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//This storyboard is open to anyone that docks their ship at Casablanca Base, O47. Go on - I dare you.

Rick stood at the door of his upbeat, rundown establishment and took a tired cigarette.

Tonight would be another good night: That girl was lined up, With her voice and her attitude and her legs - She'd knock 'em all out again.
Another late night of dancing and gambling and brawling and drinking. Only the whiskey and cigarettes would see him through it.

Not all bad.

Business had been picking up lately, as the soldiers streamed into town from places none would say where.


He mused discontentedly. Only the uniforms gave the story away; There's a war on, and we're all in it. Right up to the end.

You only had to look out the window to see the warships grouping for mutual support. Like buffaloes leg-deep in the river, waiting for some crocodiles.


We're drawing too much attention to our little backwater. Somethings gotta give - but not tonight...

One last drag on his cigarette and he stepped back into the one place in Casablanca that most visitors would call home.

Not tonight.

The Cafe Americaine. It was all Pepe ever imagined it would be and more. Pretty people of rugged exterior dancing, smiling, bar figthing, talking about their lives, the good times and the bad, the hardships of living the Darwin's law and how they generally don't mind any of that at all.

You just have to love this place, he thought.

"I hate it." he scoffed at the nearest glass-eyed drunk.
"Brings back too many memories... And the smell of dirty Hessians hasn't quite washed up yet."
He wasn't quite sure whether the drunk nodded to his remark or stumbled in a superhuman attempt not to fall from the barstool.
"Oh yes. The Hessians. They ran this place just months ago. I have to congradulate the new owner on redecorating this place though. He did a fine enough job I suppose. And having friends on high places and an unlimited supply of alcohol never did anyone any harm, did it."
"Gurrrrh", suggested the drunk.
"I agree with you completely, amigo. Bartender, how about a shot of Tequila for the thirsty, eh?" shuoted Pepe.

#23002.2202 Surveillance cam 32-b, Casablanca base. Ricks Cafe Americaine.





So the Buffalo have teeth'€¦








Yesterday the Corsair fly-boys blackened the eye of some unwanted jack-booted party crashers, and the celebration came to Rick's place and stayed all night.
Casablanca had lit up like she'd been nuked from low orbit, and the liquor ran like a river.

He'd opened the bar up of course. The whole place could do with the good news, and he was never one to hold out on a good thing.
Your moneys no good here sailor - now grab a bottle and dance.

This morning, as the final stragglers were picking themselves up from the floor, or being swept out with the ruins of the party, Rick was doing the only thing you can do with unwanted time '€“ murdering it with a stiff drink and a harsh cigarette.

In his quiet corner, with a secluded bird's eye view of the layout of the desolate bar and beyond, he let his hand wander negligently over the chess board, an old shabby thing that had immaculately and impossibly stayed intact after the riotous evening.
Positions were fixed in their frozen intensity, almost like a declaration of war. where he and his opponent had left it last night'€¦to be continued, he thought.

The mental exercise was too much. He was content simply to ponder the board blankly, his mind a reverie of last night'€¦ The fighting, the singing, the dancing... and that girl again...

'€œYou'll need to water your whiskey if you have another night like theees one Seenoor Reek!'€

Signor Lortarte had snuck up to Rick's sacrosanct little table, much as the Hessians had rolled up to Casa the night before, swaggering and nervous at the same time. Hovering like a rat on a rats mission.

Ricks skin crawled, but he'd always tolerated the fool. Loltarte was a dangerous fool at that; always up to something small time and just plain low '€“ the sort of rat that was best to have in front of you, rather than sneaking around behind your back, with his teeth at your neck.

'€œBars closed Shorty, The sign is on the floor there '€“ don't slip on it on your way out'€. Something's up and the insect doesn't immediately scurry away '€“ instead he takes the seat opposite. Strange.

Signor Lortarte: '€œYou know, Rick, I have many a friend in Casablanca, but somehow, just because you despise me, you are the only one I trust '€“'€œ

The man is nervous as hell, like something big and bad grabbed and shook him for a week or two.

'€œSounds like you're gonna tell me something I don't want to hear Signor.'€

'€œRick would I get you into trouble? We are friends! I only want to '€“ pass on something in the hope that I can come to you for help sometime, hehe'€.



Rick: "I stick my neck out for nobody."

Not quite true. More like he wouldn't for those that didn't deserve it. Loltarte for example.

"But Rick I have such information! Information of such value I don't know what to do with it myself. But you! You have all the contacts Rick!"

This was dangerous stuff. The cameras were rolling - Was the man mad?
Rick resisted the impulse to kick the bum to the curb. This situation needed careful handling.

'€œCareful there Signor, you're drooling on the pieces.'€

Loltarte leaned urgently forward, an excited motion that threatened to wipe the game. Madness glittered in his small eyes. Desperation and fear as well.
Fear in spades.

'€œReeeek!'€ A hysterical whisper'€¦
'€œThere is a Barge!!!'€






To be continued...

The door opened.

She quietly walked in,
paying no attention to the people around her.

Some of the men secretly pointed at her.
''Eh Manu, look at that chica , she's that loca Baila Morena",
one softly whispered to the man next to him.
The other man replied "Si , I've heard rumors that she is the daughter of el Presidente himself.."

But tonight she wasn't Baila Morena, pilot of the Brotherhood,
Tonight she was Eliza Buonocore, or so it seemed.
She left her normal Brotherhood uniform back in her Gladiator,
she almost looked classy if one would forget she was a violent killer.

In the dim lights of Cafe Americaine she moved to a small table in the corner and sat down.
Rick promptly made his way to her and asked ''What will it be guapa?''

''A double tequila blanca per favore''Eliza replied in her particular accent.
''And who sells Marijuana around here?''She added in a softer tone.
''I'm here on business amigo, I have to keep my temper''

*Barry started tightening up the straps on his boots. It was his first time meeting with a member of The Brotherhood in the flesh. After the rumours he has heard about this Baila Morena, he wasn't taking any chances. A 3 inch long combat knife tucked in nicely alonside his inner left calve, unnoticable from outward appearences.*
*A brief walk along the corridors from the docking wing led Barry straight to the bar. He paused just short of the bar doors. Barry looked down at the half burned out cigar he had wedged between the middle and index fingers of his right hand.*
*He smiled*
*Remembering the time when Katya had threatened to divorce him if he ever brought a cigar to the dinner table again. Barry put the cigar out and tucked it away inside his shirt pocket. He then opened the bar doors and stepped inside.*
*Barry took a moment to scout around. There she was, lots of leather, lots of attitude. It had to Baila. Her presence, and the way everyone around was trying a little too hard not to stare at her too much. She was attractive, more so then the comms terminal gave her credit for. Barry took a deep breath and marched himself straight to her table. Without a word he sat down opposite her, looked directly into her eyes and extended his right hand to offer a handshake.*

"Barry Charcoal at your service."

Eliza felt calm.
Her eyes became small and red.
She had the urge to giggle when she noticed some staring faces.
The stuff she scored was doing what it was supposed to do.

''Hola freelancer , sit down and drink''
Eliza said while staring at the hand reached out to her.
"I don't know where that hand has been so keep it to yourself gringo''
she said and gave away a smile.

"So lets get down to business.
The Council of Elders is paying well to make certain people disappear.
Why do you not work for them?
Is there something you are not telling me señor?
Do you have any benefit for approaching the Brotherhood like this?
Your eyes tell me you are hiding something.
I am all ears......''

*Barry withdrew his hand and placed it down on the table. Well done, now she thinks your a dumb-ass, he thought to himself.
Barry then noticed the full shot glass in front of him. It looked like some kind of spirits, perhapse some kind of local moonshine. Whatever it was, down the hatch it went as Barry inhaled the last of the shot. Yes, definetly spirits, he noted as the liquid quickly burned its way down his throat.*

*Barry's attention now focused on the beautiful Corsair woman sitting in front of him. Her words, crisp and sharp with intent, forced Barry to sit up striaght in his chair. This woman was deadly serious.*

Quote:"So lets get down to business.
The Council of Elders is paying well to make certain people disappear.
Why do you not work for them?
Is there something you are not telling me señor?
Do you have any benefit for approaching the Brotherhood like this?
Your eyes tell me you are hiding something.
I am all ears......''

*Barry paused for a moment and stared back down at the empty shot glass in his hand. He looked back at Eliza. *

"Perhapse I need to clarify my intentions then," Barry began rather sheepishly. But after noticing his tone quickly cleared his throat and continued.

"I wished to speak with you and saught you out because you were there, in Omicron Gamma, when I ignorantly stomped on your front garden. Its very simple, you spared my life. From where I come from that means I owe you. I owe the Brotherhood."

"Now then, If the Council of Corsair Elders is paying as well as you say they are, and is looking to hire freelancers, then I will speak to them. I understand that you don't trust me, and in you position I woulddn't trust me either. So how about this: Let me do a few jobs for the Council of Elders, and If you like what you see then maybe we can talk another time."

"You believe I'm hiding something?"

*Barry reaches his right hand down to the 3 inch blade hidden in the inside of his left boot, and draws the blade out and casually tosses it onto the table top. *
"There is the one thing I'm hiding from you. If you really consider me a serious threat and that I'm more troubble then its worth then I suggest you take that blade and end me with it. If you regret sparing my life then here is your chance to correct the mistake."

*Barry held his breath, knowing full well that there was a fifty-fifty chance that it could be his last. *

#23002.2232 Surveillance cam 32-b, Casablanca base. Ricks Cafe Americaine.



Rick: "Listen Shorty: I don't wanna hear it. I got enough bothers of my own without you coming in here and getting me tangled up in someone else's".

The short little man squints nervously, and then pulls out a scruffy little data token.

Pleading: "Rick - I really have no-one else to turn to. This isn't something I can have on my person".

"What makes you think I want it?"

"Rick I have to hope you'll dispose of it safely.. make sure the right person gets it.. I don't want any money. But THEY'LL SHOOT ME RICK - if they find it on me they'll execute me!"

Rick grimaced as the small metal item hovered over his Queen. He was loath to involve himself in this little mans little mess, but his curiosity was already getting the better of him.

"Lay it down there then - and get the hell out of here".

Loltarte rises and makes to leave, his relief visible.

"No - take the side entrance. And if I were you I'd lay low for a long time".

Loltarte grins nervously and, sodden handshake rejected, scurries to the back of the long room: the sideways crab-like shuffle of a man who feels every eye and gun in the place making a bead for his neck.
He exits swiftly, just as the last of the garbage is being cleared that way.

Good Riddance. Rick had a sneaking suspicion he wouldn't be seeing the Signor again anytime soon.

But the disk remained. An opalescent blue token, battered and grime encrusted, but containing who knew what information?

A barge. A barge was big.

With supplies trickling in like a bloodied nose, Casablanca was feeling the hurt. A single barge could resupply a hole like this for.. well, for a long time. If this was on the level... then Loltarte was right on at least one account; the right people needed to know.

He sighed. Why did it always fall on him to do the right thing?
He glanced casually upward. The cams were rolling, so none of this was going to be secret for much longer.

Rick surveyed the bar. There were already a few patrons in.. And he knew that leather clad silhouette. Would know her from a light year away.

The right people.




...to be continued.

' Wrote:*Barry held his breath, knowing full well that there was a fifty-fifty chance that it could be his last. *

''Hmn, I apreciate your honesty..." Eliza said while looking at the blade.
''Kill two Hessians and two Bretonians for the Council of Elders,
then contact Centurion Werss of the Brotherhood,
on a secured comms frequency." she continued.

"He will see what we can do with you guapo!"
She ordered another drink that she drank in one shot,
then stood up and walked for the exit.

''S-Señora Baila , I think you forgot to pay" Rick said with a shaking voice.
"Put it on his tab hermano!" She replied and walked out the door.