The Art of The Hook

	Kerosel sat slumped in the seat of the deserted terminal. This was it. She didn’t even have to check her watch, she knew if she didn’t find a ship and get out of here in the next hour, they were going to catch her and take her back. She smirked and considered herself lucky she even had that much time. The decoy she had set out to throw her family off her trail had worked, but this was it. She decided to take one more walk along the concourse and maybe hit the bar. Might as well have a drink in her when she was dragged back for her sentencing.

	He stood on the edge of the rooftop, looking at the street twenty stories below. The crowd was still there, and the first police cars had just shown up, sirens wailing and lights throwing jagged blue and red patterns across the crawling traffic. Someone had apparently called them, but it wasn’t going to make a difference. There was no way they would make it up to the roof in time. He looked to his side, pausing, focused on empty space. Then his features screwed up into a pained expression. “But... but I love you!” he said pleadingly.

	It was almost like swimming up to the surface of the waters near her home, a sensation she had always enjoyed. Only this time it was different. Vague memories floated through her brain, none of them good. Had she dreamed it? There was a soft, slow beeping from somewhere around her and when she realized it was her ship’s emergency beacon, she woke up fully with a start. It hadn’t been a dream at all. She had just crashed her space ship into an inhabited planet that nobody had made contact with yet.

	Kerosel groaned and rolled over. She had a pounding headache, but she struggled to figure out what she had done the night before to warrant it. It had been pretty ordinary, and she hadn’t even had that much to drink at the bar. She shook her head and as she woke up more, she realized it wasn’t her head that was pounding. It was someone beating on her front door. She growled and slid out of bed, not even bothering to stop and put on her clothes. If this was so damn important that they were practically breaking down her door, whomever it was could deal with a  naked, pissed-off dracoid.

	She woke to the tremors, and she knew this time it couldn’t be put off any longer. She dragged herself off the cot and struggled to her feet, already feeling clammy and cold. She staggered to the bars of her cell and waited, hoping the guard would pass by. They hadn’t been very helpful, but maybe this time it would be different. It had to be different. If they didn’t help her, they would not only cause their own deaths, but most likely the deaths of the other prisoners. She shivered, looking up and seeing the guard walking down the hallway. Reaching out her hand through the bars, she looked into his eyes. “Please... please, you need to get me my pills. They’re...”
	“Yeah, yeah, they’re in your backpack honey.” The guard smiled sweetly. “I know. We’ll get you your pills. Don’t worry.” He continued walking, whistling an upbeat tune.