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The Cantina at Tinkers Haven - Printable Version

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RE: The Cantina at Tinkers Haven - FynnMcScrap - 07-28-2015

A young nurse in the typical grey overall of the hospital staff had overheared what Alan was mumbling and grinned as she sat down next to the surprised Junker.

"So you are new here, huh ? Me and my freinds noticed you several times now.
I have a tip for you to get things going : Its Fynn , not Flynn. "

The girl laughed his expression, wagging a finger at him.

"Fynn would not complain and you are not the only one mistaking his name, but I once chatted with Olsen from the bar and he told me that Fynn said something along the lines of 'not being some age old Holovid Star or anything, just plain Fynn'."

The nurse continued to chat with Anlan for quite some time sharing tibits, rumours and jokes. And soon it was a whole group of them... some nurses, a few crewmen from the stations facilities, the odd junker or trader. All with high spirits and hopes, enjoying their time off at the Cantina. Fynn passed by , noticing Alan in the middle of the group, and smiled. Passing on towards Olsen he ordered his usual glass of gallic white wine and nodded at the old junker. Both grinned, knwoing exactly what the other was just thinking:

They had come a long way from the first storage depot at Hudson, or from the occasional meeting at Beaumont, always under threat from a Xeno attack. It was a good life as junker at the Haven.

And they would guard the gates, keeping it that way.


RE: The Cantina at Tinkers Haven - Alan MacGregor - 07-30-2015

Alan found his way to the Cantina once again after good day of work. He walked up to the bar and ordered his usual Whiskey from Olsen and sat at the end of the bar where he could see the ships passing by.

After taking a couple sips from his glass and appreciating the view, Alan said "Olsen, Today I saw two transports and their escorts ram themselves into a planet in the Colorado System... I managed to save most of the crew and brought them back here to the hospital. If you hear anything about them let me know, would you?"

He took another few sips and mingled with a group of crewmen for a while, trading stories with them until he could talk and drink no more, taking his mind off the craziness of the day.


RE: The Cantina at Tinkers Haven - FynnMcScrap - 07-30-2015

Olsen watched closely as Alan left, and nodded.

That one had the right spirit, and would find his path among Tinkers.
Wealth...

Olsen smiled, thinking about a discussion he had experienced with the joung Fynn some jears ago, ah he just got to know him.

They had just filled up some transports with scrap and where flying back towards Beaumont with some expecially valuable findings as an emergency call came through open channels : a civilian transport and an armoured shuttle carrying some pleasure tourists had collided, drifting towards the pelaqua nera with deactivated engines and a hullbreak about to occur. Fynn had convinced the crew of one of the transports and all three scrapping vehicles to desert the scrap, and they had managed to save the passengers and crews of the two ships before the core of the heavily damaged transport exploded.
Olsen had thought that Fynn was crazy at that time, deserting all the profit from a full ships load for libertonian dumbwhits and not even selling them as slaves or taking ransom money... but the bonus they got from the Father of one of the rich passengers and the salvage they later on got from scrapping the Pelican shuttle was a good days pay to. And as Fynn later on took him and the other scrappers to the carefully charted and marked location where they had lleft the load of scrap in time to get it back...

"All true wealth is biological, Olsen" Fynn had told him , in the middle of the heated and angry discussion : " People are wealth, life. Not dead scrap or floating debris. Its the junkers like us and the civilians out there that make a home, not the steel we cover us with. And if we start to care more about us than them, if we start to value our profit more than any single life, we are no better than a Hogosha slaver or a bankier selling his own people to the Maltese to pay for his next facelifting by Cryer doctors."

Cash comes and goes, like the air we breathe. Olsen had learned that well.
And was happy to see that the spirit still existed.