A stern smile at the closed answer. John took a small translucent card from a slot behind his pistol holster and set it down on the bar.
"Should you find need for service of a transporter in the rebuilding process, Kommodore, you will remember I have made myself available to you."
"Auf wiedersehen."
John eased off the bar. An oil stained hand rest palm down on the head of the axe on his belt as he meandered through the exit, old combat boots creaking.