Morgan's Bar

[dazura]

The bar wasn't too busy that night, it being only about half full. There had always been some slow periods every once in a while, but in a few days, the place would be packed again. A neutral port on all the major trade routes would never suffer for lack of travelers. Scylla wasn't the seat of luxury, but anybody who needed a dock or a drink, or pretty much anything else they could think of, was welcome, so long as they didn't do anything stupid.

The bar was fairly well designed for a long bar of metal. It was smooth metal, with no nicks or other sharp surfaces, and the only place it was riveted to the bulkheads were those places where the patrons wouldn't be putting their unprotected body parts, at least not when they were sober. About ten of the fifteen stools still had those bright red ugly fake-leather-covered foam cushions on them, and the rest looked like they were designed without them in the first place. They were the same smooth metal as the bar, the only difference being that they were shaped like barstools rather than a bar.

The other half of the room has about thirty square tables of the same smooth metal with rounded corners, each with two to four chairs around them. The chairs look fairly sturdy and strong enough that they could do some considerable damage if thrown or swung. They were all securely riveted to the floor after the riot, which sent about fifty people to sickbay and not a few presumably to some of the chief's "special" punishments.

Morgan stood behind the bar, chatting with some customers bunched up at the front end of the bar. He's a big, tough-looking human with a nasty-looking scar from the massive brawl a few years back that's become known simply as the "Scylla riot". It's not something that anyone wants repeated in the slightest.

[Kassil]

"Hoi, Morgan." Miki, the station chief of Scylla, ambled into the bar, a faint grin on his disarmingly boyish face - a face which had mislead more than a few would-be pirates into think that he was a pushover; not as many these days, with the rumors - true and false alike - of Miki's methods of dealing with troublemakers aboard his station. "Heard anything I might be interested in?"

With an almost lazy grace, Miki made his way to the bar, and seated himself on one of the stools. "Pour me a Triple Fusion, would you?"

[dazura]

Morgan turned to the drinks dispenser, picked up one of the ubiquitous plastic cups, fiddled with the dispenser, and brought back a Triple Fusion. A proper one would have been put in glass, but glass breaks too easily and can be used as a weapon once it's done so. He insists on the best synthetic without those drawbacks, and they're actually pretty good; they just don't feel quite right in the hand. Still, it's been a few years since he was persuaded to switch, and the only people who still complain are snobs and newcomers. The only glass still left is kept put away for the really good stuff; the stuff that even still only comes in the traditional glass bottles.

"Well, nothing here, but there was a fight at Epsilon Colony which wiped the spaceport and half the city there. Apparently, they didn't like something about the Endymion--that ship that was in here for a while getting pretty damn too much firepower put in for a ship its size--and they fired on each other as she was lifting off. Dunno who fired first; only account I've heard is from the Delilah," Morgan said, motioning over at the people bunched at the other end of the bar. "Apparently, they were waiting to land, and they saw the firefight from orbit. Their captain wasn't too pleased about all this, since that's on their main route, and they were stuck with a load of gadgets that Epsilon had ordered specially."

One of the regulars piped up from afar, interrupting him. "Yo! Bitch chair!" He was one of the poker players who occasionally brought their game in here, and needed a fifth chair to squeeze in around a table. The spare chairs, or "bitch chairs" as everybody called them, were bright pink injection-molded plastic chairs, stackable, lightweight, and sturdy enough to hold an above-average-weight human. Morgan would probably be able to sit in one, but didn't particularly want to try.

With their bright pink color and their floral-patterned back, none of the macho men who hung around the place ever wanted to be associated with them unless they had to. They tended to only come out when they needed five around a table for a poker game. They were certainly never stolen, since they'd have a tendency to make themselves very visible and nobody would want them anyway. Even though they were the only loose furniture in the bar, except for the whores who were still trying to find themselves a john on this slow night, Morgan had never lost a spare chair to theft in all his years at Scylla.

"Closet's open; just grab one," Morgan yelled back at the poker players. They immediately began arguing over who would be the bitch, as usual. He turned back to Miki. "Of course, problem is that Endymion is probably going to end up back here, and if they come with somebody following them, or even if they'd be able to figure out we were where they got those arms, there's going to be some problems. Haven't heard anything else about her since Epsilon, and she was never on a fixed route, so I haven't a clue when she'll get back here, though."

[Kassil]

"Mmm. I'll have the scanner crew keep an eye out for her transponder and anyone who looks like they might be trying to tail her." The grin widened faintly, acquiring an overtone of menace that a great many people had come to fear over Miki's years as station chief. "And I'll have the maintenance crews triplecheck the station defenses - no sense on being caught wide open. Did your friendly informants mention what the gadgets they were carrying were?" He picked at a few scraps of dirt under his nails before picking up his drink, watching the swirling clouds of gold, crimson, and sapphire liquids swirling together, resisting blending smoothly.

Taking a sip from his drink, he glanced towards the table of power players, and sighed. "Morgan, is that the bunch that I had to throw in the brig last week for bringing needlers on board the station?" His eyes narrow slightly as he takes a closer look. "...Second opinion - the one who was just shaking his mug at the one with the pink tattoo - does he have another needler strapped to his leg, or is it something else?" From his tone, it was clear he was almost hoping the crewman had made a mistake - it had been a particularly dull week, and while he valued the safety of his station above all else, Miki hated relentless monotony as much as anyone else.

[dazura]

"Huh." Morgan took a closer look at the one Miki accused of having a needler. "Looks like he might have one on his leg. Can't really be sure without searching him though." Morgan looked some more. "Yeah, some of those are the ones you threw in the brig for needlers; they were on the Faerun, and I remember a bunch of them needed the rules explained to them when they came in. The other one, the one in the bitch chair, where's he from again?" Morgan stopped to think, but the memory came quickly. "He's the one who left the Endymion about six weeks ago, pretty soon before she left here last. He might know something."

The clump of crew from the Delilah called for another round of drinks, and Morgan went over to talk to them some more, and asked them if they knew what the gadgets they delivered to Epsilon were.

One of them, the one at the far end of the bar, piped up. "Hell, we don't know. They were in locked crates, filling up all our holds. We asked what they were too, and all they said was 'gadgets'."

"You don't even know where it came from? Hell, what's a little place like Epsilon got for an entire shipload of secret cargo?"

"I dunno. We picked it up on Darrak-3, got told that Epsilon wanted it fast, and high-tailed it there. We usually have a few stops between Darrak and Epsilon, but we skipped those. Hell, we usually have more stops between Epsilon and here, but we came straight here, holds empty even. I don't ask about these things; it's the Captain's time to waste deadheading like this."

"Yeah. I thought you guys were early. You know how long you're staying for?"

"Nah. Captain just told us he'd let us know when we're about to leave."

"Yeah, well, until then, we're open every night. Get your captain to come in and you all get a round on the house."

Morgan poured a drink for one of Scylla's maintenance crew who had come in, and wandered back down to Miki. "They haven't a clue what those gadgets were, besides secret. They did pick it up at Darrak-3, though. It wouldn't be a bad idea to try to talk to their captain, since he's been speeding up his normal course to drop them off and head out here as fast as possible, which is pretty unusual."

[Kassil]

"Darrak-3, huh? Isn't that the nanofreak colony that keeps having biomechanical plagues running wild?" Miki's eyes narrowed again, as he eyed the crew from the Delilah with a measure of judicious suspicion. "I think I might just check into it with their captain. The last thing Scylla needs is a nanoplague getting loose or one of those psycho warbots getting loose on board." He took a sip of his drink, wincing slightly at the particular combination of liquids, before shaking his head. "And the one in the bitch chair is formerly of Endymion, you say? I think I'll invite him by my office to discuss things a bit later - like why he left the ship, and if he knows what they were up to - and why they needed that kind of firepower."

"However, right now I'm going to go chat with our friend who might just be packing a needler when he knows better." With that, the lithe, boyish chief rose to his feet, and strolled almost lazily across the room towards the game, exchanging cordial nods with most of the regulars; even those who didn't like him had learned to respect him - not many could keep a prime station like Scylla out of the hands of the various interstellar empires, after all.

"You, the one with the snake tattoo." Miki pointed to the one with the odd shape strapped to his leg. "What're you packing there?"

[dazura]

He knew better than to try to be anything but honest with Miki. "Subsonic." It was pretty old technology, using very low-frequency sound to set up powerful resonant vibrations in its target. It's dangerous to lifeforms whose internal organs start vibrating from it, and blocked by nothing short of vacuum, but ever since it began being used as a weapon, vessels and structures, Scylla included, were built to be unaffected by their discharge. The things that it could affect were uniform masses, which a modern space station's bulkhead was not.

Meanwhile, Morgan turned to the comm at the far end of the bar from the Delilah crew, and made a call. "How much quarantine do we have open? . . . Good. . . . No, nothing, not yet at least, but there's a bit of a chance of nanoplague having come in on one of the ships, and . . . Uh-huh, can't ever be too careful. . . . Yeah, um, would you actually mind asking them about that? Somebody's yelling for a drink here. . . . Thanks."

[Kassil]

"Subsonic, eh?" Miki arches one thin blue eyebrow slightly, and holds out a hand. "I trust you won't mind letting me see, then?" As he waits for the man to hand him the subsonic gun, he triggers a mastoid implant - a subvocal transmitter to the main control.

"Dan, this is Miki. Keep an eye out for the Endymion, she may be coming in hot - Morgan tipped me off about a little firefight. Have Maintenance run a full check on the defenses. And while you're at it, have the Hazard Team suit up and go search the Delilah - scanners only, as her cargo included some sealed crates of 'gadgets' from Darrak-3." Outwardly, Miki's face remained calm, although internally he was already coldly marking out plans to deal with the potential results of his two requests.

[dazura]

He pulled out a normal-looking subsonic. "C'mon, Chief, it's the only thing that I could think of that wouldn't damage your bulkhead. It's hard enough being a trader without people trying to put a stop to it; hell, we were in Confederate space when some Imperials told us that our cargo was being confiscated, and they only stopped tailing us when we got close to a Confed base. If they're that eager to stop us that they fly into enemy territory to do so, what's gonna stop them from coming in here and trying to kill me?"

[Kassil]

Miki grins, faintly, after taking a look overe the subsonic. "Secteam and I'll stop them, of course. Then again, you've never seen Scylla in battle mode, have you?" He waves a hand for the man to put the subsonic away, and grins a touch wider. "Have a little faith in us. Anyone - and I do mean anyone - who comes looking for trouble at Scylla will get a lot more than they planned on. A station at a trade nexus ike this would be begging to be snapped up by an empire, after all... Unless the station is more than well equipped enough to take care of attackers."

[Kassil]

Miki paused, and muttered under his breath. "Morgan, hold that Fusion for me, will you? I've gotta head upstairs. Some donk of an Imperial seems to be considering this place his personal stomping grounds. Again. You'd think they'd learn after we levelled a dreadnought of theirs in a firefight last year..."

[dazura]

"Sure thing. Hope you can talk sense into them."

This had better be a friendly visit, one where the stormtroopers come in and buy drinks and don't cause more of a ruckus than is caused simply by their presence.

[dazura]

It was still a slow night, and Morgan's wasn't getting the amount of business it usually got. Perhaps the Imperials were scaring everybody away; perhaps people didn't want to come and gossip and get drunk; perhaps . . . . Hell, it happened sometimes for no reason. It was probably just one of those nights again, and it'd perk back up tomorrow. Or today, if a bunch of Imperials came in for some shore leave.

Morgan chatted some more with the Delilah crew, who didn't have much new news still to offer, and with the maintenance guy, who mentioned that Imperials had boarded.

The night went on. Another round of drinks was had by the poker players. The whores were still there, having as slow a night as the bar they sat in.

---

The doors slid open to show a squad of five stormtroopers, in full armor, about to enter the bar. Three were armed and standing guard for the other two, who seemed to be scanning the place. I wonder why Miki let them in to scan for, thought Morgan.

As soon as they came in, Morgan interrupted their activities. "Welcome, men. Can I interest you in something to drink?" After a pause, during which Morgan decided that they were probably trying to ignore him, he added, "First round's on the house if you stay and talk for a bit."

This caught their attention, and the two scanning started talking to each other. One of the whores took advantage of the interruption to accost the group, coming up on them unexpectedly.

"Why, aren't you men sexy. I'm betting you're in the mood for some .. companionship tonight."

One of the guards motioned at her with his gun to back away.

"C'mon! Don't hot men like you want some? I've got . . . ."

Morgan interrupted her. "Enough, Maureen. You're scaring potential customers here." He watched her go back to her table, and turned back to the stormtroopers. "So what'll it be?"

They made their way up to the bar. Most everybody else in the room was a bit nervous, but they figured that they probably wouldn't cause problems.

[Rotzi]

Kitra entered the bar growling about how a certain Omwatti better not be stalking her. To her relief, she didn't spot him. With a sigh of relief she didn't see any wanted posters of hers or Kri's either.
Content, the Miraluka sat at the bar. "A shot of Absinth, please." She adjusted her glasses while glancing up at the barkeep.

[Kri'hamon]

Kri followed Kitra into the bar, obviously more at ease, and took a seat next to her. He then proceeded to open his datapad and began yet another game of solitaire.


"I'll just take a blue milk" he murmered with a gesture, completely absorbed in the game. He paused only for a minute to tell the miraluka that it was her turn to pay for the drinks.