Target: Cambridge

[pchwang]

Aemon Yorktown glided his raider's freighter smoothly into Rochester. It was a quiet day, the Xenos probably weren't feeling suicidal. Yorktown got out, sidestepping the Nomad brains in his Cargo bay. Despite being stored in protective biohazard casing, being near those things still freaked him out.

He was supposed to run a fast one with his partner, who disappeared on Fortleza. Despite being a good pilot, it took a toll on his nerves. The Rochester bar wasn't half as good as the Manhattan bar, but at least he could talk to people there.

Normally, there was a game of craps with rigged dice, run obviously by the Junkers, or Texas Hold-em, but today was quiet. Yorktown walked into the bar, where Pete, the bartender, and the entire room was crowded around Pete's dinky little tellavishan(as they called it).

"Pete, mate, " muttered Yorktown, "quit lookin' at those 5c lassies and pour me a scotch."

Pete just turned around and gave Yorktown a look. Apparently, the Junker base wasn't quiet just because the Xenos weren't feeling suicidal.
Yorktown thought. He had missed something

The Tellavishan began humming and and began smoking.

"DAMN IT!" cried Pete, "I'm gonna kill that sucker for selling me dis Nomad Artifact..."

"Pete," said Yorktown, "the Scotch..." He studied his pocket calculator, and punched a few numbers in.

Pete sighed and waved his hand at Yorktown. "Yous from Bretland, eh, Yaukton?"

"Aye," said Yorktown without looking up.

"What part yous from?" Pete had not moved from in front of the tellavishan.

"If I tell you, will you get me my feckin' scotch?" Yorktown looked up.

"Hey, buddy," Pete growled, "I likes ya, and you my buddy, but when I try to be sincere and carin' you shout at me..."

"Pete, get speech lessons." Yorktown picked up the calculator, stood and held it closer to the light.

"CAMBRIDGE got suface wiped by a MOXer dis mornin'!" Pete looked like he was going to explode.

A shadow, cut across the floor of the bar...
A shadow cut across a green field...

The people in the bar jumped from the inexpected "clack".
Two little girls in the field vanished, forever.

Yorktown's calculator lay on the floor.

To be continued...

---

[7:42:05 PM][6:51:36 PM] Igor (Smokey): btw terry
[6:51:48 PM] Terrance Cooper: Ye?
[6:52:00 PM] Igor (Smokey): nothin
[6:52:03 PM] Igor (Smokey): just sayin btw
[6:52:05 PM] Terrance Cooper: <_<

Johnny_Haas: you shot anti criuse speed rockets!!!
Johnny_Haas: but why????
Johnny_Haas: ??
Johnny_Haas: why you shoot criuse speed rockets?