Finally, there was the OC’s defining feature: a large, rectangular pane of glass that served as the lounge’s rear wall. Spanning the entire width of the room from floor to ceiling, the transparent barrier was backed by a dazzling, starry backdrop, thus creating the illusion that the entire lounge was open to space.
“Nice scenery,” Link remarked from the rear of the group.
Thinking that he couldn’t agree more, Lee turned to respond, only to see that Link’s comment hadn’t been directed to the stunning scene beyond the glass, but rather the pair of attractive young female officers seated at the corner of the bar.
“Hey guys, glad you could make it,” Reiser called from a table at the far end.
“Hey Doc, good to see you,” Lee answered, leading the group across the room and pulling up a chair. “Thanks for the invite.”
“No problem at all,” said Reiser, gesturing to the bartender that they’d take a round of drinks. “You’ve all worked incredibly hard through this whole process, and I’m just sorry we haven’t had the chance to do this sooner. Plus, I know places like this are a little more your speed than a briefing room.”
Lee tilted his head. “Oh, I dunno, Doc,” he offered, “Havin’ been here for the better part of three months, I’d like to think there’s a lot about this place that’s pretty comfortable to us now, ya know?”
“Fair enough,” Reiser agreed, seeing the barkeep return with five mugs of ale. Then, raising his glass, the doctor leaned forward for a toast.
“To unexpected discoveries, then… may they all be as remarkable as this one has been.”
“Cheers!” the group saluted, clinking their glasses to his.
Taking a sip of his ale, Lee processed the drink’s flavor and examined its thick, frothy head and light, reddish coloring through the mug.
“Not bad,” Mac noted beside him. “It’s a little hoppy for my taste, but what is it?”
“It’s called Belle’s Amber,” said Reiser, “and it’s made by one of the older brewing companies on Aura. It’s actually one of the more popular beers that they make…” He paused, eyeing Hamish’s bitter expression across the table. “Though I’m guessing it’s not for everyone.”
“Sorry, Dr. Reiser,” Hamish apologized. “It’s a wee bit thin for ma liking, but to each his own.”
“Well, they’re always looking for suggestions if you have new ideas.”
“Are they, now?” Hamish perked up, and Lee could practically see the marketing possibilities for ‘Iron Highland Ale’ swirling through his friend’s mind. “And would the gent behind the bar be the one to talk to about that?”
Reiser laughed. “I’ll tell you what, Hamish. In honor of the occasion, how about we go with something a little closer to home for you guys?”
Then, turning to flag down the bartender, Reiser waited for him to return.
“Hey Doc Reiser, what’s goin’ on?”
“Everybody, I’d like you to meet Bruce,” he said of the man with thick black hair and a pronounced jaw. “In addition to being everybody’s favorite listening ear around here, he’s also the best mixologist in the fleet, this side of Finley Springs. Bruce,” Reiser shifted, “meet the 82nd Logistical Squadron. They’re here on special assignment with R&D.”
“Good to meet ya,” Bruce said with a two-fingered wave. “What can I getcha?”
“Those crates I brought back with me,” said the doctor. “I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to unpack them, have you?”
The bartender nodded. “Sure did. I haven’t had a chance to go through them all yet, but I’ve got ‘em in the back.”
“Outstanding,” said Reiser. “Grab the one labeled ‘McKreiger’ and bring it out with some fresh glasses, will you?”
“You know your Scotch, Doc. I’ll give you that,” Link praised, rubbing his hands together in anticipation alongside Hamish. “You a 17-year man or a 21?”
Reiser’s face registered amusement. “Thirty, actually,” he said, causing two sets of eyes to bulge from their sockets across the table.
“I don’t suppose you brought any vodka back in that batch?” Danny asked, filling his glass with the others once Bruce had returned with the pristinely preserved bottle. “Nothing against whiskey, but I could really go for a dirty martini right about now.”
“I did,” said Reiser. “I tried to sample a little of everything to bring back with me. Some liquors, some wines, even a few types of beer, though particularly the wine. I took quite a few trips to your Napa Valley while I was in California, and I must confess,” he gushed, “I do love a good red.
“Always was a fan of the stuff from Kentucky myself,” noted Lee.
“Got that too,” said Reiser. “However, I must side with Hamish and Link when it comes to the whiskeys. It’s tough to beat a good, smoky Scotch.”
“What else did you bring back?” Mac asked, savoring the aged scent emanating from the glass beneath her nose.
“Oh, quite a lot of things… food recipes, alcohol, literary texts, art… as you saw on the journey here, we’re very big on sampling what other cultures have to offer. I even brought back a fairly comprehensive collection of your music.”
Mac’s face lit up. “Is that right?” she observed. “Anything particular catch your interest?”
“I bet Doc here was a classical man,” Link guessed aloud.
“Actually, I rather enjoyed a lot of your musical genres. Classical, opera, jazz, blues—some popular music too. Rock n’ roll, techno, R&B… I even found myself listening to some of your country—the old outlaw stuff, anyway. They were all unique in their own way. That reminds me,” he concluded, gesturing to an information access terminal beside the bar. “I loaded all of it into the ship’s main archive when we got back, so you or anyone else can access it from any terminal in the ship.”
“Right on,” said Link. “We’ve totally gotta play some Bowie before we get outta here. You know… for posterity’s sake.”
Reiser leaned back in his chair. “So,” he shifted. “Tomorrow you wrap flight school. One more mission, then it’s on to your FTX. You ready?”
Lee’s expression turned lopsided. “I suspect we’re as ready as we’re gonna be…” He broke off.
“But?” Reiser probed, sensing there was more.
“I dunno, Doc,” Lee shrugged. “I guess in a lotta ways, it’s sort of a bittersweet thing for us, ya know? On one hand, we’re all ready to get home, back to our lives, and back to our loved ones—”
“And back to the cash,” Link added. “Love the cash.”
“But at the same time,” Lee went on, “I think I can safely speak for everybody here when I say that while this has all been a lot of work, it’s also been one helluva rewarding experience… and whether it’s because of the tech, or the thrills, or the friends we’ve made around here… leavin’ all that behind ain’t gonna be as easy as anybody thought coming into this.”
“Lee’s right, particularly about the people part,” said Mac. “Captain Ryan, Sgt. Major Noll, Chief Wyatt, Doc Reynolds… they’ve put a lot of time and effort into making us successful, and we want to reward that with results—for us and for them.”
“Aye,” Hamish agreed. “These are great people, and far be it from us to let ‘em down.”
Reiser sipped his Scotch. “Well, on that matter, I can tell you this,” he noted. “You’ve made believers out of every one of them which, trust me, is no small accomplishment. When we launched for Earth a year ago, everyone went along with this project because they had their orders, but that didn’t mean they believed in it. From the moment you guys stepped off that transport ship, you’ve taken everything that’s been thrown at you and attacked it head on with the kind of diligence and enthusiasm that I could have only dreamed of finding when I began this process. Never did you back down, never did you get intimidated. You just kept working and in doing so, you’ve earned the respect of everyone associated with this program. Ryan, Noll, even the admiral himself has come aro
und, and that’s most definitely something to be proud of.”
Flattered at the complement, Lee raised his glass for a toast of his own.
“To the men and women of the Praetorian,” he said, “and to the outside shot that we don’t make total idiots out of them or ourselves before this is all over!”
“Hear, hear!” the group agreed, though Reiser hesitated for one addendum.
“To the 82nd Logistical Squadron,” he said proudly, holding his glass aloft. “To the Renegades.”
“Damn straight!” Link shouted, slamming back his drink and slapping Hamish on the back of the head.
As the next hour breezed by, the crowd behind them gradually grew while many of the ship’s off-duty personnel began to file in.
“Looks like business is beginning to pick up around here,” Link said to Hamish, mentally noting the orders of the three females at the bar in case such information became “need to know” by the end of the night.
Hearing the music rise in volume and tempo around him, Lee glanced down at his watch, then back to Reiser, who polished off the last of his drink and rose from his chair.
“Calling it a night, are ya, Doctor?” Hamish asked.
“I believe I am,” said Reiser. “I’ve got a meeting with Ryan at 07:00 to prep for your training run, so I need to get some sleep. You guys stick around, help yourselves to my personal stash there, and by all means, have a great time tonight… but not that great, alright?”
“That’s the plan, Doc,” Lee said with a laugh as Reiser turned to leave.
Once he was safely out of earshot, Link refilled his glass, fired it back, and returned his attention to the activity at the bar.
“Speak for yourselves, kiddies… I’m just getting warmed up here.”
“Hey, you heard the man, Short Round,” Mac cautioned. “We’ve got way too much to do tomorrow to sit around and tie one on in here tonight.”
“She’s right, Link,” said Lee. “‘I just need you to keep your game face on while we wrap up flight school tomorrow and get through the FTX. After that, you can come back in here and try your hand with the local talent all you want, but it ain’t gonna be tonight, okay?”
“Oh, my game face is on, bossman,” Link replied, his eyes still fixed on the girls. “Don’t you worry.”
Just then, Hamish peered over Lee’s shoulder to see Chief Wyatt enter the room and scoop a food menu off the surface of the bar.
“Chief!” Hamish called out. “Get over here and have a drink with us, will ya?”
Visibly exhausted and covered in grime, Wyatt shook his head and waved him off.
“Thanks, guys, but I’m not staying,” he answered. “It’s been a long day, and I’m just here to grab something to eat since the mess hall has already closed for the night.”
“Like bloody hell ya’re not staying,” the Scot snorted, rising from his chair. “Where I come from, it’s an act of extreme personal insult to decline a man’s invitation to drink with him at the pub, and besides, it’ll take the boys in the kitchen at least a few minutes to rustle up yar meal, so there’s no reason why ya can’t have at least one little drink with the five people who are here to make all yar hard work and dedication pay off, alright?”
Swiping the bottle of Scotch and signaling to Bruce for an extra glass, Link stood up to follow his friend to the bar.
“Yeah, Chief, stick around,” said Link. “We’ve got a little something here from back home that you’ve just gotta try!”
Watching the duo parade through the crowd as if they owned the place, Lee chuckled alongside Danny and Mac over the extreme familiarity of it all. For all their loud brashness and oftentimes obnoxious behavior, if there was anything about those two you could count on, it was that they knew how to have a good time. But moreover, they knew how to make those around them have a good time too, and in the case of someone like Wyatt, who’d been through so much in recent months, Lee wondered how that could be anything but a good thing.
“Oh, Chief,” Mac whined, watching Hamish coax a glass of the mysterious alien beverage into Wyatt’s hand. “You have no idea what you’ve just stepped into.”
Then, acting on Lunley’s assurances that the drink was harmless, Wyatt took a deep breath and fired back the glass, instantly igniting his tastebuds with the Scotch’s patented burn.
“Look at that, lads!” Hamish bellowed, slapping the Chief on the back and pouring him another as the poor man coughed profusely. “The first one is always a killer, and ya took it like a champ! There may very well be a wee bit of Scotsman in ya after all, ma friend!”
“Lord help that guy,” Danny sighed.
****
“Well, if it isn’t my favorite newbie,” called a cocky, familiar voice, and Lee’s eyes tightened upon seeing Tino enter the bar, flanked by Layla and Scar from his squad. Saying hi to a group of crewmates at a tall-top as they entered, the trio made a quick pass by the bar, where Link and Layla exchanged mutually contemptuous glances while Bruce poured their ales.
“Hey you,” Mac said playfully, lifting her glass to gesture them over, though Layla and Scar opted instead to join some friends at the billiards table.
“I didn’t expect to see your gorgeous little probie self in here tonight,” Tino said with a slick smile, sliding into the chair next to her. “It must’ve been fate.”
Feeling his stomach turn, Lee saw Danny shoot him a look from the corner of his eye.
“Must’ve been,” Mac simpered. “What brings you guys in tonight?”
“Nothing terribly huge, just needed to stretch my legs for a while,” Tino responded, leaning in to inspect the dark brown liquid in her glass. “What do you have there, anyway?”
Intrigued by his curiosity, Lee perked up.
“This? Oh nothing,” she smiled. “Just a little something from where I come from. I highly doubt it’s anything that would interest you.”
Tino looked offended. “Is that so?” he chortled. “C’mon, sweetie. It’s bad manners not to share with your instructor.”
Lee and Danny choked back chuckles, for Mac’s classic “bait and humiliate” tactic was officially underway.
“Listen, Tino, with all due respect,” she added, pointing to his ale. “I sampled that stuff you’re drinking when I came in and this is… well, it’s a little stronger than you’re probably accustomed to. But hey, there’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, we’ve got a big day tomorrow, and I don’t want to hammer down tonight.”
His pride now completely in question—and possibly his manhood—Tino sat up straight in his chair, his expression turning indignant.
“That sounds an awful lot like a challenge to me,” he said to Lee and Danny. “Guys, did that sound like a challenge to you?”
“Oh yeah,” Lee rushed to respond.
“Most definitely, bro,” echoed Danny.
“I thought so too,” Tino returned to Mac. “Listen, sweetheart, let me put it to you this way: I can pretty much guarantee you that there’s nothing you can dish out—in any form or fashion— that I can’t handle. Feel free to take that however you like, by the way.”
Mac’s smile stretched from ear to ear.
“And game, set, match,” Danny murmured into his drink.
“Well,” she chirped, signaling the bartender for two fresh glasses. “If that’s the case, let’s make it interesting, shall we? Hey Bruce! What do ya got in a tequila?”
****
“Looks like Hollywood over there has quite the thing for our doe-eyed little Mako pilot,” Danny said as the pair sashayed off to a private table in the corner.
“Gee, ya think?” Lee grumbled, watching Mac shoot down her first round, only to have Tino follow suit. “Man, that kid is gonna hate himself in the mornin’ though.”
“He’s not the only one,” Danny noted, glancing down the bar at Wyatt, who barely flinched at his fourth shot of Scotch while a crowd of his friends, led by Hamish and Link, cheered him on. “Looks like the chief’s found his s
ea legs too. You ever seen a perfectly good bottle of $600 Scotch whiskey get killed that fast?”
“I suspect not,” replied Lee, tilting his glass toward Danny. “But it ain’t our bottle of $600 Scotch, so cheers!”
Feeling somewhat greedy for occupying a table for six amid a max capacity crowd—and usually happier at the bar anyway—Lee and Danny relocated to a pair of stools, just in time to catch Bruce on the fly for another round of ales.
The duo chatted for a while after that, making small talk after small talk; though inevitably, Lee’s eye found its way back over to the quaint little table for two where Mac—laughing aloud and apparently enjoying herself—clinked her glass to Tino’s and raced to pour another round. Annoyed, Lee flicked a peanut off the bar with his middle finger, while Danny jabbered on from the stool next to him.
****
“… And that’s why when we get back, I plan to break into the Chinese embassy, steal the Mona Lisa, and sleep with your sister while Ben Hill Griffin Stadium burns to the ground.”
“Huh?” Lee stammered. “Oh yeah, right… what?”
Danny heaved a breath and rolled his eyes. He’d been talking for the better part of 10 minutes now without so much as an acknowledging peep from the conversation’s other half.
“She’s fine, Lee,” he said. “Relax already.”
“I know, I know,” Lee defended. “I don’t care, it’s none of my business who she has drinks with. Really… doesn’t bother me—”
“Yeah, because I get that about you,” Danny blurted.
Just then, Lee looked up to see Mac cutting through the crowd toward the dance floor, leading Tino by the hand.
“Oh, you’ve got to be kiddin’ me,” he droned. His nerves relaxed a bit, however, when Tino, now visibly intoxicated, wobbled hard, nearly tripping over a chair.
“Well, looks like another one bites the dust,” Danny chuckled. “Think he hurls on her before it’s over?”
Mako (The Mako Saga: Book 1) Page 36
