Dara strolled into the Bru na Boinne, needing to sink a few pints of the black stuff.
"Top o' the mornin' to ye, Taichleach! Oi'll be needin' a point uv yer best, laddie. Oi's had wun o' dem days!" Dara sighed deeply, and took a stool at the bar. "Dem gharach traders in London is becomin' a roight pain in me rear end, te be shure! Me an' Cossach were out, takin' our share o' dair hard wurk..." Dara paused as a full glass was placed in front of him. "Ahhhh, Taichleach! Ye're born o' the heavens, so ye are! Slainte, moi friend." He took a long swallow of the dark ale.
"So, where was oi? Oh yeah, we wuz takin' our share frum dem what we runs in te in Leeds an' New London, so we goes te Cambridge fer a wee bit. Oi took the gate fer a change, y'knows? So, we jumps in te Cambridge an dis bleedin' great corsair gunboat pops out o' the trade lane frum the planet! Ain't ne'er seen nuthin' loike it before! Oi scans 'im roight fast, an' 'is ID sez 'e's a Zoner, 'is IFF sez 'e's a Hogosha," Dara spat on the floor as he mentioned the Kusari organisation, "an' 'e's floyin' a bleedin' corsair gunboat! 'e were headin' roight fer me an Cossach, so oi blocked off 'is route to the gate, an' tol' 'im te pay up, an' den get lost. He wouldn' do neither, an' den 'e turned nasty, openin' foire on me!" Dara took another long draught of the drink in front of him, draining it. "Oi'll be havin' anuther wun o' dem, Taichleach!"
While the barman was preparing the drink, Dara continued. "So, oi's dere wid me trouser 'roun' me ankles, an' dis gharach Zoner is shootin' at me! Heh! He were a roight lousy shot, oi'll be tellin' ye! It's a tough boat, tha' corsair thing, but oi took it down wi' out even a scratch on me paintwork! Leibiste! Dey'll learn wun day, te be shure!" Another full pint was carefully placed in front of Dara.
"So, we took off fer New London again, fer oi wuz shure dem BAF would soon come lookin fer us. Dey allus does inna end. But dis toime, it were jus' sum more traders. Loaded wi' VIPs dey wuz. An dey landed roight in our laps, so dey did! So we makes our demands, an' all, an' dey troi te negotiate wi' us, an' den 'poof', dey flat vanishes! Roight frum unner our eyes, so dey did. Dey wuz dere one second, an' the next dey wuz gone, oi swears on me muthers loife, so oi does! Oi aint never seen the loike before! Oi'll be keepin' a lookout fer dem two fools, to be shure. Dey owes me an' Cossach roight big! An whut dey don't pay fer, oi'll be takin' outta deyre bleedin' hulls!" Dara shook his head sorrowfully. "Oi tells ye, Taichleach! Dey jus' disappeared! "
More pints went the same way as the first. Dara was soon espousing the effect of Leprechauns on the state of the Molly nation, and his lack of female company that night.
"Is cuma liom sa diabhal!!!" was the last thing he said, as he passed out on the bar.
You can accomplish more with a kind word and a shillelagh than you can with just a kind word
The haggard fellow who calls himself Cossach stumbles into the Bru and clumsily topples onto the nearest barstool. It is clear that he is already intoxicated, on god-knows-what moonshine he concocted.
"'Ey bartender!" he goes over the syllables carefully, hoping to hide his drunkenness. "Pour me a lil' bit of that rum over there. Not too much now, I don't wanna be sicker than a hospital when me senses come about."
The bartender serves him his drink. "Slainte mhath, Cossach," he says. "Your chum Dara was in 'ere earlier. He was in a real pissy fit, kept goin' on about some patrol with the two of ye. You just missed 'im."
"Aye I think I know what be upsettin' 'im," replies Cossach. "We was doin' our rounds, keepin' sketch on the trade lanes 'round New London when these two chancers smugglin' VIP's off that armpit of a planet comes runnin' into us. We says, pay up fellas, and the next thing is - poof! They're gone. Now I know I was flamin' pretty 'ard on the whiskey at the time but Dara was dere next to me the 'ole time. Say, pour me somethin' with some kick will ye?"
The bartender pours a shot of a clear fluid that begins steaming in the glass. "Slainte, lad."
"Now where was I?" Cossach continues after downing the drink with a visibly pained gulp. "I tell ye, everyday me sees more clowns out there who can't tell apart their navstick from their arse. Just t'day I park meself on top o' this one lane in New London, and 'ere comes this fella in a Camara freighter and a Trader ID who obviously don't 'ave his head on straight. I ask him real nice for a lil' contribution, and what does 'e do? Opens fire on me, that's what! In a flippin' Camara, for chrissake! Well I unload me missile pods on 'is ship, but 'e was craftier than I expect and he makes a getaway after I give his hull a batterin'. And all fer a lil' loose change...there's a lot more o' these nutty gobdaws flyin' around lately. I dunno if I can keep it civil with 'em much longer...."
With that Cossach stares off into space while ruminating the wisdom of his words. His eyelids and chin start to droop, and before the barman can say anything Cossach is passed out, sitting straight up on his stool, in a fitful drunken slumber.
Hourahan walked into the bar, and not really paying attention to what he was doing, bumped into the waitress who was bringing a tray of pints to a few lads at a table in the back..
Hourahan:Jaysus sorry gerl, oi weren't tinkin wat oi was doin! Waitress:Whas wrong wit ya ya blitherin' eejit? Whos gonta pay fer dem dhrinks? Hourahan:Bloody hell yer a tuff nut arent ye! deyres a few bob dat should take care of it
He sat down at the bar and motioned to the bar tender for a pint. He took a piece of paper out of his back pocket and stared at it. While he was docked at a Freeport having a few drinks in a pub in the omegas after a patrol some days earlier, he had been given a note on behalf of an anonymous party by the waiter. It contained information regarding his father's mission and what had happened to him. He could not be sure where it came from or whether the information was accurate or not, but there was only one way he could find out.
Bar Tender:Whats wrong wit you lad? Yer a million miles away! Din't ye hear me? Hourahan:*looks up after a few seconds*Wha? Bar Tender:Oi said oi haven't seen ye in 'ere fer ages fella, where ye been? Hourahan:Oh rite, well, oi've been down de omegas dese days ye know? Bar Tender:So wats dat piece o' paper yer clutchin' deyre? Hourahan:Eh, nuttin fella, nuttin' atall
He downed his pint, got up, and leaned over the bar...
Hourahan:Oi'm gonna let ya in on sutten fella, dis is de lasht toime yer gonna see me oi reckon Bar Tender:What ye goin on about lad? Yer not givin up de dhrink oi know ye too well! Hourahan:Jaysus sake fella no, oi'm not dat mad. Oi'm goin on a mission an' well, lets just say dat me auld man went on a mission in de same direction an e' were never heard from again Bar Tender:Dis is daftness! Oi can't believe de higher ups'd send ya on such a mission lad, so what ye on about?
He looked at the piece of paper again, and then looked back at the bar tender..
Hourahan:Tis nuttin ta do wit dem, de ony reason oi'm tellin' yurself is cause oi knows dat by de toime ya can tell anywan oi'll be long gone, an' well somewan has ta tell de lads dat oi'll probly not be back aye? Nutten worse dan somewan just disappearin' witout a thrace, oi knows dat meseff all to well
The bar tender began to move towards the communication system at the other end of the bar, no doubt to alert someone of the situation..
Bar Tender:So tell me lad, wat does dat piece of paper say? Hourahan:Tis nae yer concern fella, oi'll be seein ye now, an' tell de lads oi'm sorry but oi has ta do wat oi has ta do
The bar tender looked down at the console briefly to key in the communication frequency, but by the time he looked up again, Hourahan was gone.
