Ratgut Spirit - Cadiz

[Not Espi]

On Cadiz's dock level, just a few dozen meters from the deck larder, bleach room, and a surprisingly effective airlock-based lavatory, is another door. Usually hidden from sights of guests on the station behind a dark corner. Even some, if not most, members of the Cadiz garrison consider it unpleasant. No wonder it became a place for reclusive individuals, looking for a quite time with a few well-known inhabitants. The bar's emblem is simply a bone fetish hung above the door, similar to dreamcatchers of old. Well - that would be the originally intended one. Other than that, there are a few blood stains just outside the door - the result of the occasional heated discussion, and something more. The barkeeper likes it that way and does not clean the blood. With the looks of the bar on the inside, they do not need to.

The room interior is decorated with shamanistic idols, charms, and objects which might be a reason for vomiting to some. The barkeeper likes is that way. It keeps the local customers in, while others do not dare or wish to enter.

[chase.way]

Soon as anyone enters this fouled place first they notice is the bartender, painted with his war colors wearing all sort of strange jewelry on every part of his body. Right above the bottles on the bar there is a big sign saying "You are here at your own risk", if the rumors are true its written from blood of the guy who pulled his gun on bartender after having one spirit drink too many. Little is known about this bartender, but he owns the place and he servers the drinks, enough to be respected on a station such as Cadiz. His real name is not known, but for the ones who have enough courage to speak to him bit more then just ordering a drink, he goes by the name Friday. He also runs a small smuggling operation, but mostly just as contact to set up underground auction on the smuggled goods.

Friday just finished washing the glasses and got closer to the big pot behind his counter. The terrible smell spread trough out the bar, but nobody was curious or brave enough to ask him what is he doing. Even in this times of great technology and laser pots he made a small fire place where he can cook his potions and meals in peace. One scarred young pilot from the corner is trying to figure out what's on the menu, but he only sees that Friday is adding rat parts and gun powder to this strange....meal.

---

Either way - when you let go, and stop holding on so tightly, life can actually be fun - you can't steer a train, but you can RIDE it!

[Not Espi]

A pilot enters the Spirit - hair still a bit sweaty from the flight suit helmet. He walks through the door, looks at the ground, bends to pick something up and continues walking towards the tap. He wishes to speak to the bartender in private and orders 6 Hamen Whiskers - deadly as the minefield, with a bit of rat in it. Recipe is Friday's and his alone. Nobody asks, as long as it doesn't actually kill a man. Sometimes - not even then. He orders 4 for each of the men sitting at the bar, one for himself, and one for the bartender. The men at the bar recognise the signal - each grabs his cup and starts walking towards the vacant sitting spots in the room.

The pilot takes a seat at the bar, looks at Friday and takes a shot. "Hit me again. Long two weeks in Sparta and a long flight home, amigo." He waits for the shot, then lifts it and observes the reddish colour.

"Thanks. I also need a shower. Damn Elders..."

He got distracted by a collective gasp in the room. Both Friday and the pilot quietly looked around the bar for prying eyes. Everyone in the bar suddenly looks at the tables in front of them, in silence. Anibal stood up from his bar-stool: "You heard me. If you don't like it, get the hell out!"

He then sits back, looks at Friday and asks for the monthly special.

"At this point I'd eat anything. Just give me whatever you have, and don't tell me what's in it."

He notices a smirk on Friday's face.

"Why am I telling you? You never do. Just bring it here. I want to take a dump but have nothing to push it out with."

He does the shot, then waits for Friday to get back with the meal.

[chase.way]

Friday goes to his back room and returns with a strange looking thing on a plate, then slams it in front of Anibal.



"You know my policy amigo, don't ask, don't tell. Let's just say Bowex ship and its crew disappear today in Omega 3. And the sauce.... " Anibal looks with great interest, then Friday hits the bar with his fist "...is a well kept secret".

"Of course if you don't find that to your liking," He gives Anibal a deadly serious look "you can always get the same as rest of the bar". He points to the grill in the corner of the bar where you can see strange looking animals being slowly burnt on the grill.



"But as my 12th wife always says, nothing is worse then those ration packs we import from filthy gringos". He spits on the floor and rubs his earring four times, then turns out his eyes and starts humming for 5 seconds before focusing on Anibal again.

"So mi amigo, what's been on your mind lately?"

---

Either way - when you let go, and stop holding on so tightly, life can actually be fun - you can't steer a train, but you can RIDE it!

[Not Espi]

Anibal looked at the grill while Friday had his little moment. Where did you get squirrels?, he asks, then takes a bite off the meal in front of him chews for a bit, then spits something out on the floor.

Nail.

He continues eating, while taking pauses to talk -

Well. You might have noticed I was away for a few weeks. By the way, were any of the men acting up? Tell me if they did. We'll put them in line...

Anyway - I was on Crete. I wanted to talk to the Council. I've been waiting for them to summon me for two weeks.TWO GODDAMN WEEKS!, he hits the bar and takes a few seconds to calm down. There's a building, there's security, there's a giant friggin' door to the Council room... But nobody goes in, nobody goes out. Nothing. Not even some sorts of refreshments. Water, food, nothing. Two weeks.

He takes a bite, but his mind is elsewhere. Then he focuses again and continues.

It's like it's just a ruse. This entire Council thing - Someone has to be in charge, right? The station commander sends reports to Crete, right? Where? Who's calling the shots here? I'll tell you that I am genuinely confused by the situation. Do you think someone will notice if we just stop sending these reports? If we stop sending the raided supplies back to Crete? I mean - someone will notice, but will we be punished for it? Will our "COUNCIL" summon the station commander to explain?

He pauses, and thinks while taking another bite. The meal is cold at this point, but he's done anyway.

I didn't want to bother you with it. Let's do some shots, eh? What's new around here?

[chase.way]

Friday look with smile on his face while Anibal is eating, then whispers "Lets say we both know which planet has plenty of animals" then quickly looks around that nobody heard him.

"Well, there is occasional brawl, but I mostly tolerate it until someone is badly wounded,in that case I make it equal for both" he laughs for couple of seconds.

He turns around and goes to his datapad, then he starts typing something and puts it next to Anibal. In the pad there is a note which reads : I've talked to loyal men and women around, there are enough on this station to support you. You say when and we'll be ready to move in and take over.

Anibal nods to Friday and he pushes datapad toward him. Friday takes it, deletes any traces of this note and takes down bottle from above the bar then puts two glasses in front of him. "Here mi amigo, best spirit you can find in the whole empire, if anyone tells you otherwise, send him to me!".

"Not much going around here, saw a corsair with a prison liner turned into luxury one yesterday" he smiles for a second then continues, "Ah, love to see one of ours doing a good job in omegas, if he can afford it, he deserves it ! I've prepared my fighting ship after all this years so we can go together and blast those Hessian in all the glory, then use their dead bodies as a warning sign on asteroids for anyone uninvited snooping around omegas"

---

Either way - when you let go, and stop holding on so tightly, life can actually be fun - you can't steer a train, but you can RIDE it!

[Not Espi]

After reading Friday's message, Anibal takes a while to ponder about the possible outcomes in his head. Despite the fact that he sometimes outright hates Crete and it's people, he has obligation towards them. The supply chain needs to be kept consistent, and if the 'rebel pilots' are engaged on sight when entering Sparta, this could be a problem. The fact remains thta there is nobody to count on in the matter outside of the Corsairs themselves. The "incidents" in the recent years was proof enough of that.

He looks at Friday, and starts talking quietly, almost whispering - That is well and good, but we need to keep the food and raw materials flowing to the capital. Without them, they will outright starve or start eating themselves again... We need a neutral party in this. Someone who will not take sides and continue to deliver while not being attacked by anyone. I'm not sure how to pull that one off. At lest not yet. I'll need to get in touch with the Pirate King first to make sure of these matters. And only after this is secured - then we can take Cadiz as our own. Is he still in prison? We will need to bust him out, if so. That's the first thing we need to do.

He pauses, then stands up.

I'll go grab a shower, get some sleep, and try to get in touch with him, or someone who knows where he actually is. Then we set things in motion.

After that, he starts walking away towards the docking bay.

---

It's too late. You've awakened the gazebo. It catches you and eats you.