The bar didn't immediately get quiet, though Gryzzk looked at his glass of mead with uncertainty, then leaned over to Reilly to make the Terran gestures of confusion. There wasn't exactly an equivalent for this in Vilantia, and the Terran who'd just spit in his drink could have done so as an invitation to something. Said Terran being a larger-than-average-man with rough face hair and a scent of spoiled fruit. Gryzzk cupped a hand over his mouth to keep his question quiet.

"Reilly, was that the opening to a Terran mating ritual? And if it was how do I politely tell him I'm married and ah, not interested?"

Reilly was in the middle of chugging her drink when Gryzzks question hit her ears and she promptly coughed around a mouthful of mead. In testament to her fortitude there was no spillage, but she took a few breaths before replying.

"Jesus Tapdancing Christ warn a girl before asking those questions!" Reilly wiped her mouth before finishing her mead.

Gryzzk glanced back to see the rest of the squad doing the same - the scent of the room had turned aggressive in some way, although not as strongly as it had been during the boarding action. Reilly looked the spitter up and down.

"Johnny Tyler. You looking for another trip to hospital followed by a drunk and disorderly?"

There was a snort in response. "From you Reilly? The only thing you could send me to the hospital with is the clap, and I ain't drunk enough yet to make you pretty."

Reilly put a hand to her mouth in feigned shock, turning to the rest of the Bad Moon Company. "I am so sorry you guys, I didn't mean to beat all his brains out last time but I think I mighta. He forgot the last time he tried hitting on me that I wouldn't [bzzt] him with a borrowed [bzzt] from the oldest hooker down at the Redlight." She shrugged casually.

For his own part, Gryzzk resolved to either learn Terran or get his translator filter updated.

The rest of the Bad Moons were wrinkling their faces in various levels of distaste at the exchange. One of the others spoke up. "So what the hell's this then?" He pulled out a flexisheet that had rotating images of Gryzzk in a few poses with his shotgun, and then with his dress uniform, and finally exiting the shuttle with the Throne-Heir and Nhoot. All the while a voice-over asked for Vilantians to join the 7th Cavs' new Terran Foreign Legion, with other species being considered on case by case basis.

Laroy spoke up as he tapped on the bar once for a shot of something. "Somethin' new. Now I know y'all are so dumb you couldn't pour piss out of a boot if the instructions were printed on the heel, but you should listen. That fellah there," Laroy flicked a finger at Gryzzk "done broke a Fostech 2985 like it was balsa wood. So if it's your intention to throw hands, well, I know y'all got your wills all filled out and on file." He took his shotglass, tapped it on the bar twice and then knocked it back with a happy sigh. "So now that y'all been warned proper-like, y'wanna buy the captain a round?"

There was a snort from one of them. "We ain't buying yer puppy a round of anything 'cept maybe a treat if he rolls over an' begs for it."

Laroy shrugged. "Whelp, just remember you went [bzzt]-first into this minefield. So we gonna keep moving air or are we gonna have ourselves a scrap?"

That was apparently the signal for the fight to begin, as Johnny grabbed Gryzzks mug and shattered it against Gryzzks face. Pain bloomed along the right side of his head as he fell off the bar stool and took a knee.

Chaos immediately descended as the entire bar stopped what they were doing and took sides - in the time it took Gryzzk to regain his feet, he saw that Reilly had grabbed the bar stool he had been sitting on by the legs and slammed it over Johnny's head. The stool collapsed into several segments, Reilly shook it to re-assemble it into a proper bar-stool and then slammed it back and forth in a sawing motion, all the while shouting warnings to not touch her [bzzt]ing Captain. The end result of all this was Johnny's throat and the back of his head were given rough treatment by the stool and supports until Reilly delivered a hard kick to a knee, after which Johnny hit the floor groaning. Reilly spit on his face and then waded into another member of Bad Moon.

The rest of the squad was similarly engaged, with elbows being thrown, knees and fists flying everywhere, and overall pandemonium. A grate had been dropped around the bar proper, and the barman was casually writing things down on a small pad.

Gryzzk shook his head to clear it and saw that Edwards was in a bad spot, with two of the Bad Moon company having thrown her into the game area and then followed to proceed to lay into her with fist and foot. That was an intolerable act, and Gryzzk was moving to do something about it before he'd even fully processed what was occurring.

He jumped over to one of the games that was played with balls and sticks on a felt table. He grabbed the heaviest looking stick and launched himself at the two attacking his Edwards. He brought the stick down over their heads, which momentarily stunned them. As for the stick itself, it segmented in a similar manner to the bar-stool - in an odd moment of clarity, Gryzzk saw that the stick was apparently designed to be broken like this; inside of the stick were multiple elastics that allowed it to be misused without it being broken. This was a pleasant discovery and he brought it up to shake it into a reassembled form.

The two he'd hit released Edwards and stood, looming over him with expressions of shock that turned malicious as soon as they saw the size difference. For his part, Gryzzk brought the stick up and over his shoulder and snarled, backing up slightly to give himself room. The two advanced, and Gryzzk brought the pool cue for another swing.

The two were used to fighting together and their movements showed it as they advanced, the one on the right being ahead of the one on the left – their expressions radiating that they thought Gryzzk easy prey. Not too long ago, Gryzzk would have hesitated and babbled apologies. But that was last month. Gryzzk snarled defiance and flinched forward.

The two launched forward and Gryzzk brought the pool cue around, hitting the neck of the one on the right with the result of the cue segmenting itself until it had wrapped around both of them and then allowing Gryzzk to catch it in his other hand. This was enough to even the floor a bit as Gryzzk pulled the cue to bring them off balance and threw several kicks at each of them.

"I am Captain Gryzzk and that is Private Edwards and that is MY Private and you will not touch her you furless cowards!" Gryzzk bellowed out to the two who were struggling to get up. He tried keeping them off-balance by throwing punches at their faces, which worked but only to a point – keeping the ends of the cue in his hands gave greater force to his punches, but he was hampered by not being able to deliver a full swing like he wanted. They were beginning to get out from their pool-cue-induced restraint when there was a thumping sound. Their eyes both rolled up in their sockets and they went limp. As they fell to the floor, Edwards' form was revealed, as she held a pool ball in each hand. Apparently she'd hit them both on the back of the head while they were focused on Gryzzk.

Edwards smiled at him for a moment, blood running from a cut over her eye. "C'mon. Not done till they're done."

The two of them raced back to find Muranaga, Roberts and Laroy each paired off and making their opponents regret many things. Muranaga was a study in speed and accuracy, throwing rapid short jabs from every angle at once. Roberts was in and using arm holds and throws before launching more kicks at anything that was wearing red. Laroy was frighteningly unpredictable – Gryzzk saw Laroy grab his opponents' mug-filled hand and twist with the result of the opponent shattering the mug against his own face.

Stolen novel; please report.

With Edwards and Gryzzk joining, the outcome was not in doubt. The only question was how long it would take. Gryzzk dropped the cue and jumped onto the back of one to begin pummeling wildly while Edwards used the pool balls to great effect in her hands. Finally the Bad Moon Company members were sent to unconsciousness or close enough that the point was moot. Subsequently they were dragged out to the street for the local medics or other company members to pick up. Overall it seemed that the melee had died down, with combatants either too tired to continue or tending their injuries.

The grate surrounding the bar lifted and the barman pointed at Edwards. "Clean them up and put 'em back." After that he turned to the crowd in general to make the announcement; "Bar's open again folks – someone call Bad Moon for a pickup and to settle up - they owe for two mugs and they owe that [bzzt] a round." The last part was said with a finger pointed toward Gryzzk.

Gryzzk looked around for Reilly, who was grimacing as she checked herself over. One arm hung oddly and her face was bruised.

"Are you...your arm?" Gryzzks concern was waved away.

"I got this, Cap." She took a deep breath as she walked over to a support pillar, and after a second deep breath she slammed her shoulder into it with a screech. Gryzzk was highly concerned until she walked back over to him, sweat beading on her brow. "Just a dislocated shoulder, nothing too bad. I just need some anesthetic now." She rolled her shoulder a few times to test it, nodding to herself as it seemed to be working properly. Her preferred anesthesia for the moment was something called chocolate vodka. After two of them, she finally settled.

Gryzzk looked around. "So...what now?"

Laroy spoke up. "Finish your drinks, I say we go to a new bar where we ain't got our blood on it." His voice was oddly pitched and nasal.

Muranaga glanced around. "Sparrows?"

The group all shouted back "Hell yes!"

Before they left, Gryzzk looked around on the floor and found the flexisheet with the advertisement on it. He went over to the barman. "Pardon me, but is there a place where I can post this?"

The barman nodded and jerked a thumb toward a bulletin board area where a myriad of similar sheets advertised jobs and positions available. Gryzzk found a free spot and posted the call to employment with the Terran Foreign Legion.

The tab was paid, and the whole group moved outside past the medics attending to Bad Moon and a few others from the bar who'd fared poorly in their own individual fights.

Muranaga nodded toward the street. "Thisaway, troop."

As they walked, Gryzzk found himself flanked by Reilly and Edwards. Reilly was humming a happy tune for a moment and then began singing a song about being down the river and drunk with all of her thumbs in the air. After a moment or two the whole squad sang with her and Gryzzk was left listening in amazement as they all seemed to be in high spirits despite having just been in a fight. It might have been because of the fight. The song itself was simple and repetitive enough that Gryzzk was able to join in the second time around as they found themselves entering Sparrows and moving toward the bar.

In contrast to Ricks' bar, Sparrows was seemingly a throwback to ancient Terra, with pictures of boats, wanted posters for various people of ill repute who had all committed a lengthy amount of crimes against some Crown. The names were hard to make out, but they were mostly legible. Mr Gibbs, Cotton, Cotton's Parrot, Will Turner and Captain Jack Sparrow were the most often used posters. The scent of the place was sharp in various ways, but familiar enough that he liked it.

Gryzzk blinked. "What's...what's here?"

Laroy slapped Gryzzk on the back. "Only the bes' damn rum bar in Casablanca. We're testing out the water tonight. We're gonna find a bar for you cap'n."

Gryzzk was amazed - the only thing the bar served was rum, but in so many different combinations and flavors that trying them all would probably have been the death of him. That said, he wasn't exactly familiar with Terran flavoring, so he leaned on Reilly and Edwards metaphorically for assistance. After a shot of banana rum, a shot of cherry rum, a shot of chocolate rum, and finally another shot of banana rum to wipe the chocolate taste away, the leaning was a bit more literal. Each of the shots had been accompanied by a light carbonated drink that soothed the burn from the shots. One thing he noticed was that there were far fewer mercenaries here - or at least ones openly displaying their affiliation. As a secondary thing, he saw that the squad was given wide berth. Probably because they'd all come in with some sort of injury but seemed to be in high spirits despite it.

Edwards nudged him, or at least tried to as Laroy and Roberts sang a song at the bar about being bad to the bone. Once again Terran colloquialism was escaping him. A lot of things were escaping him at the moment, and he had to focus on Edwards after a long moment.

"What's that?" Gryzzk blinked hard.

Edwards snickered a bit, repeating the question. "Y'Vilantians got any songs for drinkin'?"

Gryzzk nodded a bit. "We do. They might not translate well, but we do."

Reilly perked up at that, "Ooooh lemme hear!"

Gryzzk ducked down for a moment. "It might be...uhm...loud."

Edwards pointed to the door. "On the way to the new bar then."

The rest of the squad gave agreement, and decided their next stop would be a place called Murphy's.

Once outside in the night, Roberts prompted Gryzzk. "Okay, Murphy's is a quick step away so let's hear it."

Gryzzk snickered to himself a bit for a moment as the thought of the Terrans singing a Vilantian drinking song came to his mind, and then steadied himself. "Okay, here we go." Gryzzk threw his head back a bit and started with a long ululating howl, and punctuated each stanza with another howl as he sang.

Light gods come, we offer our wine,

Dark gods come, we offer our life,

Twilight's come, we offer our claws,

The barman comes, we shout out for more!

Clan Lords come, we offer our throats,

Clan maidens come, we offer our sons,

Clan suitors come, we offer our daughters,

The barman comes, we shout out for more!

By the time they'd reached Murphy's the entire squad was howling along with him in raucous enjoyment of the night.

Edwards and Reilly looked at each other for a moment.

Reilly snickered slightly. "Alpha Howlers?"

Edwards nodded with an abundance of enthusiasm. "Alpha Howlers."

Reilly pulled the door open with her good arm and strode in, cupping both hands around her mouth to make her voice heard more. "Alright alllllll -" she paused to hiccup, "Everybody! I'mma introduce - with tonights' bunch of the Bravo Bulldogs that you know and love and pay very well, these are the Alpha Howlers of the brand new Terran Foreign Legion! Leading off is yours truly, Pri'te Jenassa Reilly. Second into the door Pri'te Brelyna Edwards." She lowered her voice for a moment. "Out the way Edwards, Cap's coming next." She brought her voice back up to full volume. "And leading this pack of unwashed heathens with six bright eyes to go along with boots full of sand and hands full of whoopass, is Captain Gryzzk comin' straight out of Vilantia!"

There was a raucous cheer from the crowd - either the Bulldogs were well-known, or the patrons were the type to cheer at anything. Gryzzk entered, hoping it was more the former as he went to the bar to see what the specialty of this very green place was. The scent was sharp like Sparrows, but with a different direction - not rum but something like rum, along with another scent that was harder to define.

Murphy's turned out to specialize in two things. Whiskey, and something called a pint. What was in the pint was dark and smooth and seemed perfect to help forget the fact that his upper and middle right eyes were swelling shut, however whiskey did not quite agree with him. It was overall a good night thus far, even as the barman rang a bell for last orders. Pints were drunk, chairs put in place, and the entire squad leaned on each other for locomotion as they headed toward what appeared to be their final stop – a place called the Waffle House.

The entire squad shoved themselves into a corner booth, as others barely spared them a glance. From the scent of the place, it seemed as though this was a final stop for many patrons of alcohol to get some sort of food to re-energize enough to get home to sleep. Gryzzk couldn't quite make out the menu, and once again Reilly and Edwards were helpful as they ordered for him and themselves without even looking at the menu.

Food was ordered and eaten along with drinks that were not alcoholic, and Gryzzk had no idea what he was eating save that it smelled decent enough. After eating and chattering and recounting the fight from several different angles, the squad was finally able to relax enough and collectively agree that it was time to call it a night.

Once they'd shuttled back up to Homeplate, the squad was able to stagger everyone back to their individual quarters one at a time until finally Edwards and Reilly walked Gryzzk back to his apartment.

As they entered, Grezzk was there sleeping peacefully on a recliner with her hands on her stomach. Gryzzk carefully picked her up as she stirred slightly, nuzzling him and murmuring that he'd been out late testing the brightwine with Lord A'kifab again.

Edwards and Reilly were leaning on each other as he re-emerged, and Gryzzk judged that they were not going to get much further by themselves. Edwards yawned loudly as if to prove he was correct.

"Cap'n can we stay over tonight? I called my mom and she said it was okay..." Reilly's voice was heavy with fatigue and whatever she'd imbibed.

Gryzzk nodded. "You may."

"Thas' good." And so saying she fell asleep half on, half off the couch.

Gryzzk maneuvered Edwards to the recliner, who muttered something about it smelling nice before she joined Reilly in sleep.

And finally it was Gryzzks' turn to fall heavily into bed. He'd learned, taught, and things seemed to be improving. Tomorrow's problems were indeed waiting, but they could wait quietly in the corner for him.