Meeting New People

I step into the Higher Light Pub and look around. Everything is clean, from the tables to the barstools, to the pool table in the corner. The lighting is comfortably low and warm, but there are no dark corners, no shadows to hide in. This is a far cry from the seedy establishments I usually frequent on the wrong side of the Minmatar boarder.

But the thing that strikes me the most is the people. No one bothers to give me more than a second glance before turning back to their friends or drinks. There are no malicious glares, no hostile eyes sizing up a mark, no dark souls at all for that matter. I am the drudge in this room.

I make my way to the bar, toward an empty seat. Everyone is well dressed, and I'm glad I wore my formal robes. I sit and pull back my hood, revealing the PIE insignia on my uniform collar. My attention is drawn to the laughter from a table. Laughter, that's something I don't hear often in the Amamake, and certainly not happy laughter.

"Hello Ensign. How can I help you?"

I almost don't look at the voice addressing me, not used to being called by rank. By instinct I give the young man before me a sizing gaze. The server is a freed slave, his ID bar pinned under his name tag. I can't tell if he is Minmatar or not, Ni Kunni maybe, one of my own? He blinks back under my harsh stare. Realizing what I'm doing, I break eye contact.

"What's the house drink?" I ask.

"The... the Amarrian Smile. It's made from..." he begins.

"That's fine. I'll have it," I say curtly, interrupting him.

The server gives me a sideways glance as he mixes the drink. Being honest with myself, my irate temper is more from anxious uncertainty than anything else. Give me scheming, devious cut-throat lowlifes any day. I understand them and can handle it. Well dressed, laughing, smiling people actually here to socialize and enjoy themselves... that's just creepy.

But I need to meet my fellow PIE pilots, so I decided to pull back to the Amarr side of the war front in the Bleak Lands for some R&R. The Higher Light Pub is located in a 24th Imperial Crusade station one jump from high security space where PIE has an active office and is a favorite place for the faithful to gather.

I glance toward a group of PIE pilots at a table in the middle of the room chatting animatedly. Considering them for a moment, I resolve to go over and introduce myself once my drink is ready. They are dressed neat in PIE uniforms. Two of them wear multiple decorations and metals on their breast coats. One is Captain Vaarun, the recruitment officer who handled my application. A girl at the table, laughing, notices me and catches my eye. I look away.

Damn it, she caught me staring at them. I feel uncomfortable, but I am here to meet new people and that's what I am going to do. Why is it that I can kill a group of strangers on the Dal gate without care, but I'm nervous about introducing myself to a table of Corp-mates?

My drink arrives. I take it and turn around to find the woman from the table in front of me.

"What'cha drinking, Ensign?" she asks.

Caught off guard, I take a sip of my drink to buy time and assemble my wits. The girl looks at me curiously. Medium height, her PIE uniform looks good on her slim form. A Lieutenant insignia graces her collar. She wears a traditional face scarf over tied up dark hair that covers half her face, but it's light enough that I can see mischievous blue eyes sizing me up.

"A tooth-decaying, fruity monstrosity they call an Amarrian Smile," I say, gesturing to the seat beside my own. "Would you care to join me?"

"Oh, I love those," she says, sliding onto the stool beside me.

I smile, shaking my head at the awkwardness of berating a drink she likes. Sitting down, I flag the server.

"Another of these for my friend," I say, indicating my drink with a gesture. "I'd like another as well. This time hold the vermouth, juice, fruit, soda water and ice."

The server grabs two glasses as he repeats, "One Amarrian Smile for the lady, and one vodka, straight up, for the gentleman."

The girl giggles.

"My name is Swatyy," I say, holding out my hand.

"I'm Shalee," she answers, shaking my hand. "You're a new recruit, right? Did you just move to the station?"

"Actually, I have loft in Amamake. I'm here for some respite and to meet my fellow Praetorians."

"Amamake?" Shalee says, arching an eyebrow.

The bartender brings us our drinks. Shalee picks up her glass and sips thoughtfully. I'm being judged.

"Rough neighborhood, even if you do stay at an Amarr station," she says, and then adds, "You do stay at an Amarr station, right?"

I actually do live in an Amarr station. It's on the wrong side of the boarder, owned and operated by Minmatar under Amarrian charter in name only, home to pirates and war targets alike, but there is no need to mention that... or that I also keep an apartment at Tribal Forces Logistics.

"Of course. I'm familiar with the PIE charter and avoid any perception that might bring dishonor to our cause. It's good to be among those that serve the Empire."

"Mmmm...," Shalee hums, nodding.

She clearly didn't buy my bullshit. Shalee placed her elbow on the counter and leaned her head on it, watching me.

"Is that why you resigned from Gunship Diplomacy when they left the Crusade? To serve the Empire?"

I clenched my jaw. The "God and Empire" facade is tedious, and I dislike overt dishonesty. Besides, anyone who knows anything about Gunship would know better. If I'm to be judged, let me be condemned for what I really am. I lift my vodka and down it in one smooth motion.

"No," I answer.

"No?"

"No, I'm here for personal glory. Slaughtering Minmatar rebels is the path that leads there, and it is the one I will travel," I say with unflinching, unrepentant honesty.

Shalee silently sips her drink. What's she thinking? At least she hasn't stormed away. After a few awkward moments, I made a stab at keeping the conversation going.

"How do you know Gunship?" I ask.

"By name and rumor, mostly. And that you came from that Corporation."

"People are talking about me then."

I make an attempt at indignity, but Shalee sees through it. She smiles.

"I don't think you'd mind that one bit. Don't get an inflated head, Ensign," she says, emphasizing the rank, the lowest rank. "We don't talk about you more than any other new recruit."

"And what do they say about me?"

Now Shalee hides behind her drink, sipping slowly while contemplating an answer. I wait patiently, flagging the server for another vodka.

"They say," Shalee says, meticulously choosing her words, "that you're good and what you do, that you have associates in high and low places, and that your history is... colorful."

I laugh at the calculated understatements. Shalee giggles back at me.

"Come on," she says, "let’s go to the table."

Shalee gestures to the table where other PIE pilots sit, occasionally glancing at us. I pick up my drink and follow her. She introduces me, and I receive a warm welcome, shaking each person's hand in turn before taking a seat.

Sitting there among my fellow Praetorians, making small talk, I began to think this bar wasn't so bad. Maybe I will fit in after all. Maybe I will find a place where I belong. Maybe I can bring some Minmatar strippers from Amamake to dance on the tables and liven the place up.

Maybe not...