Hanratty's Bar was a pub in Technon Park, near the Army base. It was also halfway across town.

I made it a point to cross most of the city in civvies, then switched into my Armor in an alley. The nice thing about this part of the city - lots of abandoned alleys, and nanobots could check them out before I went in to change. Which, thanks to my now practiced skills with Inventory, took less than a second.

I walked into the bar in my Nanofibre Weave Armor, drawing stares from the patrons. A familiar face greeted me.

Private Tucker looked vastly different in an electric blue T-shirt. He greeted me with a wave. “Hey, Belessar!”

I nodded in acknowledgement and walked over. “Tucker. Good to see you.”

“You remember the guys, right?” He waved to several of the others.

“Duncan, Mario, Kim. Good to see you guys too.”

The three soldiers, all in civvies, nodded back. “The L-T apologized for not being here,” said PFC Duncan Wallace. “He had some paperwork.”

“But the important part,” added PFC Frank Kim, “is that I can finally buy you that drink we promised.”

“You have to let me buy at least one round,” I grinned.

“Can you drink through that mask?” asked PFC Mario Acosta. “Your suit was fully sealed up in NY.”

“Actually, this one’s special,” I explained. “I made a custom helmet a couple of days ago with a retractable mouthpiece.”

I willed the lower jaw of my helmet to slide back, exposing my mouth and chin.

HELMET RECONFIGURED: SOCIAL MODE. WARNING: ARMOR IS NOT COMPLETELY SEALED. ARMOR INTEGRATION OFFLINE. EACH PIECE OF ARMOR WILL ACT AS AN INDEPENDENT UNIT UNTIL SEALED AGAIN.

I’d come up with the modification a couple of days ago. The new configuration had its weakness, but at least I could eat and drink - or chug down an Adrenaline Serum - without removing my helmet completely.

The soldiers exchanged glances, then Frank and Duncan sighed and handed over a twenties to Mario Acosta.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“We had a small bet going,” replied Duncan, “on what colour you were. I bet on Asian.”

“And I bet on African-American,” grumbled Frank, “while this genius here said you’d be lily-white.”

I scratched my head. “I don’t know whether to be offended or not. You seriously bet on my skin colour?”

“Skin, hair, age, number of teeth,” Tucker muttered. “There’s a betting pool for everything going on in the platoon.”

“Seriously? You don’t have anything better to do?”

“We’re on R&R.” Duncan shrugged. “There actually isn’t much to do. Ruck up, do route marches, stay in shape, and effectively unlimited liberty.”

“There’s supposed to be some big ceremony next week, where Lieutenant Doyle accepts the keys to the city on behalf of the platoon,” replied Mario. “We’re supposed to parade down the street in our dress uniforms and salute the mayor. It’s all very formal and stiff.”

“For now, let’s get started on some less formal drinking,” suggested Frank. “Belessar - what’s your choice.”

I shrugged. “Something not too strong.”

The men exchanged glances. “Let’s start with some beers,” suggested Tucker, “and we’ll see how it goes from there?”

Five Bud Lights were handed to us, and we headed for a table.

“You should do something about your voice modulator,” commented Mario. “Your normal voice sounds a lot more human than that creepy buzz.”

“I didn’t realize it sounded creepy….”

“It’s seriously unsettling. Whenever we spoke in New York, I felt like we were talking to a robot.”

“A snakey robot,” added Frank. “What with the hissing.”

“Unfortunately, it makes the armor less effective.”

“Don’t we know that,” grumbled Duncan. “True of all gear, actually - the more effective it is, the less pretty it looks. Anyway - absent friends.” He held up his beer for a toast.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Absent friends.” I took a swig of the beer.

BUDWEISER LIGHT BEER

A SOOTHING, LESS INTOXICATING BEER, THIS WILL MAKE SERIOUS DRINKERS SEE YOU AS A PANSY.

+10 AP.

INTOXICATION METER ACTIVATED.

CURRENT LEVEL: SOBER (0). 1/10 POINTS TO NEXT LEVEL.

….. And of course I had an Intoxication meter, which I just discovered right now.

“So,” Tucker remarked. “What does a superhero do when he’s not blowing up villains and rescuing pretty girls?”

“Who told you I rescue pretty girls?”

“We read up a bit of the news coverage before coming,” said Mario. “And discovered you’re something of a knight in shining armour to the local people.”

“Except that his doesn’t shine,” added Frank. “Thankfully. I mean, you don’t want to be sniper bait.”

I grinned. “It’s actually coated in stealth paint as well.”

“You make stealth paint? … wait, sorry. Is there stuff you can’t make?”

“Lots. I just make a few things. Can’t talk about details, of course.”

“Good point,” agreed Frank. “Say, what do call those things with the big sniper rifles? The ones that got the tanks?”

“Raptor Heavy Snipers,” I replied. “They have a weapon called a Heavy Plasma Projector Rifle. It’s powerful enough to punch a hole in a tank.” I shrugged. “As we saw.”

“They the same as the big lizard-face patrolmen?”

“No, the big squat lizard-faced types are the Sarnak. The ones with thin faces are the Raptors. Different species.”

“Huh,” Frank commented. “I always thought they were different races. Like, Latino and whites, for example.”

“Nope. Completely different species. From what I can make out, the Hierarchy is actually a multi-species alliance of sorts.”

Tucker nodded. “The ones in the theatre - Sarnak or Raptors?”

“Some of both. The main commander, though, was a Raptor Captain.”

Duncan frowned. “Raptor captain? They have ranks?”

“Of course they have ranks,” interrupted Tucker. “They’re military units. They fly spaceships. Somebody’s got to be in command.”

“But surely they can’t be calling their captains ‘Captain’,” pointed out Duncan. “I mean, that’s an English word.”

I frowned. “I… don’t know. My power tells me some of this stuff … but it’s not very clear. I suspect the rank has a different name but actually translates to Captain in English.”

“Army Captain or Navy captain?” asked Frank. “Because there’s a massive difference.”

“Honestly don’t know,” I shrugged. “What’s the difference between an Army captain and a Navy captain anyway?”

The soldiers exchanged glances, then Tucker explained. “Army captain commands a company. Or a battery, if it’s artillery. About 150 men.”

“Navy captain commands a large ship,” continued Frank. “Not a sub or frigate, at least a cruiser, if not a carrier. Anywhere between two and four thousand sailors.”

“Oh. That’s quite a difference. I think what we encountered must have been their equivalent of an Army captain, then? There were only about two hundred aliens in the attack.”

“You saw a Raptor captain,” said Tucker. “The Sarnak - did you see any NCOs or officers among them?”

“No… they were all listed as Sarnak Troopers.”

“Listed?”

“It’s how I think of what my power tells me about the aliens. Say, doesn’t the Army explain this stuff to you guys?”

“Army intel probably knows,” grumbled Duncan, “but us grunts on the ground don’t get told anything. Or enough.”

“Should I be telling you, then?” I joked.

“Don’t you dare leave us hanging,” Tucker chuckled. “You got this awesome cheat card that tells you stuff we don’t have the clearance for, you use it. For your friends.”

“Battle buddies tell each other secret crap all the time,” added Frank. “Like we explained the difference between the two ranks to you just now, right?”

I shrugged. “As long as it doesn’t get you in trouble.”

“The L-T’s an understanding sort,” pointed out Duncan. “He’ll clear it. Plus he has a soft spot for you.”

“He does?... I didn’t know he cared.”

“Well, he did say he wants you at the keys ceremony. Since you contributed to the unit’s survival.”

“Plus you cured him of a bad case of plasma blast,” Tucker added, “so that’ll count for a lot.”

“Healed, not cured,” I corrected automatically.

“What’s the difference? If it’s not secret stuff.”

I shrugged. “Healed fixes temporary wounds and battle injuries. Cured removes underlying permanent or long-term illnesses. I can do the first but not the second.”

The four soldiers nodded in acknowledgement.

“Anyway… the Sarnak? Did you see any NCOs?” Tucker asked. “I particularly want to know if you saw any sergeants.”

“Why sergeants?”

“Because sergeants are the biggest, toughest, meanest bastards in a unit,” smirked Tucker. “The Sarnak are plenty mean and tough, but I really want to bag myself a Sarnak Sergeant.”

NEW QUEST ALERT: HELP PRIVATE TUCKER BAG A SARNAK SERGEANT!

REWARD: INCREASED RELATIONSHIP WITH PRIVATE TUCKER, INCREASED RELATIONSHIP WITH U.S. ARMY, +100 XP.

I grinned back. “I’ll see what I can do. As to your question - no, I didn’t see any Sarnak Sergeants. Or other ranks. Just troopers.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Tucker said.

“The aliens are pretty strange, right?” Duncan said as he downed his beer. “I wonder what kind of society the Sarnak have. Do they have democracy, and civil rights, and all the other stuff we have? What do you think, Belessar?”

I shrugged. “I know that the Raptors have some sort of clan-based structure. Also they have clanlords and dynasties - the captain we killed in New York was from one such clan, and a clan scion. Whatever that means."

Duncan frowned. “Okay, that sounds like current intel. Why didn’t you tell the L-T then?”

I shrugged. “At first, the theatre was on fire, and then we were chasing the remaining aliens across town. It sort of slipped my mind…. Do you think it would be helpful if I sat down with the L-T and gave him a rundown of everything I remember?”

All four nodded vigorously. “That’s a pretty good idea,” Tucker amplified. “Most soldiers debrief after a mission, it’s pretty normal.”

“And write reports?”

“Yeah, the L-T mostly writes the reports. But you can join in the fun too. I mean, if you really want to.”

“I think I should. Say, I’ve been meaning to ask you guys one thing - if it’s okay. It’s sort of business, so if it’s inappropriate, then tell me and I’ll back off.”

“We’re friends here. Go on.”

“Do you think the L-T could get me a look at some of the alien tech recovered in New York?”

“I think….” Tucker said cautiously, “the L-T might be able to arrange something. But you’d have to talk it over with him directly.”

“Will do,” I replied.

“Now, Belessar, tell us about those really fine girls you rescued,” chuckled Mario.

I sighed. “They’re people. Good people.”

“We’re good people too,” replied Frank. “Could you introduce us?”

I burst out laughing. “You want me to introduce you to my female friends? Seriously?”

Tucker was glaring daggers at Frank. “Not appropriate, Frank.”

Frank waved his hands in the air. “Hey, he knows a lot of hot women. I’m single and willing to mingle. Maybe we can make a connection!”

“Well,” I said, “I’m glad I figured out your hidden motives for this party.”