<Chalmun’s Cantina,
Os Eisley spaceport, Atooine>
Chalmun’s was as
lovely little hole in the wall cantina. Well, if you ignored the fact that Os
Eisley was a shithole that catered to what some would call the most wretched
hive of scum and villainy in the galaxy, and Atooine was a backwater desert
planet that was known mostly for being near one of the 16 Gateways in Known
Space (and one of five in Imperial space). So it was less ‘charming hole in the
wall’ and more ‘semi-neutral ground’.
At any rate, the Cantina was normally full of people thanks
to the fact that it had the magic combination of having liquor and being near
the commercial spaceport, and today was no exception. About thirty men and
women (all human, because this WAS Imperial space) were sitting at the various
tables, drinking and enjoying themselves when the harsh desert sun coming
through the doorway alerted everyone to new arrivals. Everything stopped as all
heads turned towards the newcomers, who were briefly silhouetted against the
doorway before it shut, leaving them adjusting to the darker room while those
already present got a good look at them.
They were four in number. A human male, average sized, wearing
all black including a long coat over what looked like some personal armor,
stood in the center, and appeared to be the leader of this bunch. A
well-muscled human female, wearing similar clothes, and carrying a big ass
halberd like it was a walking stick, stepped in next to him, her eyes scanning
the room like a bodyguard. A slender knelfi woman was slightly behind them, in
what most were now putting together as this group’s ‘ops uniform’, but she had
a tool belt on her hips, rather than a gun belt, though she was sporting a
small shoulder holster for a pistol. The final member of the group was a
catgirl. Not a Felisan, but a knelfi woman who had been extensively modified to
have a catgirl appearance, including fur and a tail! She was hot as hell, and
also dressed in the ‘ops uniform’.
The bartender scowled at them as they entered, and said, “We
don’t serve their kind here!”
The man’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the fat man behind
the bar. “What?”
“Your xenos! We don’t want their kind here!”
The man smirked, and said, “Well, you’re not serving them,
you’re serving me. And since they’re my slaves, they’re staying with me.” With
that said, he began walking into the bar, ignoring the bartender as he looked
for someone.
One of the men at the bar, a regular who was friends with
the owner (and one of the reasons for the ‘no xenos’ rule), growled, and got up
from his seat, with three of his buddies joining him. He was a big, strong man,
clearly capable of violence and more than willing to use it to get what he
wanted. And what he wanted at the moment was to kick the xeno-lover out of
‘his’ bar so everything would be right with his universe again. “Perhaps ya
didn’t hear the man, xeno-humper. He said get y’er floozies outta the bar.”
The man turned to look at the slab of beef masquerading as
an idiot, and said, “Or what? You’ll stand near me? When was the last time you
bathed in anything other than your own shit? Or does your buddy like the aroma
when you’re blowing his horn, so he can call you a filthy animal, and mean it?”
This was not the response the regular was hoping for, and it
certainly wasn’t one that was going to go over well with him. Those closest to
the potential action took hold of their drinks, to make sure they kept them
when the fight started. Place like this, there was rarely a day when someone
didn’t get into a fight. Further back from the two groups, wagers were placed
on who would be walking out of here and who was going to be carried out.
The regular growled, and pulled his large, ham-like fist
back to throw the first punch. Unfortunately for him, size and ‘liquid courage’
might make all the difference in a normal bar brawl, but training and sobriety
(for the moment, anyways) was a far more potent combination. The man moved as the punch went through where
his head was moments before, and a snap of light and a buzzing sound filled the
air, followed by the screams of the regular, who was now sprawled on the floor,
looking in pain and shock at where his right leg used to be. Only now, everything
below the knee was a couple feet away from where he now was.
The regular’s three friends took a half-step forward, about
to educate this punk on why you didn’t introduce weapons into a ‘friendly’ bar
brawl, when they all came up short. The point of the redhead’s halberd was in
the center one’s face, right between the eyes. The other two also had the
lovely experience of seeing more traditional weapons up close and personal, a heavy
pistol in the knelfi girl’s hand, and a shotgun in the catgirl’s. They quickly
decided that there was a difference between sticking up for their friend and
being put down like dogs.
Said friend was lying on the ground, trying very hard not to
move as the energy saber was just a centimeter from his throat. The man just
held it there, while he calmly accessed the regular’s bracer, and transferred a
large sum from the man’s account to the bartender. Looking up at the bartender,
he said, “To pay for the mess, and three rounds for the bar, on this guy!” He
said the last part loud, because everyone knew that free booze tasted better
than that you had to pay for. The fact that there was a substantial bit left
over would provide the bartender with an ample tip.
The man turned back to the three stooges looking nervously
at the business end of the weapons pointed their way. “You three are going to
be good boys and take your friend home so he can sober up, yes?” They nodded.
“Good, because I don’t think he’s in any fit state to be walking on home on his
own. Too many beers for his own good. Now get!” Weapons were pulled aside, and
the three stooges got, taking their friend with them, while money changed hands
in the background, and the band got back to playing.
As the foursome put their weapons away (or at least not
actively threatening anyone in the case of the halberd), the man resumed
looking around, and noticed one of the patrons in the rear of the bar signaling
him discretely. With an easy gait, he led the way through the suddenly much
more respectful crowd, until they reached the table in question. It was a large
corner booth, designed for larger groups, and capable of seating ten
comfortably, plus a couple more if they pulled up chairs. Four people were
sitting there, the man (clearly a soldier by his bearing) they were there to meet
sitting in the center.
“Impressive entrance. No hesitation on the fight either,
even from the little one.”
The man in black nodded, and pointed out his pets as he
named them. “I’ve trained Shearah as well as I could, but Cali and Sona have
prior training. You’re ‘MajorTom’, yes?”
The soldier nodded, and extended a hand. “Chris Khan, here.
Major Tom is who I was in the other world. And you’re the infamous Captain
Mollen?”
The Captain laughed at that. “Infamous, am I? Must be doing
something right, then.” He shook the offered hand, and said, “So, Chris, you
mentioned you had a group of jarheads and ne’er do wells that were feeling the
need for some action, but the sandpit wasn’t for them any more, for all kinds
of reasons that I don’t need to know unless they become a problem, yes?”
The woman next to Chris looked like she was about to chew
her leg off if she didn’t get something off her chest, so the Captain looked at
her directly. “Let me guess, you’ve got something to say about me having a
harem of beautiful slave girls, right?” He paused just long enough for her to
start speaking, before cutting her off again. “I’m not going to blow smoke up
your ass, so I’ll appreciate it if you didn’t make too many assumptions about
me. The only people I’ve personally enslaved attacked me and bit off more than
they could chew. I could have killed them, but instead I put them to use. Most
of my slaves are that way because they got into debt, or ran afoul of someone
with political power, and I bought them off the public markets. A few were
guilty of being aliens in Imperial space, and one got tricked into signing up
to be a slave.”
“Other than the people I could have shot instead of
collared, all my slaves would have been slaves regardless of whether I owned
them or not. And I yeah, I get benefits from this, but ask my slaves,
especially the ones that have known other owners, and they’ll tell you that I’m
a lot less of a bastard than most.”
“But you admit to being a bastard.”
“Damn straight I do. Would I be the kind of person looking
for a group of badasses to introduce this world to new and creative methods of
deploying field expedient mayhem if I wasn’t? But if it makes you feel any
better, I’ll give you the basic HR spiel. I won’t throw any of my people into
the meat grinder unless there’s a damn good reason for it, and they’ll know
about it ahead of time. If it turns out things are nastier than we thought,
then I’ll do my level best to get as many of my people out the other side alive
and well, even if it means I have to personally tear someone a new asshole to
get my people back.”
“And what about harassment?”
“The HR handbook is real simple on that. Comes down to one
word, ‘DON’T’, all in big capital letters. I don’t tolerate people forcibly
enslaving my people, or forcing my people to do those kinds of things against
their will or as part of a quid pro quo. A slave’s duties to their master
depends on the slave and the master, and I don’t get into that unless it hurts
the company, or one of them is underage. And while I could compel any of my
slaves to do anything I want to or for or with me, I already got a group of
lovelies that take up all my free time on that front, and they’d be pissed as
hell at me if I was too busy getting busy to give them any attention. That answer
your question?”
The female soldier grumbled a bit, before Captain Mollen
said with a grin, “Oh, but there’s nothing stopping you from getting a cute
slave boy (or girl, I don’t judge) of your own, and having fun with them, so
long as it doesn’t disrupt ops. You’re a free woman. Someone tries to do
something to you that you don’t like, put them in the infirmary or the morgue,
and let your CO know so they can get you some cover. You go and let someone
slap a collar on you willingly, well, then you knew what you were signing up
for.”
The woman still looked annoyed, but was no longer
righteously pissed any more, so Chris simply shrugged, and said, “Meyers was
involved in an ‘incident’ with a CO who didn’t appreciate her views on his
offer to fast track her promotion in return for some ‘favors’. Your stream
isn’t exactly the most PC viewing, you know.”
Mollen nodded. “If it were, I’d be doing something wrong.
So, you interested in some mayhem?”
Chris grinned. “I’m a Marine. We’re ALWAYS interested in mayhem.
I spread the word to some others that were out of the Corps in the other world.
Think your Black Star Fleet could use a company of retired and discharged
United States Marines?”
“Welcome to the Black Star Company, Major Khan. You’ll be
commanding the First Company, Black Star Marines. Pick your own staff, and
organize the platoons. You know that side better than I do. The Company will
make sure you have the toys to play with, and the Fleet will get you to where
you need to go. There’s a war on, as I’m sure you’ve heard. Let’s meet up with
the rest of your men and get you geared up. I have a list of targets already
that are dearly in need of the special care that only a Marine can give them.”
Chris nodded. “Hoorah.” The other marines called it back to
him, smiles on all their faces. Well, only a small one on Meyers’s, but it was
still there.
Be sure to read my published works!
Frozen Soul series (Sci-Fi Supervillain story):
Frozen Soul https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071R125QT
Tales of the Void Traveler https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06ZZ52G37
Rules-Free VRMMO Life (Dark Fantasy LitRPG):
Volume 1 - Tutorial https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071VPRNDB
Omnibus 1 - Volumes 1-4 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0774T354X
Into the Black (Sci-Fi LitRPG):
Book I - Game Start https://www.amazon.com/dp/B071LT5WGL
Omnibus I - Books 1-4 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B077X2KR7Y
City of Champions Online (Superhero LitRPG):
Issue I - Origin Stories https://www.amazon.com/dp/B075SHXQS1
The Kalipshae Affair (A First Contact Short Story): https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0739V6R6T
4 years late on this, but marines say Oorah. Soldiers say Hooah.
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