The Bear's Cave - Sedona Station, Baffin (Formerly Freeport 14, Yukon)

[Dusty Lens]

So far as shortcuts go the road from Kusari to Yukon wasn't the smoothest, imagine there were briar patches through into which a body wouldn't mind be tossed naked over the rather touch-and-go path presented by the Rogues.

But still, he preferred to avoid Colorado. In some ways the hurtles of the mind presented a far more formidable obstacle. Or at least an uncomfortable one.

So when what was left of his Sabre dropped back into realspace abreast the welcome sight of Freeport Fourteen David Chambers, running under the handle of one Daniel Conner of the Reaver Mercenary Company, breathed a sigh of relief on two levels.

His damage control board was flashing more red than green and his tank was coming up thirsty. He was coming up thirsty. A good enough sign that this would be as good a pitstop as any. Barrier could wait until tomorrow. Landing permission was requested and received. His ship settled into its cradle as the docking mechanism received his ship and moved it to the side, preparing for the next. Scans were made and repair costs estimated.

When the helmet came off he didn't need a mirror to tell him he looked like ****. The environmental suit would have retarded any bacterial growth, but it couldn't do anything about the two days of stubble on a face that looked like it had one foot in the grave and the other in hell. He pulled on a pair of jeans, dragged a threadbare wooly pully out of a compartment and over his head and strapped a pistol to his thigh. A double tap on the ship's hull and the sparks that followed signaled a working set of riot gloves. If his current life told him anything it was that looks didn't matter when you could fight like a sonofabitch.

Five minutes after touchdown his boots were threading a steady pace through the corridors towards The Bear's Cave, gloved fingers tapping a cadence against his sidearm in time with his steps. Zoner bases were generally good to go, but when one's head was worth thirty million it seemed like it'd be nice to at least return fire.

The bar he found wasn't what he expected. But the brightly colored, in more ways than one, backdrop wasn't entirely displeasing either. He stood in the doorway for a half moment, taking in the sights and persons. Cheerfully surrendering his firearm at the door before concluding his short march at the bar where the tender was swiftly flagged.

If I could score a menu and a whiskey toddy that'd be all manner of fine.