, and here you are," she explained.

Last time he saw her, she had purple hair, a tattoo above her right eye, and a pierced nose. Now, she didn't have any of those things. Her long hair was now dark red.

"Thanks for. . . saving me. Um, one question. . . what happened to your. . . bartender look?"

"Oh. I had optics implanted in my hair. It can change colors in a few minutes. The tattoo and piercing were fake. I just look that way because the roughnecks who frequent the bar don't like the punk look. It keeps most of them away from me except for when they want more booze."

"Huh," the driver said.

"Huh?"

"Oh, nothing. You just look so. . .," the driver couldn't finish his sentence.

"Normal? It's okay, Mr. Scared To Hurt My Feelings, you can admit you like me better this way," she said, walking over and petting Solstice.

The red husky didn't appear to like her too much, but it tolerated another person being close to the driver. Solstice understood that this girl had saved her friend's life.

"Any idea what it was that put me in this bed?"

"A rare parasite known as Yupke Larvae," a woman in a white coat said, walking in. She was a young Hispanic girl with short curly brown hair. She had a rich accent, but it was still easy to understand her.

"Parasite?"

"Yes. I don't know where you picked it up, but I'm the physician that diagnosed and treated you right away, ultimately saving your life. I'm Dr. Espinoza," she said, checking the see-through tablet computer at the foot of his bed and tapping different parts of the screen to get updated data.

"Well thank you. . . was I really that bad off?"

Another voice entered the room, this one the least attractive of all.

"He got the parasite from a ship stop vending machine sandwich. The idiot isn't exactly the healthiest eater," Chris said, slapping the sandwich wrapper down on a table to the driver's right.

"You went through my garbage? I'm a little disturbed and slightly violated," the driver muttered.

"You were almost dead, you idiot! I told you to take better care of yourself and watch what you eat!"

The driver hated getting health advice from Chris, but in the past decade or so, he'd lost enough weight to be considered healthy again. He was still a big boy, but he was down to about 200 pounds now thanks to leg weights he wore everywhere he went.

"Fine. No more ship stop sandwiches," the driver said.

Chris' mouth was wide open at hearing the driver's words.

"That's it? No arguing?"

The driver, in light of some memories coming to the forefront of his mind, decided to cut Chris some slack.

"That's it," the driver said.

Chris was speechless and said nothing for several minutes

The driver saw a small glass with ice water in it to his left. He reached for it and took a drink.

"Drink slow. You've been out for about a week now," Dr. Espinoza said.

The driver's eyes widened "A week?"

"Yes. You came in last Friday, and today is the following Friday. It took your body quite a while to recover from being severely dehydrated by the parasite. That's what it does to you. Often it isn't caught soon enough and kills its host. You're lucky your dog and girlfriend were looking out for you."

"Whoa whoa whoa-"

"Honey, why don't you calm down," Karmen said, running her fingers through his hair.

The doctor's ear piece buzzed, and she excused herself from the room.

Chris walked over and handed the driver his pub hat. The driver put it on and instantly felt a little better. He'd been missing something since he woke up, but he didn't know exactly what the item was.

"I'll leave you and your girlfriend to it then," Chris said, turning to go.

"Thanks, Chris," the driver said somewhat quietly, causing him to turn around and raise an eyebrow.

"Did you have attitude surgery while you were in here?"

"No. . . you know, I just was remembering Dallas as of late and decided to cut you a little slack for the time being," the driver said, taking another small drink of water.

"Oh. . . well okay then. See you Monday," Chris said.

"Oh damn! My vacation time!"

"Relax. You had five sick days to use, and you hadn't taken any sick time off yet this year, so, you're fine," Chris said.

"I thought we only got two sick days?"

Chris sighed and slapped his forehead.

"That policy was changed a few months back when the Department of Labor Standards issued Starlight Taxi a written warning and a fine for violating sick day policy. All workers with at least five years under their belt get five sick days. Geez, you really don't read the weekly memos I send out, do you?"

"Sorry. I'll read them from now on," the driver said.

Chris shook his head and left muttering, "He needs to have near-death experiences more often if he's this nice afterwards."

Now that Karmen and the driver were alone, except for Solstice, he looked at her and squinted.

"Girlfriend?"

"Relax. It was the only way they'd let me in the room with you," she said, running her fingers through his hair again.

"We haven't even been on a date together," the driver said.

"Well, you went to Europa to ask me on a date. . . you just nearly died before you could get to the asking part," Karmen said, walking over to her purse that she'd put down when she entered the room.

"How do you know I went to Europa to ask you out?"

"Really? Are we seriously going to do this elementary school 'check the yes box if you have a crush on me' crap? You're in your 40s. Act like it, grow a pair, and accept that you owe me a nice dinner and some form of entertainment," Karmen said.

Geez. She's direct, the driver thought to himself.

"Okay. . . a date. . . whenever I get out of here," the driver said.

"Dr. Espinoza told me earlier in the week that you could leave 24 hours after regaining consciousness, assuming your body was done rehydrating.

I'm kind of creeped out that she knows more about my diagnosis and condition than I do, the driver thought.

"Have you been here all week?"

"Chris stepped in to relieve me, but the two of us didn't really leave your side. I only just got back though," she said, still rummaging around in her big red purse.

The driver heard paper rattling somewhat, and he wondered what she was up to.

"Thanks for staying. Where did you get back from?"

She walked over with a brown paper bag and put it on the table next to the driver.

"I went to Dallas at Chris' suggestion to get you some dinner on the off chance you woke up tonight," Karmen said.

The driver recognized the scent inside the brown paper bag.

"You didn't. . . Jeff's?"

"Chris mentioned you were a fanatic about that place," Karmen said, handing him a bacon cheeseburger wrapped in foil.

"Okay, maybe two dates," the driver said, unwrapping his burger.

Solstice started to inch her way toward the treat, but the driver's growling stopped her, and she retreated to the foot of the bed.

He tore off a tiny piece and tossed it down at her. She caught it in her mouth, and then the driver went to town on his burger, thankful for Solstice, Karmen, and even Chris.

Chapter 7: Pulling Strings

As the driver finished putting the waffle on a green plate, he heard a knock at the front door. Solstice got up and walked over to the door, turning her head back around to look at the driver.

He opened it, and there stood a man in a brown uniform holding a brown styrofoam square with a specialized coffee in it.

It was a mocha frappuccino with foam and made with soy milk, Karmen's favorite.

"Order for. . . Karmen?"

"Yeah, that's me."

The delivery guy, a man with slick black hair and a neatly kept beard raised an eyebrow at the driver.

"I mean-"

The driver took the coffee, and the delivery man threw up his hands.

"Hey man, you know what? It ain't my business what choices you make in your life. If you say you're Karmen, I believe you're Karmen. More power to ya," the coffee delivery man said.

The driver sighed and bumped his pay bracelet against the delivery man's. It was a simple tight black band with a small chip inside that held financial data linked to the driver's bank account. It was mostly how he paid for everything.

In fact, it was how most people paid for things. A few older people still carried cards with magnetic strips on them to pay for items, but most businesses were starting to refuse those due to transaction costs.

The bracelet worked simply. You bumped it against another bracelet or wireless pay station, and funds were transferred instantly to cover the cost of whatever one needed to buy.

"Your receipt is in your-"

"Communication unit. Got it," the driver said.

"Have a good day, ma'am. . . I mean. Ummm-"

The driver just closed his door growling and walked into the kitchen with Solstice trailing behind whining.

He looked at the black digital clock that sat on his coffee table in front of his black leather couch.

"I already fed you. . .. You need to go out?"

She walked over to the back sliding glass door and pawed at it. The driver slid it open quietly and let her out. She ran out into the grass and began sniffing around.

"Maybe that will keep her happy for a bit. I know she still isn't too happy about getting kicked out of my room last night," the driver muttered.

He reached into a cabinet and pulled out a small wooden tray, unfolding both legs and setting it on the counter.

When he was finished, the wooden tray had silverware, a green plate with a waffle on it, coffee, and a small saucer with sliced apple. He carried it all carefully into his bedroom where the real Karmen was still slumbering.

After last night, I don't blame her, the driver said, smirking.

It was a Friday morning, but he had taken the day off to be with Karmen since she was about to leave to work a weekend shift on Europa.

It had been about two months since he'd almost died from a parasite rapidly dehydrating him, and he mostly had his strength back. She had heard Solstice howling like mad inside the home and called emergency medical personnel.

The two had been dating since, and she was staying at his townhouse more and more.

His feet met the green carpet of his bedroom, and he opened his door.

She stirred lightly, hearing the noise.

"Rise and shine, Karmen," the driver said, softly.

She came to and rubbed her eyes, yawning.

"You. . . oh you didn't," she said, her eyes widening.

"I didn't what? Get your favorite coffee delivered? Make you breakfast in bed?"

She smiled as he set the tray down in front of her.

"Thank you," she said, taking the silverware and cutting a piece of the waffle. She added a little syrup and ate it.

"I do love a guy who can cook," she said, melting into bliss.

He pulled up a chair by the bed, and they talked while she ate breakfast. They made plans on what to do with their last day together before she headed back to Europa.

He was about to pick up her tray and carry it back into the kitchen when he heard his earpiece buzzing over on his dresser.

"Oh no. Not today. That old man is not calling me in for anything," the driver growled, walking over and putting the earpiece in his left ear.

"Not today, old man."

"I know you have the day off, but I need you to just do one quick pickup please," Chris said.

"Forget it, Chris. I got plans with my lady today," the driver said.

"I know. . . but-"

"No."

"The client is me," Chris said.

The driver raised an eyebrow and said, "Come again?"

"I need a ride home. My car broke down, and I. . . kind of just lost my job," Chris said, quietly.

The driver's throat tightened.

How could. . . Chris lose his job? He was so good at it, the driver thought.

"I'll be right there," the driver said.

He looked over at Karmen, who stared back at him quizzingly.

"I'm gonna need a rain check. Chris lost his job and needs a ride home. Normally, I'd tell him to shove it, but I need to get to the bottom of this," the driver said.

Karmen was about to object, but she remembered how close Chris and the driver were, even if they didn't show it. The guy was more than just a boss for him.

"I understand. You go, and I'll be here when you get back," she said.

"Thanks," the driver said.

He walked over, kissed Karmen, and left. His head popped back in for a second and said, "Oh, Solstice is outside. She'll paw when she wants back in. Can you let her back into the house, please?"

Karmen flashed him a thumbs up, and he ran out the front door toward Starla.

He opened the door and started the cab before he even sat down.

"Okay, Starla. I need you to get me somewhere quick. I apologize in advance if I'm rough on you," the driver said, shooting up into the air and heading at once for the Starlight Taxi hub on the East side of Lefont.

Weaving through the traffic of downtown, the driver came to a familiar parking garage. The bottom floor was the office for the Lefont Starlight Taxi hub, one of four hubs on the planet.

The driver parked Starla out front and walked up to the front wooden door. The concrete building was old. . . made from a time when taxi cabs rode around on wheels and only things with propellers flew.

The door flew open, and the driver walked into a reception area where a middle age black woman with braids sat behind a desk directing some taxi cab driver to his next destination.

"He back there, Pattie?"

She nodded and went back to her job working a digital switchboard directing dozens of cab drivers through the galaxy.

Walking down a small hallway, the driver passed the employee lounge on his right and kept going. He came to a wooden door with a metal plate on the outside that said: Hub Director.

Going inside, the driver saw a depressing sight. Chris' desk was nearly empty. He usually had a few pictures of his wife on it, but all those frames were in a box he was now packing with a few pens.

"Hey boss."

The larger man wearing a blue button-down shirt and jeans looked over at the driver and said, "Glad to see you're not so pale anymore. You look much healthier now that you got that nasty parasite out of your system."

"Yeah. . . which is more than I can say for you at the moment," the driver said.

"Hey, you're looking at a formerly successful man in his mid 50s. It ain't pretty when you lose your job, which may happen to you since I'm gone and can't save your ass anymore," Chris said.

"Hey man. . . what happened?"

"Forced early retirement happened. I'm 55, and if I worked for Starlight Taxi for another five years, I'd be eligible for a full retirement package. If they force me to retire early, they just cut me a one-time check, and they aren't out all that money," Chris said.

He pulled out a brown glass bottle of Jim Beam, apparently the last thing left in his desk. He had a small glass in his other hand.

"Isn't it a little early for a glass of bourbon?"

"It's a little early for retirement. Shit happens," Chris said, pouring himself a drink.

This is destroying him on the inside if he's resorting to bourbon before closing time, the driver thought.

"Isn't there something you can do?"

"Nope. It's called 'forced' for a reason. If I fight it, I don't even get my one-time retirement check."

"Maybe you can get a job somewhere else and then retire?"

"That's not how it works. You work for a company for decades, investing time, building up for a big retirement package. You can't just jump ship, work for five years, and then retire. It doesn't go that way," Chris said, taking a drink.

That old man manages 60 drivers here. He works us hard, but he gives back what he gets out of us. In the past, he'd fought for raises, against layoffs, and even for more vacation time. The guy had been like a dad to some drivers. . . namely me. Sure, not everyone liked him, but he didn't deserve this, the driver thought.

"Damn office politics," the driver growled.

"Give me a few more minutes, and I'll be ready for you to take me home. Sorry my car broke down. It's just the cherry on top of a sundae of greatness that is this day," Chris said, finishing his drink.

"Rain check. I have to go. Before closing time, I'll get your job back. I promise," the driver said, leaving.

"Don't. You'll just get yourself fired," Chris said.

"Go easy on that bottle, Chris," the driver said, raising his hand and waving without turning around.

On his way out, he cut through the employee lounge and entered the locker room. He was going to need an ace in the hole if he couldn't get Chris' job back.

Walking over to locker 176, he opened it. Rummaging through it, he saw what he needed.

He shuddered, thinking of having to play that card, but that's why it was called a "last resort."

The driver walked outside and got into Starla. He was heading to the executive office of Starlight Taxi and going straight to the top. Going through middle management would be worthless. He'd stroll in and make it happen, no matter what.

After everything Chris had done for him, he'd not let him down now.

"Damn old man. I had plans with Karmen today," the driver muttered.

Starla hummed as he sped toward San Francisco, where the executive offices were for Starlight Taxi.

The space taxi business wasn't growing like it used to. It was inevitable that as the cost of technology fell for electron transporters, which allowed for instantaneous travel between points, the taxi business would continue to dive.

Right now the business was safe because electron transporters were expensive and only for a certain class of people. That would change in the coming decades. Using taxis to get from planet to planet would go the way of on-site recording for movies. With the advancement of technology, certain things faded away. That's the way the world worked. It's one of the reasons why no vehicles had wheels anymore.

Not long after he left Lefont, the driver had maneuvered Starla through the lower atmosphere and was now coming down in San Francisco.

Most of the city was hills and tight little roads winding between tall buildings that housed some of the most diverse industries on the planet.

Over Starla's radio came an ad with the voice of David Lester, the CEO of Starlight Taxi.

"Traveling between planets is expensive, but it doesn't have to be. For an affordable ride, call Starlight Taxi," David said.

"Ugh. . . I hate our slogan," the driver muttered, muting his radio. He scratched his head and put his pub hat back on.

He didn't know what he'd say to David, but he was not leaving without results.

Passing a small farmer's market, he drove a few more blocks and came to the building that housed the executive offices for Starlight Taxi. It was a concrete tower that went up about 20 stories. A red neon sign with the name of the company hung near the top of the building.

Parking in front of the building, the driver tapped his wrist against the silver parking meter. One thing that did not change through the years was parking meters. They looked the same as they always did. The insides now were networked and contained the necessary components to accept wireless payments, but outside, they the same as when people used to put coins in.

Going inside the lobby, the driver's shoes met shiny tile floor.

He walked over to the elevator and got inside. A receptionist dressed neatly in a black skirt came running over, but he had already pushed the "close door" button.

The driver took the elevator to the top floor and stepped out in a hurry. There were only a few offices on the top floor, including David's. He'd never been in this part of the building before, but he guessed David's office was the biggest.

Men and a couple women in suits looked at the out-of-place cab driver as he passed their glass offices on the left and right. At the end of a small hallway, he opened a thick wooden door and strolled into the lobby just before David's office without stopped. The receptionist, a man wearing a tight orange dress, eyed him and asked, "Can I help you?"

Whoa. . . that is definitely a dude, the driver thought.

"I'm here to see David," the driver said, walking toward his door.

The receptionist moved to block the driver, but he was too slow. Although, he did move faster in his matching orange heels than the driver thought possible.

Opening a glass door into David's office, the driver walked in with the receptionist not far behind.

"Sir! You can't go in here!"

David, startled, looked up from his desk. It was about twenty feet away from the driver. He had been doing some sort of paperwork when the two of them stumbled in.

"I'm so sorry, Mr. Lester. I couldn't stop him in time. I'll call security," the receptionist said.

"I drive for you, Mr. Lester, and I'd like to have a word. I'm not here to get in trouble or show off a boiling rage. I just needed to talk to you quick because it's an emergency."

The receptionist stopped upon hearing the driver worked for Mr. Lester.

"You're a cab driver?"

"From Lefont," the driver said.

"It's okay, Tanya. I'll handle him. You can leave us," David said.

He got up and walked over to us. He had short red hair, black rimmed glasses, and was wearing a purple suit with a black tie.

Tanya? Really? That doesn't quite seem butch enough for that receptionist, the driver thought, raising an eyebrow.

The guy wore more makeup than Karmen.

"Yes sir," Tanya said, leaving and closing the door behind him.

"Quite a receptionist you have there," the driver said.

"And you're quite a candidate to be a cab driver. I don't deal much with drivers, but I guess what I heard is true," David said.

"What's that?"

"They'll hire just about any bum off the street to drive one of my cabs," David said, clearly unimpressed with the driver's appearance.

"Look, I didn't come here to discuss dress policy with you," the driver said.

David walked back over behind his desk and sighed.

"Of course not. You came to ask for a raise or something, I'm sure. You probably thought that as the CEO, I'd be impressed you had the stones to walk in here and ask me face to face, so, I'd just give you whatever you wanted," David said, sitting down and going back to his paperwork.

"I'm not here for money," the driver said, standing in front of David's desk. There was nowhere for him to sit.

"Oh? Then what are you here for mr. . .," David trailed off, waiting for the driver to give his name.

"I'm not here to talk about me. I'm here to talk about your Lefont hub director Chris Thompson," the driver said.

"You want him fired for treating you unfairly?"

"The opposite. He was forced into early retirement today. I want you to give him his job back," the driver said.

David looked up, a little more interested.

"I'm actually familiar with Loper. He's been a good and long-running director out there," David said.

"Then why did you force him into early retirement?"

"I'm the CEO. Do you really think that I deal with each employee's retirement account? I have nothing to do with people being fired."

"But you can give him his job back," the driver said, putting his hands on the edge of David's desk.

"You're right. I could, with one easy phone call."

"Will you?"

"No."

"Why not? You just said he's been a good employee."

David leaned back in his chair, clearly not threatened by having the driver so close to him. He pulled out a notepad and started writing in it.

"Do you know how much a retirement package costs?"

"No."

"You put in at least 30 years here, and Starlight Taxi gives you a pretty great pension. Unfortunately for me and the investors, those packages get costly, and we have plenty of aging drivers that have been with us for a while. With the financial forecast looking grim for taxi companies in the coming years, do you really think we can afford all those retirement packages? The budget has to be trimmed somewhere," David said.

David turned the notepad around and showed some mathematics to the driver, but he was clearly unimpressed.

"Look, just make an exception for him. He's only one manager. Surely one employee won't drain your entire budget," the driver said.

"You'd be okay with us forcing everyone else that gets close into early retirement? You seem to like Chris a lot, but could you live with knowing just how many people were going to be forced out of their benefits that only he gets to keep?"

The driver was silent for a moment and looked outside, seeing a ship fly by the skyscraper.

"Look, sometimes we make hard choices. I don't like our forecast, but we gotta do what we can to prepare for the slow decline of business. That means cutting retirement benefits. Chris just happens to be a casualty of that decision."

Scowling, the driver growled, "Why don't you just take a paycut?"

David stood up, matching the driver's anger.

"Because I'm the fucking owner of this business. That's why," he said.

"Get out of your rich world for two seconds and realize that poor people like us have to exist, too. We need a paycheck to pay bills and put food on the table."

"Hey, you think that you can run the company better? You want a desk up here on floor 19? Join us. See how long you hold on to your moral compass. I make tough decisions every day. If you think you can run this business without making sacrifices, I'll get you a desk right next to mine. Hell, you can have my desk."

"I'm not talking about running this company! I'm just after one man's job. Cut all the retirement packages you want. Just give him his," the driver said, slamming a fist into the desk.

"You think he's the only hard worker deserving of a retirement package? Why does he get special treatment?"

"Because I strolled in here and asked. That's why. A little old cab driver walked right up into the CEOs large office and asked," the driver said.

"Well that's real cute, but it isn't how it works," David said.

The two were at an impasse, and David held all the advantages. The driver was getting desperate, and the heartless bastard before him wasn't giving up an inch of ground.

"Tell you what, if I had one less cab driver in Lefont to pay, that'd come close to evening out the budget, and I'd let Chris have his job back and retirement package in a few years. Do you want to sacrifice your job?"

The driver knew that wasn't an option. He lived paycheck to paycheck, and any disruption would put him behind on bills, likely getting him thrown out of his house. He'd do anything for Chris, but he had to be smart about what sacrifices he made.

"That's what I thought. Get out of my office," David said, sitting down and getting back to his papers.

The driver straightened up and turned slowly. Then, thinking, he stopped.

"What if another driver lost her job?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You said Chris could have his job back if you had one less cab driver to pay in Lefont? What if one of the drivers suddenly stopped getting paid?"

David started to smile. He was seeing a new side of the driver, and the driver's heart hated what was coming next. The driver was never a real righteous or religious man, but he knew when he was making an immoral decision. His stomach started to churn knowing what ace in the hole he was getting ready to play.

"Go on," David said, giving the driver his full attention.

"Jamie Foster. . . her work locker has narcotics in it. It's locker number 176. That's a fireable offense," the driver said, looking away from David's gaze.

He swallowed, knowing Jamie was a single mom who worked even harder than he did.

The driver clenched his fists.

"You'd be willing to let this woman get fired for Chris to keep his job?"

"Sometimes you make tough decisions," the driver muttered, still looking outside.

Clouds were gathering, and a few drops of rain hit the glass.

"See? You thought you had a moral high ground trying to save a man's job, but in the end, you're willing to take away someone else's job to give him his," David said.

"Just. . . make the call," the driver said, quietly.

David tapped his earpiece and said, "Get me the switchboard worker for Lefont, Tanya."

The driver clenched his fists harder. His whole body burned. He knew this was twisted. . . but this was the only way. He felt like he was going to puke, but he stood as still as a statue.

"Hi, this is David Lester. Who am I speaking with? Pattie? Hi Pattie, how are you doing today?"

The phone conversation was pleasant, but it was about to go south fast.

"Sure, well we have rainy weather now. I'd trade you for that Lefont sunshine," David said, laughing.

He got down to business after shooting the breeze with Pattie.

"Pattie, I need a favor. Go check locker number 176 for me and let me know if you find anything out of the ordinary," David said.

He looked over at the driver, winking.

The line was silent for a minute or two, and Pattie came back with news of the contraband.

"That's too bad. Pattie, please contact the authorities and inform Ms. Foster that she is to return to the office immediately. When she arrives, inform her she has been terminated for violating corporate drug policy," David said.

He gave her a few other instructions and then hung up.

I'm sorry, Jamie. You're a good girl. A lot of drivers knew you took a pill or two to take the edge off. Until now, I was willing to mind my own business, but I needed this. . . Chris needed this, the driver thought.

After that call, David contacted the Human Resources department and reversed Chris' early retirement order. They sounded confused as to why the CEO cared, but in the end, he was the boss. They had to do what he told them.

"Well, there ya go. Dirty move you pulled having a co-worker fired, but like you said, we make hard decisions sometimes," David said.

The driver turned and left sighing.

David started whistling as the driver closed the door behind him. Tanya gave him a scowl as he walked toward the elevator. It was a slow descent into Hell for the driver as he finally got to ground floor and went outside.

He lost it on the parking lot and puked under a tree.

Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he got into Starla and started the drive back to Lefont.

All he could picture in his mind was Samantha. . . Jamie's 5-year-old girl. She spent some time at the office. Pattie would watch her for an hour or two after daycare until Jamie finished her shift.

"Goddammit," the driver muttered, a tear rolling down his right cheek.

I'm sorry, he thought.

As he pulled back into Lefont, he parked outside the hub and went in.

Jamie was being put into the back of a police vehicle as Samantha cried, being held by Pattie.

The driver couldn't watch. He lost it again and ran into the bathroom to hurl.

After taking a few breaths, he made his way into Chris' office. His bottle was half empty, and a glass of bourbon sat untouched. Chris was looking out the window with the blinds open, his shadow coming across the blue carpeted floor and stopping at a nearby bookcase.

"Corporate called a few minutes ago. . . I get to keep my job," Chris said, without turning around.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. . . unfortunately, we're down a driver. Jamie got busted for drugs," Chris said quietly.

Samantha could be heard crying in the background.

The driver walked over and picked up the glass of bourbon, downing it in one gulp.

"How did you get my job back?"

The driver picked up the bottle and glass and turned to leave.

Chris raised his voice.

"How did you do it?"

The driver stopped for a moment and lowered his head. By now, Chris had turned around and was watching him, waiting for an answer.

"Don't ask questions you don't want to know the answer to," was all the driver said before he left.

The commute home was miserable. He'd spent the day doing something pure evil, and all he wanted to do was get back and see Karmen.

Parking Starla in the driveway, he walked up to the front door with the bottle of bourbon and glass.

"Karmen?"

On the marker board held to the fridge by magnets Karmen had left him a note saying she had to get to work, and she'd call him later tonight.

"Well there you have it," the driver muttered.

He walked slowly over to a cabinet and pulled out a white pack of cigarettes. Solstice growled when she saw them, but the driver took his drink and smokes out the back door. Going down to the grass were three cement steps. He left Solstice inside and sat down, lighting up a cigarette and taking a big drag.

The nicotine didn't make him feel better, but in his mind he thought it did. He poured himself a drink and sipped it slowly as the moon started to become visible.

"Sometimes we have to make hard decisions," the driver muttered.

After another few drinks, he picked up the bottle of bourbon and screamed as he threw it into the tree in his backyard.

It smashed into the trunk, sending glass down into the grass below.

Solstice scratched on the back door, wanting to be outside with her friend, who was clearly miserable.

The driver didn't want to be with anyone, though. He wanted to be alone. Whoever said misery loves company had not met the driver. He was distraught over his filthy deed, and he wanted nothing more than to stew in his rage. The sad thing was, he'd get his wish. He had all weekend to suffer for his recent actions. No Karmen to visit, no Chris to go on runs for, no neighbors doing weird things outside, because even Travis and Krickett were out of town.

The driver was truly and utterly on his own, divided from even Solstice by a door.

Chapter 8: A Little Chat with God

The driver's alarm went off, and he awoke slowly. His red eyes screamed at the light. He hadn't shaved all weekend, and a small beard was beginning to form.

Lack of sleep, much alcohol consumed, and still-fresh guilt on his conscience all came together to create the Monday from Hell.

He got up and walked over to the door where Solstice was sitting and waiting for him. She barked excitedly to see the driver up, but he was unable to return to her enthusiasm.

Opening the back door, he motioned for his husky to go outside.

She sat down and put her head on the ground.

"You don't need to go outside?"

She made no move, and he closed the door. Going in the kitchen, he got her out a can of food, opened it, and put it in her bowl. Solstice ran over and started eating immediately.

"Thanks for being patient with me," the driver said, patting her on the back.

He'd been ignoring calls from Karmen all weekend, not wanting to talk to anyone. He'd have even send Solstice somewhere if he could have. The driver wanted to be alone with his guilt, and he had been. What sucked for the driver was it didn't seem to help any.

Well Hell. . . I thought two days of suffering would let my guilt move on, but that just doesn't seem to be the case, the driver thought.

A clap of thunder shook the house, and the driver looked out a window as rain drops started coming down unexpectedly.

"Awesome," the driver muttered.

He hated being wet, and no matter how good the coat or umbrella he carried was, somehow, he'd always get wet in the rain. Mother nature always defeated him, no matter his preparations.

Going to get in the shower, the driver grabbed a green towel from his hall closet.

He stripped, looking at all the scars on his body in his mirror.

The driver cleared his throat and took a scalding shower.

After showering and drying off, the driver threw on a blue t-shirt and khakis under a brown leather jacket and his pub hat. He ran outside without taking Solstice with him, and she wasn't taking that well. He didn't leave her home alone much, and there was a reason for that. She hated being away from him.

He heard her howling as he got into Starla. Travis was walking back up his driveway next door in a navy officer's uniform.

Why on Earth is he. . . you know what? I don't have time, the driver thought. He rolled down Starla's passenger side window and hollered over at his neighbor.

"Hey Travis!"

His neighbor turned and looked at the cab driver.

"How ya doing? I didn't see you at all this weekend," Travis hollered back.

"I'm fine. Hey, listen, can I get you to let Solstice out this afternoon? I'm not taking her with me today. You still got that spare key to my house?"

He nodded and flashed a thumbs up over at the driver.

"Great. Thanks! I'll bring you and Krickett home some dinner as thanks," the driver said, rolling up his window and taking off. Soon he'd left Earth's atmosphere behind.

His earpiece buzzed, and in it he heard Patty's voice.

"Driver 2269, you're off to Tuscaville, a town of 50,000 in the southern hemisphere of Mars," Pattie said.

"Thanks Pattie. I'm on my way. Who is my client?"

"He's a preacher needing a ride out to Payout City on Oberon," she said.

The driver slapped his forehead with his hand.

Why. . . why me?

He couldn't stand religious folks. As a whole, he hated them and found they were a pretentious lot. There weren't many left in this day and age, but the few that were left believed in ridiculous things.

This day cannot get any worse, the driver thought.

"Your client's name is Dominik," Pattie said.

"Roger that," the driver said, heading off onto Intergalactic Road 34 toward Mars' southern hemisphere.

He tuned the radio in to some station that was playing solo piano music. As a song went off, he heard a female DJ with a melodic and soft voice say, "That was Tim's 'The Slacker,' which has been popular in recent months. Coming up next we'll have one from Brad Wayne."

Reaching into his left pocket, he pulled out his white package of Redillo cigarettes. He knew he was running low. Solstice not being with him at all times was allowing him to smoke at a higher rate than he had in past weeks. His mind was loving the nicotine, but his lungs sure weren't happy with the return of the smoke.

Pulling out what he discovered was his second to last cigarette, the driver lit it and inhaled deeply.

He looked over at the passenger seat and did not see his usual companion. This bothered him a little, but his husky would make him happy, and he didn't think he was worth that at the moment.

Looking at the yellow beams of light on the Intergalactic Road in front of him, his mind wandered to the little girl of the co-worker he'd gotten fired and arrested. He wondered what happened to her.

As he got closer to Mars, the traffic got a little heavier. The red planet was more populated than Earth at this point, and the number of people traveling to and from showed that.

As he came down into the atmosphere, he found a highway heading south and hopped on it.

He radioed into Pattie and got some more detailed instructions on how to get to his client in Tuscaville.

"You'll take Highway 72 south, and eventually you'll run right into it. I'm showing you're on the right track now. Your client is about fifteen minutes south of you waiting outside a restaurant called Giovani's," Pattie said through his earpiece.

"Thanks, Pattie," the driver said.

He continued south and eventually came upon the exit for Tuscaville.

"Lets get this over with," the driver muttered.

Pulling up to the small restaurant, the driver began to look for his client. It wasn't long until he saw him sitting outside with a large pizza box next to him.

The man was mostly bald with some hair left on his sides. He had a white beard that matched the color of his hair, and he was wearing a navy blue suit jacket and matching pants.

The driver thought he looked like a typical minister, but at the same time, the way this man carried himself on the way to the car didn't appear to have the arrogance he associated with most of the religious scholars the driver had seen on television or had the misfortune to meet in real life.

Unlocking the back door, the driver turned and saw his client get into Starla slowly. The man extended his hand toward the driver.

"Hello, my name is Dominik," he said.

The driver slowly took the man's hand, unsure why he felt drawn to do so. A minute ago, he was ready to shut this man's mouth if he got out of line with his religious talk, but now, his annoyance was slowly retreating. This guy seemed pretty normal.

Maybe it's the pizza box that is throwing me off, the driver thought, looking down at the white box with simple red lettering on the top that said "Giovanni's."

Dominik noticed the driver's stare and opened the box revealing a couple slices of thin crust Italian sausage pizza.

"Help yourself. I couldn't quite finish the pizza I ordered for lunch, and I hate letting food go to waste," Dominik said.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Dominik said, moving the box up to Starla's front seat.

The driver picked up a slice and took a bite.

"Wow, that has some kick to it," the driver said, his tongue tingling from whatever they put on the Italian sausage.

"Sorry. I guess I should have warned you it was a little spicy," Dominik said.

"Don't be. I like it; it just caught me off guard," the driver said, finishing his slice quickly and reaching into the glovebox.

He pulled out a napkin and wiped his hands.

"So, Payout City?"

"That's right," Dominik said.

"Why does a preacher want to go gambling?"

"Oh, I don't want to. One of my friends is in the hospital there. I'm going to visit him and make sure he's okay," Dominik said.

The driver shrugged and turned back around. He took off, and after a little bit, he was leaving Mars behind and getting on Intergalactic Road 87 toward Uranus' moon Oberon. The trip would take a couple hours, and the driver, although not really annoyed by Dominik like he thought he'd be, was not wanting to start any real conversation with Dominik on the off chance he'd want to talk spiritual matters.

About half an hour into the trip, Dominik cleared his throat and asked, "So, how long have you been a taxi driver?"

"About 25 years," the driver said, keeping his answer short to discourage any continuation of questions.

"Wow. That's a long time. I can only imagine how many miles you've put on this vehicle going through the galaxy."

The driver bit his tongue. He started to sweat. Turning his head slightly, he put all his effort into not saying what he wanted so badly to say.

At last, he sighed and gave in. Even if it led to further conversation, he had to correct the minister.

"Her name is Starla," the driver said.

"Excuse me?"

"The cab. Her name is Starla, and I've driven her for 25 years," the driver said.

"Oh. . . sorry. I meant no offense by calling it a cab. I didn't know she had a name."

"None taken. I'm just letting you know," the driver said, picking up the last slice of pizza in the box next to him and driving with one hand.

Dominik let him finish the slice before asking him the next natural question in the conversation between cab driver and passenger.

"Why Starla?"

"Because I work for Starlight Taxi."

"Oh. That's unique," Dominik said.

The driver said nothing in response and kept his mouth shut.

Dominik kept the silence for another 45 minutes before trying again to strike up some small talk.

"Not much for conversation, are you?"

"I'm not really in the mood," the driver said, somewhat cross.

"Sorry, I didn't mean anything by that," Dominik said, somewhat awkwardly.

Sighing, the driver said, "It isn't you. I just had a rough weekend. Normally I'm all for chatting up my passengers."

"Are you feeling okay?"

"No. I feel like crap," the driver said, his cross attitude returning.

"Well. . . if you want to talk about it, I'd be more than happy to listen," Dominik said.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it," the driver said.

"I understand. If you change your mind, it looks like we still have a while before we get to Oberon," Dominik said.

The driver said nothing for moment and then started to consider Dominik's offer. Maybe he'd feel a little better if he spilled his guts to this stranger.

"You just listen? Because I swear, if you start talking about God, I'm gonna send you to meet him," the driver said.

"I'll just listen," Dominik said, folding his hands in his lap.

Putting his last cigarette in his mouth, the driver lit up and put the nicotine in his system he'd need to tell this story.

"I've spent the last few days feeling extremely guilty about my actions on Friday. I made a deal with the devil, so to speak."

Dominik didn't even raise an eyebrow at that remark. He just listened, as he promised.

"The short version of a long story is I got a co-worker fired and arrested so my boss could keep his job," the driver said.

He went into greater detail about his deal with Peter and Chris being forced into early retirement. Describing Chris as the father figure he was, the driver actually started chuckling when he described the tumultuous relationship he had with the old man. Those chuckles disappeared when he got to the part of the story about snitching on Jamie's drugs and Samantha having to watch her mother get arrested.

"I know that what I did was pretty dirty, but it was the only choice I had to save Chris' job," the driver finished.

Sensing that the driver was done talking, Dominik said, "That sounds like a rough situation. I had no idea that a taxi company could be so. . . well. . . dark."

"It's just the higherups that are like that, apparently. Chris is a great person to work for," the driver said.

"He sounds like he's a good manager," Dominik said, smiling.

Another lull entered their conversation as Starla headed on toward Oberon. Dominik looked outside at the infinite white sprinklings of light just on the other side of his door's glass window.

Taking a chance at stirring anger in the driver, he took a deep breath and said, "You know, you aren't like most people. It seems the bulk of society is always looking for other people to blame for their problems, you know? We live in a time where people hate accepting responsibility for their actions."

The driver listened, waiting for Dominik to arrive at a conclusion. He made no point to stop the minister from speaking.

When he saw that the driver was listening to his words, Dominik continued, "You don't seem to be like that, though. You, do the opposite, which is in many ways just as bad. You look for situations where you can feel guilty and then take it to the extreme."

"How so?"

"Well, consider the woman you got arrested. You were trying to save your boss' job after he'd been fired through no fault of his own. This woman was breaking the law and company policy by taking illegal substances," Dominik said.

"Yeah, but she wasn't hurting anyone. Not to mention, she has a daughter. We all knew her secret. She just took a pill now and then to take the edge off," the driver said.

"I'm not saying this woman is a bad person. For all I know she could be the best mother in the world. What I'm saying is, if you hadn't turned her in, she could have been caught any other day. A random drug test. . . an angry co-worker. . . a surprise inspection. . . any of those things could have tripped her up."

"Still. . . she has a daughter," the driver said.

"She likely knew there were consequences to her actions. She just paid for those consequences a little earlier than she expected to. And to top it off, you weren't turning her in for selfish gain. You were doing it to save another man's job. . . a man who. . . by the looks of it doesn't do anything wrong in running his taxi hub," Dominik said.

The driver said nothing because he was thinking on Dominik's words. He wanted so badly to agree with the minister, but he still thought he should feel guilty for costing a single mother, who had never harmed him, her job.

"Look, I imagine you have other things to worry about on a day-to-day basis. We all carry around our own burdens at times, but this isn't something you need to carry. By the looks of it, you've suffered more than enough for something you never should have felt guilty for in the first place," Dominik said.

Nodding his head, the driver looked in the rearview mirror and said, "You make a strong case, preacher man. . . and what's more, you did it without condemning me to a fiery oblivion. I'm impressed."

"I'm just trying to reel you into my church so I can condemn you later," Dominik said, laughing.

And for the first time in days, the driver laughed. He laughed harder than he should have because Dominik's joke wasn't all that funny, but he laughed until tears were running down his eyes.

As he wiped the tears from his eyes, the driver entered the atmosphere of Oberon. Starla jerked a little bit, but ultimately, the crater-covered moon let the driver in just fine.

Of all the planets and moons in the galaxy that had been terraformed, Oberon was perhaps the most luxurious. Cities lined the moon's reddish surface, each with more money than the last, and a number of bad things happened in those cities that the One Galaxy Republic turned a blind eye to due to the taxes the casinos generated.

I almost felt bad about taking the minister to such a rough place. His kind wasn't designed to set foot here.

"Hey Dominik, are you sure this is where you want to go? I mean, for a moral guy like yourself. . . this planet is like a cheese grater waiting to shave you down to size," the driver said.

They came upon Payout City, a true testament to just how stubborn some people were to build a city and fill it with more casinos.

The driver took it slow, letting anyone who wanted to pass him to do so. There were a lot of expensive vehicles on the road, and Starla, who looked like a rustbucket when compared to a standard vehicle, looked especially out of place.

Payout City itself was built on the inside of a large crater. Black skyscrapers launched upward from the ground and didn't stop until they rose far above the canyon walls that sought to contain their structure.

As the driver took the two of them into the crater city, he followed signs that directed him toward Sunrise General Medical Center.

Traffic was so thick with other floating vehicles that even the experienced driver had to really concentrate to avoid being sent to the hospital in an ambulance.

Half an hour later, he parked Starla in a lot and got out of the cab to stretch his legs. It was chilly, so, as soon as the driver finished stretching, he got back into Starla and kicked on the heater.

Dominik closed his door, and the driver rolled down the passenger side window, allowing Dominik to lean in and say goodbye.

"I hope you are safe. This place has a way of chewing good men up and spitting them out," the driver said.

The minister smiled and reached inside with his hand, revealing a black payment bracelet. The driver bumped his against it, and the fare was paid.

"I'm just glad that you see me as a good man and not some fire and brimstone preacher," Dominik said.

"Yeah well. . . you're an exception to your kind. Plus. . . you helped me through a rough time and listened to my problems. That makes you a good person in my book. I've never been a fan of religion. I think men are good or bad based on what they do. They shouldn't need a deity to make them good or bad," the driver said.

"I pray that you'll meet more good people to change your mind about us," Dominik said.

"Don't hold your breath. I meet some real stinkers with his job. . . but there are some good perks, too," the driver said.

"You ever meet any girls?"

The driver's smile faded and his eyes widened.

"Oh shit! I've been ignoring Karmen for days while I was attending the world's biggest pity party! She may actually kill me," the driver muttered.

Clicking the stereo display of Starla a few times to see what the local time was on Europa, the driver determined he could make it in time to pick her up from her shift if he sped a little.

"Godspeed," Dominik said, laughing.

"I gotta go, but seriously, Dominik, get out of here as quick as you can. Visit your friend, say your prayer, and call another cab to leave this devil's trap," the driver said.

"I'll be fine. When I have God standing with me, who on this planet can be against me?"

"Scary men that carry crowbars in their coats just to beat guys that annoy them," the driver said, slowly lifting off with Starla.

"Come see me sometime. I'm the preacher at the-"

"Only church on Mars," the driver said, interrupting the minister.

Dominik smiled and stepped out of the window so the driver could go get his ass chewed out for ignoring his girlfriend all weekend.

Chapter 9: A Visit from Mother

As the driver sat on his black leather couch, he tried his best to convince Karmen to spend the weekend at his house. It'd been about a while since he'd seen her due to their work schedules.

"Come on, babe. I haven't seen you in a week," the driver said.

Karmen asked, "You really can't go a week without me?"

The driver raised an eyebrow.

"It's not that I can't. . . I just don't want to," the driver said.

Karmen sighed and said, "Let me think about it. I'll call you later. I have to get back to work."

The driver couldn't figure out what was going on. She'd been this way for the past couple weeks, and he couldn't break through to her.

In the six months since she'd saved his life by getting him to a hospital when he was attacked by dehydrating parasites, he'd become convinced he was falling in love with her.

He looked over at Solstice, and she got up and walked over to him, sitting on the floor with her head in his lap.

The driver sighed and started scratching behind her ears.

"I don't know. . . you girls are just hard to figure out. We haven't had one fight since I spent an entire weekend avoiding her a couple months ago, and now I can't seem to get her to open up to me," the driver said, thinking about anything he could have possibly done to anger her recently.

The more he sat there and thought, the less he came up with. He couldn't even come up with a crazy theory as to why she'd be mad at him.

He took every opportunity to see her and make her happy, while still giving her a respectable amount of space.

"Maybe I just need to ask her in person," the driver muttered.

A knock at the door made Solstice's ears perk up. She walked over calmly to the front of the home to see who it was when the driver opened the door.

When the driver opened the door, an older woman stood before him. She was wearing the ugliest black dress with a purple floral pattern on it. She had short curly white hair with a little bit of brown still mixed in, trying and failing to retain some flavor of a day gone by.

"Yes?"

The woman looked taken back by the driver.

When she didn't say anything, the driver got a look behind her and noticed a limousine.

He thought, What the Hell is that thing doing there?

"This is going to sound forward, so, you'll have to forgive me," the old lady said.

"Yes?"

"I'm your mother," the lady said.

Now it was the driver's turn to be silent as he struggled to find his breath. He blinked several times looking the woman over.

"I know it's going to be hard to believe, but I can prove it," she said.

Another silent minute passed. The driver's mind whirled. He pictured every foster home he'd ever been in. For some reason, Chris' picture popped into his head.

The driver had never been one to care about his past, but now it had knocked on his doorstep. . . allegedly.

When his mind slowed a little, he asked, "You have proof?"

She nodded and pulled up her white leather purse.

"I have a DNA testing machine inside. One prick of the finger will tell us all we need to know," the woman said.

"Come inside, and we'll see what your little machine says," the driver said, somewhat skeptical.

She followed him inside and closed the door behind him. Solstice didn't know what to make of the older woman. She didn't come over to her, but she didn't growl at her, either.

"Oh, could you put that thing outside? I don't much care for animals," she said.

"Strike one. This is my house, and she's my best friend. You don't talk about Solstice like that," the driver said.

The woman looked somewhat indignant of the driver's remark at first and then said, "Suit yourself."

She sat down on his couch, looking around the humble abode he called his dwelling. She looked at his black leather furniture out of the corner of her eye and frowned a little bit, as if he could do better.

"Shall we prick our fingers?"

"Oh, yes," she said, pulling out a small metalic device with a five inch screen in the center. She pushed a button on the side, and it came to life.

The woman pushed a few more keys on the touch screen, and two small needles came out of the box, one on each side.

The driver hated needles, but he figured this would tell him what he needed to know about this woman claiming to be his mother.

He walked over and pricked his left index finger on one of the needles. The woman pricked her right index finger on the remaining needle, and the machine began to compute.

Within a few minutes, it was beeping, and she displayed the results.

"Well, that's a 98.6 percent genetic match," the driver said, reading the screen.

"You don't seem impressed," the woman said.

"What do you want me to say. . . Hell. . . what do I even call you?"

"I suppose 'mother' for starters," she said.

The driver leaned against a wall in his living room and snarkily remarked, "Mo- mother? That's a name you earn, not one you get for sharing blood."

She put the machine back in her purse and threw her arms in the air.

"I thought you'd be a little more enthusiastic about meeting your long lost mother," she said.

"I wasn't exactly looking for you. I kind of got the hint that you didn't want me around when I turned six and learned what a foster home was," the driver said.

"Your crass tone is unwarranted. I didn't drop you off at an orphanage. Your grandfather did. . . the same man who gave you that stupid hat you're wearing," the woman said.

"Strike two. Unlike you, this hat has been with me my entire life. It's a part of me. You'd do well not to insult it, either."

"Listen to me. I came here today for a reason," she said.

"Okay. What was it? Did you want a hug? Did you want to make things right?"

"I came here to offer you a better life," she said.

That shut the driver up for a second. He was puzzled by her words. She hadn't exactly done much to warm up to him since her arrival. In truth, he had a nagging thought in the back of his mind that she wanted something from him. With a few more minutes, she got to explaining just what that thing she wanted was.

"Your name is Clarence Rider. My name is Shirley Rider, and you're the heir to Rider Corp., the leader in electron transport technology. I'm here to bring you to your rightful place and turn your life around," she said.

"My name is not Clarence. It hasn't been since I was abandoned in a foster system."

The woman sighed and put her hand to her face.

"You're relentless, you know that?"

"Listen lady, why don't we cut the crap and get down to brass tacks and nails? I'm losing patience quick, and I figure you're about to hit strike three real soon," the driver said.

"Uh, I forget how rude you lower class types can be," she said.

An angry growl disguised as a sigh on the part of the driver made the woman get back to the point of her visit.

"Very well. I'm not here to kiss and make up. You hate me, and that's your right. I am here to take you back to Senora City on the moon and make you into the new president of Rider Corp. Your father passed away a few months ago, and I need to secure the company's future into the hands of another Rider. Unfortunately for me, you're the only one left," she said.

"Is that all?"

"No. Part of securing the company's future will include you marrying the daughter of our nearest competitor. We'll merge companies, you'll wed this young lady who is the heir to her family's fortune, and everyone will-"

"Get richer?"

"That'll be part of it, yes, but the bigger picture is both companies will have a sound future."

"Hold that thought for a moment," the driver said.

He walked Solstice to the back door and let her out. She didn't put up much resistance, oddly enough.

Then, the driver walked into his bathroom and felt around to the back of the toilet tank where he had a pack of cigarettes taped. Ripping it free, he walked back into the living room and lit one up.

"Oh, must you do that? It's such an ancient and filthy habit," the woman said, covering her nose.

"You don't really get to complain about things being ancient when you just announced your plans to put me into an arranged marriage," the driver said.

"Trust me, you'll like her. She's very beautiful and submissive. She'll make the perfect trophy wife," the woman said.

"I don't think my girlfriend would appreciate it if I suddenly got married," the driver said, inhaling and blowing smoke in the direction of his mother.

"Of course you'll separate yourself from the bar trash you're currently dating in order to get ready for your new life. After that, you'll dump that mutt somewhere, and you'll come with me. I'll get you a new identity and backstory prepared, and we'll start the arrangements to groom you into a brand new president of a Fortune 100 company," Shirley said.

"I see you've done your homework. What happens after I dump her?"

"You become rich and never have to drive that rusty piece of garbage in your driveway again," she said.

The driver took one last drag off his cigarette and pulled it out of his mouth. He flicked it at his mother, and she gasped, throwing her hands up.

"I'm sorry, did I break your train of thought? Oh? You were done talking? Good. Allow me to retort," the driver said.

He sat down on his couch and lit another cigarette.

"You've probably guessed what I'm going to say, but, strike six. You get a strike for insulting my dog, my girlfriend, and two strikes for insulting Starla. That is the 'rusty piece of garbage' in the driveway. Here's what is going to happen now. You're going to take your wrinkled ass out of my house and put so much distance between the two of us that I can't even sense your evil presence anymore."

"Tell me this is some form of a tasteless joke. You heard me say you'll be rich, right?"

"That's one of the first things I hate about you. You don't seem to care about people. You care about things. . . a company. . . wealth. . . things that don't mean anything to me. Get out of my house."

She scowled, walked over to the driver, and shook her finger at him.

"Listen to me you ungrateful brat. You don't get a say in this matter because it's bigger than you or me. We're talking about the future of two of the largest companies in existence, and I'm not going to let my plans go awry because you want to be stubborn and thumb your nose at me."

She stopped when her finger was inches from the driver's face and said, "I've arranged for your future wife to drop by. I'm convinced she'll be the deciding factor in your decision to come to your senses. I wasn't joking about you not having a say in the matter," she said.

Almost as if on cue, another knock at the door came, and the driver's mother said, "Come in, dear."

Who the Hell does this bitch think she is? This is my house, the driver thought.

The door opened slowly and in walked a girl who looked younger than the driver's career as a cab operator.

"Clarence, this is Octavia Swanfeld. She is the daughter of Richard Swanfeld, CEO of Electrafeld," the driver's mother said.

Octavia was much shorter than Karmen, very prim and polished. She was wearing a white collared shirt with a small tight black vest over it. Instead of a dress like Shirley, she was wearing a knee-length black pencil skirt. She had extremely long sleek black hair, and around her neck was a pink bow.

"Hello. My name is Octavia," she said, walking into the living room slowly, getting a better look at the driver. He searched her face for signs of disapproval like his mother had displayed, but she seemed oddly at ease. The lack of judgment on her part was surprising to the driver.

"I'll leave you two to get acquainted. I'll be gone for a couple hours, and when I get back, you two had better be in love or at least in a place where you can fake it," Shirley said, leaving.

After the front door closed, and she was gone, the driver leaned back, causing his couch to groan a little.

"What a piece of work," he muttered.

Octavia said nothing but looked at him.

"Shirley, not you," he said.

"I figured as much," she said.

"So. . .," the driver muttered, unsure of what to say to the woman expected to become his future wife.

"I take it she explained the situation to you," Octavia said.

"She did. . . with quite a lack of grace, I might add. I mean, I never really went looking with my parents. I'm content with my life; why on Earth would I want to complicate it by tracking down the dirtbags that abandoned me as an infant?"

"Shirley told me that she didn't abandon you, though. She said you were kidnapped and taken away from her," Octavia said.

"Strike one. You stuck up for that evil bag," the driver said.

"Sorry," Octavia muttered.

"Look. . . Octavia, was it? I don't know what she told you, but I have a girlfriend. Her name is Karmen, and I love her. I'm not gonna trade what we have for any amount of money. I'm a cab driver and have been for 25 years. I obviously don't care about the lack of cash in my bank account," the driver said.

"I don't think she's giving you a choice," Octavia said.

"What are you, some kind of robot? There's always a choice. She doesn't get to just show up, says she's my mother, and then immediately boss me around. That's a load of crap," the driver said.

"My parents aren't exactly going to be pleased with an answer like that. They expect us to end up together and secure the future of their companies," Octavia said.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't give a damn about your parents. I can count the number of people I care about on three fingers, Solstice, Karmen, and sometimes Chris," the driver said, finishing his second cigarette. He put it out in the sink and then tossed it in the garbage.

Pulling out another cigarette, he leaned against the fridge.

"Can't you at least give me a chance?"

"I don't even know you," the driver said.

"Well, I'm right here. Ask me anything," Octavia said.

"Is that how you think this works? We play 20 questions, fall in love, and live happily ever?"

Octavia sighed and said, "No, but we've got to work something out."

"Why is that, exactly?"

"Because I care about what my parents think, and they're riding on this deal," she said.

"You don't just get to come into someone's life and have them fall in love with you because that's the plan. Do you know how I fell for Karmen? She found me when I was dying and saved my life by getting me to a hospital. That's going to be pretty difficult to top," the driver said.

He heard his earpiece buzzing, so, he excused himself and walked into his bedroom.

"Hey," Karmen said.

"Oh, hey. Man, you won't believe the day I've had. Please tell me you're coming over tonight," he said.

Karmen said she was, but she didn't sound like herself.

Not giving it a second thought, the driver said, "Great. Look, I'm sorry to ask a question and run, but I kinda have something to deal with."

"Yeah, I gotta get back to work anyway. I just called to let you know I'd be over tonight."

"Sounds great. Talk to you later," he said, hanging up.

He walked back into the living room and Octavia was looking out the back door at Solstice lying under her favorite tree in the back yard.

The driver sighed. He realized this girl was just trying to make her family happy, and she didn't seem pure evil like Shirley.

"Are you hungry?"

She turned around and nodded.

"Great, you ever had pork chops?"

She shook her head, and the driver sighed.

"I don't want to know what kind of fancy food you dine on, so, don't tell me," he said.

She smirked and said, "It's probably better you don't know."

While he prepared lunch, they talked casually. She played the cello, had just finished a master's degree in business, and enjoyed playing volleyball. All in all, she seemed like a normal girl. . . except she was filthy rich.

They ate, and the driver continued to learn more about her while telling her some about him. He told her about being an orphan and driving a cab through space for a living. He also told her the story of how he got Solstice.

The more they talked, the more he realized that she wasn't all that unlikable. If he wasn't dating Karmen and Shirley wasn't involved, he might have even given this girl a chance.

Shirley was right about one thing. She is very pretty, the driver said, noticing her long and silky hair. He didn't even want to think about how much care she put into washing it.

As they finished their meal, she even did the dishes, and the driver realized she liked having money, but she could likely survive without it.

"Look, Octavia, sure, we've talked, shared a meal together, etc. You seem like a nice girl. I get that you don't want to disappoint your family, but I don't plan on marrying you. I love Karmen, and I can realistically say I will probably end up marrying her down the road."

"There's nothing I can do to change your mind?"

"No. . .but can I offer you a piece of advice?"

She raised an eyebrow and nodded.

"Put some distance between yourself and your family. Take a year off, hide if need be, and live in the real world. Get a job and work for yourself. When you've weaned yourself off of your family's money, I think you'll see that you don't want to marry someone just because of your folks," he said.

Octavia smiled, and said, "I really do wish I could do just that. There are times I wonder what it would be like to be on my own."

"Then why not go and do it?"

She sighed and said, "I don't love money like my family does, but I do like the benefits of having it."

Before the driver could say anything more, the door opened and in walked Shirley.

"I trust you've become smitten with your new wife?"

The driver rolled his eyes and looked over at Octavia.

"I'm only gonna say this once more, so, listen up. As far as I'm concerned, my real family is Chris and Nancy Thompson who took me in as a teen and raised me right. You're nothing to me, and after meeting you today, I wish to never cross paths with you again. You're insufferable. No, I'm not smitten with Octavia. No, we're not getting married. Yes, you can leave now and never come back," the driver said.

His mother scowled and clenched her right hand into a fist.

"I don't know how you turned out to be so much like your grandfather, but he was that way. . . a poor pathetic sad sack who deemed your father and I to be unfit parents and took you away from us. He didn't want anything to do with our money or success and died penniless, the old fool."

"Sounds like a man I could be proud of," the driver said.

"And you share his blind and foolish ways of thinking."

"I believe the word you're looking for is stubborn," the driver said, smirking.

"Let's go, Octavia. We're leaving this dump," Shirley said.

She looked at the driver and then said, "That's quite alright, Ms. Shirley. I know my way home."

Shirley shrugged and looked once more toward her son.

"Don't take my leaving today as a sign of victory. You will come around to my offer. I was hoping we could do it the easy way, but you've shown that just isn't going to be possible. Because of that, I'm going to take everything you love from you until you're so miserable you come crawling back to me for the chance to have some resemblance of a normal life."

He lit his last cigarette and grinned from ear to ear.

"Goodbye, Ms. Rider. Do take care, and don't let my door hit you in the ass on the way out. I'd hate to damage such a fine door," he said.

She scoffed and left.

Octavia turned to him and simply said, "I kind of wish I really could have a shot with you. . . and not just because of my parents' demands. You seem like a nice guy."

"Karmen would likely tell you otherwise. I have a nasty temper and stubborn streak," the driver said.

She smiled and excused herself, leaving not too long after Shirley.

The driver let Solstice back in and put away the dishes. She growled when she saw the cigarette in his mouth, and he put it out immediately.

"Sorry. . . trust me when I say I needed it though."

Oddly enough, the dog didn't look as though she bought his logic.

"Oh you're a husky. What do you know?"

She barked, and for a moment, the driver wondered if, by chance, she was more intelligent than she let on.

Eventually, he let it go and fell asleep on the couch. She jumped up and laid down on his legs, going to sleep herself.

He began to have a strange dream about both Karmen and Octavia being in a band together. They traveled the world and became famous before having a falling out and breaking apart.

A knock at the door brought the driver back to reality. He yawned and went to answer it, praying it wasn't his mother.

"Dominick, if you're hearing this prayer, please keep my mother. . . far far away," he muttered.

He opened the door and saw Karmen. Her hair was pink, and she was still wearing a heavy amount of eye shadow from her shift at the bar. The fake tattoo above her eyebrow was still on, and the driver smirked remembering she dressed a certain way to keep the drillers of Europa uninterested in her.

"Welcome back," he said, motioning for her to come in.

"Actually, can we talk out here?"

He shrugged and closed the door behind him, leaning on it once it was latched.

"What's up?"

She sighed and looked down.

When she looked up, she said, "Listen. . . I don't have any easy way of putting this. . . so I just have to say it. I think that. . . I need to end this relationship."

The driver frowned and asked, "What are you talking about?"

"I'm breaking up with you," she said, shifting her weight from one leg to another.

Feeling like a sack of bricks had just nailed him in the stomach, he was unable to form words.

He thought, She's breaking up with me?

The driver was not an overly emotional guy, but a single tear still formed in his right eye as he thought about what he was hearing.

"Wh-why?"

She sighed again, but she didn't break eye contact with him. She was soft but direct, not beating around the bush with her words.

"I think we want different things. I think you're getting a little too serious, and I'm just not in a place where I want to settle down with someone right now," she said.

"Who said anything about settling down?"

"You just told me a few hours ago you had a hard time going a week without seeing me. Meanwhile, I'm fine going a week or two without seeing you. It's not that I don't care about you. . . it's just. . . I think you care more about me," she said.

"Can't we just slow things down?"

"Do you honestly think you're capable of doing that? Because if you are, then we can keep dating, but I'm getting ready to take a vacation with some friends, and you won't see me for a few weeks," she said.

The driver looked down, knowing he wouldn't be okay with that.

"You're not capable of slowing it down, are you?"

"I guess not."

"Had you thought about. . . our future?"

He nodded slowly, and she said, "You see? I hadn't really at all. We had lots of fun, and you're a very sweet guy, but-"

"You don't need to say any more. I get it," the driver said, straightening up and cutting her off.

She smiled weakly and said, "I guess this is it then."

"Yeah. . .."

"If you're ever around Europa, you can feel free to stop by. I'm not going to avoid you."

"I can't promise the same," he said, walking inside and closing the door.

As she left, he slid down to the floor and quietly sobbed. Solstice came over and tried to lick his face, but it was buried in his knees. Sensing the depth of her friend's grief, she simply curled up next to him and lay down.

"I didn't want much, Solstice. . .just you and her. That's all I ever wanted," he said as tears continued to fall. He sniffed and continued to sit there, thinking about the miserable day he'd had.

Chapter 10: Stubborn

The driver sat in his bed with his earpiece on, talking to Chris.

"Hey man, I'm gonna need to take a sick day today," he said.

"You already used your sick days when you were in the hospital," Chris said.

"Well. . . then let me use a vacation day please. I still have a couple of those left, don't I?"

"You should have a couple left, yeah. What's wrong? Are you really sick, or are you just trying to escape Monday?"

The driver looked down at Solstice and sighed. He muttered, "I just need a day, okay? I'm not fit to be driving my cab right now."

Silence filled the digital conversation for a moment until Chris said, "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow then. Get better soon."

"Thanks."

The driver ended the conversation and then tossed his earpiece onto the nightstand, rolling over in bed. He felt pathetic, but it seemed that the events of the previous day involving his mother's sudden appearance and Karmen's exit from his life had taken more of a toll on him than he thought possible.

The driver's evening was filled with a sleepless night and a little bit of alcohol. After three unsuccessful hours of trying to find sleep, he went into the living room and plopped down on the couch, turning on the television and watching whatever garbage happened to be on at 3 a.m.

He kept watching and waiting for his eyelids to close, but they never did. Words from his mother and Karmen kept bouncing around his thoughts. What did Shirley mean by she'd take away everything he loved? Was she capable of drastic things like murder? Kidnapping?

When his alarm went off to get ready for work, he tried to move, but his body was too tired. Getting absolutely no sleep, the driver felt and looked like trash. It took everything he had just to reach over on the nightstand for his earpiece to call in sick to Chris.

After thoughts of his mother left his head, he'd start thinking about Karmen again.

I was moving too fast? How is that even possible. It wasn't like I was planning on marrying her at the end of the week, the driver thought.

When thoughts of Karmen finally exited his mind, he'd be back at Shirley again, and the vicious cycle did not end.

He stayed in bed most of the day, getting up to take a piss now and again. He was too lazy to go into the kitchen, so, he drank out of the sink in his bathroom, and once he got up to let Solstice out.

Getting delirious and desperate for sleep around 2 p.m., he walked into the bathroom and found some of his old emergency sleeping pills. Once in a while the driver would suffer bouts of insomnia, and a doctor had given him what he liked to call "just in case" pills.

Reading the label out loud, he said, "Take one with food for relief from mild insomnia."

Opening the small white bottle, he reached in and grabbed two pills with his index finger. Throwing them into his mouth, he poured himself a glass of water from the bathroom sink and swallowed the pills.

Within 15 minutes he could feel them working.

"Oh sweet relief," he muttered.

His eyes closed, and they did not open until a loud knock at his door jolted him awake.

Looking over at his bedside clock and saw it was 9 p.m.

He felt a little better than he did earlier as he got up and stretched. His knees popped loudly, and the driver groaned.

Popping his back, he yawned.

"I love those things," the driver said, sighing in relief.

Opening his bedroom door, his feet met the wooden floor of his hallway, and the driver's toes immediately felt its cold surface.

"Did I take my socks off in my sleep?"

Shaking his head, he went to the front door.

I'm going to go out on a limb and guess Karmen hasn't swung by to make up, the driver thought to himself.

Opening the door, he saw he was right. It wasn't Karmen.

"Hey boss," the driver muttered, seeing Chris standing before him in a red shirt and jeans. The red shirt had a pirate on it.

"Wow, that's not work attire," the driver said.

"I had to go home to grab something, and I figured I'd change clothes before coming over," he said, walking past the driver into his house.

Solstice came over, and Chris kneeled down to pet her.

"Hey girl. You taking care of my boy for me?"

She barked in response.

Standing up, Chris revealed a brown paper bag in his right hand.

"You look like Hell," Chris said.

The driver looked down at his wrinkled clothes from the day before. He had on a simple blue long sleeve shirt and jeans. Running his hand over his chin, he realized he had a nice five o'clock shadow forming.

It'd also been about 36 hours since he'd showered.

"Sorry. I wasn't expecting company," the driver said.

"I knew you weren't doing well, so, I decided to come see how you were."

"Did I sound that rough on the phone?"

"You called Starla your taxi," Chris said.

"Oh."

"Yeah," Chris said, walking into the kitchen and fishing around for two glasses.

When he found them, he walked back into the living room and sat on one end of the couch, pulling out a bottle of Highland Park 18-year-old Scotch whisky.

Walking over behind Chris, the driver asked, "What's the occasion?"

Opening the bottle, Chris said, "You tell me."

He poured himself a glass and then one for the driver.

"I think yours has more in it," the driver muttered.

"The game works like this. You tell me what's eating you alive, and you get more alcohol," Chris said, taking a sip of his glass.

"And what do you do in this game?"

"I listen to you whine, and I get more alcohol," Chris said.

The driver didn't object, taking his glass and sitting down on the other side of the couch. There was one cushion between the two men. Both were leaned back with their feet on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Not knowing where to start, the driver said nothing.

"Karmen?"

Nodding, the driver sighed.

"That's really only part of it. The real meat of the sandwich comes from yesterday's events involving my family," the driver said, taking a sip of his drink.

"Family?"

"My mother, apparently," the driver said.

Chris choked for a moment when he heard the word 'mother.' Coughing and trying to get air back into his lungs, Chris asked, "Your mother?"

"Yes, my mother. She stopped by yesterday," the driver said, finishing his drink.

Chris sat up and poured him another drink.

"Go on," he said.

The driver explained that his mother was loaded with money and wanted him to give up his current life. In exchange, she'd groom him into the new president of Rider Corp., the largest electron transportation company in existence.

He told Chris about apparently being kidnapped by his grandfather and how he was dropped off at an orphanage so he'd have a shot at a life that wasn't spent obsessing over money. He concluded with the news that his mother was trying to force him into a marriage that would ultimately lead to his family's company merging with their number two competitor.

It took about 90 minutes and four drinks for the driver to get through his tale. When he'd finished, Chris whistled.

"Your mother sounds like a real bitch," he said.

"I couldn't agree more. Oh, and Karmen broke up with me after all that. I spent hours sticking up for her to Shirley and Octavia, and then she dumps me. The irony, right?"

The two finished their drinks at the same time, and Chris poured the driver another glass.

"You know, you could have gotten some ice from the freezer for these," the driver muttered, thoroughly feeling the effects of the alcohol on his system.

"You know, you could have pulled your testicles out of the closet and put them on to drink these," Chris said.

"Shut up, old man. At least I still have my balls. I doubt you ever got yours back from Nancy," the driver said, chuckling.

"I suppose you're right there. When you get married, they don't exactly stay in your sock drawer. They go into the wife's underwear drawer, and you never get them back."

"Marriage huh. . . that must be. . .something," the driver said, looking over at Solstice sleeping in her doggie bed.

"Listen, you'll find someone else. You dated Karmen for half a year. She didn't want any more, and that's her loss. At least she told you straight up and didn't run off with some other man," Chris said.

"Well, I do have that going for me. My former girlfriend is honest. That's. . . wow. . . that makes everything better," the driver muttered.

Chris scowled and then punched him in the nose, causing him to fall sideways off the couch.

"Ow! What the Hell, old man!"

Getting back up, the driver rubbed his now-red nose.

"Get over yourself. So Karmen dumped you. Guys get dumped every day. I must have been dumped by 20 women before I found Nancy," Chris said.

"Now I know you're full of crap. I doubt you could have ever gotten 20 women to date you, even out of pity," the driver said.

He picked up his spilled glass, which amazingly wasn't broken, and reached for another drink.

Solstice came over to examine what little drops of Scotch had populated across the wooden floor.

"Karmen didn't know about your mother's bad timing. You can't blame her for that," Chris said.

"Yeah. . . I guess you're right," the driver muttered.

The two sat in stillness for a moment, listening to Solstice lick the wooden floor.

"I guess now that you've explained your mother's plans, it lines up with the memo we managers got today from David Lester. You know him?"

"Yeah. . . we've met," the driver said, remembering his unpleasant conversation with the Starlight Taxi CEO to get Chris' job back.

"Well, he received a surprise offer from Rider Corp. to purchase Starlight Taxi early this morning. By afternoon, he'd sent out a note to managers that he was going to sell the company, apparently to your mother. When she gets her hands on Starlight Taxi, she'll undoubtedly gut the company," Chris said.

The driver exchanged a glance with Chris immediately, not believing his ears.

"She can't do that!"

"Actually, if she owns the company, like she will by close of business tomorrow, she can do what she damn well pleases," Chris said.

That bitch, the driver thought, scowling.

"There's no way the finance regulators of the One Galaxy Republic would let such a quick deal go through. Stuff like this takes time, doesn't it?"

Chris shook his head sadly.

"She's loaded. She probably paid off enough regulators to get the deal pushed through. That's one of the advantages of extreme wealth. Nobody can stop you," Chris said.

The driver stood up and clenched his fists.

"She won't get away with this," he said.

Chris sighed and patted him on the back.

"Look, I get it. This is a bum wrap. You've a right to be angry, but that's why we're boozing it up tonight. Short of giving into your mother's demands, I don't think there is anything you can do about this one. Now, you impressed me when you got my job back last time, but this is something you won't be able to pull off," Chris said.

"Bullshit," the driver said, wobbling into his bathroom.

"Where are you going?"

Fishing through his cabinet, he found a small blue bottle of pills. He opened it and swallowed a blue pill with a drink of water. Then, he slowly walked back into the living room.

"What did you do?"

"I always keep a box of sober pills for emergencies like this," the driver said.

God bless those little pills full of nanomachines that go through the blood and clean it out, the driver thought.

"Okay. . . so you're going to be sober in a few minutes after spending the past couple hours working hard at getting drunk. What are you up to?"

"I'm going to fix this," he said.

Chris stood up and said, "Listen to me. There isn't anything you can do about this one. These people are big, and the amount of wealth and power they possess is staggering. I get that you hate not being able to put pieces back together after something bad happens, but this isn't something you can just go out and change."

"I can't accept his, Chris. You may be content with just giving up because the challenge looks impossible, but that isn't who I am. You know I'm not just going to let this go," the driver said, locking eyes with his boss.

Chris growled and slapped his face.

"My God, you're never going to change. No matter how hard I've tried to raise you, you're always going to be this ridiculously stubborn guy, aren't you?"

The driver smiled as he felt his mind resharpening and the effects of the alcohol leaving his system at a highly accelerated rate.

"Sorry, Chris. Apparently it's in my blood. My grandfather was, according to Shirley, the most obstinate human in existence. The guy made mules look docile and submissive."

"Promise me you aren't going to do something stupid," Chris said, a genuine concern filling his voice.

"I'm not going to make a promise I can't keep," the driver said, turning to go.

Solstice walked with him, eager to go wherever he planned to go.

He opened the door and turned back, matching eyes with Chris.

"Hey. . . you know. . . you and Nancy are who I really consider my mother and father, right? This new bitch trying to come into my life to force my hand doesn't change that in the slightest."

"Those sober pills must not work all that great. That sounds like the booze talking," Chris said, laughing.

"Whatever, you geezer," the driver said, turning to leave.

"I know, kid. In spite of your inhuman stubborn streak, we're proud to have raised you as best we could," Chris said.

The driver didn't turn around but merely coughed and said, "Love ya too."

He left immediately after, running out to Starla with Solstice.

Getting inside and starting up the taxi, he took off. At 11:30 p.m. local time, there wasn't much traffic above the skies of Lefont as the driver hit the gas and hopped up through the atmosphere into space.

He headed for Phobos, hoping two actors in particular would be on the world famous for its living movie sets.

After about an hour, the driver arrived at Mars' moon and put Starla down just outside of the same hotel he'd once picked up Sammy and Don from. The two actors were famous for playing brothers that were detectives on a drama called Pieces. They'd played the same characters for 19 years, and the driver had convinced them to try some new things last time they were all in the cab together.

Walking into the hotel through two large sliding glass doors, the driver looked down at his reflection in the white marble floor.

"Damn this place reeks of elegance," the driver muttered, thinking of Shirley.

Walking up to the front counter, he spoke to a man wearing a blue suit and a red tie with a shaved head.

"Can I help you?"

The man's glance seemed to place an underlying tone that said, "Hurry up and do what you need to so you can leave, urchin."

This guy should marry Shirley and take over Rider Corp., the driver thought.

"Um, I'm a cab driver for Starlight Taxi. Could you please page two of your guests and have them come down to the lobby?

"What room are they in?"

"I honestly wasn't told. They're Sammy and Don," the driver said, forgetting their last names at the worst possible time.

The man typed a few keystrokes into his glass display and said nothing for a few seconds, reading through some sort of spreadsheet.

Damn it, I knew they wouldn't be here, the driver thought.

"Ah yes, the detectives are in 407. I'll call them down immediately," the man said, picking up a phone and calling up to them.

I knew they were here, the driver thought, smirking and forgetting about his previous speculation full of despair.

A few minutes later, they came down, surprised to see the driver. He led them over to a different part of the lobby and asked them if he could talk with them for a little bit.

Sammy nodded and said, "Sure. You want to grab a seat at the bar?"

Don groaned and said, "Oh come on! The Cubs are on!"

"Please. It's dire," the driver said.

He rolled his eyes, and the two of them led the driver over to the bar on the first floor.

They sat on red bar stools in a place that the driver had to admit wasn't as upscale as he imagined it to be. This is where movie stars came to drink while on Phobos, and it looked like a regular bar back on Earth.

He put his elbow on the glass bar in front of him and ordered beers for himself, Sammy and Don.

"We'll listen as long as you're paying for the booze," Don said, smiling and taking his pint.

Sammy, clearly the nicer of the two, asked, "What's up?"

The driver proceeded to explain his situation as quickly as he could. He told them about his mother, why she hated him, and how she was going to buy Starlight Taxi and have it shut down, costing hundreds of drivers their jobs, just to make a point to the driver.

When he finished, Don said, "Well, you have our agreement. She's definitely a bitch."

Sammy asked, "She'd really spend millions to buy this company just to gut it and make you suffer?"

"Yes. You've no idea of her depravity," the driver said, ordering another round of beers for Don and Sammy.

Don took another drink and belched. Then, he said, "Well that's an interesting tale. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the booze and story, but. . . what are you telling us this for?"

Sighing, the driver said, "This is going to sound crazy and direct, but I'm out of options. This was sprung on me fairly quick."

"Spit it out," Don said.

Sammy elbowed him.

"Please outbuy Rider Corp. and purchase Starlight Taxi before all of the drivers, including myself, lose their jobs," the driver said.

Sammy and Don exchanged glances.

Don asked, "You want us to. . . buy the cab company you drive for?"

"I know it sounds crazy, and I suck at financial pitches, but I heard the company turns a profit. David Lester, the CEO, is actually pretty wealthy," the driver said, lying about the profit rumor.

Sammy took a drink and looked at the driver saying, "When do you need an answer?"

"It's still about 11 p.m. in San Francisco where the corporate office is. I'd have an offer into David Lester by 8 a.m. tomorrow if I were going to sneakily buy it," the driver said.

Don finished another drink and smiled, saying, "I don't know the first thing about taxis."

"You could learn, I'm sure. It can't be that hard," the driver said.

"Even still. . . we're actors, not investors," Don said.

Before the driver could say anything more, Sammy put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Just let us think it over. I can't make any promises, because frankly, you're probably asking us to shell out a good chunk of our fortunes, and this is such a random request and small time frame."

"I understand. All I ask is that you talk it over amongst yourselves. You don't even have to tell me your decision. I'm sorry to spring this on you two, but I am desperate," the driver said.

"And we're the only rich people you've met," Don said.

"And that," the driver said, coughing lightly.

The driver got up and bumped his payment bracelet against the bartender's bracelet, clearing his tab for the drinks.

"Thanks for hearing me out," the driver said.

"Sure, anytime," Sammy said.

"Well. . . not anytime. I'd prefer you not ambush us with random business ventures in the future," Don said, but Sammy elbowed him in the gut again.

The driver smiled and then walked back outside to Starla.

Getting in, Solstice whined.

"You probably have to go, don't you? Hurry up and go in those bushes before anyone sees us," the driver said, opening her door.

Amazingly enough, she hopped right into the bushes and did her business. She got back into the car right as a large man with gardening tools started to run up.

"Hey!"

"Uh oh. Exit stage right," the driver said, laughing as he took off with Starla.

The gardener's shouts vanished as Starla headed into the blackness of space back toward Earth.

Well, I played my hand. I guess it's time to call and hope my mother's hand is worse than my own, the driver thought to himself as he hopped onto Intergalactic Road 34 and went back home.

The next day the driver went to work as usual, and though he tried to think of what would happen if today was his last day, he failed. Don and Sammy were all he could think about. He kept wondering incessantly if they would come through for him.

As the workday drew to a close, he found himself in San Francisco outside the Starlight Taxi headquarters.

Going inside, he managed to snag an elevator and head straight up for David Lester's office.

Getting out of the elevator and walking down the hall into David Lester's lobby, he saw a familiar secretary.

The man that was David's secretary was wearing a black button-down shirt and a gray skirt showing off her shaved legs.

This guy. . ., the driver thought.

She frowned when she saw the driver.

"Hello. . . Tanya," the driver said.

She did not return the greeting.

"I'll ask nicely this time. Will you please tell Mr. Lester I'm here to see him?"

She slowly buzzed her boss.

"Mr. Lester? That stupid cab driver is here again. What do you want me to tell him?"

"Send him in," David said.

She looked shocked at David's command but motioned for the driver to on ahead of her into the office.

The driver slowly walked into his office, and when he got inside, he saw David, wearing that same purple suit he apparently loved so much. His red hair was cut a little shorter than the driver remembered from last time.

Looking directly into David's brown eyes behind his black-framed glasses, the driver said, "Mr. Lester, I believe you know why I'm here."

He sighed and walked over to the driver.

"I guess you're here to see what happens with your mother," David said.

"Shirley told you about our relationship?"

"Yes. I have to admit, I was quite shocked to learn that the heir to Rider Corp., one of Starlight Taxi's biggest competitors, was working for me."

"I'm not the heir-"

"Spare me your family drama. I don't care," David said, raising a hand.

Tanya's voice came over a speaker and said, "Mr. Lester? Shirley Rider is here to see you."

"Send her in, please," David said.

The glass door opened, and in walked the driver's mother, wearing a blue sundress, pearl necklace, and matching pearl earrings.

"Clarence, I thought you might be here," she said, smiling.

He said nothing but watched as David walked over and kissed her hand.

"It's a pleasure to have you here in San Francisco," he said.

"The pleasure is mine. I respect you as a business colleague and rival. I'm glad we could work out a deal to bring our companies together," she said.

Well, that's it then, the driver thought, looking outside the window. A thick fog had bellowed into town, and the driver could hardly see the other office building across the street.

An awkward silence filled the room, and Shirley asked, "Are the papers ready to sign?"

David let out an almost inaudible sigh and said, "As much as it pains me to say, Ms. Rider. . . I sold company just minutes prior to your arrival."

The driver gasped and looked at David with wide eyes.

"Surely you jest," Shirley said, a worried tone filling her voice.

"I'm afraid not. You see, early this morning, two clients called me up and made me a better offer, so, I signed off on it a little bit ago," David said.

"Call it off! I'll double their offer," Shirley said, raising her voice.

"I can't do that. Any more money, and the offer would be taxed at a higher bracket by One Galaxy Republic tax enforcers. The two clients stayed just below that limit making the most profit possible," David said.

The driver smiled, and Shirley looked at him with eyes full of hatred and disgust.

"What did you do?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the driver said.

"Don't play coy with me you insufferable idiot!"

"I honestly have no idea what you're talking about Ms. . . was it. . . Rider?"

She growled, and the driver turned to leave.

"Nice chatting with you, Mr. Lester," he said.

"This isn't over, Clarence!"

He turned around one last time and locked eyes with her.

"Why don't you go take a long walk off a short pier," he said, before leaving through the glass door of David's office.

Walking out, he turned and looked at Tanya before saying, "I'm sorry I was rude to you before, Tanya. Please accept my apology. By the way, that skirt looks great on you."

He left a flustered secretary behind and walked into the elevator. Once the doors closed, he jumped and began to laugh with joy at having outmaneuvered his mother.

"I can't believe Sammy and Don came through for me," he said, laughing so hard his eyes began to water.

Exiting the office building, he walked over to Starla and hugged the taxi.

"Well girl, looks like we're going to be just fine."

A few people walking by murmured amongst themselves, but the driver didn't care. He'd just saved his job. . . and for the second time. . . Chris' job; not to mention, the jobs of thousands of other drivers.

In the end, he got to continue doing what he loved best. . . driving Starla through the galaxy, meeting new people, and all beside his faithful canine companion. Karmen was still on his mind, but he wasn't nearly as sad about the situation as he once was. That sorrow had been overshadowed by excitement at saving his job and pissing off Shirley.

The driver was convinced he'd find someone else if it was meant to be. He just hoped he wouldn't have to come close to death to meet his next girlfriend. Until then, he had Starla and Solstice. He really couldn't have asked for anything more.

Epilogue:

It'd been a few days since the driver had last seen his mother and saved Starlight Taxi. Things were pretty much back to normal. He was driving around the galaxy from planet to planet, picking people up and dropping them off.

It was Friday, and the driver had just dropped off a customer on the moon in Senora City.

The customer, a strange woman traveling with two parrots, had just paid him and left when another customer got into the back seat.

"I'm almost done for the day, so, if you're wanting a ride to the edge of the galaxy, I'm afraid you'll have to call another cab," the driver said without looking back.

A familiar voice said, "I'm actually heading to Earth. Is that close enough?"

The driver turned around to see Octavia sitting in his back seat with a cello case.

"I have to admit. . . I didn't expect to see you again," he said.

"You'll be pleased to know I'm taking your advice. I just left my parents a note explaining that I'm going to travel for a year to find myself," she said.

"And the family money you are so used to?"

"I suppose I need to get a job to earn my own money," she said.

He smirked and asked, "Where to on Earth?"

"Any place you think is hiring," she said.

Thinking for a moment, the driver said, "I think our communications lady at the Starlight Taxi hub in Lefont is about to retire. I happen to know the boss fairly well and could probably put in a good word for you."

"I'd like that," she said.

"Lefont it is, then," he said, putting Starla up into the air.

Octavia was silent for a few minutes while petting Solstice, who was laying in the front seat, but she eventually asked, "So your name really isn't Clarence, is it?"

"God no."

Octavia pulled out a bag of small crackers from a pocket and opened it, asking, "What is it, then?"

"My name is Arthur Thompson, but if you're nice, I might just let you call me Art."

About the Author:

C. M. Lanning works as a journalist in Fayetteville, Arkansas. In his spare time, he writes entertaining science fiction stories like you've just finished reading.

He also enjoys writing in the paranormal genre and was inspired by such writers as Steven Gould (Jumper) and Garth Ennis (Hellblazer). He can be found on Twitter (@critical_kurt) and Facebook (C. M. Lanning).
