Nelson's

[AJBeast]

"Im not a big fan of appointments. Most people do not intend to keep them."- said Adam , pouring some more of his drink onto his glass.- " So , here is the deal. I know you Junkers. If you are able to cut corners and make a bigger buck , you will. You are also not thurstworthy."

He drank his drink again in one shot and again without moving an inch. The stench of alcohol in his breath was enough to upset even Pajo. Despite this he still stood there like it was nothing more than a glass of water.

"I am also a wanted man. For a price , I want to find a litle corner for myself in your station. A place where I wont be bothered or tracked. Preferably so people dont even know I am there. Last time I tried to do this back in Liberty I had my phones on a wire and my neural net acess point beeing monitored. I know of these things , you see. This time I am looking for a quality job so someone doesn't have to end up with his throat slit. I also have alot of disposable income. I bet you greedy people like that. I am sure that a man with vast resources and stature such as yourself are able to supply me with this... complete anonymity"

He began filling his glass again , waiting for McMillans response.

[Darkard]

McMillan let himself smile at the fact he had almost guessed right.

"So, its permanant an' secure lodgings yer' after. Yeah I can arange that. There are a few little clauses that we Junkers like t' enforce though.
First of all, you abide by ar' laws while y' 'ere or within the No-Fire-Zone around the station.
Secondly, You do not 'ave authority over anyone 'ere. Not even the cleaner, y' might live 'ere but y' still a guest so treat people wi' respect.
Thirdly, an' probably most importanty. If you ever bring the law a' trouble to ar' doorstep we will deny everything an' kick y' ass out. No exceptions." McMillan stopped to think for a second.

"Ill also need t' know what sort a' room y' want an' if y' need a hanger of some sort. Other than that, y' only need to make me a offer an' I'll tell ya' if I like it or not."

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[jammi]

John Crown wandered in with a small collection of other Buccaneers. Last time he'd been in at Nelson's he'd abducted a Corsair and weapons had been drawn. He was hoping for a slightly more peaceful time of things this time. Seeing as the Bay was now portable and... Elsewhere, Nelson's was the place to be on Trafalgar. Not that the Buccaneers were there as frequently any more.

He found himself a discreet table, with the other Buccaneers seating themselves around him. One lanky looking Prospect was perched on the edge of a stool, so John reached out to grab the chair by the leg and pull it over. The Prospect fell off with a squawk.

"Get up to the bar and get a round of drinks." A credit chit was handed over. "I want the change." The Prospect picked his way over to the bar counter. There was a man with a strange accent talking to McMillian, with the vacant looking bar hand standing nearby. It sounded like it might have been Bretonian once, but picked up a Libertonian twist.

The stranger turned to glare, with what John believed looked like dog's eyes. Huskies had eyes like that. The Prospect jittered at any rate. John also carefully noticed that the man had stopped talking as soon as the Prospect had approached. Cloak, dagger and subterfuge ready supplied. John wrote it off as an ego problem on the strangers behalf and turned back to the mob.

"You know, yesterday me and Mick were doing the rounds and two Congress ships tred to run us off Trafalgar! They're lucky we're fond of Junkers, because we colud've ripped the pair in two." One or two of the more gutless Buccaneers chuckled. "Worst part is, they didn't even know who we were!" The Prospect wobbled over with a tray of drinks then went back to get the second.

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[AJBeast]

Adam observed as the newcommers entered the bar as he kept pouring his drink. Newcommers may be a bit off. They showed the comfort of those who had already been there. He gave a small chuckle as the Prospect fell. As he aproached the bar Adam examined him thoroughly. He wouldnt last long in space. With him out of the way , he turned to McMillan again.

"I have no problem with your laws and regulations. If I have blood on my hands , it will have come from far away. And I will have covered my tracks well."

He put his glass to his lips but stopped.

"So , you want to talk specifics? All I need is a high-speed neural net terminal and a decent amount of space. I can take care of the rest. Although , you did say something about a hangar , yes ? One could come in handy, indeed. I am willing to spend 10 million credits. And I want them to be well spent."

Adam then finished his drink. The bottle was empty , aparently , so he signaled Nelson to hand him another one.

[Wolfs Ghost]

Thomas leaned forwards a bit and moved a hand of the table sliding it down carelessly to his side, and grabbing the butt of the pistol. Though letting go he moved his hand back up and leaned further on the table, whispering.

"King, I don't like the looks of this." He nodded towards the stranger. "Just so we're clear 'ere, I'll shoot out his knees if he comes over 'ere. eh?" Thomas smiled a bit as the prospect came back with the second tray. "Oi! Wheres the bloody rum!" He said shouting, and laughing at the same time as he grabbed the nearest bottle. Taking a sip he shuddered and called the Prospect over, who willingly came.

"Next time ye go and order somethin' make sure it's rum, specially for me." He said standing up, and raising the bottle over the Prospects head. "I don't like cheap bloody beer. Specially Libertorian ale, and ye do know I have a good taste in ale." He grinned and started to pour the bottle over the Prospects head, until it was empty. "Now then...go get Anderson a good bottle of rum eh? I can't sing without it!"

The Prospect nodded, and with a sigh turned walking off towards the bar once more.

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[Darkard]

"Very good then, I'll arange for y' t' 'ave private access t' Hanger 14. Do want y' want with it, except a' cource structural changes or usin' it as a Slave Pen. I think Dorm Room number 76 will suit you its..." McMillan was interupted by the sight of somone familiar.

He had not paid the gang of men much attention as they had entered but McMillans keen survival instict had noticed the sound of somone making threats. Threats were often spoken in a different tone to normal conversation and McMillan had plenty of practice noticing it on Junker stations where threats were tossed about like they were going out of fashion. The threat in question had drawn his attention, but it was who was with the threatener that has caused McMillan to clutch the bridge of his nose, close his eyes and draw breath through his clenched teeth.

"Buccaneers..." he hissed "Sorry Mr... Tarnet was it? But there is somthing I need to attend to." McMillan turned to the barman. "Nelson, get a guy down here to show Mr Tarnet to his new quarters and take his cash."

Nelson, who had rather suddenly become overworked, mumbled into the communicator on the wall before hurrying back to serve a down-trodden Buccaneer pilot again. McMillan on the other hand had risen from his seat and had stepped up to the table where the gang of Pirates had settled, or rather invaded. As they had allready soiled his surfaces with beer and thrown about his furniture in the short time they had been here. McMillan becconed over the two security on the door.

"Mr Crown... I 'ope y' mob 'aint gonna cause any trouble in my bar." McMillan looked back over his shoulder to the two security who had remained at the door and avoided eye contact with thier boss. With a little sigh McMillan turned back to the Buccaneers. "And a' see you 'ave already paid of my security. How nice."

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[AJBeast]

A man entered the bar , wearing typical Junker clothing.

"Mr Tarnet? Your ship has been moved to your personal hangar. Please follow me."

Adam took a credit chip out of his pocked and handed it out to Nelson.

"I'd like a litle something other than next to pure alcohol next time , barkeep. Keep the change."

He headed to the exit, but not without passing by McMillan first, who was still standing next to the Bucaneers table.

"Pleasure doing business with you."- he said , slipping a card into McMillans pocket.-"If you ever need an extra gun for hire, you know where to reach me. Gentlemen..."- he said , nodding his head as if saying farewell

He noticed the two security guards were ignoring McMillan. He approached one of them and showed he was holding a credit chip in his hands.

"Why dont you go and help your boss out, yes?"

The guard started grining at Adam, who then grinned back at him. Before the guard began to walk and even despite the fact that he was almost twice the size of him , Adam punched him in the jaw , instantly knocking him out cold.

"Next time do your damn job."- he said , glaring at the other guard and putting the chip back in his pocket.

...And walked out laughing loudly.

[jammi]

John and the rest of the Buccaneers had turned to peer at the stranger as he left, just in time to see him deck the security guard and walk out cackling. He smugly turned to McMillan, who looked a little flustered. "You're worried about us causing trouble? What about that guy?" He shook his head and took another sip from the bottle the Prospect had brought him.

"And I resent the fact that you think that we're going to cause a scene just by our being here. We need a place to drink on Trafalgar y'know..." He subtly shook his head at Thomas to tell him to do the buckle up on his holster. This wasn't the time or place for confrontation - there was booze at stake.

At the small signal the rest of the assembled Buccaneers settled down. "I assure you my 'mob' ain't gonna cause you any trouble, other than a shortage of rum."

John kicked the Prospect in the shin under the table. There was a satisfying thud and yelp. "Get up you. If McMillan wants the help you're on cleaning duty or helping with the bar until we're done here."

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[Darkard]

As the Buccaneer Prospect gazed up at McMillan from the floor he couldent help but feel sorry for him. At least for a short while, as it dawned on McMillan that despite having the seven shades knocked out of him the Prospect was still determined to stick it out, possibly in the hopes of giving the same treatment to another Prospect later on in his Pirate career.

"Stand up, Prospect"

The Prospect did as he was told and stood staring at McMillan with a watery eyed look.

"Get a cloth off Nelson over there an' clean this up" McMillan waved a finger over the large pool of beer on the floor "Then y'self, then your on the door. Drag the other guy out in-t' corridoor first tho'."

McMillan cast a sideways glance at the rest of the Pirate's

"I'll leave you lads to it then." And with that McMillan walked out the door, the guard finding the ceiling suddenly very interesting as McMillan passed him.

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[jammi]

Satisfied John kicked back on his chair to finish his bottle. There was the hum of conversation as horrifically exaggerated tales of daring and piratical savvy were swapped between initiated members. The Prospect just watched, sullen faced, from the puddle of beer he was mopping on the floor. Suddenly the... well... 'tranquility' was shattered by the sound of four communicators going off. The Prospect wasn't allowed one.

Slightly confused as to what could be important enough to warrant sending a message to every visible Buccaneer (sans-Prospect) simultaneously, all present (with communicators) scrabbled for their pockets.

Jaws dropped, eyes widened and cheeks were flushed with anger. The Immortal Hunter was in Leeds. The psychopath at the helm had been responsible for murdering a colony ship full of the poor of Leeds. Some Buccaneers had lost family.

John leapt to his feet, knocking his chair over. The other Buccaneers followed suit. "It's the Hunter!" He roared. This was a time to settle scores. The mob charged out, leaving the dejected looking Prospect to wipe up spilled beer.

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