Fic: Altered Trajectory (cont.)
Oct. 22nd, 2009 06:57 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jeriendhalThe funny thing is, the only reason I wrote this scene is because I wanted to match the illustration that Cheeko made for me (viewable below the cut)
“Then I fear they will have to remain ignorant.” He drew out a couple of more notes from his rapidly dwindling supply and said, “Whisky and soda for myself, please. Hazel, what do you want?”
“Beer,” she said, giving him a sharp look. “Sam Adams Dark if you’ve got it.”
“That we do,” Bird said, taking the notes from Rufus’ palm.
“Keep the change for yourself,” Rufus said to her, “for a little information.”
Bird nodded and turn away from them to pour out their drinks. Hazel took the chance to whisper urgently in his ear, “You’re not supposed to be drinking alcohol!”
“I’ll sip lightly,” he reassured her. “It’d be damned strange if I came to a place like this an ordered a soda pop, don’t you think?” She frowned at him but didn’t argue the point any further.
Bird set down their drinks in front of them and gave Rufus a questioning look. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said casually, “have you heard anything recently about strange ships in the area? Large ones, with non-standard hull designs.”
The white feathers on Bird’s scalp rose up. “Nothing substantial. “I heard from this guy who knew this captain” sort of thing. What I have heard talks about big heavily armed cruisers, that don’t answer hails but scan you down to your bones before jumping away like an Ardie ship.”
“They’re bug ships?” Hazel asked.
“Didn’t say that,” Bird said neutrally. “Ardie designs are pretty distinctive. The ones I’ve been hearing about are supposed to look like flying sculptures or something.”
Which would match what he remembered about the Varn cruisers, what little he saw of them during his convalescence after losing his arm. “Thank you,” he said. “One last question: Have you heard anything about a new species popping up, fellows that look like big lizards with khaki scales and frills atop their heads?”
Bird almost laughed. “Look in the mirror behind me, in the corner over your left shoulder.”
Rufus fought the urge to just turn around, as the hairs rose up on the back of his neck. Looking into the reflection of the dusty mirror mounted behind the bar, he could see a figure hunched down over in a corner booth, nursing a beer. He appeared to be about two meters tall, with a scaly snout emerging from the hood of the cloak that left the rest of his face in shadow. Given the normally suspicious nature of the bar’s patrons, he might as well have been carrying a three-dimensional holographic sign stating, GREETINGS! I AM TRAVELING INCOGNITO! PLEASE IGNORE ME!
“So,” Rufus said slowly, trying to project as much casual disinterest as he could manage at the moment, “how long has he been there anyway?”
“For the past two days. Buys about one drink an hour, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t cause trouble. Perfect customer as far as I’m concerned.”
“Bird, I owe you a favor,” he said.
The barkeep’s feathery eyebrows rose in surprise. “Are you serious, Brushtail?”
“Quite serious. Anything short of outright murder and you’ve got it. It’s that important to me.”
“Whatever you say. Want me to bring him over to you?”
He shook his head. “No, I’ll contact him.”
Hazel growled, turning around in her seat. “Better hurry then, or you might not get the chance.”
Rufus turned with her, to see an olive skinned human approaching the sitting galapagos, swaying a bit as he walked. He bumped into the table hard, knocking the alien’s beer mug off the table and into his lap.
“Wash whe’re yer goin’ pallie…” the human slurred out.
“No one’s that drunk. He ran into the table deliberately,” Hazel observed.
“It’s a scam. Watch,” Rufus said, a feeling of dread entering his stomach.
“No harm done,” the galapagos rumbled. He picked his mug out of his lap and set it back on the table, then tried futily to soak up some of the spilled beer out of his lap with a paper napkin.
“You tryin’ t’ make fun of me, pallie?” the drunk human sneered.
“I am not,” the galapagos stated firmly, rising up out of his seat to his full two meter height and flipping back the hood of his cloak. “It would be best if you sat down. I will purchase a drink for you.”
“Fragg you!” the drunk shouted, poking the galapagos’ chest with his finger. “Ya wanna take me on?”
“Outside boys,” Bird called loudly.
TBC
“Then I fear they will have to remain ignorant.” He drew out a couple of more notes from his rapidly dwindling supply and said, “Whisky and soda for myself, please. Hazel, what do you want?”
“Beer,” she said, giving him a sharp look. “Sam Adams Dark if you’ve got it.”
“That we do,” Bird said, taking the notes from Rufus’ palm.
“Keep the change for yourself,” Rufus said to her, “for a little information.”
Bird nodded and turn away from them to pour out their drinks. Hazel took the chance to whisper urgently in his ear, “You’re not supposed to be drinking alcohol!”
“I’ll sip lightly,” he reassured her. “It’d be damned strange if I came to a place like this an ordered a soda pop, don’t you think?” She frowned at him but didn’t argue the point any further.
Bird set down their drinks in front of them and gave Rufus a questioning look. “I’ve been meaning to ask,” he said casually, “have you heard anything recently about strange ships in the area? Large ones, with non-standard hull designs.”
The white feathers on Bird’s scalp rose up. “Nothing substantial. “I heard from this guy who knew this captain” sort of thing. What I have heard talks about big heavily armed cruisers, that don’t answer hails but scan you down to your bones before jumping away like an Ardie ship.”
“They’re bug ships?” Hazel asked.
“Didn’t say that,” Bird said neutrally. “Ardie designs are pretty distinctive. The ones I’ve been hearing about are supposed to look like flying sculptures or something.”
Which would match what he remembered about the Varn cruisers, what little he saw of them during his convalescence after losing his arm. “Thank you,” he said. “One last question: Have you heard anything about a new species popping up, fellows that look like big lizards with khaki scales and frills atop their heads?”
Bird almost laughed. “Look in the mirror behind me, in the corner over your left shoulder.”
Rufus fought the urge to just turn around, as the hairs rose up on the back of his neck. Looking into the reflection of the dusty mirror mounted behind the bar, he could see a figure hunched down over in a corner booth, nursing a beer. He appeared to be about two meters tall, with a scaly snout emerging from the hood of the cloak that left the rest of his face in shadow. Given the normally suspicious nature of the bar’s patrons, he might as well have been carrying a three-dimensional holographic sign stating, GREETINGS! I AM TRAVELING INCOGNITO! PLEASE IGNORE ME!
“So,” Rufus said slowly, trying to project as much casual disinterest as he could manage at the moment, “how long has he been there anyway?”
“For the past two days. Buys about one drink an hour, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t cause trouble. Perfect customer as far as I’m concerned.”
“Bird, I owe you a favor,” he said.
The barkeep’s feathery eyebrows rose in surprise. “Are you serious, Brushtail?”
“Quite serious. Anything short of outright murder and you’ve got it. It’s that important to me.”
“Whatever you say. Want me to bring him over to you?”
He shook his head. “No, I’ll contact him.”
Hazel growled, turning around in her seat. “Better hurry then, or you might not get the chance.”
Rufus turned with her, to see an olive skinned human approaching the sitting galapagos, swaying a bit as he walked. He bumped into the table hard, knocking the alien’s beer mug off the table and into his lap.
“Wash whe’re yer goin’ pallie…” the human slurred out.
“No one’s that drunk. He ran into the table deliberately,” Hazel observed.
“It’s a scam. Watch,” Rufus said, a feeling of dread entering his stomach.
“No harm done,” the galapagos rumbled. He picked his mug out of his lap and set it back on the table, then tried futily to soak up some of the spilled beer out of his lap with a paper napkin.
“You tryin’ t’ make fun of me, pallie?” the drunk human sneered.
“I am not,” the galapagos stated firmly, rising up out of his seat to his full two meter height and flipping back the hood of his cloak. “It would be best if you sat down. I will purchase a drink for you.”
“Fragg you!” the drunk shouted, poking the galapagos’ chest with his finger. “Ya wanna take me on?”
“Outside boys,” Bird called loudly.
TBC
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Date: 2009-10-23 11:11 pm (UTC)good reaction of the Galapagos warrior
and if the "drunk" one does not have many more waiting outside to help him he will be in for quite the beating (or maybe not - if the Galapagos warrior wants to stay "incognito")
...though I guess alt.Rufus will be trying to help him and will get beaten up ... *sighs* ... he is getting more and more like his noble "normal" self (IC-self) again :)
mjkj