Dom Hryaka, The Boar House.
The Bar on the station was dark and shadowed, missing a wall so it opened out onto the main promenade concourse of what had once been the commercial deck of the station. Wires dangled from places, lights flickered, and the whole place had the feel of dereliction and abandonment.
However there was life there, a cluster of beanbag chairs had been tossed down, near to the window that offered a reassuring view of the Storm class Gunboat docked to the station, and of the pair of fighters on steady patrol through the wreckage.
They weren't alone, and they weren't lifeless.
A large screen, taken from a battleship wreck some years ago, had been hooked into the Liberty neural net system, and was often playing either football, or ice hockey. The two universal languages that tied everyone together'¦ well that and the green synthweed that was in abundant supply on the station. Mao, afterall, preferring to seed his secret growing operation there.
The level below the bar housed a fully equipped galley, still working. The remote generator that powered all the culinary equipment thrummed and purred, vibrating the deck above slightly, adding to the warm and cosy feeling of the make-sift home away from home.
That and the rather well stocked bar, that surprisingly seemed to hold a little of everything.
It wasn't the Klash on Gorodok, but as Mao was oft fond of saying, it was a piece of heaven far away from hell.
'I'll be needing a scotch, my good friend,' Commissar-Captain Robert Miller informed the bartender, who returned promptly with his beverage. He tipped his head slightly in gratitude. Spending the last few months with the Primusians such as Maktu and Bobby had been extremely educational. He'd learned how important movements were to them, in some cases even more important than words. He'd been adapting this idea for his own use, which explained the tipping of his head in a bowing motion to express his gratitude. It was a very old expression even used by humans, but for him it meant even more.
His leg had almost recovered, much to his relief, but he still chose to maintain the illusion of requiring his walking stick. The stick wasn't the one gifted to him by his father, instead a customised shotgun which he had shown to a Lieutenant of the Fighter Corps. Alissa Kalinin. Apart from her nobody knew that he always armed in a way few would expect.
With his drink in one hand and his walking stick in the other he managed to lower himself into one of the beanbags and begin star-gazing with the rest of the crowd. People called Dom Hyraka a home away from home. It was to him in more ways to one. It's location being the New London system made him think more and more of home back on Cambridge. His father. Old friends. Bad choices.
He forced these thoughts out of his head and allowed his mind to wander.
Ian entered, setting his rifle case and equipment bag down next to door. He dragged a flask from his pocket and took a swig, grimacing.
He strolled to the bar and saluted the Commissar, heels clicking together before swinging apart, and then took a seat.
"Morn, Comrade. For Katz, eh?"
He order a drink from the bar, gin and vodka.
"You know, Commissar, ai have been thinking about these Nerve Staples, and how to remove or control them. Ai dunnae know much about science and whatnot, but ai do know a....group, whom hae unparallelled knowledge of the human brain, an' could probably tell us how these things work. However....they're a bit....different. Hell, they're a lot different. Ai met em out on the Edge, an' ai'm not sure 'ow the rest o the rebels would react tae em, so ai've been a bit hesitant in bringin' em up....."
Miller was immediately paying attention. The rebel leaders were desperately seeking a way to disable the Nerve Staples that had enslaved most of the Coalition. He very rarely did this, but he was suddenly thinking about forwarding his own career through exploiting others. If he could disguise this man's idea as his own and it actually worked, then he would be credited as a hero. If it didn't, then it would join the pile with the rest and there was no harm done.
He needed more information first though. Was it even worth considering? He begun down this road of inquiry as any thorough Commissar would do.
'There is no harm in telling me your idea, Comrade Holmes. So please, I find myself curious. I am generally kept out of the loop regarding the Nerve Staples. Tell me more about this group you encountered on the Edge.'
Holmes spoke slowly, carefully choosing his words.
"After I left the Navy, ai went back tae the Omicrons, tae catch up with old friends an' such. Firs' on the list was my old handler, the man i used tae work fer back when i was an assassin, Ricardo Della Francesca. Weel, it was him an' his son who introduced me to her. The spore queen. Amanda Willows."
He drained his glass, ordering another.
"I'm reluctant tae put it forth beacuse they aren't human, at least not fully. Ricardo tried to explain tae me how it came about, but it was all a bit over my head. Something about splicing and captured Nomad technology and accelerating genetic development and triple-helixes. But anyways, they took me to see this spore queen in her Cruicible, on Primus Prime."
He drained another glass, ordering three shots of whiskey.
"It was ridiculous. I still can't help but to feel it was a hallucination. I mean, the surface of Primus Prime is a barren wasteland, ravaged by radiation, and yet here there was this entire forest of trees and plants and animals, all living with no apparent ill effects. Then i met her. A bloody tree, speakin' intae my mind. Anyways, i thought they might be able to help, beacuse their influence cast the blue shadow off of Ricardo's mind, the shadow tha' came after he was attacked by one of those Nomads and was mind-raped."
Ian shrugged.
"But the whole not human thing usually gets a immediate burn it with fire response, specially frem the Order, an' im not exactly sure the Coalition would be comfortable wit' plant things digging in their soldiers minds."
A very tired Ling walked into the makeshift bar and slumped down with Lt Xu, his XO on the Xi'an. He looked out the window to see the two gunboats side by side. He smiled with pride, even though the war had taken it's toil on the Xi'an. He could sit it next to the Social Credit and not be over-awed by the oldest ship in the fleet.
"Gentlemen, I assume the vodka is as cold as the space we currently occupy? Seems like someone needs to fix the heating."
Ling sat down, and took a swig of Vodka. The mission to repair the Storage tanks was nearly complete.
Ian jumped off the seat and saluted vigerously.
He didn't really know if that was how they did it in the Coalition, things had been a mite less than standard since the civil war broke out, but he wasn't going to risk it.
He sat back down again.
"Aye, sah, seems we mioght actually get tae see vodka freeze iffen the heat doesn't come on."
Ling tapped his head in a very relaxed and tired salute.
"The war has changed several dynamics Holmes. Even our wee trip on the Resurgency seems so long ago...."
Ling started laughing.
"Well of course it was, 800years! HAH! When this is all over, you can salute properly. Lt Xu - go see what's wrong with the heating."
The young Lt headed out the room, humming and harring about how he had no idea where the heating system was.. let alone trying to fix it..
Damn, Miller thought. The Lieutenant was right of course, in that the Coalition would never allow an alien entity into the minds of the people under the control of the Nerve Staple. They would never trust it. But Miller was curious about Primus Prime, and the tree-queen Amanda Willows. He chuckled in his mind. Very humorous.
They sounded similar to what the Primusians had been talking about. The Spore. It controlled all of the plants on their planet and had been vital in sparking life to evolve and form in more complex shapes with more variety. But Holmes was referring to the planet as Primus Prime, which he hadn't heard any of the Primusians say. Was this a different planet?
'Where is this planet? In what system?' If Holmes said Omicron Kappa, then it was indeed the Primus in which the Primusians came from. If he didn't, then it was a new planet yet to be discovered. Or at least one he hadn't heard of.
He watched Holmes jump up to salute Chun as he too sat down in one of the beanbags to have a view. Miller didn't stand for three reasons. One, it would have taken too much effort. Two, he was the same rank as Chun and didn't need to. Three, he didn't feel it was necessary to make such an effort.
He waited for him to finish addressing his XO before starting to talk. 'I still have dreams about that mission,' Miller said. He didn't want to use the word nightmares, although it would have been much more accurate. Seeing Enrico Alvarez enter one of the sleeper pods, along with those others left behind. 'It felt so unreal that it really did feel like a dream at the time. So I'm having a dream about a dream.' He chuckled.
'So how goes the fight out there? I'd join you, but doctor's orders.' He lifts his injured leg slightly. 'I have to wait until it's fully healed or I could risk doing further damage.'
"Kappa. The planet with the monkey-people."
He stirred his drink.