The Buccaneers Bay

[jammi]

King peeled his face from the sticky table surface to stare at Jack with a pair of bloodshot bleary eyes. He'd been on the lash, for the sole reason that he could. A well known side-effect of drunkenness was that piloting skills were multiplied by several magnitudes. Or was that Orange Grass that did that...? Dismissing the thought, he reached out to pick up the blaster from where it had been left.

Full charge, new crystals. Probably pretty lethal. The only pulses he was acquainted with were the ones he had mounted on his Waran though, and they were pretty useful for scragging shields. With a devious smile John eyed the 'special' cabinet Charles kept in the corner of the room. Exotic drinks that people actually wanted to drink (unlike the Gundy, which was exotic for a completely different reason) were stored there. A small relay unit kept a energy barrier across the unit's opening to keep prying fingers out. The relay had been one of the small gifts the Cap't had used to bribe Charles into abandoning the old Bay.

Flicking off the safety and squinting down the sight with one eye, he squeezed the trigger three times. Two of the bolts shot off at funny angles to scorch the walls or ceiling, but the third impacted on the energy wall with a hiss of sparks. The field collapsed. "That's a good gun you got there Jack," John conceded. Picking up a bottle that had prior been sitting next to his boot, and placing it on the table he continued.

"And we had a Zoner Liner try to stall us a few days back. The bloody idiot picked the wrong people to mess with though. A BAF destroyer and bomber crashed the party, but even they couldn't stop us. We scragged the catch then cut and run. I'd say that's pretty good going for us." He took a swig from the bottle and looked around. Life was good.

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