Montoya traveled up to the Entrance of the bar, and peered inside silently. To his surprise, it was empty, apart from Pedro Alonso, the bartender. As Montoya decided to enter, a comically placed roll of tumbleweed... tumbled across the bar floor.
As Pedro turned his head to face the Elder, he noticed that the man beholding him was a few feet short of his maximum height. Under him, two wheels and a seat. A wheelchair.
As Pedro was about to start conversing, Juan interupted:
"Yep, Im fine. No, Im not going to try to commit suicide again. Yep, I'd like some Beer please. No, I don't need help. Yes, Ill be out of this chair in no time. Nope, I am not going to do something stupid, and yes, I am here to stay. Any more questions Pedro?"
'Err... yeah... what do you want with that beer?'
"*sigh*. Your wit hasn't changed Pedro. Not a bit."
Juan turned away on his wheelchair and moved slowly, over to the closest table. Lifting one of the chairs and placing it out of the way, he waited a little for Pedro to bring his drink over.
'Special treatment ONLY for today, Elder.'
"Yeah, I get it hermano.... and thanks."
After a while, so deep in thought, Juan didn't notice the figure at the door.
"BAIJIU"..... he growled at the bartender, slamming himself down in a table in one of the Darker Corners... The barman brought over a small glass of the Kusari spirit. Know for its hospitalising effects on people and its ability to clean almost anything it was exactly what he needed.
For Ben Laowai.. it had been a mixed week. His encounters in Sigma 13 had been a mixed blessing, bagged one easy trader at a trade lane, that part was fine enough, but a near miss, some seriously scratched metalwork on his Titan and a loss of some valuable Nomad weaponry had been the result of his second.
His return home was equally hairy, a near miss with a Bounty Hunter Battlecruiser in Sigma 17 had only been salvaged by the Hunter forgetting to pack his cruise disruptors, and his welcome home to Omicron Gamma had been a squadron of 6 Bounty Hunter fighters... two of whom, fled in flames, the rest lost thier ships, and most likely their lives after he had sold them off to the Local Corsair "Court" he mused....
"you look like it went well" the barman chuckled. "Hmmpph" Laowai growled.. "damn targeting computer in that thing is gonna get me killed" he grunted. But he knew it was more than that, fast approaching 60, he wasnt as fast as he used to be, and those Bounty Hunter pilots, just kept getting better.
He usually sat alone when in this kind of mood, then again, he usually sat alone at the best of times. His mixed heritage had always made him an outsider, even though he had lived on Crete, and flown under the Corsair banner for decades - and in all that time, he had never joined a house.
He Tossed the empty glass around in his hand... "Bring me another" he shouted.
Looking at the chart he had brought with him he marked the trade routes some of the traders seemed to be taking on his last few visits to sigma 13.... "all avoiding the trade lanes" he mused.
Downing his second drink, he stood to leave, folding his chart into his coat the barman called out "Hey, Laowai, there's always tomorrow my friend"
Raul trotted slowly into the bar, visibly relaxed. He wanted a pint of the old Rheinland beer called "Rothaus Pils" he loved to drink back when there was access to raid Rheinland. But now, since Rheinland is temporarily off-limits for them, he just decided to get a fine Irish whiskey. "Pedro, get me an Irish whiskey, please." - "Oh, Elder Yanez, long time no see! Sure you will get that Bretonian stuff, we just got a new 'delivery'."
As he looked around the bar he noticed a man sitting on a wheelchair. It was none other than Elder Montoya. Raul decided to sit next to him. "Juan! Thank the gods you are awake again! Please tell me how you're feeling now!"
Juan raised his head from his thought as Raul sat next to him and asked his questions. He was almost shocked to see Raul so close to him without noticing, but he quickly composed himself and his answer.
"Well, apart from a never-ending headache and the consequent weakness in my legs, I feel fine. Doctor says I can't get in a cockpit for a few days, though. I'm sure I can reroute some controls to the command console, though it will take some time to get used to flying without the use of my legs."
Montoya's eyes focussed behind Raul's head, and back to the exit of the bar, where an older looking man was walking out of the bar. His features looked out of place among Cretan society, as there were noticeable differences from the norm. Still, he dressed as a Corsair and he appeared to react like one too. This made him think even harder about his current state.
"You know, Raul, I ... I don't think I'm cut out to be an Elder. I still have the fiery spirit of young Corsair blood coursing through my veins, and its at the worst times that I can't control it. What do you think, hermano?"
Raul sipped his drink while he thought about Juan's words. "Well, Juan... A Corsair never gets old. You are the best example I know of. I don't say it because of negative experiences, but you know that being young or even feeling so is good." He noticed Juan's sadness. "You are not the only one who makes mistakes, Juan. We live in hard times now, but we need to look up. We have to face our problems and solve them. There is no point in worrying. What we need to do is to act. Raul emptied the glass of Irish whiskey.
Miguel Sephardi was walking up the street, having just gotten out of the cockpit. As he walked past the bar, he noticed a few folks inside. This was unusual, as for the past few months, it had been empty. Since the failed invasion of Rheindland, it seemed his brothers have had very little desire to socilize. Miguel decided to go in, he could use a drink.
As he entered the bar, he noticed Elder Yanez sitting next to a man in a wheelchair, but as he looked closer, Sephardi noticed it was in fact, Elder Montoya. Sephardi had heard about his fall, but did not relize he was out of the medical ward yet.
Sephardi walked up to the bar, " Irish Whisky, neat. " Sephardi asked the barkeep. The bartender poured the drink and slid it to the Corsair. Sephardi emptied the glass in one gulp. "Another," he barked " And another Irish Whisky, and a beer." The bartender put the drinks together, and carefully balancing the drinks, he walked over to the table where the Elders were sitting.
As Sephardi approched both Elders looked up. Sephardi set the drinks on the table and sat down. "Elders, a drink on me." he said. " Gents, these are trying times." He said standing back up alittle and raising his voice a bit so everyone in the bar could hear. " Brothers, these are inded trying times, but it is in trying times that we count on each other the most. It is in these times that we find out who it is we are. Since Elder Manico's death, we have been a shell of our former selves. Mabye, just mabye, this is just what we need, it is time to come back together, it is time to leave our loss in Rheindland behind and remember that, we are warriors." As Sephardi spoke his voice became louder and louder. " We are bred from warriors, and we are the true Guardians of Crete, the Defenders of Omicron Gamma. We Are The Brotherhood!" With every word, Miguels face became more red. "Brothers, we must put away this idea that we cannot fight for ourselves. Why is it that the SCRA think they can dictate so much to us, it's because we make them think it. We are Corsiar, we are the most feroicus warriors in Siruis, people fear us, people envy us, and it's time we remembered that. It's time to get off our ass, stop feeling sorry for ourselves, and get back to buisness!!" Sephardi raised his glass high over his head, as did the assembled bar crowd. " VIVA LA CORSAIRS!!! VIVA LA HERMANOS!!! LONG LIVE THE BROTHERHOOD!!!" And with that Sephardi threw back the drink, emptied it in one gulp, and then flung the glass against the wall, shattering it in a million peices. Others begain to follow and soon there was a thin layer of ground glass all over the bar floor.
All over the bar, groups of Corsairs were drinkning and singing old songs from thier youth. Miguel Sephardi looked around the bar, and then back at the Elders, he sat down, "Now this is the bar I remember."
Julio was silently sitting in a corner, trying to read the ingredient details from the manuel in loud voice as Chef Carlos delivered his Tinto de Verano.
Ingredientes
medio litro de vino tinto
medio litro de gaseosa
Martini rojo
1 lim?n
hielo
Carlos smiled at him as he finished the reading with an enthusiastic look on his face. Julio was known to be an excited and emotional young lad by most of the brothers.
"'Ola Carlos. Just in time brother, thanks."
"Lucky for you Julio, we had some red wine of summer in reserve. Here is your drink brother.."
"Wish I were lucky with Teresa too.."
"Ah, young Teresa? She has a real beauty, senor it has been a while since I last saw her. Have you talked to her lately?"
Julio knew that old Carlos was an understanding man, but he was still doubtful about his own feelings..
"Same for me Carlos. Haven't talked to her for a long time. She could be stubborn sometimes but I just can't put up with seeing her sad whatever the consequences are. Hope I can see her in space soon.."
"Don't worry too much son. Try to relax, and everything will be okay."
As Carlos was departing from his conversation with Julio to continue serving thirsty brothers, Julio - his head laying on the bar - was contemplating deeply about things and his future..
Raul was visibly happy. He approached to Migue, and threw his arm around his shoulders: "Miguel, the gods blessed us with you! I want to thank you with a special gift, come to my chambers when you want to receive it." With these words Raul was about to leave the room, but he stopped at the door, looked around the amused crowd, and yelled: "VIVA LA CORSAIRS! LONG LIVE THE BROTHERHOOD!"
As he walked to his chambers, he thought over and over: *If we just had such a good relationship with our brethren, the Benitez Familia...*
Teresa silently approached Julio, who was snoring loudly with his head on the bar. She leaned over him, reached for his glass and had a small drink of its weird looking content. She must have accidentally poked him as he straightened up immediately and looked at her.
She was still holding his glass, amusingly looking back: "Quite a tasteful drink my friend, however I think I'll stay loyal to my caffeine."
He finally woke up and smiled: "One day you'll change your mind Teresa and realize that the amounts of coffee you consume are far more dangerous than a bit of alcohol..."
"Heh! Not another clever one!", she sat next to him and continued: "We can continue with that discussion later, chico, but tell me one thing: What happened to the Corsairs? They don't honor each other any more and instead of facing the enemy they fight each other in pointless grapples. I feel so sad about all this..."
Julio looked thoughtfully into her eyes and then he realized that even though the latest issues of the corsair nation concerned her to a degree, there was something else she wasn't telling and what she was really worried about...
If I die, I forgive you, father. If I live we shall see.....Teresa Chavez
Custo' dithered by the bar door, remembering ercent hostilities between the leadership of his familia and the Brotherhood. It sadened him that this was happening, he wondered if he would still be welcome in the old boozers lounge that he could previously often be found in. The Corsair blood stired in him and he walked in. The best way to find out was to try it.
Well, no-one had drawn fire arms, that was good. The chat around the bar had died down though, and there was now a very uncomfortable atmosphere. I suppose the two groups were having disagreements- not collapsing into civil war... He wandered over to the bar and sat down on one of the stools, a distance from everyone else. He ordered a beer and prepared to finish it quickly and return back to the pilots dorms.