milliways_bar | (no subject)

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There are a lot of things that Col. Miles Quaritch has gotten used to seeing on Pandora. A non-exclusive list includes large animals grabbing his men and eating them; men suffering from all sorts of new and deadly poisonings from the native wildlife; tall blue creatures shooting arrows that can occasionally knock through bulletproof windows at just the right angle and speed; and all sorts of other things which we need not go into detail about here.

One thing he is not used to seeing is the Mess Hall transformed into a bar. It might occasionally devolve into being a pigsty in his opinion (particularly if whomever has KP isn't on the ball or is looking for trouble), but a bar is...quite unexpected. So as soon as Col. Quaritch comes through the door into a very unfamiliar room that is in place of a very familiar one, he draws his gun and reaches for his breather unit.

"What the hell sort of joke is this?"

(Tinytag: Miles Quaritch)

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Ohshit, goes Trudy Chacon's expression. She's off-duty, but still in her flightsuit, and, leaving her peach on the table, springs to her feet with a salute.

"Milliways, sir!"

...yeah, she's just going to hold that salute until he a) looks less likely he's going to shot something (like, say, her) and b) returns it.

(she probably hasn't done such a textbook-perfect salute since leaving the USMC, to be honest)

Quaritch takes a moment to process that response before returning the salute. It does, however, get returned in due course. You can bet your bottom dollar that it is not what he was expecting to hear.

"At ease, Chacon." He pauses for a moment further, considering that response. "Is this a hallucination? And if not...what, exactly, is 'Milliways'?"

The Colonel has a rather perplexed look on his face; it should be noted that his gun is still drawn and he is visibly on guard.

Chacon clasps her hands behind her back, back still ramrod straight.

(and she was juuuuust getting used to being the only one from Hell's Gate here, too)

"Nosir, no hallucination. Unless we're both gone crazy, sir." Which may be a distinct possibility, given their posting. She quickly moves on. "It's a bar, sir, in some kind of time-and-space vortex. No time passes while we're here, and all kinds of different realities can walk through the front door.

And the first drink is free. Sir."

Quaritch looks at the door for a second, and then back to Trudy. "Time-space vortex?" He looks some combination of perplexed and frustrated. "Don't tell me some idiot from corporate came up with this." With the budget that RDA has and the amount of money they spend flying sips to and from Pandora...it wouldn't surprise him. "And...what do you mean by 'all sorts of realities'? You mean Augustine might get in here from whatever planet she lives on, too?"

She's torn between smirking at his words and looking horrified at the thought of Augustine appearing.

"Oh, God, I hope not, sir."

Okay, maybe slightly more horrified than not.

"I mean, uh, there are folk from Earth here, sir, but it's an Earth from way back. Mostly from early twenty-first century. And other people who ain't never heard of Earth, except for here. People still in plate armour. That kinda thing."

Quaritch laughs. "Plate armor? You've gotta be kidding me. And...who's never heard of Earth?" The confusion and frustration have given way to amusement...and perhaps the suspicion that he's somehow been locked up in a nuthouse.

~~Which in some sense isn't as crazy as it sounds, considering...~~

Laughter is good. He's not the kind of CO to laugh and then tear her a new one. Slowly, Chacon starts to relax. A bit, anyway.

"People from different universes. Or planets, maybe, not sure how it all works. They certainly never heard of Pandora before."

Quaritch puts the gun away and shakes his head. "I think we've both gone nuts." He shakes his head again. "You said the first drink was free?"

The Colonel looks like he needs one, in the vain hope that this might make some sense afterwards. "No hostiles around, are there?"

"Exceedingly free, sir!" The sometimes annoyingly perky, pony-tailed pilot says, taking a step back to show him over to the Bar. Also, to swipe up her peach. It's her peach, paid for with her own money, and it's a real peach, and it's all hers. No one is stealing her peach.

As they walk, she shakes her head, then thinks. "Not like you're thinkin', sir. One alien I seen was harmless, except for bein' a thief. Some types here a bit rough around the edges, but it's a bar, not a quilting club."

Quaritch nods. "So the natives aren't trying to kill us, then?" He smirks a bit as he says that. If it's true, then this place may be a relief for a weekend off...and will probably become a living hell due to boredom within a week or two.

"No natives! 'Least, I ain't met any sayin' that they've come from here. Always other places. And no one's tried to kill me yet, sir."

Pause.

"One thing, y'can...still see the front door, right, sir?"

There's a glance back at where he came from, and Quaritch nods. "I can."

Thank fuck for that.

"Good. I'm told that sometimes it can vanish, which means you're, uh, stuck here until it comes back. Never happened to me, but."

Which would, of course, suggest that she's been here enough to be comfortable.

"Okay, sir, this is the Bar. She's an AI, 'cept sometimes there are 'tenders. Mostly just her, though. And she can bring up anythin' you order, unless it's alive or a weapon."

This would explain the peach in her hand - back on Earth, a real peach would cost her something like a month's salary. On Pandora, there are no peaches at all.

Now he takes note of the peach. "You mean that's real, too?" He did not expect to walk into a produce market on top of everything else. "I'm going to check something..." Quaritch says.

With that, he steps back to the door, opens it, and checks the hall. Nothing there is out of place. Stepping back to Trudy, he shrugs. "Well, nothing in there is out of order, so I don't think we've completely lost our minds..." And with that comment, he steps up to the Bar, orders a very expensive and out-of-production bourbon (straight, of course), and takes a drink.

Trust him...he's planning to go back to Earth either extremely old and unable to fight anymore or not at all, and he'd prefer the latter. With the pay he's getting for his posting, he can afford this.

He can go check Hell's Kitchen - she's going to stay here, claim a seat, and starts her peach. Her nice, lovely, real peach that she possibly enjoys just a little too much.

"Nosir," she agrees when he comes back, swallowing her mouthful. "And time stops while we're here."

Quaritch sits down at the table opposite her. He seems more relaxed (translation: Not about to kill anything that looks vaguely dangerous) now, with his drink in hand. "I didn't think you could get this anywhere..."

"Welcome to Milliways, sir."

"This normal?"

Pause.

"Normal, sir?"

"Yeah. Like the wildlife out there trying to kill us."

"Milliways normal," she says, the way she might say 'Pandora normal' after having to duck and weave to avoid aerials predators.

Quaritch orders some strawberries, just out of curiosity to see if he can. They appear, and he picks one up and bites carefully into it.

After a moment, he realizes that he doesn't really remember what one is supposed to taste like.

Trudy hasn't ever had a strawberry in her life, so she eyes the fruit curiously. Still, she has her peach. Her wonderful, wonderful, damn-near-orgasmic peach.

"Good, sir?"

"It is." Pause. "I once had one, when I was a kid." He's got a few decades on her; they were probably still available in some numbers at the turn of the century, even if they were getting expensive then.

That shifts her glance from the fruit to the Colonel. "Momma used to buy us peaches, for Christmas. But never had a strawberry." She lifts her free hand up, and the pauses.

"May I, sir?" she asks, gesturing to the small bowl.