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It had been some time since Doc had visited the Canaria Cafe. Having his own estate and his diplomatic status, he didn't travel as often to the larger settlement of Gran Canaria.
"It's been awhile, Doc, how's it been going?" Norman the barkeep asked, pouring him a shot of whiskey.
"Not bad I guess," replied the doctor, "busy but not bad."
Doc took a seat, took the shot and downed it.
"Very good, Sir," Doc commented with a smile. Then, his face went straight as he looked Norman in the face.
"Any good rumors?" inquired Doc.
"No, not too many. I only here stories of the miners having trouble with pirates up there," replied Norman pointing skyward.
"Hm...." was all Doc responded with as he nodded. He sat for a moment which seemed like forever then leaned forward, "how would you like a rumor for yourself."
Norman smiled and leaned almost nose to nose with Doc, "You should know better. I'm a bartender. Out with it."
Doc just nodded and smiled. Then in a low voice, he said, "I hear that Bretonia is looking to expand to our system."
A shocked Norman leaned back a bit and just as he was about to yell, he caught himself, looked around the bar and returned to Doc, "You're kidding."
Doc only shook his head no.
"Bretonia? Here?" quietly exclaimed Norman. He then stood up and through his bar rag on the bar and got back down where Doc was. "The Corsairs will be furious! Zoners will be furious! Hell, I'm furious!" at which point his voice was audible for all to hear.
"Keep it down, Norman. I only recently heard about it," said Doc. "What I need you to do is chill out, play dumb about the issue and see what you hear through the rumor mill."
Norman again smiled, "Remember, Doc, I'm a bartender!"
With that, Doc paid for his drink and as a down payment, forwarded Norman some credits to keep his eyes and ears open and with his long, black over coat and hat, headed out the bar.
As he left, a man in a dark corner booth in a Corsair uniform, watched as he left. Softly, he began whispering into his personal com to........someone.