"Yeah, sometimes it seems as if entire Sirius was up in arms with those Sairs. Nobody likes them, which is kinda understandable.. who'd ever befriend those blood-thirsty, imperialistic cannibals with a bad sense for cool-sounding languages..."
Andrew didn't feel his arms anymore. The muscles in his biceps must have been strained to hell, Olaf really was a gross man.
"But how about you.. how did you get to work for this.. uhm... man?"
They were walking down a dark corridor, a few flickering lamps were illuminating the way, but it still made the impression of an abandoned air raid shelter to Andrew. There was also the smell of rotten eggs in the air, which was even worse than this mix in the bar. Andrew hoped they'd be there soon.
*Paddy drops Olaf as they reach a rather inconspicuous dark wooden door, decorated with a few cuts and rotten holes. Olaf's head falls, but the legs follow it, due to Andrew's insufficiently strong arms. Paddy puts his hand into his pocket, takes a key and unlocks the door. He opens them. He says as he pulls Olaf into his room:*
Yo-ho!
*Paddy presses a switch, which turns a weak, yellow light on. Then he pulls Olaf again and lets him down close to a very untidy bed. It doesn't smell very pleasantly.*
Come on, we must lift 'im!
*Paddy says as they lift Olaf and drop him on his bed:*
Yo-ho!
*He wipes the sweat off of his forehead.*
Wooh! It looks like the bugger has drunken more than ever!
How did I get to work for 'im, ye asked? The Sairs, me friend! Cork would be a much better place without 'em! I'm lucky I'm alive! Olaf saved me. If he didn't come with that his little battleship to shoot at the poor Sairs, I would now be kissing with Satan!
*Paddy puts a finger into his ear and pulls out something not easy to describe without being terribly impolite. He wipes it over his trousers.*
Ye spoke about them, the bloody Sairs? If ye have some contract about killing them, I'd like ta know.
Why the hell did a man in possession of an actual battleship deigned to live in such a rotten hole? Of no explanation could Andrew think other than the one that it needed to be somewhat linked to his religious beliefs. Seeing Olaf lying on the bed like a piece of foul meat thrown onto the floor kind of relieved Andrew. Not only was the physical effort over, but he could also maintain a certain distance to his body.
"So he's your life-saver... frankly, I can't imagine he's capable of saving anyone, but I suppose it's just the alcohol, it makes us all feel so mashed, right?"
Andrew laughed and then needed to cough upon this terribly thick air in the cramped room.
"Eh.. yeah. The Sairs, an omnipresent force in the sector, whose source never appears to run dry. Nevertheless, I'd be very willing to hunt some of them down for you.. I've already discussed some things with your boss when he was still in the condition to actually hear what I was saying."
*A deranged smile appeared on Paddy's face. If he was thinking anything, it was about an inside-out Corsair lying in a pool of blood, which was obviously consisted of much more than 5 liters of it.*
Hah!
*He taps Andrew's left shoulder. Unfortunately, with the same hand he used to dig the abominating, shapeless mass out of his ear*
There're 't least two things t' Hessians and t' Mollies like ta do togethah - one of them is killin' t' Sairs!
*The sick picture of an inside-out Corsair in a pool of blood faded away from Paddy's mind, in order to be replaced with a much more important thing.*
Oh, and t' second one - are ye up f'r another drink, eh, me friend?
A picture of the shabby bar populated by obscure, shady individuals popped to his mind. Go have a drink there? Again? He couldn't be serious. And what about Olaf? He suddenly felt uncomfortable leaving him alone here, but he didn't know why. Andrew quickly looked at Olaf, then at Patrick.
"We're gonna let him sleep off his drunk here? Okay then.."
Andrew buttoned up a button of his old, crumpled shirt, one of which hadn't came off yet after all the years of wearing it in all kinds of situations and not really taking care of it, let alone that he couldn't remember the last time he had washed it properly. Heading towards the massive front door he pulled acigarette out of his pocket and then turned toward Patrick again.
"You happen to have fire?"
While Patrick lit him his cigar, Andrew continued:
"Also, d'you know any.. more comfortable places on this rock than that tavern of before?"
Andrew glared out of a shabby, round window. A few kilometers from the station there was another huge structure, probably the broadside of the said battleship. Its outer hull resembled much the interior of the station he was on: as if it was to break apart every moment due to shabbiness.
"That's the notorious boat you've been talking about?"
Andrew tried to make out more details by stepping closer to the window and uselessly attempting to wipe out the dirt on the glass. The outer hull plating was peppered by patches, strange and intimidating symbols and other odd drawings.
"It looks like it has seen many heated battles already."
The amount of alternative and belatedly implemented hull parts was essentially greater than the one of original ones. This was most likely due to the damage it had taken over the period of its service.
Aye, aye, many battles. She's not weaken boi them, no. Every time we've lost a plate we've put a thicker one instead. It would be risky to troi ta foind one as thick, ye know. They loike ta cheat f'r money today, bastards!
*Stutters when he throws his pipe on the floor.*
Always giving you slightly thinner, older and more costly than ye asked for! Hah!
*Paddy puts his right hand on Andrew's back, giving him a slight push.*
Oi'm gonna show ya the bar! It's the best thing that has ever happened to this ship!
As they walked down the nearly endless corridor Paddy kept mumbling about stuff Andrew didn't really catch. His gross lips hardly showed any movements when he uttered his close to incomprehensible babbling. The constant and pretty forceful 'patting' on his back started to seriously bother Andrew. For a moment he had a feeling that he was completely at the mercy of Paddy. In a matter of two hours Andrew's life changed completely. He suddenly worked for a gross-looking, ugly-religious maniac-drunkard with a henchman of similar attributes. He was being led to an even uglier looking alleged battleship on a station and among people he barely knew and whose language and culture greatly differed from his own, light years away from the good old Bretonia.
Wait wait, was he a little homesick boy or a restless independent scoundrel now? Andrew immediately dismissed these upcoming feelings and attempted to enter a conversation with Paddy in an companionable manner appropriate to his behaviour.
"Say, Paddy, you got a ship docked to get over to that beast?"
"Nay, nay, that's another battleship. Ye see, we're already in the Hvannadalshnukur. That dark corridor is connecting her with the station. Ye thought the Hvannadalshnukur is that tender tinker can over there? Nay, nay, me fella, ye're horribly wrong! Olaf would never sleep outside of his dearest battleship."
After some talk and a lot of discourteous back tapping, Andrew and Paddy have reached another corridor, although this one was significantly wider, taller and about 30 meters long. Echoes of quite old, although still very exciting music could be heard inside. It was seemingly played by a few string instruments, a couple of fifes and some drums. Echoes of drunk people laughing and trying to talk could also be heard. At the end of the corridor, a tall, heavy, arched double door could be seen trough suffocating tobacco smoke. Barely.
When the two men had managed to brake trough almost deadly quantity of the cancerous substance, Paddy opened the door. Soft, yellow light illuminated the men's faces. The sounds filled up the corridor and overloaded their hearing. As it is probably guessable by now, it was the door of Olaf's personal bar.
"..."
Paddy always enjoyed this sight. This sound. This smell. This bar. So much that he was utterly speechless for a moment.
After that moment, he managed to conjure his simple mind. He pointed his hands towards the noisy chamber, full of various sins.
"The bar."
Paddy pushed Andrew inside. Someone close thought it was a fight, so he reeled of drunkennes and, against all the odds, managed to hit Paddy's nose with his fist. Almost everyone turned silent. However, Paddy hasn't lost his balance, but he spit out one of his yellow teeth and wiped the blood off from his nose. Then, he firmly arose, aimed his fist, and knocked out the little, pesky drunkard. The bar went berserk at that time and started a full bar brawl. Somebody has pressed the alarm. After some time, the bar door loudly opened, although nobody really cared about that now.
It was Olaf who opened them. He stood there and stared around the messy bar for a moment, and charged into the fight at the next one. Like with a lance, he hit the closest victim and literally catapulted the poor sailor a few meters away. Then similar sized man threw himself on him, starting to wrestle. It is not really important what happened next.
Although nobody except him cared, Andrew had to do something.