Sneak Attack

“Now this is my kind of joint” Alice roared as she stepped through the door to the ‘pub’.

A pub it seemed was another word for bar in English, maybe the word came with some unspoken intonations of being fancier and nicer than bars because the establishment Alice had brought Alwen to was much nicer than most bars she had been to. Warm and rich wood floors, with a façade of flagstone walls, a rich clean scent mixed beautifully with the smell of food from the kitchen wafting out. It was the nicest Terran establishment she had ever seen, and she was just now realizing that she had unconsciously began to assort squalor with anything Terran, but maybe that was just because they were only visiting poorer neighborhoods. Now that she thought about it there was plenty of beauty and splendor in Terran movies. And the Astaroth was anything but poor.

The pub was named the I.R.A, obviously it was meant to stand for something important to this Ireland place, but Alwen lacked the context needed to figure that out. The place was packed with people, and not just Terrans, though there were plenty of them around. Groups of Bone’men and massive Trikes took up a third of the space, Terrans another third, and the final third was populated with a wide array of non-deathworlders. Bold looking Icutoo and Zxx’thi chatted calmly with deathworlders and Hellworlders alike, and a few species she didn’t recognize ambled along without showing the normal tension she had grown accustomed to from non-deathworders.

Limey and the twins were at the bar chatting with an Icutoo and a Gelid, a large pudgy broad-shouldered species with an elongated droopy snout and tusks “Nah mate I’m telling you; humans have an intense pain tolerance threshold. We can break bones without blinking, we can take more pain than any of you Icky-toot buggers” Limey said to the Icutoo on his left who seemed to be drinking a foul ammonia smelling concoction.

“Your people are impressive in many ways, but your bones are denser, that means it would hurt more if they broke” The Gelid shot back.

Gabriel got a mischievous look on his face “Wanna bet, ten credits I can break my fingers without flinching, ten for each finger”

The Gelid snorted “Deal”

Gabriel then proceeded to crack each of his fingers, Alwen knew very well that the loud cracking pop each one gave off was from gas bubbles in the joints. And as disturbing as it seemed to her, it was perfectly safe. The humans insisted that they get a sense of relief from it. But to help sell the show Alwen purposely faked a shuddering cringe as Gabriel popped each of his fingers on the table, including his thumbs. “Gabriel” Alwen snapped pushing in between the two “How many times have I told you not to do that, I’m tired of fixing your broken bones” she said making a point of painstakingly examining his hands.

“Gracias” he whispered under his breath.

She pretended he didn’t say anything a reached into the small emergency medical bag she kept and began to apply a pungent green anti-bacterial salve. She sighed frustratedly to add to the act “keep your fingers as straight as you can for an hour or two” she instructed as the Gelid slapped a hundred credits down on the table.

“Crazy Hellworlders” it muttered as it made a cross between a snort and a grunt sound from its trunk.

Alwen finished up her ‘work’ and turned to Limey, “Your hometown is close to this Ireland place right? what’s the meaning behind the pub’s name”

He scowled “I’m from Bristol, that’s nowhere near Ireland”

“Closer than Denver is” Gabe quipped.

“Closer than Torwen” Alwen added.

Limey groaned “Fine, it refers to a group of Irish musicians, the Irish Rocker Association. Them and another band, Sin Fain, had a rivalry across the channel with some English bands, bands like The House of Lords, and The Iron Lady. Their rivalry was known as the Troubles and eventually resulted in the Good Friday Agreement; a two weeklong concert held in Londonderry.”

Gabriel frowned “Weren’t the IRA terrorists”

“Look sometimes a good concert will end in a riot, but that’s not the band’s fault.” Limey shot back with a shit eating grin.

The two of them and the bartender, who had a charming lilting accent, began to bicker back and forth. Alwen knew that whatever Limey said, it would be flat out wrong. But the arguments that ensued were always fun to watch.

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Alwen ordered herself a drink and one for Sean and walked over to their little table in the corner. Pill number 41 had been the connection to actually work as planned without major repercussions, though her hangovers felt worse than before. Now they were tweaking the formula to lessen any side effects and find a more mass producible variant. They were now on pill 41-k and she was really glad she didn’t have to worry about going blind in strange stations. Ever since her adventure on Parox she had been too afraid of a repeat to drink whenever they went out drinking, now she didn’t have to fear that anymore. Of course she still practiced healthy moderation whenever she went out, no point in pushing it.

She hadn’t really gotten to know Sean very well, maybe sitting a table with six other people hadn’t been the best idea for a first date. So now she asked Alice to give her a little time alone with Sean. Alwen could tell easily that Alice didn’t like him, and she couldn’t blame her. He didn’t leave the best impression on her either, and she knew that if he couldn’t mesh with her marine friends then they wouldn’t really work out. They were the best part of her life aboard the Astaroth. But she wanted to give him as much of a chance as possible, and he had been the first person to ask her out, so she was willing to forgive a few things.

“Wow this place is busy” he said conversationally as she sat down.

“Yeah, I’m mostly surprised by how clean it is.” Alwen handed him his drink “Plus all the non-deathworlders, they’re usually too afraid to come near us in public.”

“I think that’s just a stereotype, deathworlders got a bad reputation so they usually stay away. But we can be more than our violent ancestry tells us, Humans can be as soft and passive as any species out there, we just need to try.” He said earnestly.

“I guess you’re right, I didn’t get the impression that you Terrans cared much about how they saw you though”

“It’s one of those Earth/Mars divides in thinking. On Mars we really want to fit in with galactic society, they teach us very early on what kind of behavior makes other people uncomfortable and how to be better about it. People on Earth don’t really care though, I get the feeling that if the Union hadn’t intervened when we reached the space age Humanity would have just become another marauding deathworld empire like the Kruhur once were. On Mars we think a little more in line with the Union’s ideals.”

Alwen smiled to herself; she knew that any of her marine friends would disapprove of that mindset. They had a more belligerent attitude than that, they felt that they were who they were, and that everyone else should just accept it. She was inclined to agree on principle. But Sean’s perspective didn’t seem like a bad one. On the whole the Union was peaceful and stable, a little bureaucratically stifling but they had the best of intentions. And those qualities had helped it endure the trials and tribulations of many existential threats.

“That’s an unusual attitude for a space pirate to have” she teased, careful to keep the space pirate part quiet.

“I mean I’m not really a space pirate though, I just work in engineering. Nothing about my job is any different from work on other starships.”

“You work the weapons” she countered pointedly “and if that was the case then why did you join on with the Astaroth?”

“Opportunities, I got out of college and needed a job. My professor knew Chief Heizer and got me an interview. After a few more years aboard I’ll have good solid experience to put on my resume and have my pick of better opportunities. Though if I’m being honest I already know where I want to work.”

Alwen was intrigue by his attitude, most of the other crew had a driven determination behind them. Alice had hinted at a mission, and the rest seemed to be on the same boat as her. “Where?” she asked so as not to seem rude.

“Astarte runs other companies besides the Astaroth, one of them is a weapon manufacture. All the ship’s missiles, sensors, and a bunch of other things are made there. They’re the cutting edge, in a market humanity hasn’t had a hand in for over two centuries. If you ask me I think that’s the real reason behind the Astaroth and the others. She’s just using the ship to test weapons in live combat, I think she wants to take over warship manufacturing contracts for the Union navy, and shift that industry firmly over to Sol”

“You really think so?”

“Yeah, piracy is good an all, but the captain is a smart women. She knows that this isn’t a long-term plan, she’s just using it to earn revenue for her other ventures. I heard from some of the other guys say that she’s pretty much taken over all shipping to Sol after using the Astaroth to take out any ship she didn’t own. She now sits at the center of a shipping empire and now we’ve been working our way through mines and factories, and she’s poured a lot of investment into MDY. Its like the Chief said, she’s been a catalyst for good business. Ten years from now she’s guaranteed to be a titan of industry here in Orion and I would like to be a part of that” he explained, gesticulating through the air with his cybernetic hand.

Alwen had to admit that there was a sort of sense to what he said, and there was a lot of evidence to support that theory. But something in Alwen’s gut told her it wasn’t the full story. “Well that’s all very interesting, but I need use the little female’s room.”

She got up and walked over to the multi-species and vaguely defined ‘female’ restroom. She didn’t really have to go but she wanted a little time to herself.

~~~*~~~

The contact had found Astarte another excellent opportunity, it was in the mid-Sagittarius sector so she would have to schedule a trip through one of Femeri’s wormhole rings that connected the spread out centers of industry and commerce across the vast territory controlled by the Union . But the job covered the transit fees and much, much more. She continued to study the job and reached for her cup of Uq’ot and sipped from it, only to stop mid-sip in surprise “Is this real Coffee?”

He smiled, exposing baboon like fangs, and his four eyes had a mischievous glint in them “I heard you preferred Sumatran over French roast” he said slyly, once again displaying how far and extensive his information network expanded.

“And did you sample it yourself” she asked teasingly. The contacts brother ran a small Uq’ot café, and the two brothers had been bashing on real coffee for years.

He hesitated “I did, its taste was…strange, but not unpleasant.”

“Don’t lie, you thought it was better.”

He grimaced “It had nice qualities.”

“Do you think I could make any money exporting it out to your people?”

“Not enough to recoup costs.”

“Then it will have to be an exotic luxury, only for the elite.” She countered easily.

He chuckled to himself “That will have to be a discussion for another day, I have contacts who could make that work, but this first job is time sensitive.”

“Of course.” she said as she went back to the dossier, but something was prickling the back of her neck. A vague sense of danger she didn’t understand, she set the papers back down a sat up straighter and tried to pick out what ever had triggered her danger sense. There was a smell, faint and almost buried under the scent of the coffee. Something… vaguely like burnt garbage.

Comprehension hit her like a bolt, and she just gripped the handle of Tenken when she heard the soft ping of the grenade hitting the table in front of her

She turned and jumped over the couch as the grenade burst and flung her into the back wall. Pain stabbed through her eye as she tried to get up. “Fuck’n assholes” she muttered through the pain.