Sitting down on a stool I began to observe the other occupants in the bar. There were a few of us in residence, to an average baseliner we were no different to anyone else. To each other however we were obvious. I managed a slight nod to the girl seated at the opposite corner of the bar and shared look with the man by the pool table. Out in space either of these two might of attacked me without a second glance but now in a bar full of baseliners there was a sense of union and acceptance.
I smiled at the girl behind the bar, she was tall and dark haired. One of her ears, her left, was encrusted with a mix of something between jewellery and circuitry. Implants were slotted into her neck in a combination of professional and obviously amateur jobs. Her arms, one of which was a cybernetic modification, were held loosely at her sides and her face held a look of general disinterest.
"Namas young lady may I have a dark rum on ice and a bottle of Quafe." She grinned back at me, "Lady, well that's a new one, I guess it's a mark up from honey or sweetly." She turned and started to prepare the drinks cracking open the Quafe with one metallic hand and scooping ice into the other glass with her normal one. She placed the drinks in front of me and went on to serve her next customer.
Before I had even got the glass to my mouth I could smell the intoxicating perfume of the drink, knocking it back in one I the took two swigs from the bottle of Quafe. As the alcohol hit the bloodstream my body relaxed slightly and for a second the aches and pains felt less but then the sensation was gone...
Drinking in station bars can be dangerous especially without body guards but surprisingly enough many capsuleers do it despite the dangers I guess the risk adds some extra adrenaline to the experience maybe it's just because watching the baseliners just reminds us how human we are.
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