Even in a base deep in the Omega systems, where Corsairs fought their never-ending war with Hessians, where many lifes have been lost and where a whole system was a center of a battlefield, there was still a place to rest, have a drink and a friendly chat with whoever had docking rights on the station. A Bar just like any other anywhere in Sirius sector.
The base might have been made of stone, but that did not make it any less civil than any other place in Sirius, and yet not any less dangerous for those who shouldn't be there. The owners might have been called 'cannibals' by many, but they were nothing less civil than an average Libertonian citizen, and one thing they knew, was that respect is for those who earn it.
A mercenary in a customized flight-suit was leaning at the Bar with his helmet next to him and a mug of beer in his right hand, he wasn't anything like the regular visitors of that base, but he was one of the very few who had earned the trust of its owners. He was one of those who even though an 'outsider', was still respected by many and considered a 'friend' or a 'helping hand' to the least.
Many knew him by the name of 'Gullveig', although his true identity was unknown to all of them, because after all, their Elders have kept their words in keeping his past to their own and not spreading it around the empire and make it another subject of the never-ending bar gossips. He did not care who he used to be or where he had came from, neither did anyone else on that base, Corsair or not. What counted, was what he had done since he was called 'Gullveig', and -that- was respectful enough in eyes of the empire.
Yet, many knew him only by his name and had never met him, as he mainly operated around Bretonia and Taus, and rumors had it that he was more active in Kusari as of late, so he rarely entered Corsairs space, or even the neighboring systems. Antonio Ãlvarez, a member of Black Sails was one of those who only knew that man by his name and from what he had heard of him in the past, so he didn't really pay attention when the stranger first walked into bar, but right after he started chatting with the bartender, the accent alone was enough to give away who he was.
The word had it that this mercenary was owner of a Gaian Claymore, even though no one saw him flying it as he was always in his Nyx outfitted with Hogosha and Corsair weapons and flashing Gaian transponder - a combination that many considered even more strange than the person himself -, a Gaian Claymore that even the Sails couldn't get, because the Nature's Last Hope had refused to change their schedule to build one for them.
After noticing who he actually was, Ãlvarez kept listening closely to the conversation between the mercenary and the bartender, but it was nothing but casual chatter. Nothing to give out a clue of what type of person that mercenary was, but one thing Ãlvarez knew, was if the plan that he had suddenly came up with would work, he would earn a good reputation among his peers in the Sails.
Standing up, walking to the bar and tapping on the mercenary's shoulder - which made a strange sound because of the flight-suit -, Gullveig turned around lazily and after throwing a look at Ãlvarez drank the rest of his beer and said, "Ja? You vere looking fur something?" Ãlvarez replied with narrowed eyes, "You're a Rheinlander...", but before he could continue Gullveig made a face and said "Ja ja, Ich get zat around here -all- ze time! Don't vorry, a 'freundly' Rheinlander!" and as Gullveig chuckled, Ãlvarez continued with same expression, "And you're a merc?" a bit confused, Gullveig scratched his head and said, "Jarp, but again, a freundly one at zat too. So vhat's ze matter?" folding his arms, Ãlvarez smirked and said, "And you're Gollvag. Si gringo?" "Gullveig! Gull-Veig! How hard ist zat to say zat no one kan pronounce it right?" with a chuckle, Ãlvarez waved his hand at their table where two other members of Sails were having a drink and said, "Why don't you come have a drink with us then amigo? I've wanted to talk with you for some time!"
As the bartender filled another mug and passed it to Gullveig, him and the Sails walked back to the table and sat down. So, Ãlvarez leaned forward and started, "So, tell us amigo... How can -One- person, have so many unique ships? I've heard you have a Nyx, a Pytho, some light fighter from Rheinland and even a Claymore! How did you manage to get that to work?" leaning back and chuckling, Gullveig replied in a pleased voice, "Und let's not forget mein beloved Battle-Behemoth! But ov kourse, ich don't run zat Claymore on mein own. Some ov mein Gaian volks helped me fly ze thing around... Vell, ich don't fly it often anyvays." and ended his sentence with a shrug.
With a smirk, Ãlvarez leaned even more forward and asked, "So you're saying you have something as unique as a Merc Claymore and you don't fly it? Why's that?" with another shrug, Gullveig replied, "Vell, zat Claymore sure ist a nice ship, but not really, eh... 'mein type', you know. Ich prefer it in mein cozy Nyx cockpit zan having to run around ze kontrol room und shout at gunners und navigator und ozers to make sure it goes as ich vant!" "So what's up with that ship now?" Ãlvarez asked, trying to sound as indifferent as he can, and the mercenary's reply made him sure he had managed to fake his expression well enough, "Vell... It's sitting in Islay hangar, und one ov mein Gaian volks just looks after it und keeps it in shape in case ich decide to fly it again. But nah, zat's not like ich bin going to get back on zat ship anyvays!" and his chuckle at the end of his sentence made Ãlvarez sure that the mercenary haven't suspected anything.
Rest of their talk for the next half an hour just went on around casual talks about situation around Omegas and all the traders and smugglers taking the risk of border worlds for a higher profit, a subject that was not much uncommon in a base like Cadiz. But what Ãlvarez had in mind, was nothing common at all, even among Corsairs. One thing he knew was that mercenary had proven himself useful to him and his 'hermanos', so messing with him would've meant losing a 'gun', and even further, trying to mess with him to get their hands on a Claymore while neither the mercenary nor those Gaians in Bretonia approved of it, would've meant losing a 'gun' along with the 'gun rack'.
He was sure on one thing though, that all mercenaries - no matter of the side they took, the guns they used or how well they used them, and who they shot - have one thing in common: They all are greedy as hell. So, seeing his plan had gone just well enough to that point, he decided to pass the word to Rodrigo Alavera, another member of Black Sails, who might have like the plan he had in mind.
Lying down on his bed in his room, Ãlvarez was reviewing the talk from earlier today. He was sure what he had in mind would most definitely work if they approached the mercenary with right words and right offer. All he had to do was the pass the idea to Alavera, and that would've been all. He would earn the reputation he wanted among the Sails - or at least he hoped so!
So, standing up and walking toward the desk, he turned on his computer and decided to leave Alavera a message, cause he knew the Buccaneer didn't like random people barging into his room, so even if he did, he would've been kicked out before he could even tell him about his plan to get Black Sails a Claymore, although the Gaians were too lazy to build them one.
Connecting to Black Sails comm channel and entering his login code, he starts typing a private message to Alavera...
Quote:
:: Incoming Transmission, Comm ID: Antonio Ãlvarez
Hola Amigo... or Señor if you prefer that term,
I have some really good news for you! Remember that other week when you sent a message to those Gaians and asked them for one of their Gunships, but those stupid bretonians told us they wont give us one even though all they use is our guns and gear?
Well amigo, we don't need to beg a bunch of wannabe-terrorist hippies anymore, I think I've found an easier, faster and better solution to get you the ship you want. Know that Rheinlander merc who works for us? The one that calls himself 'Gullveig' I mean. Guess what? I saw him in Cadiz bar today!
And tell you one thing... As brilliant as my ideas always are, what I suddenly thought up as soon as I saw that merc is even better than the rest of my ideas so far. So, here's what I'm talking about - That merc, has permission for a freakin' Claymore that he doesn't even use! And those Gaians tell us we can't have one even though it would be more useful for us than the one taking dust owned by a crazy merc!
I talked to that Rheinlander, managed to pull a word or two out of his mouth, and he told me he doesn't like the ship cause he prefers his fighter more, so he's not even planning to use it anymore! See where I'm going to amigo, si?
You know how all these mercs are, they'll even sell their own moms if there's a profit in it, so... If Gaians tell us we can't have a Claymore only because they can't build a new one, what stops us from telling them to let us fly an already built one which is not even in use anymore?
Brilliant idea, I know! So why don't you talk to this merc yourself, see if he wants to sell us his Claymore, which would mean profit for both of us, si?
You can thank me later for letting you know about all this, but for now, good luck with this idea I passed you, hope you liked!
He took the final step from the stairhall and opened the door to the main bar room. Rodrigo never liked this place, too much of drankards, braggers, maniacs, all sorts of opportunists. Perhaps becouse it was way too similiar to the bars junkers has at their depots. Same farts, smells, dirt, obscenely talks, swears and vomit. And even worse, this place was filled by all kinds of hard arse pirates. Which means there is no loosers to spit on, put blame on or throw bottles at. Could it be thats one of the reason Black Sails has slaves in their ranks?
He wondered a bit looking for a stanger. Someone who doesn't blend in this hellhole that much like the others.. Yes. And that was true, fellows with fancy armors never had a chance to look like rest of the drunkards.
Bucaneer was getting closer to the misft step by step. Without a hurry and with gentle smile which was so natural to him. He always smiles to new people. 'Nagionations is sweet talking while keeping the mace behind the back ready'.. that's one of the principals he was fallowing. Behind that fraudulent smile Rodrigo was hiding dissatisfaction. Alavera never liked mercinaries. Most likely becouse they had too much in common. Profit over morality.
Then he was close enough, Rodrigo poked misfit's shoulder and leaned for a handshake: - Gullveig?
'Every good man needs a rest' they say, Gullveig wasn't an exception. Although whether or not he was a 'good' man only depended on which side of his gun the one judging was. It was his habit from old days, to take a few days 'off' each month and just rest, and specially in these past few months, which were really stressful to say the least, he really needed a few days of just drinking and chilling.
Cadiz bar wasn't a really fancy place, but it was always fun to sit and have a chat with those he supposedly worked for, to know who he's pulling the trigger for, and where the money that he got for each blown up ship came from. Not like that made a difference, but it was still interesting for him to know the answer. It was just like any other day, drinking and chatting with random Corsairs or smugglers who dropped by to make time pass more quickly, but one thing he had learned in past year was to ignore the looks.
He knew he didn't really fit in with the rest of people in the bar, or even in the base, but he had learned to ignore them, just talk to those who he wants to talk to, or those who wanted to talk to him, and simply ignore the rest, like they were not there, even if they were pointing at him and whispering hispanic at each other. He didn't even notice the man walking toward him, he was just busy with his beer and chatting with the bartender, so when he felt a push on his shoulder he came to realize a man is standing right in front of him.
'Gullveig?'
First thing that came to his mind, was that man was one of the very few who pronounced his name right in first encounter, which was rather surprising for him, not many would do that, or even care enough to actually know how to address other person right, specially in a place like that. So, raising an eyebrow, he threw another glance at the man.
- Oh forgive me for my lack of manners. I haven't introduced myself. Rodrigo Alavera, bucaneer of The Black Sails and member of the corsair council of elders. Si Si, I know, I don't look very old for the last job, but word Elder shoudln't necessery mean that I must be some old fart with a stick.
With the last words all his Bretonish like manners were blown off in a moment. But he never carried for manners much. Nor there was need for them. For him most important is to always act respectful. Even if he didn't respect that person. But form how it's done, never bugged Alavera's mind.
- Now it would be strange for a mercinary just to chill at one of these hellholes. I suppose you came here for more than just a mug full of brown liquid, which makes you stupid while drinking it. Alltought it might help you to blend with this place. Say 8 mugs and you would almost feel like home....
Alavera cracked a smile, but soon he realised that his joke was a fail right from the beggining. Soon after that pirate changed his tone and face mimics to more seriuos one.
- I'll be one who takes your ship. Claymore to be more specific. Now we all know that in this world you won't even get a punch for mare "Thanks". What's your price?
Rodrigo rised his eyebrow looking at the mercinary standing in front of him for second. But just in a blink of time he turned to bartender with that very same smile he had approuched Gullveig:
- Pour me a glass of tequila, hermano. And make sure that lemons are fresh this time!
Scratching his chin, and looking at the man who was talking to the bartender, he wondered why or how would someone want to buy a ship off him while he haven't even mentioned selling it, but then remembered the Sails pilot he talked to a day ago and realized what it was all about right away.
- "Let me guess... Ze same Sails vho ich talked to ze ozer day told you zat ich don't need mein Claymore anymore. Vell, interesting!"
But then suddenly realized something that he hadn't noticed. A member of Corsairs council have come to him personally to ask for a ship. Maybe he had to act more polite. So he cleared his throat and continued with a more serious tone.
- "Vell, mein herr... Ich certainly don't need zat ship, as it ist not 'mein type', although a very gut ship. So... as you said yourself, a deal ist a deal, ja?"
And weighting his words for a moment, he continued...
- "To be honest vith you, ich never been a big fan ov Gunships, or anything zat large! Ich just got ze ship as a 'trophy' fur vorking vith Gaians. But kame to realize ich had better asked fur zeir Angels instead! Anyvays... Let's say, ve trade a 'trophy', -fur- a 'trophy'!"
and adding the last few words with a fade smirk on his face that he tried to suppress, he watched the expression on man's face as he said the words.
- "Vhat vould you say if ich ask fur a... small kollection ov your 'Top-notch' fighter technology in return?"
- Gunship for hunting? Those things are simply too slow to do the that kind of job. But I'm sure you knew that.. Trophy you said. High tech fighter technology.
Bucaneer didn't like where the talks were going. Giving corsair ships is even more seriuos than handing out del cid guns. Titan is a sign of corsair national identity, it's something which can't be given to a foreign mercinary that easily. They are just not worth flying it. .. alltough these thoughs should never be spoken out loud.
- Help me, help you eh? I'm afraid Titan is not the ship we could offer to you. See a lot of those ships are costum made. Some are passed from generations to generations. And that is not just becouse of tradition. ...*cough*
Rodrigo realised he might have said too much.
- Is there anything else, put aside Titan you would be intrested?
Chuckling as he heard the word 'Titan', Gullveig leaned on the bar and said,
- "As perfekt as a Titan might be, ich vas not talking about a Titan to begin vith!"
Then staring at the slightly confused man in front of him, he continued,
- "Ze Gunship vas slow, but not a big problem vhen ich mainly used it on transports you see... But now zat ve're talking 'hunting' here, you obviously know... Zere are tvo things a hunter needs - High firepover, und a disruptor."
Then narrows his eyes, studying the expression on the man's face.
- "Ich vas talking about a ship zat only korzairs kan build, a... 'One ov a kind' type ov fighter."
Then pauses for a moment to pick his next words.
- "Still... limited vhen kompared to a Titan, but it allows ze pilot to use a Razor -und- a disruptor at ze same time, vhich is a rather huge advantage fur a hunter like me... Rings a bell?"
And follows his sentence with a casual chuckle, to make sure it does sound like a casual but yet polite joke.
- Oh.... That thing. Hah. I've totally forgatten. Si, as I imagine that thing might be more handy to a hunter than a pirate. Just let me think.
Rodrigo pointed his eyes to the celling for a moment.
- I think we have one at Leon base. It's not operational from the last fight due to damage it's left engine suffered, but I'll order my men to transport that thing to Cadiz. Here we have all the supplies and engeneers to make that bird fly again. Don't worry, it will be as good as new. Our engeneers knows what they are doing. And our ships are the most sturdy of them all. As long as you keep main processing parts from direct fire, you shouldn't worry about coming back for repairs often.
The young pirate smiled once again, while rising his glass of tequila he ordered then he just came to the bar.