Galaxy's Edge Space Bar

[Forlin]

Forlin fiddled with a tuft of fur on his chest, as he was oft to do.  He was feeling cramped and claustrophobic, but it was nothing he was unused to.  He lived on Earth, after all, and thus he spent a lot of time indoors.  And small spaces were pretty much mandatory when he ventured out into the world in human morph, as he was oft to do.  The newcomer, a human female, turned to Forlin, and greeted him.  <And to you, as well,> he said, offering his hand for a shake.  <I’m Forlin-Langor-Chulain.  You can call me Forlin.  And you are…?>

He also had a stalk-eye trained on Ossanlin, even as Forlin was facing the woman.  He noticed the other Andalite closing his eyes and grimacing.  <<Are you okay, War-Prince Ossanlin?>> he queried in private.  The War-Prince had called him a Warrior…though he wasn’t sure that he held that rank.  He had been quite young when he had crashed.  <<I don’t know.  Is there any way that suppressed memories can be retrieved?>>

He did not want them to him away from his home, though, if that was what they’d do.  Forlin felt that Earth was where he belonged.  Even as intriguing as going into space might be.

The other human—well, human-Controller (though Forlin had no way of knowing whether or not the newcomer was one too)—seemed annoyed at the interruption.  Not that Forlin exactly cared what this Imperial Yeerk thought.  <What is the Light?> Forlin blurted when Ossanlin spoke to Jorek.  He was, actually, fascinated with Yeerks…or with anything alien, really.  And he didn’t think he’d get another chance to ask an Imperial Yeerk first-hand about his kind.  But what could he asked?

[Shenmue654]

Keshin watches, a bit startled, as Ossanlin seems to struggle with something within himself. "Are you---" Keshin starts, but then doesn't finish. The War-Prince had been through his fair share of terrible scrapes-- The most notable one even involved them---- and come out fine. More or less. Keshin shakes his head and waits.

When Ossanlin speaks again, Keshin feels the world fall out from under them. Joanne's eyes widen. The shock of what Ossanlin was saying was possible was rolling up and down his body like an out of control freight train of thought and emotion. It wasn't so much that the Escafil device could do the deed in and of itself that was surprising--- It was the idea that the solution was so easy. So within reach. That all they had to do to be free of the price that their lives had cost was to ask. <<How many years, Joanne, have we hunted and scraped by in order to live one more day? How many Yeerk research facilities and medical centers on how many ships have we searched for anything even resembling a way towards a cure? And now...it's just right here. All of that...meant nothing.>> Keshin swallows.

<<....I know how you feel. And I'm not trusting this guy just...for the hell of it. If he pulls anything on us, some half-assed revenge, I'm ready to shoot. But this could be...our only shot. Maybe when he leaves the planet for whatever it is this guy does--->> Keshin frowns as a sudden wave of interest and concern about that hits him, but shakes it off. <<...he'll decide against it later and then the window's gone.>> Joanne's thought voice seems to return to his mind as soon as he refocuses on the present.

"I...We're thinking it over, and we are...inclined to do it," Keshin says, slowly and tentatively, his voice faltering at several points. "If it is indeed still open." He continues to focus on Ossanlin, but gives a nod to Forlin.

"Keshin Eight-One-Seven," he says, making up a random number on the spot. "And the host I'm in is Joanne. Together we are Static Shock, and you might say we're in the running for the world's dumbest and most superhero-inspired bounty hunter name. Joanne liked those comics as a kid."
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Jeffrey tries grabbing Leona's arm and holding her there. He's not sure how strong she is, but it's worth a shot. "Now don't you make fun of my method of speech, missy, you know what I meant. What I'm saying is don't judge a whole species by its cover and by what the fascist **** members do. Don't know why I'm defending these ****nuggets exactly..." Jeffrey rolls his eyes. "But there it is."

"What I'm more worried about is how you're feeling," he says warmly. "Okay? You looked like you were really freaked out back there. What did the ****ty fascist Yeerks do to you, exactly?"

[Leona]

Leona halted when Jeffrey grabbed her arm, though the glare she shot him suggested she wasn't happy about it. Beneath her hoody her arm felt solid, not overly muscular, but defiantly someone who took care of her self. His words didn't seem to offer the redhead much comfort, still tense in his grip. Even more concerning should have been her free hand, tucked into her pocket to grip the weapon hidden within. "Try havin one in your head for seven years..." Leona grumbled under her breath in regards to Jeffrey's 'book by it's cover' defense. Even if some did feel guilty for how they had to live, but that still didn't change how they lived. Leona was also well aware that it was probably just as wrong for her to hate them for being what they are, but concepts like right and wrong were defined by the victors of war. Therefore who was right and who was wrong had yet to be seen.

"Why should I trus' you? For all I know you migh' noh be who you say you are?" She snapped at the request to say what'd made her like this. As her temper flared hints of an old accent slipped through more and more. Softer vowels, Gs and Ts falling off the end of words. British perhaps? No it seemed somehow more relaxed then a British accent...

[Shenmue654]

"I only had one in my head for a couple hours," says Jeffrey, still smiling. "It wasn't all that bad. Hell, it was entertaining! The little tapeworm had no idea what to do with my memories! No idea what any of them meant! I tried to explain, but I ain't exactly known for making sense. In fact..." He winked. "...I'm known for making absolutely none at all. I'd point out which one it was but..." Jeffrey glances around the bar, and then gives a look that amounts to a shrug. "...don't see her."

"As for trusting me, well...I am really trustworthy because I don't know what's going on. I don't have skin in this game or a horse in this race. The Yeerk-Andalite war is Greek to a man who comes from where I come from--- A world where humans never made first contact. And I love redheads. Please stick around, hon, and try to catch your breath." Jeffrey lets go of her arm.

"By the way, is that ****ney? Love it! People from the ancient United Kingdom used to talk like that," says Jeffrey. "The American Empire thought it made them sound smarter than the Americans. Except I think they called themselves the United States."

[Myitt]

Myitt watches, staring silently the whole time, as Salem marches off and retrieves the device.

<<Rebel business,>> she remarks to Tara. <<What the hell do you think he means by that?>>

<<Dunno, man. I get the distinct impression he was being a bit passive aggressive.>>

<<But he's gone off to help us,>> Myitt frets. <<How am I supposed to interpret that? I'm no good at this people ****!>>

Her gaze is fuzzy, distracted, as the internal dialogue continues - right on up to when Salem returns.

She blinks back into focus, squinting down at the tank and the torch.

"Oh, you got my my evening wear," she says with a huge grin, clasping her hands and batting her eyes. She snickers darkly, stooping to pick up the apron and gloves.

The mask she loops onto one arm, letting the thing hang by its rubber strap.

"This is perfect," Myitt murmurs appreciatively, circling around the tank while she slips a glove onto one hand, then swaps the mask arm and tugs on the other. "You do a lot of ship salvage?"

To Guppy she says, "Check it. Salem just got us some ridiculous torch equipment. I'm gonna rip a hole in this ship so I can mold the living metal down for some frames, and the micro-cones. Trust me, it'll all make sense in a minute."


Jorek blinks at Ossanlin. He waits patiently while Ossanlin's attention appears to blip out.

"I haven't the slightest idea what the Light is," he says earnestly. He turns to the bar and orders another cola-based potable. "I assure you, Ossanlin, I'm merely curious. There's no malice whatsoever. Surely you don't believe the propaganda that we're all a bunch of vile, power-mad slugs?"

"Though," he adds, smiling pleasantly, "I'm flattered that you'd think I had enough forethought to try and goad information from you - in such a public place!" He laughs quietly. "No, no. Although, if you do know of any really spectacular bounty hunters, I would be open to your suggestions. Strictly as colleagues."

[Terenia]

William jumps back a little at Al's touch, then watches in growing fascination as he performs the basic equivalent of robust series of magic tricks and sleight of hand.

"Fascinating," he murmurs. Then he clears his throat, shaking himself. "Ah...I am William. And Danel," he says, using his true name with only the briefest hesitation. "We are one and the same, and Danel was drawn to this body because of who William was in his first life. Our personalities meshed well enough to become one, so long as I inhabit this body -- and if I were killed and forced to take a new body I would be one and the same with that form."

Lips twitch into a thin smile "I don't expect you to understand. It took me a great number of years to understand and I'm the one experiencing it. Suffice it to say we are a blending of both persons, but when this body dies only Danel will continue on. As for my supervisors, they are old fools, wasting their time trying to convince me to follow archaic orders."


Dalik alternates between watching Sorin and glancing at Jorek out of the corner of her eye. His conversation with the Andalites and the turelek clearly put her on edge -- though she's too far away to make out their conversation. Hunching her shoulders, she frowns down at her drink. "Sorry," she apologizes inanely, not entirely sure why the word slips from her mouth.


The door to the bar slides open and a young man in his early 20s steps in, looking around curiously. He looks as though he just walked in from the beach, clad as he is in bright orange and blue Hawaiian swim trunks, a loose-fitting sleeveless shirt, and plain brown flip flops. All he's missing is a smudge of sunscreen across his fair nose.

The holster strapped to his waist also detracts from the look, its black leather stark against the colorful clothing. The entire length of it is full, from the twin Dracons to a variety of pouches and small devices that are clipped to it, and they are clearly meant for more than a day of lounging.

Standing in the entrance to the bar, he takes in its occupants with a look of puzzled amusement, head tilted slightly as his gaze lights on each individual in turn, doing a mental count. He pauses, briefly, when his eyes land on Jorek, deep in conversation with...

"Andalites," he hisses under his breath, disgust dripping from the word. He swallows back any further commentary, though, and strides further into the bar. Giving Jorek and the Andalites a wide berth, he makes his way to the counter.

Clearing his throat loudly, he smiles as the bartender approaches. "I'll have one of everything," he says firmly.

The bartender stares balefully.

"Yes, everything," he presses, making a shooing motion with his hand. Instead of leaving, the bartender shoves a notepad towards the man.

Cash or tab? it reads.

"Tab," the swimsuit-clad man responds. "And make it quick. I'm starving."

Without another word, the bartender turns to fill the order.

[Myitt]

Jorek stops in the middle of expectantly waiting Ossanlin's reply.

His eyes track the swimsuit-clad man, and the smile twitches, then disappears entirely.

"About that bounty hunter, War-Prince," he says softly, taking his drink from the bartender, who is suddenly quite busy. "I could use one now."

[Leona]

At first Leona almost seemed disgusted by the thought of someone being so comfortable with having their freedom taken from them. She didn't bother following his gaze as he looked for the culprit, it was probably better Leona didn't know anyhow. "There's makin no sense and then there's crazy..." She grumbled.

When Jeffrey went on to explain exactly why she should trust him the two halves of her brain were instantly arguing. The logical left brain was screaming that Jeffrey's logic made no sense, however in her emotional state Leona was already functioning out of her right brain. Her rage and panic quickly calmed as the tensety in her arms and shoulders softened. "I don' tell stories sober." She finally huffed while trying to snatch her arm out of Jeffrey's grip. If a quick jerk of her arm didn't prove enough to free herself, the wily redhead wouldn't be shy about throwing in a stomp to the side of Jeffrey's knee.

"And I'm Australian... Mate." Leona sarcastically spat the last word, seeming strangely insulted at having her faint accident wrongly guessed. With that she tried to make her way back towards the bar. At least she wasn't hiding anymore?

[guitarhero01234]

"No need to apologize," Sorin reassures with a smile. "I don't usually do much talking, myself, so I suppose it makes sense for two awkward nerds to sit together at a bar in the middle of nowhere." He sucks up the last of his soda and taps the glass in request for a new one. "And that is a sentence I never expected to say."

"So, what were you so engrossed in with those holoscreens?" Sorin asks after a couple minutes. "Something tells me you weren't exactly playing a rousing game of Halo."


Guppy laughs weakly. "I hope you're right, because I don't think I understood a word you said."

<<Could be because you're spacing out hardcore,>> Chris adds 'helpfully.'

Guppy backs off from the ship to give Myitt some room. "So, question, are strangers usually this helpful in this corner of the universe? Because you're doing a hell of a lot for me right now."


A million thoughts go through Nepek's mind as he sits in his still-idling ship. Thoughts about his past on Earth. And the human . . . well, ostensibly human creature called Sorin. Whe the hell did he have to come back at a time like this!? I have one foot in the grave as it is.

After what seems like forever sitting in his ship pondering what to do, he decides that someone needs to be warned. He leaves his ship and slowly makes his way back to the Bar, taking care not to suffer another fall. After re-entering, it seems that the Andalite, Ossanlin had returned, and another  Andalite or two as well. A few other unfamiliar faces, as well as the Jeffrey man from before.

The Hork-Bajir strides toward Ossanlin, stealing a couple glares at Sorin. In response, the human coyly waves at Nepek. "Ossanlin," Nepek starts, interrupting whatever conversation he might have been engaged in. "That man over there," he says, pointing a clawed digit  in the direction of Sorin and Dalik. ". . . I know you may not like or trust me at this point, but I advise you to keep an eye on him. I know him, and I know that he can be extremely manipulative and cunning. It's your choice, of course, but I thought that somebody should be made aware, and I figured, hopefully correctly, that you'd be most likely to listen." After this info dump, Nepek turns and begins to walk away, not bothering to wait for Ossanlin's response.

[Shenmue654]

Keshin watches as several things happen in quick succession while waiting for Ossanlin to respond. The first makes probably the least sense--- A guy dressed as if he just took a Hawaiian vacation, but in 1994, arrives and sits down at the Bar. The second is that Jorek reacts to him by asking Ossanlin, again, about bounty hunters. <<This is perhaps the person that Jorek is aiming to kill.>>

<<I'm stunned by the lack of taste rich people have, Kess.>>

Keshin glances at Jorek. "I doubt you'll have much luck looking for turelek by asking the War Prince. He probably knows many, but he does not tend to recommend them to Imperials. You can absolutely correct me if I'm wrong," says Keshin, nodding at Ossanlin. "I don't tend to take jobs in this bar for a reason--- The last one went terribly. And I've already secured at least one job for someone else. But...what exactly...do you want done? I know my fair share of hunters."

<<That...and there's the possibility that we'll take the job ourselves. We've still gotta eat at the end of the day, even if Ossanlin destroys our need for fast cash. And what are the odds that Myitt's gonna let us in with the rebels?>>
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The girl yanks herself out of Jeffrey's grasp, causing him to stumble. She mutters angrily about actually being an Australian and heads towards the Bar. "Hey, wait!" says Jeffrey, following her. "Wait up! I don't mind if you tell me the story while you're drunk. That's the condition most people are in when they tell me their life stories, yeah?"

[Aluminator (Kit)]

Salem grins at Myitt's words. "A bit of ship salvage, yeah. Never really gotten to know the Yeerk living metal, though."

He stands back a step or two and watches. Whatever Myitt's doing, he's more than a little curious. "Let me know if you need a hand," he adds gruffly, almost as an afterthought.

When Guppy speaks, he laughs. "That's a good question. Nobody does something for nothing. In my experience, though, you can get lucky if it's not you they want the payment from." He smirks at Myitt.


Al shakes his head. "I know. Parents, right? Acting like they know what's good for you. So lame. So..." he ****s his head, "these... supervisors of yours. They're like you?"

He laughs brightly and waves a hand dismissively. "Nah, I get it. You're a mish-mash. An amalgam. A collective of two. You're a personality milkshake. Garlic mashed potatoes with extra motor oil." His stomach growls and he rubs it contemplatively. "Is it getting hungry in here or is it just me?"

As he's been speaking, he's been keeping a close eye on Jeffrey and the redheaded girl. They seem to be getting on... alright... mostly. Al shoots Jeffrey a glance and raises an eyebrow.

He turns back towards William, eyes wide. "That sounds so cool," he says earnestly. "I can't really imagine having my headspace be the two who become one. And of course, I imagine William brings your impeccable sense of style and all your swashbuckling expertise, right? Skills Danel wouldn't have had otherwise? Do I have that backwards? Is it like... just kind of growing new knowledge? Are there separate desires and urges? D'you two ever disagree?" His eyes go even wider-- at this point, they're comically, almost unnaturally large in his head. "Do you remember what it was like for William to die?" he whispers.

[Myitt]

"Yeerk metal's mostly what I know," Myitt says, tugging the strings of the apron around her back, tying it awkwardly with gloved hands. "I was on the Hork-Bajir world when we were designing these babies."

With an appreciative slap of the metal hull, she hunkers down next to the welding mask and the tank.

"Jesus, when was the last time you used this thing?" she wonders aloud, inspecting the nozzle with the scrutiny of a mineralogist. She pats the apron, then fishes around on the gravel, poking a thin stick into the nozzle end.

"Guppy," she narrates, "in a minute there's going to be a ****ton of heat radiating off this thing. I mean, it's a welding torch, so...you know, that's a given. Just don't come near it, alright? I want to help save your eyesight, not melt your face off."

As she talks, she tightens the valves on the torch head, where the tubes from the twin tanks snake into the torch handle.

When she finally stands, she's dizzy. "Jesus. Maybe I shouldn't ****in' operate this thing after a day like today," she mutters, but proceeds to turn the oxygen nozzle.

"Oh," she adds, as the thing sputters and hisses gas, "there will be a lot of smoke, too. Don't breathe it in."

She turns the second valve, acetylene, and takes out a spark lighter - she had one tucked away in her jacket.

"I mean it," she warns, pulling the welding shield over her face. "****in' lot of smoke." Her is muffled and metallic.

Myitt lights the torch, which blasts out a bright red-orange flame, and she gets to work on the side of the ship with practiced ease.

The Bug's black, cool surface sizzles, then bubbles, then glows cherry red - but only momentarily, as the living metal congeals into a removable strip. The flame hisses a steady blue, until she squeezes the handle, and true to her word - acrid smoke belches from the places where the red-orange torch flame hits the metal surface.

It doesn't take long before she has a long strip of undulating metal, the size of a 2x4, stretched out on the gravel before them.

She doesn't pause, unable to talk above the noise of the torch and the gleeful buzzing in her head.

Welding was like a high. It was almost blissful as math, or sex, or oatmeal.


Jorek gives Keshin a distasteful look, annoyed at being interrupted - but then it's gone again, and he forces a smile.

"That creature," he says with a sneer, indicating the man in the Hawaiian shirt, currently ordering the Bar out of house and home, "tried to have me killed. He's a menace to my political pursuits, not to mention my life."

[Terenia]

"Halo?" Dalik asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "What's Halo?"

She brushes the question off, clearly not expecting a rational discussion. "I'm monitoring Imperial feeds at the moment. Trying to stay on top of what's happening. Boring, really." Her smile is small. "It's more of an opportunity to pass the time than anything. I've been waiting for my brother to get here, and I'm fairly sure I've been stood up."

Her eyebrows lift, and she glances over her shoulder as Sorin waves. It seems the Hork-Bajir -- Nepek -- has reappeared, joining the small but growing audience surrounding Jorek.

Her jaw sets.

"A friend of yours?" she asks flatly.


William nods slowly. "Yes, they're grigori. They created me, more or less." He laughs then, shaking his head. "That is to say, they joined us together as a...mish...mash?" he echoes Al's words with a slight frown on his lips. "Ah...regardless, they are older, and therefore far more powerful."

His eyes narrow slightly as a new man approaches the bar, wearing some of the brightest clothing he's ever seen. A quick survey and he dismisses him, turning back to Al. The curly-haired man was obviously not a threat, even with the weapon strapped to his hip.

"I do remember William's death, yes," he says quietly. "He was hanged for piracy." Without quite realizing he's doing it, he reaches up and rubs at his neck. "I'm not entirely sure I can answer all of your questions. I remember very little of my previous iterations. I presume each body brings with it a slightly different set of skills and desires, but...I can tell you that our urges, as you say, are more or less perfectly in sync with one another."


The bartender sets a drink down in front of the beach-goer, along with what appears to be a large hamburger.

"Thank you," the man says with a bare smile. He picks up the burger--whatever it might be--and takes a huge bite. Then another. Then another. As if ravenous, he consumes the entire thing in just a few minutes, oblivious to the red juice dripping down his chin.

The bartender doesn't stay to watch. He turns, reaching for another drink, and setting it beside the first. His movements are slow, almost lethargic, but as he works the food and drink seems to inexplicably multiply, until there is a small and ever-growing pile in front of the man.

[Shenmue654]

"Tried to have you killed, you say?" says Keshin, staring over at the apparently ravenous man Jorek was pointing out. The Bartender was doing his god's honest best to fulfill the man's order, but it was just getting more extensive with every passing moment. Keshin's lips curve in disgust and he turns his attention back to Jorek. "It appears that the only thing he is trying to murder now is the Bar's food budget, although I am not at all convinced it has one." The Bar had long since proven it could even summon extinct bird-reptiles if it really put its mind to it.

"Regardless...what exactly are you offering for his death? Is he only likely to show up in this specific Bar without guard?" These were the kind of questions any self-respecting bounty hunter would have to know to take the job, period, although Keshin was nervous about asking any of them in full view of the person who probably most disapproved of how Keshin and Joanne made money. A person who he was already asking for something huge for nothing. He shook his head, realizing he had put himself in this awkward situation, and there was nothing that could be done about it.
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At exactly that moment, something peculiar even by the standards of the Bar happens outside the Bar. A ripple of sorts, like someone had touched the surface of the water, pulses across the air between the sky and the ground. It made a strange, worbling sound as it did so, like a broken machine or a pinball game lost ball sound. An uneasy, unnatural silence falls after the ripple, even greater than you would expect in a place with no wildlife or weather. It's something in the very ground, and possibly in the Bar itself. Something like anticipation or excitement or dread. It read, "Here comes something different."

At that moment, the ripple concentrates in a particular spot, and a black-gloved hand reaches out of it. The fingers twitch as if testing the air, and then seem to somehow shove aside the ripple, as if trying to make a bigger hole. A hole in Reality. Something huge and buzzing and incomprehensible, like a fractal made up of intertwined bodies or millions of screaming wasps, is on the other side of that whole. The man's entire upper body pokes next out of the hole, thin and gangly but richly dressed, and wing-shaped spurs and leather boots come out next. The thing that's weirdest is that his clothes are maybe fifty or a hundred years odd off from William, like he stepped specifically out of the Sun King's court. The hole in space instantly snaps shut, and the man collapses onto the ground and winces like someone punched him hard in the chest.

Mar breathes in and out slowly and tries to sweat off his nausea. He hates this trip. The Highest who runs the Bar has strict rules about what can and can't be done inside it, and one of the things He does nearly all the time is limit how much power can be exerted by a visiting Outsider. In my case, I am typically cut off entirely. Practically human. Miserable. What irritating rules I have to follow to come here!

Mar looks around, trying to get an idea of where exactly the Gate dropped him, although he knows it is indeed the Galaxy's Edge Space Bar. He walks through the parking lot in apparent appreciation of anyone who had actually managed to get coordinates to this place. The only way Mar had ever found to get in was to pretty much beg the asteroid's owner for a body. But He did have a habit of allowing Mar entrance when the people Mar had known here last were around, and Mar would have to thank Him for that.

[Myitt]

"I have the most to offer Yeerks," says Jorek, again giving Joanne an uncomfortable once-over, as if inspecting her ability to perform. Not in a lewd way, but in the way someone might inspect cattle.

"Though I doubt very much that a turelek desires an increase in rank or power," he adds with a sniff. "I could help you in some other way. In any case, I can't very well destroy him now."

He glances over at the man in the Hawaiian shirt with a brooding look of slight dismay. "Not yet," he adds softly, sipping his drink.