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Sounds like a grand adventure, Pharris. Reminds me of the old days of the great Salrilian-Phylydion War. Boarding, sacking and looting. Good stuff.
------------------ -Traek Cicion, barkeep extraordinaire "PS: If nothing's working around here, it's because I'm laughing so hard." -Durandal
Of course, things have slowed down since then. Things have been very quiet recently, which makes a life of privateering difficult. Did you know that the UNS and the DGA are going to sign extradition treaties? What is a pirate to do. Another single malt, please, Cicion.
------------------ NEW NAME FOR THE DREADNOUGHT The Hard-Boiled Egg Why? Because she cant be beaten!
You got it, Pharris. Yeah, I guess space has calmed down a bit in recent years. Well, there's always unsanctioned piracy. We occasionally pull a job on a Sal or Aud convoy or three despite the diplomatic nonsense preventing it. Here's to that. Knocks back a glass of refreshing OrangeyRed´ĽçŽŽŠ
OrangeyRed? Is that what you kids are drinking these days?
Gimme the good ol' stuff. GreenyBlue, nothing else like it.
------------------ "That was quick." "Well you know, when you don't do it right it doesn't take as long."
Ov mixes up his patented yellowypurple
------------------ Oh i'm not addicted, it's a hobby -Me The only time I ever find myself praying, is when my sports team is losing -Me (url="http://"http://www.weebl.pwp.blueyonder.co.uk/b3ta/pie.html")Weebl and Bob(/url) | (url="http://"http://www.liquid2k.com/ethan_sucks/quiz6/pumpkin.jpg") Pumpkin Puke(/url) | (url="http://"http://www.magleague.com")MaG League- Overrider(/url) The Underdogs Smiles:(url="http://"http://community.the-underdogs.org/smiley/gallery.htm")Underdog Smiles(/url)
What looks to be a heavily modified UNS gunship sets down on the docking pad amonst several smaller vessels. The docking ramp is lowered, and an armed party is seen taking some Cantharan prisoners away.
Mag and the other crew members of the UNS Pegasus walk in, looking tired but not unhappy.
"Hey, Cicion. Helped a raid on a Cantharan spy post. Tough mission." Mag quickly eyes the shelves of drinks. "Could I have that one, over there?"
"This one?"
"Nah, farther over."
"This?"
"Yeah."
Cicion grabs one of the bottles with a strange, dark liquid in it, and eyes the label for a moment. "It's... greenyblackŽŠ."
"Hey, I thought you knew everything about your bar."
"I do. There's just been a lot of new drinks lately with all this remodelling. Hard to keep up with these things, you know."
His drink in hand, Mag wanders off to watch some people playing three player chess.
------------------ "Typical Americanism. Somebody else does it so we have to do it wrong."
The Spybot from the PolyChromatic Drinks Corporation impassively records the activity in the bar...
... after a few microsecs its report is transmitted by ultrawave to PCDC HQ (on Earth as it happens!).
Lord Commander Anic views the report with quiet satisfaction. The strategy of saturating the entire galatic market with cheap GreenyBlue spin-off brands seems to have worked...
...the dollarometer in the background was busily clicking up profits as somewhere across the multiverse someone bought a PolyChromatic Drink every 1/1x10exp3 seconds. Heh! Another step towards ultimate galatic domination..., or a relatively comfortable retirement at any rate...
------------------ Oh, so it is another bug hunt then...
Sinister, indeed. Well, business is business. Notices that everyone is slumped over the bar or their tables, and all in the bar is silent. My, my. Those little kicker drops I've been putting in the drinks really do the trick.
Hmm, maybe they were a bit too effective. Wake up, my clientele! Wake up and make merriment! Perhaps some live entertainment would pep things up a bit. Herbie Hancock and band walk out onto the bar's small stage area and start into 'Empty Pockets.'
<anguished scream>
I seem to have heard an anguished scream. What's the trouble, Spamo?
A man known as Zaphod beeblebrox sits at the bar. He hates Herbie Hancock and his strange jazzy beats, so he runs to the lavatory.
------------------ Vote 1 for Zaphod Beeblebrox- No one can escape Beeblebrox!
Get. Me. A. Woman.
'Nuff said.
Watches Zaphod run away. Hmm. Guess some people just don't appreciate good bebop.
Too bad about that, Spamo. Here, take a seat at the bar and recount your troubles.
Now that that travesty of beebop is finished, Beeblebrox comes out of lavatory, then realises it was the :women's: lavatory. Bluching, he sits down at the bar, and sitting next to a shaking Spamo, orders another drink.
Outside the bar, a dozen modified Ishmian Heavy Crusiers, each with a flag painted on resembling that of the defunct United Nations drop out of the jumpstream. Approaching the planet, they all land in a small cluster nearby. A couple marine guards spill out of each ship, standing guard on either side of the passenger ramps. The fleet commander, wearing a black jumpsuit with pilot's wings, "UN Starfleet" embroidered on one side and "Blair" on the other, the eagles of a colonel, and an EM pistol at his side, walks out of one which had the name "Enterprise" painted on the nose, looks at the damage control parties already swarming over the ships, and walks into the bar. He tosses a credit chip on the counter and orders a beer.
------------------ I've got so many different charachters it's a wonder I don't go schitzo. (Yes you have. No I haven't!)
Beeblebrox says to the guy sitting next to him who looks like his name is Blair, "Hey, I'm drunk." "Is your name Blair, 'cause I think mines Zaph'."
Blair looked up at the odd, two-headed, three-armed man, and nodded, deciding to humor him. "Yep. Colonel Blair. I lead that squadron of modified Ishmian heavy crusiers out there." Blair jerked a thumb back out the door in the general direction of his ships. "And I'd agree that your name is Zaphod, I suppose, assuming that's yours." Blair glanced at the "Hi! My name is Zaphod" sticker on the other's shirt.
Beeblebrox, now almost incapacitated from his intoxication, rests his heads on the bar stool next to him. "So Blair" he says, drooling all the time. "You fly... space ships?" "So do I!".
:Beeblebrox blacks out:
Spamo lifts Beeblebrox's wallet.