Here for neither
14 Dec 2021Rod Ironshaft
”Good evening, commander”, said a black woman in her thirties behind the bar counter, clad in a neat grey and white suit. The tone of her voice was chilled, without emotion. ”Here to sell or trade?””Neither”, Rod said.
”Neither?” the bartender asked. Her tone changed, as if she had been woken up from a prolonged slumber.
Commanders came to this counter looking to trade and sell, in order to get their suits and armaments fixed and improved. And bragging about their exploits on the ground as they went through the list of much needed materials.
”Well. That is… different”, the woman said. ”Is everything ok, sir?”
”Not quite, but close enough”, Rod said.
The ribs were still sore after a brutal skirmish on the surface of an insignicant icy moon, which name he had already forgotten. There was also something else he wanted to forget, and that is why he was leaning to the counter. Hundreds of shotgun blasts had buried the stock of his trusted plasma spitting tool deep into his elbow, leaving it bruised and stiff. Rod frowned in pain as he lifted his arm on the top of the counter. Staring at the white landscape littered with bodies had left its mark. Not in the body, but in the mind. Millions of credits for downing innocent men did nothing to warm up the frozen soul of a man. The thought made him shudder. War does that to a man. Like icy hail in your face, it freezes you up and makes you remember what you once had.
”Just pour me a drink, will you?”
”Any particular brand in mind?” the bartender asked.
”Alcohol.”
”Alcohol?”
”Alcohol.”
”Fair enough. We are a bit short on everything right now, due to all the chaos in the system.”
”I don’t care”, Rod muttered. ”If it has alcohol in it, I will drink it.”
”Fair enough”, barterder said again. ”You sure about that?”
”Hit me. Anything. Surprise me.”
The bartender crouched down and rummaged through the bottles that protested in a series of loud chinks and tinkles. ”Our manager drank the last of the Lavian Brandy we had”, she said, digging deeper. ”And your eye candy subordinates already bought all the Centauri Mega Gin we had stored for a rainy day.”
”Wait”, Rod said. ”My subordinates?”
The bartender nodded. ”Three women. Dressed like fancy fighter pilots.”
”Ah. My Angels. Where are they?”
The bartender shrugged her shoulders, as she lifted some bottles on the counter. ”Probably in a drunken stupor in one of those Fleet carriers circling this planet.”
”Fighter pilots”, Rod said with a sigh. ”They are like cats. They have minds of their own.”
The bartender did not reply.
”Well, to be fair, can’t really blame them”, Rod continued. ”Hundreds of millions of credits in the account and nothing else to do but to hang around in a concourse. Guess this is what happens when you remove fighter bays from your spaceships.”
A thought stopped him in his tracks. ”The girls”, he said. ”Did they say anything?”
”Anything, sir?”
”Yes. Anything, you know. About me? What do they think of me?”
The hand lifting the bottle stopped in mid motion. She stared at the dark liquid moving inside the round glassy walls before answering.
”I think this will do”, she finally said and placed the bottle on the counter.
”You are not going to answer, are you”, Rod said.
”You know how it is”, she said. ”I say this much. They respect your heritage.”
”My heritage? My Finnish roots?”
”I think you will find this liquor to your liking”, she said, avoiding the question again. She lifted a couple of small shot glasses from nowhere and opened the metallic cork. A strangely familiar scent filled the air.
”Liquorice”, Rod said in a hushed tone. ”That’s salty liquorice!”
”Straight from Perkele”, the bartender said. ”Nobody wants to drink it. Where do they think it is from, the devil himself? Got it from a peddler with a strange monotone accent a few years ago. A strange introvert fellow. Liked solitude, hated small talk. Liked metal music.”
”Sounds like a guy from Perkele alright”, Rod said. He should know. He was once, a lifetime ago, born in that system. How the system got its name was still veiled in dark secrecy. Not that he cared. Much.
The bartender expertly poured the dark liquid from the bottle into the two glasses until they were filled to the brim.
”And something makes you think this stuff has my name written all over it?” Rod asked, as he followed her every move. He recognized the label on the bottle. The Dark Matter. He had tasted it before. Decades ago. Devilishly good stuff. Lavian Brandy was filthy gutter water compared to this.
”A toast for you”, the bartender said, lifting a glass.
”For what?”
”For asking for neither. You just made my day.”
”Well, here’s to you, lass”, Rod said and downed the shot in one go.
The woman sipped the dark stuff and made a sour face.
”Oh wow.”
”You get used to it”, Rod said.
”I hope not.”
”Wakes you up, doesn’t it?”
The bartender nodded. ”That it does.” She sipped once more, before pushing the half full glass aside.
”You’re not going to finish it?” Rod asked.
”Go for it”, she said, while fetching a bottle of sparkling water.
”Down the hatch, with the breaker!” Rod exclaimed. Why was he here? He had already forgotten.
”I guess sometimes you need something dark to lighten up your day”, the bartender said.
”You know what”, Rod said. ”You are alright.”
”If you ever need a bartender on your fleet carrier, let me know”, she said.
”I don’t have one.”
”Yet”, she said.
Rod nodded. ”Yet.”
He grinned and poured a third drink for himself.