The Duane Lee Chapman Memorial Bar and Grill, Sheffield Station; "Sniffer" Martinez, proprietor

[Agmen of Eladesor]

The two pilots came through the door, already half in the bag.

"Marjorie, we need a drink!"

"Oh, Lord, boys, what've you been up to?" Sniffer asked.

The crew of the Athena's Memory sat down at a table. "Not much, Sniffer - just been blown all to hell by pirates AND by our own ship. Now bring us the whiskey."

"Geez, Max, you may drink, but you don't get drunk. What the hell is going on?"

Max slammed back the glass. It was too much for him, and he passed out on the table. His co-pilot looked at him. "Poor bastard - he's got it bad now. You know his wife was killed by pirates, right?"

Sniffer nodded, so Barry continued, "Well, we had to do some recon, like we always do. The poor bastard ran into a girl that coulda been her double - and since the poor, romantic, bastard still loves his wife, he sort of came unglued, thinking that it was her, brought back to life."

"You've miraculously sobered up, Limbaugh - what's the deal?"

"Simple - he's both my pilot and my friend. I drank colored water while he's been getting over her. Or maybe not - because it turns out that the woman he thought was his wife - is actually a cousin to her."

"Good lord, that's a twisted mess."

"Rush" Limbaugh chuckled. "Sniffer, it only gets worse. You know how some of Max's ancestors were on both the Hispania and the Bretonia, due to the way things were on old earth? Which of course complicates life already, since that means he's hunting his own family half the time. Now it turns out his wife had family in Rhineland as well."

Max lay on the table, listening to the tale his co-pilot told Sniffer, playing the drunk perfectly. With luck, the rumors would get circulated around all of Sheffield, and some new contacts could be made from this bit of work that would provide some insight on several things he was investigating.

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Oh god... The end of days... Agmen agreed with me.