Your Birdie is about halfway through the climb. You have entered the veil, a thick cloak of mud-red smog that lingers perpetually over Dendrick, and visibility has gone to zero. The Birdie pilot has given up on looking through the front windshield and has transitioned to using his nav-com exclusively.

You make trips to the Presidium maybe once or twice a year, usually hired to smuggle some goods, almost always medical supplies. This trip was no different. Marcy set up an exchange with Jarvis in a restaurant called Over the Rainbow somewhere in the food court. A small package, about the size of a lunch box, packed full of little bottles of insulin. “At eight hundred credits a bottle, the clinic just can’t afford it and I have three patients--they are just kids…” Marcy had pleaded. She had also instructed that Jarvis would have a Squirrel Suit for you. “I hope you like flying” she had joked. That at least explained how she expected you to get the supplies out of the city. You knew Marcy well; she had a good heart, but this job probably wouldn’t pay much. If Max were still alive he’d have called you an idiot for taking it, but sometimes you gotta do the right thing.

Your Birdie breaks the veil and sunlight floods the compartment. Wonderful, beautiful sunlight. You can’t remember the last time you saw the sun. As your eyes adjust, the most opulent location in the world comes into focus--The Presidium, The Floating Garden. The parkways are outlined with trees that bloom violet, blue and green, the sidewalks with vibrant neon flowers that grow from gardens of fresh fruit. They say if you are hungry you can pluck one right from the bush but you’d never tried. Magnificent, glistening glass skyscrapers reach up as if to touch the sky, and the sky, the beautiful crystal blue sky is even more breathtaking than you remember. The Presidium is the most decadent spot in all of Dendrick, possibly the world. It is a place of immense wealth, where the most powerful CEOs and corporate stooges play kings and queens, gods and goddesses.

You retrieve your credit stick from the driver as you step out of the Birdie and onto the marble flooring of the security checkpoint. A sharp wind blows across the platform and you take a moment to enjoy the sweet fragrance of fresh, clean air. As the Birdie departs you begin to make your way to security. You flash your fake badge with practiced ease and the woman behind the security kiosk waves you through. As you pass through the detector and step into the elevator you smile. Maybe this trip won’t be so bad after all. The elevator begins to rise...