I’ll start:
Bruce Danner, roistering spaceway pilot to the stars, piloted his CZX-750 to the spacedock on Altair Six. Sitting in the co-pilots’ chair was his loyal cyborg ANDY and in the back was a load of highly valuable quantum dust for processing and export.
“Turning on final approach,” murmured ANDY. “Boss, do you think we’ll be able to pay off our space repairs when we turn over this load?”
Danner let out a curt laugh, masculine and warm, and stroked the golden hairs of his well-trimmed beard. “I don’t think we could pay off our space repairs with all the quantum dust in space!”
Meanwhile, in Zilkon’s lair, Zilkon himself sat astride his bejeweled but armless great chair, resplendent in his indigo robes. His majordomo stood by nervously with an electronic clipboard, nervously trying to get his attention.
“Ahem. Sir, if I could…”
“What is it this time, Atash?”
“I see that you’ve got an appointment today with that trader Danner. I thought you should know, I’ve been chatting with Wren. You remember her, right? She works for you-know-who.”
“Who’s ‘you-know-who?’”
Even more nervously than before, Atash gulps before whispering “Rodney”.
“RODNEY!” Zilkon screams. “You know I hate him! I hate even the sound of his name! Why do you dare bring him up?”
“Be-because of something Wren told me about Dinner that I think you’d want to know about.”