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Full Version: "Deadbeat Cafe," Freeport 6 Bar and Grill
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Much of the time, Freeport 6 was a quiet place, being that stop over for the passing trader, the hungry hunter or the Outcasts looking for repair. Whatever the case, all weapons were checked at the door...NO EXCEPTIONS.
It wasn't uncommon for to see an Outcasts playing Poker against a Bounty Hunter. They may have hated each other in space but they certainly didn't mind taking credits from the other!

The base staff was an odd lot, finding the solace and quiet of Tau 29 an ideal place for their race to hide. The base commander, Matok, was an aging warrior but still commanded a fearsome presence at just over seven feet tall.

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Still, few dare discuss his age around him as he still could fight with the best of him. The difference was his wisdom. He knew when to and when not to fight with experience being his guide. An ugly past was that wisdom. Make no mistake, honor was greater than life itself!

He walked through his cafe frequently, so named for the quiet atmosphere that was presented. For those who had a need to fight, an adjacent training area was set aside......medical care was there own problem, not the bases!! Matok would get many respectful nods from all present. Those who didn't usually kept to themselves.

The bartender was a Zoner. He was quick with a tip, a bribe and served just about anything you could think of. If he didn't have it or know how, he wasn't afraid to make something new.

While Matok ran the base, his right hand man was a very rugged Zoner human who operated as security chief. Blaine Chara was a foot soldier by profession, a former mercenary who much preferred a straight hand-to-hand fight to flying a ship.
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He answered ONLY to Matok himself and often ran the station in his absence.

For the time, the two men sat discussing recent events over a drink at a table where no one would miss them.
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A while he didn't come in '6...

Last time was... Wait... When was it?

Gaby was walking thoughtfully on '6 corridors, followed by a somewhat relieved Saaz.

He seemed to the old man they weren't going to the bar, which was a good thing... Sort of...
But...
Saaz scratched his chin, looking suspiciously at Gaby...
If they weren't going to the bar... Where were they going?
That was oddly disturbing.

But Saaz was soon enough disabused.
As if he was following some invisible thread, Gaby soon entered in the bar.

What would happen next? Saaz sighed, following his captain. He was torn between embarrassment and admiration.
Would the captain be bold enough to try to grope again that waitress?
And why did he keep doing so after receiving each time a rather rude slap on his face?

Gaby sat on a table and ordered a bottle of gallic wine.
The waiter soon arrived with two glasses and the bottle of Bordeaux. Gaby nodded, satisfied, and started to fill the two glasses.
He then firmly handed one to Saaz who tried to decline the honor to drink with Gabriel Angelos.

but to no avail. Followed by Gaby's strict glance, he had to bottom up his glass.
The old Saaz looked quite dizzy soon enough. gloomily looking at his glass, he then witnessed his fine captain finishing another glass...
Blaine Chara walked into the cafe, still with much of his gear on. A very large side-arm, riot control shot gun, automatic weapon slung over his back a large knife on his belt. He was all business as the stern look on his face would attest as would the aggressive chewing action he made on a chaw of tobacco in his mouth. The most any patron would get out of him is just a quick glare as he walked by on a way to meet with his boss. Chara took a seat with the well dressed, aging warrior and the two spoke softly so that no one else could hear.

"The rumors are true," he said, "Gallic Royals have been spotted in the Taus." He then sighed, "patrol craft mostly but they have been spotted nonetheless."

"Hm.." groaned the old warrior, "I figured as much based on the chatter from passing IMG ships. I should give our bartender a raise."
"So, what to do now?" asked Chara.
"Right now, nothing," replied Matok, "see what else we can learn. Once we get some better evidence then we can alert a few of our friends."
"If that's all, Sir, I have a few things to tend to before I head back out," stated Chara.
"I have nothing further," replied Matok, "good work. Do not let me stop you." With that, Chara left while the aging warrior sat at his table, nursing a cup of blood wine.
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Chief Chara returned from his long surveillance flight of the Taus, venturing into Orkney as far as the jumphole to Languedoc before returning home. The heavily armed man sat down at a corner table with his boss and they spoke over a drink.

"So, Blaine, what can you tell me?" asked Matok
Blaine just shrugged, "Not a lot unfortunately. My only encounter was with some folks at Freeport 10 calling themselves something like the Maltese Revelution or Resistance or something. They weren't a problem for me."

"Quiet then," Matok replied.
"Yes," nodded Blaine, "but I did land at Reunion to get some tobacco. The Council blames the Junkers for a lot. Somehow, I'm not buying it."
"Nor should you, Blaine," retorted Matok, "they avoid folks much as we do. They just did not venture out as far to live as we did. That and you know as well as I do that people talk to much sometimes."
Blaine rolled his eyes, "Ain't that the truth."
Matok continued, "Blaine, make another trip out tomorrow. I will see about getting that scanner you ordered."

The two men then sat, just talking about current events and plotting what to do next.
Moira Waverly docked her Nyx, and walked briskly towards the bar. She had just returned from a scouting patrol in Languedoc, and had returned to the Freeport to find a sea of ships moored to the station.

"Oy, barkeep! Ye need t' find Matok or Chara, quick-like! Our Coalition friends have arrived!"

Ordering a gin and tonic for herself, she continued.

"Put all their drinks 'n victuals on the Veranda's tab until Matok can greet em proper. And if ye run out o' vodka, give Shasta a call. Doc's got a whole storeroom o' the stuff stashed away."

The barkeep nodded, wide-eyed, and rushed off to find the old Klingon warrior and his Master at Arms.
The aging but massive warrior appeared, all 7 feet plus of him, dressed in his command robes and carrying a batleth in his right hand.
"Mrs. Waverly," he smirked as he put a hand on her shoulder, "welcome aboard. We know full well of the Gallics." He then holds up the large, curved blade he is holding, "My men and I have been training."
He then put the blade against the bar before him and ordered a blood wine.

He turned to Moira, grinned and toasted her, "It is an honor to finally meet your aquaintance." He then downed his drink.
Matok entered Freeport 6 from the airlock after leaving his command ship. He was all smiles. Unfortunately for him, word of his nuptial had reached the base before he did. He would walk into the Deadbeat to a small gathering of his friends. One of them, a senior officer of his, questioned him.

"Is it true, Commander, that you married a......human," he asked with a hint of disgust.
"It is," Matok grinned. As he explained, he indicated with his finger where the mark was on her, "She now wears my mark from the shoulder, just over the top of her right breast to just before the sternum. That does not include the bruising from my grip."
"And she survived?" he asked, impressed.
"Mmhmm," replied Matok, "she even refused pain killers and proper medical afterward." He then drew his dag'tagh and held it for viewing. It still had her blood on it which he licked clean.
The senior officer smirked and gave a laugh, "Well, if she survived it then she must be a warrior."
Matok then removed his robes to reveal the bite marks and wounds inflicted by Fyre, all of which were still fresh and damp with his blood.

"She is a warrior!" one declared. "Maj'QA!" he yelled.
"So when do we get to see this warrior?" the senior officer asked.
"Soon. She is collecting her belongings to move here. I will wait here for her arrival," Matok explained. "For now, drinks are on me all day to all who enter!"

There was loud cheering from his own and the patrons visiting as the celebration began.
Fyre cursed loudly, knowing Matok was waiting for her, but she could not decide on what to wear... her destroyer, Chaogirl's.Pride was moored along side Freeport 6 for nearly ten minutes and she was still standing in her wardrobe debating. Finally... she settled on a nude sheen tunic. Her wounds now throbbing from Doc Holiday's healing touch. She would have to do something special for Doc and his wife, Midori, but for now... her warrior awaited her in the Deadbeat Cafe.

Fyre ordered the crew to stand down and enjoy themselves, as refit was coming and they deserved some liberty. Her first officer, bubbled with excitement, an emotional moment she allowed herself before her commander in private. " I'm so very happy for you, Ma'am!"

Fyre smiled at her and placed her left hand upon her shoulder, as her right was still quite sore.

"Thank you, Number 1, however... I need you to remain on the Pride with the Techs to ensure she's ready for Livida. You'll be taking her down there for refit, I'll be staying here. Understood?"

"Perfectly, Ma'am", came the reply.

"Number 1, in private... you may call me Fyre"

"Yes, Ma... Fyre", the words came out a bit awkward...

"As you were. I go.", with that Fyre departed, hopping a skiff to the Freeport.

Welcome to Freeport Six, Commander Fyre!... chimed the tin female voice of the Security Robot. Fyre ignored it and moved directly and deliberately into the main hallway toward the Cafe...

As she moved, she could feel her heart threatening to explode... she could feel her warrior's presence. She was still in her pain, but save the fresh wound... slightly exposed by the sheen tunic, one would not be able to tell at a casual glance, that there was anything amiss. Fyre took pride in her appearance... she never let them see her bleed... evidently, that was about to change. The Klingon way of life appealed to the warrior within her, but only Matok, whom she only referred to as "M", would ever subdue her, in and out of the bedchamber.

She vowed to keep his honor and to learn the ways of the Klingons, as their culture was now hers. Fyre fought to keep her pace... wanting to break into a full sprint, all the while knowing she would probably pass out again if she did. Her desire sometimes over takes her common sense where M was concerened. Upon arriving at the door, she placed her hand upon the bulkhead and took a moment. Breathing in and out. She was ready.

The doors opened to reveal the Deadbeat Cafe, and her patrons. Silence fell upon the room as she entered. All eyes were upon her. Fyre, walked with measured paces toward M, who was also silent... she moved to his side, slightly behind, in a respectful stance and addressed the patrons.

"What are you doing? I see a whole lot of gawking and very little drinking... Barkeep... BLOODWINE!", she bellowed...

Matok looked at his wife.

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Matok just grinned when his wife entered. He could see the still fresh "mark" left on her and she wore it well. He walked over to her and in front of everyone, grabbed her, leaned her back in his grasp while he kissed her and then stood her back up again. He then looked around the lounge at all the patrons just gazing.

"What? You have never seen a warrior human female?" he asked. He then pulled her dress down at the shoulder just enough to reveal the deep wound.
"She is as much a warrior as I am or any of you!" he bellowed as he put her dress back the way it was.

One of his own dissented. "I will not take orders from a human female!" he stated unless she defeats me with a bat'leth.
"You will listen to her!" retorted Matok. "If she chooses to fight you, that is her business but until then, you will listen."
The dissenter continued, "I think you have lost site of yourself, Commander. I challenge you for control of this base."

Matok removed his command robe and handing it to Fyre to hold as he took up his bat'leth. The two warriors then circled each other, taunting each other and snarling like animals. Matok was older and a tad slower than the dissenter but he still had a huge strength advantage. After many swings, blocks, misses and cuts, Matok's blade found it's mark, opening the abdominal cavity of the dissenter. After a minute or two of suffering, he fell back dead.

"Anyone else?" bellowed Matok, standing at the ready with some fresh blood from his own cuts upon him.

All the Klingons on station then looked to Fyre and gave a respectful nod. Matok approved and returned to his wife with his bloodied blade, allowing her to drape his robe back around him. He thanked her and then turned to a couple of his men, pointing at the dead Klingon on the floor.

"Blast that piece of ptagh out the airlock," he ordered and it was done. Still, everyone still sort of...gawked. Before Matok himself could say anything, Fyre ordered them to drink and celebrate.

The party was on.
Fyre was taken aback by the spectacle, but did not react, save to keep her eyes upon the two combatants. She knew M would not allow this upstart to sully their honor. She knew, also, that she would have to earn the respect of the others. This unfortunate, who now lay, dead and disgraced... was only saying what Fyre was sure the others were thinking. M ordered the corpse removed...but she knew that the blood spilled and the death would not be dispatched so easily.

She looked at her warrior and slipped her hand into his larger hand and whispered.

"Let's get gloriously drunk"

Matok, still in combat mode, allowed a moment to answer his wife.

"Agreed", was all he said.

Fyre lost herself in her husband... she was home.
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