[Novgorod] Grognar's Last Chance Shop & Gulp

[Ledo G. Prent]

"Evenin' beau'iful."

Ledo growled out a salutation to the uptight broad to his right. He checked her out. The cut of her mannerisms and how she wore her clothes made her look like someone who'd done a few turns in the military, but you never fucking knew in a place like this.

"Catch a gimped ride, or y' jus' a fan of th' atmosphere?"

Either way, she didn't blend. Not that half their crew did, either, but Ledo liked meeting new and interesting people. It was his bubbly magnetic personality.

A sight beyond Bette caused him to momentarily break off assault.

"Well I'll be a guddamn Gran inna starin' contest. Issatta Ne'antite? I ain't cross paths wit' one since I damn near go' me roll nicked bussin' skulls for Greella th' Hutt."

He took a swig of the cheap offering the barkeep sat in front of him and grimaced.

[MARCUS]

"Nothing of what I do satisfies any biological imperative," Onashi answered with a grin. "I enjoy it. I derive pleasure from fighting, and participating in battle. Getting paid only means that I can use my money to fix up my weapons and have the ability to travel to where I can find more conflict."

"As much as I enjoy them, I've come close to dying several times. And I've learned from soldiers that the tried and true way to confirming one's existence after prolonged company with death is to get piss drunk, make love to a woman, and walk away from it afterwards."

Still following the mercenary, the droid module's central processor kicked into a higher activity band, teasing out his nebulous answer.

"This appears to be a defect, Serasai. Biochemical delivery systems for pleasure are designed to encourage tasks to continue life processes. Yours function when engaged in activity with high probabilities to cause cessation of these processes. I would suggest a correction."

The section of the station they were walking through got seedier and seedier.

"Your continued pace suggests that you wish to disregard my suggestion. Which inadvisable task do you wish to complete first?"

[Serasai Onashi]

"My friend, biological organisms all have defects," Onashi replied. "Later, though, we call them genetic mutations and get on with our lives."

Onashi stopped and regarded a dirty viewscreen displaying a number of colored containers of various sizes.

"They have them in tins," he said with surprise, before continuing to speak to the droid. "We're going to find a nice, aromatic and fairly rich tasting pipe-leaf, first. Then we'll look for intoxicants, and there we'll also find ladies. Most likely."

As he opened the door into the tiny little shop run by an old Rodian who looked at him for a moment before going back to wiping down the counter-top with rag so soiled it was almost a solid dark grey, he realized that this droid was the first to call him by his given, his personal, name in years.

He sent another thoughtful glance the droid's way and smirked.

"Looking for pipe-leaf," he said to the Rodian without preamble. "Something that smells good, but nothing fancy. I'm sick of all that flowery shit. Makes me almost forget I'm giving myself cancer."

We've got a bit of everything, but no refunds, the Rodian said, lifting a hand and pointing a finger his way. Onashi raised an eyebrow and nodded once. The Rodian walked down the length of his shop, absently taking a tin from the shelf every so often and placing it on the counter top. Onashi opened the tins and sniffed the dried plant material within, before taking a small bit between his fingers and feeling it.

He went down the row and finally chose one, and paid for it.

"Done!" he said with a satisfied grin. "Now, for booze and broads."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr continued past the bar, past the seedy kiosks, and kept going into the commercial district, his eyes panning left and right. He looked down after a moment discovering he hadn't ducked all of his crew. A familiar shadow followed him. What did Regan call him? It? Er...

"Murrray?"

He stopped. Murray stopped.

"What arre you dojing?"

[MARCUS]

"My friend, biological organisms all have defects," Onashi replied. "Later, though, we call them genetic mutations and get on with our lives."

"Gene therapy and re-writing broken code are both complimentary metaphors, Serasai. You still insist on this task. I will redact further prompts to dissuade you. Maintaining your life processes is not assigned to any of my vital tasks."


MARCUS watched Onashi intently as he haggled with the drug kiosk owner, carefully analyzing each sample over the mercenary's shoulder.

"Done!" he said with a satisfied grin. "Now, for booze and broads."

"If your intentions are for sexual congress, I advise the prostitute liason first. Consumption of alcohol will impair motor function, creating a systemic inefficiency."

[Muridaemus-musculus]

Murray blinked. Cirrsseeto's question had seemed genuine enough, but he was finding the Cizerack's features difficult to read. Part of it was a lack of familiarity with anything but the exaggerated gestures of mainstream Tapani holo-performances; the rest of it seemed to be some sort of primal, gut-twisting fear that his life was in grave and terrible danger every time the Captain looked at him.

Cautiously, he tried to offer a gentle reminder to the Captain; a nudge that might guide him towards what Murray thought was blindingly obvious.

"Alliance Fleet Regulation 44, Paragraph 2," he said, as if that explained everything.

Nothing. A blank look was all he got. That was extremely troubling. Perhaps the edition he had been given by Regan Altink was an outdated version. Panic gripped him. Had all the regulations he'd been memorising been renumbered?

"A Commanding Officer may not disembark from his vessel into a potentially hostile environment without an armed escort."

Murray's hand patted the sword on his hip for emphasis.

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr's ears deflated at the notion of such an absurd suggestion, and the droop only served to highlight the bewildered expression on his face.

"Oh."

Okay, so probably no way to explain that one away. Hello, I am Cirr Raurrssatta and this very small puff of fur bombast is my bodyguard which is very necessary and convincing.

He shook his head a bit to snap back to reality. Harmless, you idiot.

"jI, uh...apprrecjiate the escorrt."

Of course, the nature of his "mission" was such that he did not need Murray scampering off to tell others of it. Was he a gossip? Could he appeal to the alien's honor?

[Muridaemus-musculus]

Satisfied that a covert approach was no longer required, Murray's legs scampered away at double-pace to bring him alongside the Captain. He tried his utmost to match the casual swagger of Cirrsseeto's natural strides, but his considerably shorter legs simply weren't up to the task; every few paces, a few rapid steps were thrown in to make up the lost ground.

Despite concentrating intently on trying to synchronise with the rhythm of the Captain's footfalls, Murray decided to take the opportunity to to demonstrate his worth and significance, and perhaps even earn himself reassignment to a section of the ship more befitting his martial skills.

"If I may enquire, Captain Raurrssatta," he said; his tone was casual, but had had hint of enquiry that made it seem like answering was very important. "What is our current destination?"

More panic gripped him as Cirrsseeto's predator features turned harmlessly in his direction; fighting the urge to flee, Murray stumbled through his mind for a justification for his rude and uninvited question.

"In the interests of maintaining your safety, it would be irresponsible of me not to have some prior strategic knowledge of what we might be walking into."

A good recovery, Murray commended himself. Very professional-sounding indeed!

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

"jI'm pjickjing up a package..."

How to keep the squib off the scent? Hmm....

"...a verry secrret package. jI'm, um, afrrajid jI can't say morre on the matter, jit's beyond yourr securrjity clearrance."

He paused, his ears quirking. What was his clearance, anyway? Did he have one? He more or less rubber-stamped Murray onto the ship with Regan insisting on it like it was a precondition for a famous musician to perform a concert. He wanted Regan on his team, so sure. Squib? Okay. Done.

Nevermind.

"You'rre to make surre we'rre prrotected. We can't even trrust the otherr memberrs of the crrew."

Especially Lyanie.

[Bette Davis]

Oh great, the guy was talking to her. Bette was trying to think of a good way to shut him down when something furry caught his eye and distracted him. She turned to look before she could stop herself, and glanced at the yellow furred alien sitting further into the bar.

What the hell was a Ne'antite? She turned back to her drink, hoping that the old spacer was through with her.

[Serasai Onashi]

"If your intentions are for sexual congress, I advise the prostitute liason first. Consumption of alcohol will impair motor function, creating a systemic inefficiency."

"Thank you," Onashi said, looking at the droid intently. He was being completely serious. "Your advice has been noted and taken into account. Prostitutes are dangerous, however."

Onashi grinned.

"And I mean dangerous to both my occupational activities and these inadvisable tasks. I had one not only stick me with the most stubborn case of zygerran flea infestation I'd ever had, but also knifed me while trying to take all my money."

Onashi spoke clearly, as if he were lecturing the droid while they strode down into another compartment; this one was much cleaner, and peddled clothing of all sorts. Onashi ignored most of it until he saw a hologram of a figure that fit a woman he knew well.

"Hold on..." he murmured, grinning. "Unforeseen treasures."

[Selinica Miriya]

The sound of the voice and the sight of the half-felacatian woman with the red locks made a nut in her throat and a waft of panic rise as if she had inhaled a portion of her drink instead of swallowing it.

"Mara..." she croaked, hacking a little and squeezing her eyes shut briefly. The blonde rubbed at her chest, her throat, coughing a little more and still feeling raw from it when she spoke again. "...nice to see you too."

Miriya took to more of the tankard of beer, washing down some more to soothe her throat a little and placing the vessel back on the bar counter before half-squinting at the mere acquaintance of hers in slight concern.

"Gods, you scared me, bitch." She breathed, starting to look pleading. "Please, please tell me John isn't here, too."

[Tevit Ramastan]

Tevit's ears perked as he heard someone call out the name of his species. A glance down the bar revealed a lovely young woman with a stern look on her face, and the yellow-furred Nehantite started to smile.

The smile evaporated quickly as he then realized the one who had actually been talking was the ugly, gruff-looking man next to her. Shoulders slumping, Tevit went back to his beer and checked his comm again.

Seriously, how could someone be two days late?!

[Ledo G. Prent]

Undaunted, Ledo kept talking at the woman next to him. Conversation would eventually happen.

"Thing abou' Ne'antites is, they's nimble like. Real swif' fuckers. Quick 'ands, Quick 'eads. Sharp as fuckall and double th' fuckin' trouble. Tune an ion drive like some guddamn pro'igy, they will. Course this one bloke, ain't swingin' a spanner less its 'round th' corner a' some bli'er's dome. Devious lil' fuck. Had a nice cha' at 'em. Sumfin 'long th' lines of the gas'ronomical proper'ies of feedin' 'im 'is own testes. 'ad a betta' understandin' after tha'."

He took another drink, raising a genial toast of a sort to the Nehantite who wanted very much to disappear from the conversation for some reason.

[Tevit Ramastan]

Tevit's tailtip flicked from side to side with agitation as Ledo's story went on. Typical, "don't trust a Nehantite" bullshit, he'd heard it a thousand times, but after two days of no word from his new employers, he wasn't in the mood to just sit there and have his race spoken ill of.

Looking up from his drink, he stared straight at Ledo, his irises fully red - a sign among his race that he was angry or excited, but not in Tevit's case. No, his were always that way, a genetic mishap, he was told.

Clearing his throat, he said, "If I were threatened by the thought of you laying those grubby mitts on my balls, I'd probably back off, too."

[Bette Davis]

Bette inwardly sighed, and mustered, "They can't all be that bad." The man's accept was difficult to cipher. "But if they are, maybe you should watch what you're saying." She finished her beer and set the glass down, contemplating another drink, but also figuring that getting out of the bar would be a better idea.

She stood up, digging into her pocket for a spare chit to pay her tab.

[MARCUS]

MARCUS paused, sifting through new data.

"Then the target of your sexual congress is a consentual liason? This was not anticipated. I will adjust my parameters accordingly."

His software contained rudimentary behavioral algorithms that served to profile and anticipate behaviors of biological sentients based on subsets of existing data. It was correct 82.6% of the time.

The sight in the kiosk gave Onashi pause, and MARCUS zoomed in to the image.

"Is this your intended target? I can assign subroutines to assist you in establishing rapport."

[Ledo G. Prent]

Put off by the insinuation that he was writing off the entire species on account of one unfortunate incident, Ledo waved it off.

"Course they ain't. As I said, thiss'n was jus' peculiar. Damn fine mechanics. Damn fine. 'ad the pleasure of crewin' wiffa few meself. Anotha day, anotha job. Heistin' a frigate, tha' one. We shuttle in, y'know, act real hard pu' a gun in folks faces, show a knoif or two. Fear o' fuckin God manifest, tha' sorra thing. Me mates, look like this fella roi' 'ere, they bus' inna th' engine room. Slave th' whole mothafuckin' drive t' me control. Snatch tha' bird roi' from where we was. Fuckin' brilliant."

He made a face as Bette prepared to leave, shrugging in a what did I do sort of way.

"'ang on, then?! Come an' havva' notha. 'umor a fella space dog."

[Bette Davis]

She chuckled at the fur's retort, and sighed when the spacer protested. Bette looked outside at the Rebels filling the station and reluctantly sat back down. "Fine, but you're buying me a drink. And him too," she added, nodding toward the alien.

[Tevit Ramastan]

Tevit's ears wilted as the man went on, and he just shook his head and slumped back into his seat. "Oh yeah, that's us. Fuckin' shipjackers, the lot of us," he grumbled. "Keep your damn drink, I don't want it."

The Nehantite became intensely interested in his beer once more, though he somehow doubted that would stop the man from rattling off more "charming" anecdotes. If ever he wanted his comm to beep, it was now. This was worse than waiting for that blind date a few months ago.

Actually, no, this wasn't. Being stood up by a girl is far worse than being stood up by work.