[font=Palatino Linotype] Somewhere around New York, sometimes in the Detroit Debris Field, the Pittsburgh one, in the Badlands and occasionally even moored at Rochester, there's this particular ship roaming around.
[color=#CC99CC]Its name? The 'Stellar Ranger'.
Its purpose? Pretty much unclear to everyone who doesn't live on it.
Its captain? A particular lady called 'Natalie Callahan', or 'Blue' if one prefers her nickname.
This particular lady also happens to be, in a way, the 'boss' of a little group whom call themselves 'Liberty's Finest'. And that particular ship itself happens to be their mobile little home, hidden well and always moving deep within the dark reaches of ol' York.
While I could go on telling you more about the Finest' themselves, I'd rather like to talk about a little place you can find aboard that ship.
The 'Stellar Ranger Bar and Grill'.
Behind the enormous hangar bay of that old Prison Liner there used to be a rather large cargo compartment and storage area of sorts until some day the lady called 'Blue' found the ship's crew to be in dire need of a place to chill out at after a long day's hard work, and for the Finest' pilots to retire to so they could celebrate their victories with song and drink. Or the occasional bar brawl, but that's an entirely different matter. So with plenty of Credits in her pocket, men at her disposal, and tons of looted gear and the like she spent months with working day and night to turn that cargo compartment into a nice little niche where everyone could enjoy themselves and have a good time.
That niche is the aforementioned Ranger's Bar and Grill, and it's quite a wonderful little area.
With sturdy furnishings, such as a traditionally-themed bar constructed of mahogany, - polished to have more in common with a set of mirrors than wood - lavishly finished bar stools and leather chairs you can sink into, solid, dependable and fittingly large tables made of black oak and a fireplace that would look more at home in a history book along with its accompanying vintage music box, you have quite the rustic touch in there, akin to the saloons found in the cowboy legends of old Earth.
As a contrast to it, you will find bright neon-lights together high-tech holographic screens and displays and holo-projectors all around for the crew, so they can enjoy the more modern kinds of entertainment in that comfortable atmosphere. To top it off, the walls of that main room are decorated with all kinds of spaceship parts. Pieces of armor, insignia, even some looted shooters, all as a testimony to the victories of the Finest' pilots, coupled with a large part of the back wall being covered in prints of shiny-as-hell guncam footage of the more impressive stunts the Finest pulled over time.
And behind the bar itself there's a large galley where a certain middle-aged gentleman going by the name of 'Nicholai Kosygin' - the Ranger's Barkeeper, Master Chef, XO and Chief Technician - spends his spare time coming up with the unique culinary delights one will only find aboard the Ranger, like fried Squid on a stick, Squid stew, Squidspleen sandwiches and Squidburgers, much to the pleasure of the crew.
But the whole special finishing touch to the Ranger's Bar and Grill is what's above.
When you walk into that former cargo compartment and look up, you'll see the entire ceiling covered in a holographic projection of the outer space around the ship itself. And under the ceiling? Well, there'll be an old Hellfire Legion Broadsword-class Bomber hanging from it, along with a rope ladder and its cockpit canopy open, the seat therein reserved for no one else but Blue herself.
Though before you nag me, you'll find that the most important part of the bar is still the bar itself, its own back wall which separates it from the galley being covered in near-limitless quantities of the finest alcoholic beverages and liquors in the entirety of Sirius, carefully handpicked - or looted - by no one else but the boss-lady of her own accord.
So don't hesitate and come in, to the Stellar Ranger Bar and Grill.
[font=Palatino Linotype]It was a rather lazy and slow-going evening in the bar. Only a few members of the Ranger's crew were around, keeping to 'emselves in a corner and playing strip poker while everything else seemed rather quiet. Nicholai himself was busily trying to pick out some of the finer liquors from the huge assortment in the bar, because Blue was expecting guests. Sort of important guests she had said. Mercenaries she had said. Reliable and good people she had said. For Nicholai it was just a day as any other though, with the bonus of being able to get drunk on...
[color=#CCCCFF]Maaa, where is it?
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]...that particular shiny-green liquor he was looking for.
[color=#CCCCFF]Where'd I put i...
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]The liquor that was just in front of his very nose without him noticing until now.
[color=#CCCCFF]Mmmh... there you are my precious.
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]It was a special kind of rare Maltese brandy, called 'Ambrosia'. Hard to get everywhere, damn expensive, but just fitting for the situation. The only thing left to do was to get some nice music on. The rest of the crew wouldn't mind anyway, so he walked over to that music box and carefully picked out a record.
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]Pleased by his own music selection he walked back to his own little kingdom behind the bar counter and kept making everything ready for the guests who were about to appear.
[font=Century Gothic]The expected guests soon materialized. The bar's hangar-side door burst open, making way for a hastily-dressed cowboy look-alike. The guy was wearing a torn grey vest and a Liberty Navy boonie instead of the traditional wool hat and leather leather outfit, but his appearance somehow still screamed "yeehaw". May be due to the fact that a dry bottle of whiskey was winking from one of his pockets, a pack of cigarettes from the other, the loaded tachyon shotgun on his back not to be ignored.
"Howdy!" on he went with the usual greeting as he stepped in.
The unique excellence shown by the scenery to be found within the bar made even the old roadster awe for a second. He gave the trophies special attention, whispering a [color=#999999]"well... damn" to himself when he thought he detected parts of a natter on the wall. The Red Hessian Natterturn cannons, one may want to note, were the weapons currently used by him and his lovely companion, Victoria Lesley.
Only as he was about to approach and observe the piece of debris closer did he notice he was not alone in the room. He fixed his sighs on Nicholai, who was occupied with cleaning some glasses at that point. Dave snapped his fingers and winked at the bartender while forcing a grin on his face.
"Heya, partner! How's business?" he asked, while starting to walk towards the bar.
Without even asking if it was a smoking area at all, he lit a cigarette in the process of movement, eventually reaching the bar and throwing himself onto one of the stools. He slammed the desk carelessly and opened up in his usual, neglecting manner.
"Nice stable ye' got 'ere, partner. I'd say, I'm amazed by the ceiling, looks like s'm real tough repairs were in for this tug if ye' got those lights runnin'."
Finishing the sentence, Dave looked up, grinning at the Broadsword as if it was waiting to be impressed by his teeth or something.
"So, got anythin' to drink?"
He grabbed his empty bottle of whiskey from the pocket of his vest and threw it on the table.
A Sabre quickly enters the hangar, disregarding any safety precautions, it rapidly makes its landing preparations going straight up and setting down with spiral-like maneuver. The ship looks very old, judging by the scars left by laser shots and explosives it has survived many battles. Still the worn-out look doesnt hide its huge prototype cannons pointing forward like deathly spears. Their thirst for energy causes the power core to constantly drone. The bass sound is like a song for the background, it specifies the character of the vessel. Ready to deliver the heavy hammer. On both sides bellow the cockpit a different set of scars can be seen, ones not caused by gunfire, but welded intentionally to display the war trophies of the hunter. They stretch on till the back of the vessel almost making the ship look like an old combat helmet.
The cockpit glass is polarized reflecting the environment, the lights inside the hangar bend as they slide down the cover. Slowly it opens, the sound of old metal creaks like a wounded beast. Gas rushes out of the cockpit and the small vent openings due to the decompression. In the blurry steam a figure of man can be made out, dressed in a black mackintosh, climbing out of the cockpit and standing still for a moment on top of the right wing. He carefully observes the area, finally when the steam clears out, he takes off his typical dark/green bucket-like rheinlandish helmet. He ignores the ladder next to him and directly jumps off from the Sabre, the leap seemed extreme as well as the impact for that matter, but every step for the landing was measured precisely. The steel floor vibrated from his impact on it and layers of dust dispersed around his legs. Henrik Drum entered the scene.
As soon as he touched the floor he began walking straight for the bar. Again every step he made was steady, heavy and most of all measured. His endless paranoia never left him alone, therefore he was always on the look out for traps. The sound of welders and different sort of tech made it incredibly hard for him to stay focused. Every metal clank resembled the safety switch of a gun. Still his stone cold expression didnt change, neither did his proud military stance.
He saw David sitting on a table at the far end of the bar, as usual annoying every one around him. Henrik screwed his eyes and flexed his neck as he went for Davids table.
Figures the environment changes and here were are again.... waiting
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]Nicholai flashed a grin back at David, nodding slowly after. He didn't expect a cowboy and - as he was watching Henrik out of the corner of his eye - one of the quiet types either. They sure were the 'guests' Blue had mentioned earlier though, so he didn't waste time and pulled up two whiskey glasses, dropped a pair of ice-cubes in each, and then proceeded to fill 'em up halfway with the shiny-green liquor...
[color=#CCCCFF]Malta's finest moi drug, Malta's finest.
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]...and then he quickly sent the glasses sliding towards the two with pin-point precision, as if he had been doing this job for millennia.
[color=#CCCCFF]It's called 'Ambrosia'.
Lifts the spirits without clouding your mind.
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]He turned to stare Henrik in the eye.
[color=#CCCCFF]And eases the paranoia.
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]Getting his hopes up for any kind of reaction wasn't something he'd do. Chatty types, quiet types, cowboys, he had seen 'em all over the years. But he knew what a good drink could do to people aside from easing the wait though so he kept on polishing glasses while turning back to face the cowboy, having remembered that someone was missing.
[color=#CCCCFF]Blue mentioned there'd be three of you.
The lady coming?
A heavily armed Eagle quickly and gently docked in the Stellar Ranger's hangar. The pilot turned off it's engines and watched how the lights in the cockpit slowly faded. The pilot's helmet was painted in an yellow-orange color with a Lane Hacker ensign on it and the name "Vic" scratched under it. Victoria took off the helmet revealing her medium black hair and her green eyes. The mercenary looked at the helmet and gave out a sigh - it was her last tie to her Lane Hacker past. She then left it next to the console and unstrapped herself from her seat. Victoria moved to the hatch and jumped out of her Eagle.
"I guess I'm last." she mumbled when she noticed there wasn't anyone else in the hangar.
One of the ships in the hangar caught Vic's attention - it was Blue's Titan - a really heavy ship but also really deadly if flown right. The mercenary gal walked closer to it and looked at it's wings - the ship was clearly made to kill it's enemies and not impress them with beauty. Vic smiled and slowly walked away in the direction of the only door she saw.
When she walked throught the door she was amazed. The bar looked nothing like the hangar - it looked more like a luxery liner then a prison liner to her. She then noticed David - wanting to get a drink, as always. The gal sat next to him and smiled.
[font=Century Gothic]"Want an honest response to that, love?" David asked as Victoria sat down, but signed the question with a pleasant smile, indicating he wasn't holding a grudge nor being actually serious.
He gave a reserved kiss to Victoria's cheek, then turned towards Nicholai. He grabbed one of the glasses with both of his hands, pondering whether to empty the glass in one sip or bother actually tasting the content thereof. It's not like he knew what the term Ambrosia stood for, other than the fact that he found its sounding appealing. He eventually decided to see if someone's going to throw in a few nice words, then proceed to empty the glass in a mere second.
[color=#999999]"Yup, she's here alright," responded Dave to the bartender's previous question, "how 'bout the other one? Yer' boss, Blue. She around?"
He paused for a second, feeling rude for some reason by getting to the point so quickly. His blunt logic dictated that to clear such a mental crisis up, he had to employ the so often neglected tools of ethics and formalities. Thus, he looked up at Nicholai, forced a smile on his face and began an introduction.
"The name's Dave," he now pointed at his companions "the nice lady is Vic, the angry Kraut is Henrik. He hates bein' called that though."
The forced smile morphed into a sarcastic, somewhat cruel grin as he stood up from the stool and lifted his right hand towards Nicholai to shake hands.
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]Nicholai flashed the lady a smile for a second before looking at Dave.
[color=#CCCCFF]Blue will show up any moment.
In the meanwhile I've been told to keep you company, lady and gentlemen.
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]It didn't take him long and he already started mixing a special cocktail for Victoria while letting his eyes wander and observing everyone's actions.
[color=#CCCCFF]She actually should be here in just a minute, but while you're waiting...
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]With a smile he quickly mixed the drink, something special he had in mind that involved one ounce of Brandy, Vermouth and Orange Juice, as well as a quarter ounce of Ruby Port and Grenadine each together with some crushed ice.
[color=#CCCCFF]A 'Libertionian Beauty' for the lady who is far more deserving of such a title.
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]With an honest smile on his face he gracefully slid the glass over to the lovely Miss Lesley.
[color=#CCCCFF]As for the gentlemen, would you two like a snack?
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]He figured that some fried Squid wouldn't be that bad an idea to start a conversation. But if that didn't work, there always was alcohol, so he quickly refilled Dave's glass with a smirk. Ambrosia wasn't exactly the weak stuff, as sweet as it tasted, though if the cowboy kept going that way he'd find out by himself sooner or later.
[font=Century Gothic]Dave silently observed Nicholai serving a 'special' treat to Victoria, with keeping his smile up, apparently taking no special note of the bartender's actions.
When the attached commentary burst in however, a cold chill ran through his spine, and an ancient song he sang with his buddies in High school, during those long lunch breaks, started echoing through his head.
"You've gotta' die, gotta' die, gotta' die for yer government, die for a country that's..."
He stopped as he found himself unconsciously even humming the tunes. It was not exactly fitting with the music Nicholai put into the music box and he didn't want anyone to ask of the song's nature. He folded his arms, but didn't touch the next glass of ambrosia.
[color=#999999]"Well, what do ye' 'ave to offer, partner? I'm lookin' pretty hungry."
He thought of the secure container of nomad remains they looted from an LSF gunboat earlier. He was already aware of the fact that most of it ended up in the Stellar's kitchen. He felt it was appropriate to add;
"Uh... somethin' that ain't blue and edible on board though?"
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]Nicholai just grinned at the cowboy. What people had against trying Squid was beyond him, anything Squid was simply delicious. But he already had an idea.
[color=#CCCCFF]Sure thing moi drug.
And don't worry 'bout me, not planning to hit on your sweetheart.
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]With a little laugh Nicholai quietly disappeared behind the bar for a few minutes. By the time he came back with crispily roasted pieces of shashlik meat covered in a spicy crust, all neatly on their little skewers and decorated with onion slices on a large plate, [color=#CCDDCC]the music in the background had changed.
[color=#CCCCFF]Something light yet hearty, special for our cowboy, da?
[font=Palatino Linotype][color=#CCDDCC]He barely managed to hide his knowing grin in time as he put the plate down before Dave. What the cowboy didn't know wouldn't bug him afterall, or would it?
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