Sable's Experiences

[Toaster]

November 21, 827 A.S.

The waiter returned with the ordered drinks, placing them before the pair of patrons and leaving them without a word. The two pilots raised their glasses in a silent toast and each took a sip, enjoying the warming sensation of the scotch and whiskey within their systems rinse away the cold of space.

No wonder so many spacers are alcoholics, Olivia thought to herself and chuckled softly.

"So," Benjamin spoke, placing his glass back on the tabletop before him, "what has Olivia Sable been up to all these years?"

The mercenary took a second sip of her drink and swished it around her mouth, taking in all the flavor the relatively cheap scotch had to offer before swallowing.

"That's a long story," she replied briskly. The man across from her shrugged innocently.

"I'm in no hurry."

Olivia sighed. There was no getting around it, she supposed.

"Fine. But we'll need more and stronger drinks."

Benjamin let out a laugh and nodded, waving at the waiter to come back.

"Whatever you want."



The next hour or two shot by in a blur as Olivia recounted the many adventures - or rather misadventures - she had been on since leaving the Bretonian theater of war. She told the former Bretonian pilot about her work in the Omegas, the mercenary company she had been recruited into based on a lost bet, the good times she'd had with the Colors and the much more numerous bad times she'd had thanks to Pedro.

She wisely skipped over many of the more shameful details of her life under the Cretan's grip, not wanting to give her drinking partner the idea that she was some kind of monster. Instead, she went into great detail about how her and the Colors had banded together for one last hurrah to take down a dangerous, cruel artifact smuggler, ridding Sirius of one of its many crimelords.

Benjamin listened closely, captivated by the many tales as much as he was by the woman telling them. His eyes were practically glued to hers, taking in every emotion produced by every word she spoke. Olivia recalled details of their past together; how he had stood up for her early on when his pilots had questioned her unorthodox strategies in the field; how he had often assigned her to his own flight, supposedly to keep an eye on the unruly hired gun; how they had spent many nights at the canteens and bars of Bretonian battleships together, laughing, singing, drinking.

There had always been attraction between them, an unspoken desire to get closer to each other, but Benjamin's sense of duty and decor coupled with Olivia's still fresh pain of loss and fear of intimacy had prevented it. But many years had passed since then. Commander Sharpe was no more, instead Benjamin was now a simple employee for the Independent Miners Guild. And Olivia's recent experiences in Liberty and on Crete had broken many of the restraints she had long ago imposed on herself, liberating her from the fears that had haunted her for so long.

As she spoke, Olivia noticed that her fatigue diminished, that her rustled mind calmed down. The man across from her wanted her. Not in the sense that Pedro had; as a means to an end. But as an object of desire. And she noticed that she wanted him, too.

---

Olivia Sable