The drink on the table was a particularly vile shade of green and looked like it might have been spit out of a malfunctioning engine's exhaust. IN spite of that, the glass was half empty and Christo was grimly working his way through a plate of traditional Cambridge breakfast including blood pudding.
There was a holo projector on the table with a physics text displaying information on fusion theory. Christo muttered to himself, "H-fuel woul' be easier on tha casing, but Mox woul' get a hotter product..."
A couple of new members swaggered in and stopped, giving the stranger a hostile once over, but decided it was better to leave well enough alone when the barkeep shook her head. It had been almost a year, but she remembered the last bit of personal violence Christo had been involved in before he disappeared. A small nod was enough for her to know that he was aware of the exchange and appreciated it.
The shared moment reminded Christo of the last year, mending in Freeport 5, then working as a mechanic until he could get a ride over to Omega-7 and pick up a Surveyor to get home. The Red Hessians had caught him joy riding in Omega -11 and he had thought to fool them by running for Omega-55 instead the more obvious escape routes. It had worked well enough to get him to Omega-41, but not enough to get to the Freeport.
Fortunately, the Zoners had been able to get him back to the base and staved off the radiation sickness. They wouldn't let him com out, though, since that would have alerted the Hessians to his presence.
Sighing, Christo gulped a mouthful of his hangover cure, winced at the taste and went back to reading.