User:Nextoy/Farside Pub/The Space Trade

''There’s an interesting gap in beliefs these days. Often times, far as can be immediately discerned, people who believe in the monsters that frequent here in Farside don’t believe in anything visiting our planet from outer space. Not to say they believe there isn’t life, that’s silly, but more that there isn’t some advanced culture visiting us. Same goes for the other way around, too.''

''However, fact of the matter is life springs up everywhere it can, and in every form it can. After all, when Farside is open about humans being its minority patron, wouldn’t it stand to reason that it had a more stellar minority as well?''

Some would consider it opening up early, for a bar, but a mid afternoon customer wasn’t exactly unheard of for Farside. In fact, the place was a meeting ground for creatures and men of all kinds during all hours. Noon to midnight, and often even into the early, star-fading morning hours.

If anything, the barkeep would relish in these calm hours while they were civil and quiet. People doing business was all he could see and hear, and if troublemakers came forth even they were oft calmer than average.

However, even these hours had oddities.

“Greetings, Master of the Counter.” An odd, soft shrill could be heard from a robed figure. Although, upon closer inspection, the robes would turn out to just be a rather large coat with a wide brimmed hat covering the face of its wearer in shadow.

“Jezus!” The barkeep jumped in surprise, sighing as he put his gun back under the counter before it had been seen in the first place. “Do I need to put a damn bell on ya or somethin’?” He asked, leaning forward. “Now, what can I get’cha?”

“Corn liquor.” The oddly voiced person spoke again.

“Moonshine? This early?” The barkeep asked, confusion present in both voice and expression as he fixed a bottle. “I’m just going to assume this is for later, although you should go to a proper store for that.

“Ah, I misspoke.” The creature raised an arm, although no hand poked out from under the sleeve. “One bottle simply won’t do, we need far more than that to fuel our ship. We’ve had word that you’re the only person in the area willing to serve the…” It paused, looking for the right phrase, “extraordinary.”

“...Okay, how much do you need?” The barkeep asked, his confusion replaced with curiosity.

“Let me see…” At which point, a noticeable beeping noise came from the chest of the creature. “Thirty gallons should suffice.” It answered.

“You what?” The barkeep asked, pulling back his bottle. “As if! That’s just about my entire inventory for the day. I’d need some hefty payment to make that back!”

“Ah, yes, well, we’ve come prepared with payment. However, my people prefer to barter.” It answered, getting an annoyed look in response. “I understand it is not customary, but we neither have nor need fiat currency.”

“Bullshit. You want to get something, you pay for it with cash. No cards, no checks.” The barkeep replied back, putting away the bottle and moved on to clean the countertop. However, a thud on the counter caught his attention.

At first, one would think that the object placed by the creature was a gun. Although, on closer inspection it’d seem more odd. A glistening chrome, rounded, bands wrapping around the barrel at several points. What’s more interesting, is that there was seemingly no way to reload it.

“We can trade in goods or weapons, the choice is yours. However, we cannot spare raw materials as of yet. Hence, the need for corn liquor.” The creature pointed out, bringing its arm away from the device.

“The hell’s this?” The barkeep asked, carefully picking it up.

“In simple terms, a ray gun. It fires a highly condensed beam of light that can either penetrate through objects at the molecular level or catch fire to whatever’s shot with it. Or anything in between. The dial on the back of the upper frame can adjust that, as well as being removed to recharge the battery pack. This one has been modified to work with C batteries, although we can make modifications to any other battery size from AA to F if need be.” The creature explained, the sleeves of its coat dangling past its handless arms as it explained.

Though the barkeep wasn’t exactly the smartest man when it came to technology, he followed along well enough to be interested.

“And what was that about goods?”

Though nothing could be seen, the barkeep could feel a grin from this odd creature. “Well, how about some new storage devices? Thermetically adjustable per barrel, low power, high volume by ratio for its size, and quiet running.”

“Now, what about how much for any of these.”

“Five gallons per gun, ten per fifteen gallon barrel.” The creature spoke.

“Seems fair. A new gun for me and my security guard, plus two of your space barrels.” He agreed, whistling. “Jesse! Come help me with something, will ya?”

The security guard walked over, looking between the two and the gun on the table.

“Is this customer causing-”

“No he ain’t causing a problem. If anything, he’s causing a solution.” The barkeep answered with a rare, excited grin on his face. “Now come help me with something in the back, wouldja? Or talk one of the other customers into it?”

“Well, since it’s best I remain on guard up here…” The security guard turned to the stalls and rec area. “Free round tonight for anyone willing to help our wonderful host with some errands!” He shouted out, immediately gathering the attention of a few regulars.

“You’re a little shit, you know that?” The barkeep growled, with his faithful security guard giving a pleased and knowing grin back.

And so, with the help of a few faithful patrons, the thirty gallons of moonshine were exchanged for the two fifteen gallon barrels. The guns, of course, exchanged more privately.

“A pleasure doing business with you.” The creature spoke, taking off its hat to show a small, orange, slug-like entity inside the head of a robotic suit as it bowed before the barkeep.

“You too… uh…”

“Please, call me Hezhragn.” It spoke. “I assure you, we’ll be doing further deals in the future.”

“While I look forward to it, there’s one thing you should keep in mind.” The barkeep spoke, with Heshran looking up attentively. “It’s called a barmaster, not a ‘Master of the Counter’ or whatever you said.”