Daniel took the pad from Nelly and began to read its contents. Going through each section carefully to not let anything slip by.. "From what I can tell, this is similar to the concepts we have for Duisburg. Hmm...
He continues to rub his chin for several moments as he looked over the location sites that were planned, noticing several problems and benefits. From what I can see, und with personal experience, placing such a base out in the open would be suicide.for its inhabitants. There are very few places in which to place such a construct without going overboard for defense. Republican however has made plans for a base in three similar locations. First, was near Hamburg orbit, second is approximately relative to Bonn, the third however was to be near Mainz, but that sadly already has a base in its area.
Several minutes of silence pass by as he contimplates his next step. Republican is planning to construct our base near Bonn. I see no reason to combine our efforts, and save materials and overall cost into a join project of this magnitude. The Uruz prototypes can be finalized there if needed be.
-"If we do not learn at least one thing a day....Our minds turn to stupor"- Kyle Sparrgrove -2005
"Security shouldn't pose that much of a problem. Ich have contacted a rather merry bunch of mercenaries und they expressed interests in owning 1, or 2 levels, depending on the size of their 'quarters' on the station. These 'colours' are well-known und feared, capable of making sure safety for the station und its inhabitants is pretty much secured. In return they get another place to base off from und collect their income through death."
Still grinning.
"No contract has been signed up yet, but both parties are seemingly willing. Their demands were reasonable und Ich had just one small comment which Ich am fairly confident they'll adhere too. Ich am currently waiting for the contract to be sent to me. If you want we could head down to the pub itself und check for ourselves right now."
"Perhaps we could consider meeting halfway, und decide to start construction somewhere at the edge of Stuttgarts' space, near the connecting jumpgate to the Omega's. That way we can also benefit from raw income through ores mined by IMG miners. This however is something we would have to discuss with the IMG, after all they already own a base in Omega-3."
"My concern with Bonn or orbiting planet Hamburg is the lack of a raw commodity capable of grossing a viable income, these modular structures don't come cheap what Ich have heard of, so having a catch to make sure we don't dip in our company bank accounts all too much."
Erik walked into the bar. He was wearing his old grey Coalition Flight Suit, but the insignias and rank had been removed, all that was left was the last name on the Tag. He walked over to the bartender and ordered a Bottle of Vodka and two shotglasses. He was expecting company after all. He wandered over to an empty booth on the side of the bar and sat down, running his hand through his hair with a sigh. Her last transmission was clear.. What had he gotten himself into. Yea, he got himself a safe haven, but was this really what he needed? He shrugged dismissively and began to look through his Datapad.
Weikhard Clark's appearance wasn't as unusual as his name, at least in most bars. Actually one could say he could blend in with the motley lot present there at the time. A somewhat weathered, grey flight suit adorned with a conspicuously empty gun holster certainly contributed to that. As did his brown hair, hastily arranged in a rather unsuccessful attempt to look half appropriate for such an occasion. Not that he worried about that much. If only his Manta looked like that, now that would be more than great.
Plodding in, he took a seat in one of the less populated corners of the bar and ordered a beer, letting his surroundings melt away in a blurry canvas of unfocused sound and colour.
Reavers. The bar was owned by Reavers. Well, of course it was. Anything else would be a merciful end to a day that had already demonstrated quite clearly that it had absolutely no intention of treating her with any semblance of decency. Most Freeports enforced some sort of truce in public areas. Judging by all the empty holsters on display and, in one case, a scabbard, the Blood Money's patrons lived by a similar policy. It was some small recourse, she supposed. Then again, her luck today had been so abysmally bad that she was fairly certain it was only a ruse by whatever sadistic power ruled in Sirius to lull her into lowering her guard. Her fingers tapped a beat on the bar's counter as she recounted the day's losses. Three Mantas. Two pilots recovered, thankfully. Fifteen million credits worth of tech had vanished in a burst of capital-grade antimatter. Her ship was well beyond salvageable and, just to top things off, the rookie she'd been assigned to supervise had vanished down the Omega-52 jump hole.
No, the Bounty Hunter who called herself Harpy had not had a good first day.
She weaved through the tables, finding a seat opposite a familiar grey-suited figure. He was in a better state than she was, but not by much. Sweat still plastered her black hair to her face and neck, pressed into place by the escape pod's force cushions. "Well." She settled back in the seat, relishing the faint tingle of adrenaline lingering in her veins. "That could've gone better."
"It's not the fall that kills you. It's the Hunter waiting at the bottom."
"Yeah. It could have," he said somewhat absently. "It could have. But it didn't. Nothing ever goes perfectly, does it?" For a moment he stared at the table, both hands resting on the top of his lowered head. Then, he grinned, looked up and let his hand loudly clasp on the table's surface under the power of gravity. "I fought my Corsair as a bounty hunter today and lost. And you know what? As long as I'm in one piece I couldn't care less. Besdies, my ship can still fly." After another carefully measured draught of beer - most of the bar's denizens seemingly took great care not to get too intoxicated, probably due to the need for quick reflexes and such - asked: "So, heh, I may not be the most observant person...but...don't tell me you want everyone to call you Harpy. It's not even a name!" He uttered this in a half joking way, not certain what reaction to expect. After all, he had met his share of weird people in his life.
Johnson stumbled into the Blood Money with his right arm hanging limp at his side and his left falling around his abdomen. In the interest of looking somewhat presentable, he changed his bandages in the cockpit before docking, but the lack of space left his work with something to be desired.
The dim lights highlighted wisps of smoke coming from a few tables towardthe back of the bar, but their occupants were cloaked in shadow. Johnson could see their eyes, though. They paid him little attention.
Seems this place doesn't mind an injured customer or two – or at least it's not a strange sight.
He didn't know what to make of it, but Mereen left him little else to go on. The Edge Worlds were too dangerous for him, and only after a slight skirmish or two was he able to reach Freeport 1 in one piece.
He hobbled up to the bar, trying to maintain his weight as to take the stress off his core muscles. Considering their purpose, having them out of action for a time make his gait awkward to say the least.
Damned hole.
The wound was healing but superficially. It would take weeks for the deep tissue to fully repair itself.
The barkeep eyed him as he fumbled with a barstool.
"Double of rum, if you have it."
A short nod and a fill later, Johnson took the tumbler and slowly poured some its contents on the bandages. The alcohol stung, but he was out of cleansing agents Mereen had packed for him.
After wincing to his heart's content, Johnson pulled the gambling chip from an inner pocket in his tunic and placed it gently on the bar.
"I'm not sure what I'm doing here, who I'm looking for, or what this means." He tapped the chip with his index finger and brought his tumbler to his lips.
"A girl named Mereen. Know her?"
The keep gave Johnson nothing more than a glance over his back as he dried more tumblers several feet down the bar.
"Nope."
Johnson sighed and slid the chip down to the keep. He looked up from his tumblers a moment and then returned to his towel.
"What's your name, boy?"
"William."
You idiot. It's best if you died back in the Edge Worlds.
*Neville walks into the bar, finding himself in a room with all kinds and types sitting, standing and lying about. The smell of strong alchoholic beverages creeps into his nose. He hesitates for a moment, then assures himself nothing bad will happen to him. He makes his way to the bartender*
I'll have a double... Perhaps you could help me with something? I'm looking for the Coal..''
''Piss off you! Little whimp, look at you shiver!''
*Neville frowns on the rude welcome from the bartender. He grabs his drink and sits himself somewhere at the edge of the room. He overlooks the crowd as he rethinks his plans. Is this really worth leaving the company for..? He mumbles in himself..*
''The Coalition...''
Kids Check Under Their Beds For Monsters
Monsters Check Under Their Beds For Chuck Norris
Chuck Norris Checks Under His Bed For Clint Eastwood
Clint Eastwood Checks Under His Bed For John Marston
Leytenant Pavel Pavlovich Pavlov looked at the bar and people gathered inside. Few BMMers were cheering their coworker armwrestling with Daumann employee. Freelancer, Junker and Zoner freighter captains were busy answering questions of BPA officer sent from Cambridge with the purpouse to investigate latest Artifact smuggling routes.
Bretonian shuddered when he noticed worn uniform and Coalition badge of a new guest, but quickly cooled down, especially as Zoner bodyguard near the entrance sent him clear eye signal Zoners don't wish any troubles at the freeport. Blaster gun behind his belt was additional argument against attempts to realise funny ideas, such as arresting Coalition pilot. Zoners already barely agreed on BPA investigator onboard their station.
Pavlov approached the bartender.
- Tavarisch Zoner, who came in as the latest guest?
The bartender pointed his head at pilot dressed in a Gateway uniform sitting next to the table, with window behind his back directed at Sprague. Line of navicom buyos relaying coordinates and information beginning at freeport disappeared at horizon, towards the planet.
- Spasiba.
- Anything to drink?
- Cocktail glasses of cold vodka, only two. I fly later. Tell the mechanics in the hangar to check my Nyx's hull, refuel it and resupply ammo.
Coalitioner headed towards Gateway-dressed pilot contemplating difficult task of colonisation of Sprague.
- Tavarisch Neville? Leytenant Pavlov, Coalition secondary forces. I'm sorry for late, I had unexpected meeting, damnoye cannibal. May I?.. - Pavlov asked looking at the chair around the table.
Andrew walked in to the bar, smoke was circling the air from the cigarette he had just lit, inhaling the smoke from his cigarette and exhaling, smelling a hint of spilled alcohol coursing from the bars floor.
"Ah there's no place like home"
Andrew grins and proceeds to walk over to the bar's counter from the entrance.
Shortly after taking his fifth step towards the bar, a man stumbles behind him and fall's into a stool, Andrew shouts.
"Someone get that man another drink"
Andrew noticing yet another drunken person mumbling to himself as if he was speaking to someone, Andrew once again shouting.
"And he deserves another drink"
Andrew approaches the bar to find the bartender isn't there.
"Well, this isn't right now is it?"
Andrew asking as if he would get a reply, none was given.
"All this alcohol and no one to serve me such a luxury"
Andrew then notices a shadowy figure sat one seat away from him, a man succumbed with the heavy smell of alcohol, Andrew notices the empty whiskey glasses in front of him.
"Well that won't do will it"
Andrew notices yet another man sat two seats away from him holding half a glass of Double Rum, Andrew walks over to the man.
"Don't mind if I do"
Andrew says whilst grinning before swiping the drink out of the mans hand.
The man looks at Andrew whilst Andrew guzzles down his Double Rum, Andrew notices the man watching him, Andrew shouts.
"What? Have I got something on my face? Why are you looking at me?"
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