Sorry man Artoo is not going to be on Hermes. But Rusan like in Cannon it is there that they will meet however, thanks for the good idea though.
Partnerships.
As a vacation spot, rather like the planet it orbited, Hermes left a great deal to be desired. And yet, it seemed to attract quite a lot of visitors. It was spartan, enclosed, and while the atmosphere was breathable, for the right amount of money it could be doctored so that one would be better able to enjoy one's stay. Bars served intoxicants of all varieties, inhaled, injected, and in liquid form. John was somewhat surprised when they entered a particularly dark establishment called, quite aptly, The Pit, and Cassidy steered him not toward the wall of alcohol guarded by a very muscular, scarred bartender but to another area where various-sized tanks were suspended. They ranged from about the size of Cassidy's fist to the size of his arm.
"I'm in the mood for a drink, not a puff, at least not without knowing what's in there," John said, frowning.
"Ah, Johnny, trust ol' Jessie Cassidy," the larger man rumbled. He plopped down a handful of credits. "Keep it coming all night," told the attractive, tattooed young woman. "For me and my innocent young friend here."
She grinned, pulled down the larger-sized tank, and attached a hose to it, then repeated the gesture for John's benefit. He still had no idea what was in the tanks, but he shrugged mentally. There were times, he knew when he just had to jump and trust that Cassidy knew what he was doing.
Of course, sometimes he didn't.
The woman-the tank-tender? He wondered what you called someone in this profession-glanced back at Cassidy." You want it here, or do you want to take it with you? You'll have to pay a deposit if you take it."
"Sounds fine honey. I want to be able to move tonight if you know what I mean."
He gave her a broad wink. By this point, John was utterly confused. She reached below the counter and brought out two harnesses.
"Didn't know you were into that sort of thing, Friend Cassidy," John said blandly.
Cassidy laughed. "Not that kind of harness," he said. And sure enough, John realized that it meant that they could simply carry the canisters with them. Cassidy needed an extra large one; John was equipped with a medium. They strapped the contraptions on, shifting so the canisters lay comfortably on their backs and fastening buckles around the chest and waist, and John felt slightly better to see that they weren't the only ones wearing them.
"Take a puff," Cassidy urged, inserting the nose plug into his right nostril and inhaling. Tentatively, John did the same. And then laughed.
"It's air!" he said.
"Oxygen, more precisely," Cassidy confirmed.
"If you don't believe me. Let our new metal friend scan it for ya."
John turned to T7, giving the drone a small puff into the machine's air scanner. A second later T7 confirmed what Cassidy said was true before he took another deep inhalation.
"How come?"
"Johnny," said Cassidy, clapping his friend on the shoulder, "what do you like to do the most?"
"Sleep and training."
"Besides that."
"Drink diet coke."
"Exactly. Because of the composition of Hermes's atmosphere, you'd be under the table if you had three normal drinks. With his harness on, you had drink maybe even more than normal. Life is good."
"Cassidy, you're a genius."
"Hell yeah," Cassidy said. He let out a melodramatic sigh. "Sometimes it's hard, Johnny boy. Damned hard."
While a staggering variety of characters who could charitably be described as "colorful" and more accurately described as "Unsavory" made their way into and out of the Pit, John knew instantly when their contacts wandered in about an hour later.
There were five of them: three men and two women. One of the men was tall with black skin that gleamed as if oiled in the dim, smoky light of the Pit. He had one golden hoop in his ear, as did most of the others. The other two men had skin that was almost ghostly pale as if they seldom troubled to venture forth into actual sunlight. They looked hard and worn and ready for anything.
The woman was similar: well-muscled, as the men were, with a few more piercings and almost as many tattoos. One of them was smaller, with dark-blond hair. The other was almost warrior-womanesque in her proportions, with black hair, blue eyes, and yes, bones in her nose and ears. All of them wore sleeveless shirts or vests.
They were greeted with raucous whooping from some other patrons and with enthusiasm from the bartender. The five of them swaggered in as if they owned the place, and for all John knew, they did. Among the five was a man ten years older than Cassidy. He was sharp-featured and thin but ropy with muscle. He hung back slightly as the other members of his crew grabbed drinks or old friends. Small eyes that missed nothing scanned the room and then settled on Cassidy. Thin lips parted in a grin, showing a gold tooth. He walked over to John and Cassidy with a glide of a predatory cat.
"You must be Jessie Cassidy," the man said, in a voice that was deep as a crater and smooth as oil.
"That I am," Cassidy replied, puffing on the air tank as if he were puffing on his more familiar stogie. "This here's my partner, John Raynor. And you have just got to be Declan Moore of the Screaming Skulls."
The gold-tooth grin widened. "We don't take pains to hide our identity, not here," he said. "I understand you have a freighter full of shinies for us."
Cassidy glanced around. "Let's drink first and discuss business later."
"I told you, we don't take pains to hide our identity here, Cassidy."
"Yeah? Well, I do."
There was a tense moment while the two men sized each other up. Cassidy could obviously snap Declan's neck with one meaty hand. But John had seen enough to know that the skinny pirate leader probably had a trick or forty-seven to counter with, and knew Cassidy knew it too.
Finally, Declan shrugged. "There's a back room, for just such occasions."
"Sounds just about right."
A few moments later, they had been ushered into a particular and not particularly fragrant area of the Pit. The room was quite small; Cassidy particularly filled it himself. Every member of the Screaming Skulls had piled in for the conversation, and the small table did not have an inch of space to spare once everyone's drinks, ashtrays, and other items had been piled atop it. It was further crowded because, like Cassidy, all others wore harnesses with oxygen so that they could extend their enjoyment of the alcohol.
But apparently, none of the skulls seemed to mind. They were the most John groped for the word-cheerful band of murderers and cutthroats he had ever seen. There was much laughter, spilling of beverages, bawdy talk, and generally good-natured camaraderie.
Declan made sure everyone was settled, then he turned to John and Cassiy from a distance of eight inches away.
"Now," he said, his whiskey-scented breath bathing them, "Shinies."
Cassidy had the warrior woman in his lap-her name was Elli, or Ella, or Alli; John hadn't caught it clearly in the hubbub of the bar and had to maneuver around her in order to fish out the crystal he'd brought out as proof of his and John's good faith. Alli/Ella/Elli didn't seem to mind, chuckling throatily as she shifted on his lap.
Cassidy placed the crystal on the table. "One of an entire freighter full," he said. "Ought to fetch you a real nice price."
"Ought to indeed," Declan said. He reached out a hand for it, fingering it with the expertise of someone who knew what he was looking for. His eyes narrowed as he perused it.
John realized that, while not exactly an act, the happy-go-lucky, wild playfulness Declan and the others cultivated was far from all of what they were. There was a blade in the colorful, over-the-top sheath-a cutlass, no doubt- and that blade was very, very sharp indeed. He was suddenly quite glad he was doing business with the Screaming Skulls, not competing or in conflict with them.
"Decent quality crystals," Declan. He reached over to Alli/Ella/Elli's ample bosom and tucked the crystal snugly between her breasts. She gave him a wink. "We'll give you a decent price."
He put a pile of credits on the table. It wasn't as large as John had fantasized about, but it was damned fair. He nodded to himself. They liked booze and fellowship, and they paid pretty well for work. Something cold splashed on his neck, and he jumped. His hand hovering over his hand cannon, but not pulling it out.
"Damn, sorry about that. Let me clean it up," came a soft female voice. It was the other woman, the small blonde, and an instant later he felt a warm tongue licking up the trickle of alcohol.
Okay, it's official. He hated the Screaming Skulls.
Talk of business was suspended for a while, during which the party spilled out of the small back room into The Pit proper. Jack, the large man who was apparently Declan's second in command, was sent to confirm that the freight was truly as laden with crystals as John and Cassidy had promised. He returned with a large smile. More rounds of drinks were ordered, and some strange little snack that was deliciously and addictively salty. John was certain he didn't want to know what it was.
At some point, the warrior woman detached herself and stumbled up to the bar. She was passed a mic by the grinning bartender. Finding one of the tables that had only a few drinks on it, she stood on it, tossed her hair, arched her back, exposing her pierced midriff, and began to sing. Surprisingly well.
"Alli's good," Declan said, accepting a cigar from Cassidy and permitting the bigger man to light it from him. "At a hell of a lot of things."
John wondered if Declan meant what he thought he meant.
"No shit," said the dark-skinned man. "She fillets better'n anyone I have ever seen. Get's them screaming within three minutes, don't finish'em off until three hours." He shook his head in admiration. "One hell of a woman."
John settled back carefully in his chair.
"Got another job for you, if you want to take it, "Declan said, taking another puff. The tip of his cigar glowed orange. "We'd do it ourselves, but we ain't got the time. Gotta pace yourselves, you know? Don't want to miss the opportunity, but don't want to burn out."
"One must pause to enjoy the little things in life," Cassidy agreed, puffing on his own stogie.
"You impressed us with the freighter," Declan said. "So we'll share the profits with you. Generously."
"Define 'generous'," John said.
"Seventy-thirty. And you get the seventy. "John's eyes went wide a bit: it was one hell of an offer-they must have made a mighty fine impression-but Cassidy had the better poker face.
"Let's say twenty-eighty. Us."
A murmur went around the table, and the conviviality dropped several notches.
"I mean, after all, we're the ones out there risking our necks. Taking all the chances. You just got the info."
"Twenty-five-seventy-five," offered Declan.
Cassidy rubbed his chin, apparently contemplating whether or not the stubble warranted a shave. "I reckon that is acceptable."
At once glasses were clinked and alcohol was sloshed. John grinned and took another hit of oxygen before ordering another round.
Life was good.
An hour later, the plans having been discussed, staggering a little despite the oxygen they had inhaled as a precaution, John and Cassidy were aboard the Screaming Skulls' vessel, the Privateer. She was medium-sized and older but with a lot of personalized touches. The slightly weather-beaten interior seemed to suit the cheerful group that piled in, heading, predictably, for a cabinet that housed a particularly rare vintage of something golden and strong-smelling.
Declan poured drinks all-round. John felt he could get drunk off the smell of the amber liquor. He swirled it around in the small glass, mesmerized by the thick flow.
"To now partnerships!" announced Declan, and he knocked his back.
It was the best thing John had ever tasted-strong like a good punch, smooth like a long, slow kiss. It burned a fiery trail down to his stomach, and he took another sip.
"If the partnership starts this way," said Cassidy, "I think we might be doing business together for quite some time."
"Where can we drop you off, boys?"
There was only one place where John and Cassidy particularly felt like spending the Skulls' money.
Okay, chapter seven is finished also don't worry am not abandoning my Witcher Warhammer crossover. It's just that my life is getting a bit busy so expect long periods of time between updates okay? Am trying my best in making a good Warhammer witcher story.