Once he had docked at the station, he took the next shuttle down to the surface and made his way to a small, dimly lit dive in Spacetown called The Final Eight. It was early morning local time, and the joint was empty. The manager was busy doing admin on a compad and didn’t notice him as he strolled up to the counter.
‘Dos zumos malvado por favor, posadero.’
The manager, a huge bear of a man, looked up and a massive grin split his ancient, space-ravaged face.
‘Coyote you old rascal. It’s been a long time... como estas mi amigo viejo?’
‘I am well Esteban, very well... how are things with you?’
‘Life is good ’mano, very good... are you here for a while? Our spare room is yours for as long as you need it.’ As he spoke he selected a bottle from a shelf, eased out the cork and filled two shot glasses with a purple liquid. ‘A few tendays, then I’m away to the Halo... the Dark Star needs a hull job and there is only one place for that.’ ‘Too right amigo, those
Griff shipyard fitters are wizards with hull plating... Salut!’
They clinked glasses and downed the fiery liquor... then both gasped. Zaquessoian evil juice is fearsome stuff. ‘Hades that was good... dos mas por favor.’
As Esteban re-filled the glasses he called through a hatch behind him.
‘Jessica mi querida, come see what the damned cat dragged in.’
A woman’s face appeared in the hatch, old and lined but still beautiful... her smile was like a sunrise on
Zaonesdi. ‘So the trickster returns... welcome home, Coyote. Esteban, pour a shot for me as well please, I’ll be right there.’
Esteban filled a third glass as Jessica came out from the backroom... it was the start of a very long session.
He lodged with Esteban and Jessica at the villa they owned, up in the rolling, wooded hills around Spacetown. He actually owned an adjacent plot of land, but had never got around to building his dream home on it, the allure of space keeping him away for years at a stretch. He spent his time either fishing for samlon or walking the hills, only occasionally propping up the bar at The Final Eight. Even hardened spacers needed downtime, and his homeworld of Zaquesso was a very beautiful place. He and the two ex-spacers were very old friends and the time passed easy, recalling past escapades along the spacelanes, remembering old friends. The couple had been very astute traders in their time, amassing considerable wealth, and now had a very comfortable life, only running the bar as a ‘hobby’ as Jessica liked to put it. Coyote knew there was more to it than that, much more... old spacers themselves, they loved spacers and spacer banter. The bar was a haven for any spacer, grounded or not... and Esteban was always generous with his credit. Three tendays passed.