Rick silently entered the bar. He sat in the corner, looking thoughtfully. He even forgot to order his drink so the Bartender came over, and smiled at him.
Rick looked up and said: "Hey, old chap, what are you smiling at?"
Bartender, replied: "Ah, thats just something Stuart told me..."
Rick: "Oh that, you can't trust everything he says. He always tends to exaggerate".
Bartender kept smiling: "Yes, of course, of course... What can I get you Rick?".
Rick: "A pint of beer, as usually. Thanks." And Rick just sat there, savouring his favourite beer inspecting every newcomer with his eyes...
"Well look what the cat dragged in! Morning Mr. P, so you're back from Cambridge at last. The usual I take it? The frier is nicely warmed up."
"Good news travels fast.... my extended stay on that ostensible paradise has indeed come to an end, although I can't say I'm sorry. Too many propeller-heads for my liking."
"Yes I'd understand you spent the past 4 weeks in another woman's bar.... I ought to put you out on your ear, bucko!"
"Oh now don't be like that.... No matter where I go in this vast cosmos, there is not a single establishment, from the Rheinland to the Taus, which can hold a candle to Sophie's place!"
"Mmmm... all right you can stay. But you'll notice the new table service -- and by that I mean knives, forks and napkins. I'm sure a man who's spent better part of a month in Bretonia does not need to be shown how to use them."
"Napkins? But that's why God gave us shirts!"
~Evil stare~
~Few minutes later, Pete is chowing down on a nice bacon butty, napkin tucked into the front of his shirt. He is presently checking his latest comms message from his illustrious CEO~
Stuart walks into the Bar, just in time to see Pete chokeing. He smiles to himself.
He scans the room, and sees Rick in a dark corner, tapping his glass expectantly. Stuart makes his way over to the table, and Rick looks up, cocking his head slightly and smirking.
*What took you so long Stu?*
"Oh nothing, I just thought I would be fashionably late"
*Sure sure...*
"Anyway, bartender! Could I have a beer for my mate and I please?"
~Sure, comming right up~
*Oh no...* Rick starts to frown
*Your not going to get me drunk again are you?*
"Well, you need somthing to take your mind off business dont you?"
Derek walks in to the ber on Newark to find it completely empty except for the usual drunk in the corner and the bartender at his counter.
"Eh! Bartender, where is everyone?!"
*Trading, Maybe...*
"You telling me they they rather trade then drink?!"
*Well money doesn't just grow off trees like your bank account does, Derek. People actually have to work and pay for their drinks.*
A smirk came over his face, and the bartender asks;
*So what news from the trade in Bretonia?*
"Ah, got a new group of Mollys running around Sirus all big shot like. Been laying off us for the past bit, not sure why. But it seems reputation has changed over night like everything else in this galaxy."
*Pirated again?*
"Hell no, buggers haven't been able to catch me."
*Full of yourself again?*
"Its what got me this far."
The conversation started to dim.
*Did you hear of the Coalition rampage in Cambridge?*
"Coalition rampage?"
The bartender pulls out a beer and hands in to Derek and turns on news report. With a familar face on the screen.
"Damn it, that girl can get a job anywhere."
This is Tracy Lacy reporting from the wreck of Planet Cambridge. What you see before me is the wreck of Sirus Federation as Coalition fighters raised havock infront of the Planet. And with...
"Oy, Turn it off... I don't need to see this, I'll be flying through it anyway."
*Yes, shouldn't you be out of the bar and trading again?*
Derek gives the bartender a dirty look and leaves to his Train.
~Aboard Newark station, in the [IND] private bar, a fat man enters, unshaven and the remains of his hair unkempt~
"Morning Sophie, my usual if you please."
"Well well, look what the cat dragged in! Again. You're starting to hone this disappearing act of yours into a fine art, Mr. P"
"Well it's not my bloody fault this time!"
"I see. Well the fryer needs to warm up, so in the meantime don't keep us in suspense."
"It's like this. I was making a particularly long run out to the rim when I get jumped by a bunch of Outcasts. Tried to tell 'em my rep with them was good, but the IFF just happened to be playing up. They didn't buy it. So I though it prudent to leg it out of there... unfortunately one of their cruise-thumpers got lucky. Suddenly I'm having to veer back to the jumphole while being mercilessly pummeled by the mongrels. Anyway something jarred me real good coz I blacked out. Next thing I remember I'm coming to in the... get this... sickbay on a Rogue base."
"Now Mr. P, I think you might be stretching it a bit..."
"Not a word of a lie! But the most bizarre part is, I had no idea who I was or where I came from. A bad case of amnesia, as true as I'm standing here now. Of course I only remembered any this much, much later. Those Rogue dogs must've known who I was, though... but instead of enlightening me by throwing me out the airlock, I guess they decided to buy me off the Outcasts and "enlist" my services for their own scabby ends. So there I was, flying some leaky tub filled with contraband from one end to the other. This went on for months... until a little drinky in their filthy dive of a bar turned a little heated. I gets hit over the head with a barstool, and... my memories come flooding back! One minute I'm a Rogue lackey, next minute I'm Pete again."
"Sounds like a right grim pickle."
"Well I had sense enough not to start blurting out, "Hey! Bugger off, I'm IND!" I stayed down after that king hit, and you can't begin to imagine how much of an effort that took. Then after things had cooled I picked myself up, went to my freighter, took off and kept right on going. And here I am."
"But what about your big ol' transport?"
~sniffs sadly~ "Gone. The thieving rats must have pawned it or scavenged it or something. I have nothing to my name but that rusty crate of a Taiidan freighter I "commandeered", and that's what I have to do business in, at least until I fill out the paperwork hopefully."
"Poor Mr. P! I'm surprised those Rogues let you off that easy."
"Well I can only guess I was too small for them to worry about. I could move from Kusari to Magellan completely unmolested, and that's a first! Or at least I could -- seems like my rep has caught up with me. But that's ok, coz I've made some "anti-pirate" modifications to my ship... complete with fuzzy dice."
"Not a bad tale if I do say so. The other boys'll love to hear it, once their all back from wherever they've squirreled themselves."
Derek walks in to the bar looking both tired and frustrated.
"Eh, Sophie, something strong if you don't mind."
*Heh, hard day?*
"Nah, not that... I've been reading about this stuff in the Tau 31 system. Damn bugger traders have no life for trying to make a bit of cash up there."
*Well lucky you then, they're having problems up there at Harris recently... Some kind of illness.*
"Illness? What you going on about?"
Sophie walks over to the Television and turns on a recording... A familiar face came up on the screen.
"Should of known she'd be there..."
This is Tracy Lacy reporting from Holman Outpost where a disaster breaks loose. The recent reports of the virus that has been infecting local pilots seems to have come to truth. Medical teams have been established trying to find a cure for this disease on Planet Harris, but no luck so far. Though it seems this illness is not the only problem BAF officers have at this time, the recent attacks of the terrorist organization known as The Phantoms have been disrupting most and if not all trading activity between the two bases.
The debris of destroyed ships are still in progress of being removed and are slowing down transportation of medical ships. Rumors show that a possible connection between The Phantoms and the Grandiose Delusional Disorder virus, but no logical proof has been presented as of yet.
BAF officials are continuing to deny the acts of their former Captain, even though he has mysteriously disappeared from Bretonia space. Security footage shows the captain flying his personal fighter towards the Tau 23 jumpgate, the feed was lost after the Captain came within range.
This is all the information that we have gathered so far, our sources within the BAF are currently under way on finding out more about this disaster. This is Tracy Lacy at Holman Outpost, signing off.
The recording ends and the television turns off
"Well they damn right deserve it in my opinion. Blast traders don't know what a hard days work is!"
*Getting a bit angry are we?*
"No... I'm just... Ah, damn." Derek watch beeps "Put the drink on my tab, I gotta get back on the job."
Derek walks in to the bar looking a little more depressed then usual
*Oh, I know that look. Girl shot you down again?*
"Meh, Andrea never seems to take me in. Babe's going to lose the good stuff if she keeps that up."
*Heh, don't tell me you used the 'charm' on her? ...*
"Maybe..."
*Show me*
Derek pulls out his comm device and opens the logs
Derek; Eh! Andrea! Andrea; Hail! Derek; Haven't seen you flying around babe. Where ya been? Andrea; Been assisting my father trading in the border worlds. Hes taking a short leave, Gateway gave him a few weeks off. Derek; Oh, so hes here in Bretonia? Then I guess it wouldn't be smart to ask you out to the bar? Andrea; Don't get any ideas mister. Derek; I'm past ideas... Andrea; Humpf Derek; Ah well then... I shall keep my imagination for now. Andrea; You'd better keep imagining. Because I won't be falling for you anytime soon! Derek; Owwwwwwwww.
At Corfu Base
Derek; Well then Andrea, this is my last stop... I'll pay ya. Andrea; Good to hear! Heading to Corfu now! Derek; If I give ya a little extra would ya pop over to my place for dinner? Andrea; Keep on wishing... Derek; Eh fine, would of been a nice dinner... Anyway, catch ya next time. Hopefully it will be in a more 'exciting' place. Andrea; If anything... It will be on different planets.
~Pete sidles up to the bar where Sophie, as Derek walks out~
"Poor fella! You know, if he's set on landing a member of the fair sex he's in luck. I could give him a few tips in that department."
"You? Come on now, not Mr. P the confirmed bachelor!
"Hey, 'bachelor' is a noun which means 'not tied down'. Doesn't mean I don't have 'em lined up in every port from here to Stuttgart."
~Sophie can't help laughing out loud~ "Yeah I'm sure those Fraulines like 'em cuddly!" ~she leans forwards and takes a sniff~ "Say... is that actual soap I can smell? And my goodness, you've had a shave! Mr. P don't tell me you've turned respectable on us."
"As it happens, I did have a bit of a scrub-up. Strictly to wash the MOX dust out of my pores."
"Hmm, anyone would think you were out to impress the ladies."
~Pete sniffs~ "Like I need any superficial grooming and olfactory assistance to impress the ladies. They've always been bowled over by my natural charm and captivating wit, thank you very much."
Sophie gives him a funny look and asks; *What you so happy about then?*
"Eh! Ya know that GC babe I met the other day? Well she..."
Sophie cuts him off with;
*You're calling a 14 year old girl a babe?!*
"NO! I'm talking about her Mom. Anyway what she just..."
Sophie cuts in again;
*You're trying to go out with her Mother now? Derek how far are you going to go to get a date?*
"NO! She's 19! Now would you let me finish?"
*Fine then... Go on.*
"Right, as I was saying. She's invited me to a party! No, I'm not lieing! Look, I have an invitation and everything!"
Captain Derek Mandel
You are cordially invited to Miss Mariko Kietan's fifteenth birthday celebration, hosted my Miss Juno Kietan, aboard the Sunderland Research Station, Newcastle System, Bretonia, Suite Twelve, on the main concourse. June twelfth, year eight hundred twenty After Sleep. Come appropriately dressed, and please respond very promptly.
*Well looky there... You've actually been invited to something other then drinking your ass off in my bar.*
"Oh ya, just had to point that out eh? Well anyway! She's invited me! I think I may be getting through to this one... Oh hell ya, Derek's going all the way!"
Derek starts doing a little dance infront of the bar stool
Sophie gives a look of disagreement
"Oh fine... Be that way, But I'm going!'
Derek walks out of the bar, a smile still on his face
Derek lands on Newark station flying a brand new ship he had just brought in Munich. He jumps out and walks in to the bar.
"Give me a tall one Sophie, need to loosen up a bit."
*OH! Sounds like you had a hard day paying for that Train of yours, you must of fainted just handing the dealer your credit card.*
"I so love your sarcasm. But no, that baby right there is the newest one on the market called an "Advanced Train". Holds an extra 1000 cargo hold from what I was using before."
*Impressive... How much it cost you then?*
"Meh, pocket money really. Just a hundred million."
*ONE HUNDRED MILLION CREDITS! ... Pocket money? ... Derek, you and your damn wallet.*
"First one ever sold as well. Jealous much?"
*Pfft, I have my bar. That's all I need. Now then, finish your drink and be on our way.*
"Fine fine, I'll leave you to it then."
Derek finishes his drink, looking silly with fizz still on his face. Sophie made sure not to point it out to him.
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