Lance stood in the middle of the bustling street. Running a hand through his short brown hair, he looked up at the holo sign floating in the air scant inches in front of the building. Like all the rest of the shops and gambling halls scattered on the main level of the space station, this one was set into one of the many inner bulkheads that formed the walls of the place. The holographic golden chip spinning in mid-air made for a promising sign. Checking his chrono, he realized he’d spent the entire day wandering through the place in search of his father. He hadn’t seen the man, or heard tell of where he might be. About the only thing he had done, was take a few more men’s creds.
His chrono marked it at three in the morning local time. It was late, and he could feel the old familiar tug of sleep on his eyes. Stifling a yawn, he walked through the drab grey door leading into the place. He told himself it was going to be the last gambling hall he was going to visit before he found a hotel to rest in. One step inside though, and his exhaustion disappeared. Normally a place would be near empty that early in the morning. Not the Golden Chip though, for some reason the place was still packed fur to gill in all manner of species throughout the galaxy. With any luck, someone would know where his father was holed up.
Navigating his way through the throng of gamblers and painted ladies wasn’t much of an easy task, but not one he was going to avoid either. He wanted a beer, and the only way to get it was to get to the bar. Between the bright, flashing, multi-colored lights dancing in his eyes from the myriad of slot machines and the racket of a hundred alien voices all sounding like they were talking at once, his head was starting to ache. The cloud of smoke from a thousand different types of tobacco filled his nose and throat, making him feel like he’d just smoked a whole pack of his own cigarettes. It was the normal scene in any gambling hall. One he usually enjoyed, but this time, he was anxious to leave it behind in favor of a soft bed and warm woman.
After ten minutes spent shuffling his way through the crowd, he finally reached the gold inlaid bar with a gold framed mirror on the back wall situated perfectly halfway down the counter. Looking at the stools, he noticed even those held a hint of gold coloring. If anything, the place gave a good accounting to its name. Under his boots, the thick red and gold carpet flexed just enough to cushion to his sore feet. Elbowing his way through two men sitting on stools, he saw one fall over in a drunken slumber. With a shrug of his shoulders, Lance took the man’s stool, leaving the short grey skinned alien to stay where he fell. As tired as he was, he didn’t think he could have lifted the man up if he’d tried.