One Last Drink

Summary: A calm night at Rockhopper's turns into chaos when a group of armed men led by a Kommissar Gustav Barlov invade the tavern to find their prey...

Rockhopper's Haven

This cavernous chamber in the natural rock of the Ungstir planetoid appears to be some kind of converted mining operation facility, with large, rusty ore grinders, separation platforms and storage silos arrayed throughout. Automated ore-hauling bots - still functional despite age - whir and clunk overhead, following tracks set into the ceiling that weave around the antiquated mining equipment.

Metal-seated stools border a semicircular bar counter which is about one hundred feet long from end to end.

The bartender is usually clad in mining gear - complete with hardhat and overalls - and it doesn't always appear to be just for purposes of keeping in theme. The Rockhopper's Haven has a reputation as a rough spot among rough spots, with fisticuffs and gunfights erupting on a fairly regular basis - thus keeping the civilian constabulary on their toes (when they aren't actually involved in the fights themselves).

Newt's sitting at a table, out of the way of the adults but in view of the holovid which he's watching oevr a glass of something slightly yellow-brownish.

Swiftfoot picks a table seemingly at random, taking a seat and looking behind her. Waving Wiendrbac over, she pushes a chair across from her out with her feet. Noticing the presence of Silvereye as well, she sends him a grin and flicks an ear.

Freyssinet arrives, holding Remy's arm. "This planet is growing on me." she comments.

Wiendrbac moves over to the chair, sitting down in it, crossing a leg.

Kastaprulyi offers LeBeau a silent greeting as it slides around to his other side. "Can I come to the restaurant with you too?" the young Centauran asks hopefully after a moment.

LeBeau chuckles as he pats Frey's arm as he walks in with her. "Es id now, I know Gracie would much prefer a place like Qua, o Castor."

Silvereye flicks his tail towards Swiftfoot, disturbing the lower edge of his longcoat. He moves towards her table, his paws pocketed into the deep folds of his coat. "Wondered where you'd gotten off to." The Longclaw comments as he approaches the table, pulling out a chair and nodding politely to Wiendrbac. "Good to see you as well. Things working out?"

Swiftfoot tilts her head inquisitively at Silvereye. "Tomin Korra. You knew that. Courrse, I ended up back herre due to no rreal rreason whatsoeverr otherr than 'it sounded good when I punched in the jump coorrdinates'." The orange-furred Demarian chuckles. "It's good to see you again, though. What arre you doing out this way?"

Freyssinet grins to Kasta, "Should ask Remy..." she nods to Remy, "Qua. I admit, it is a great place for her - freedom, safety, tolerance... A good place for her to grow up, indeed. But not where work and information are, I am afraid."

"Hey, man. Yeah, it's goin'. Not as well as it could maybe, but that's life." The La Terran folds hands behind his head, leaning back in his chair, letting Swiftfoot strike up conversation with the other Demarian.

It is early in the morning, near the end of the Third Shift, yet that does not stop the Rockhopper's from enjoying some degree of activity. Most of the usual patrons can be found on some tables or at the bar -- the dirty miners and freed engineers, gruff men and women of all sorts taking time to slip inside their bitter drinks. Unusual perhaps among the current occupants of the tavern are a man and his young daughter. They sit on a table near one of the far ends of the area, conversing quietly. The man is in his forties, perhaps, and the young girl is no more than five or six.

Newt looks over at the load of incomings and grins. He waves Kas' way, "Hey Kas!"

Silvereye nods slowly at Swiftfoot, gesturing to a member of the barstaff for some service. "Needed to get out of the city." He replies with a slight shrug. "And we had some debts we needed to settle with a shipping company out here for some supplies we got a few weeks ago. So, thought I'd settle it." He glances at Wiendrbac. "Glad to hear it."

Jared makes his into the Tavern, gaze casually drifitng across the room before catching sight of Wiendrbac. He begins making his way over towards the La Terran.

Swiftfoot chuckles. "If I'd have known, I would have gone out to Demarria and brrought you back herre in style," the female Demarian quips, a mischevious gleam in her golden eyes.

Kastaprulyi returns a feeling of acknowledgment, apparently letting LeBeau voices his own opinion on this as it follows the couple through the archway from the commons. "Castor has good information, good work," Kas offers helpfully, drifting along with its ring of pink eyes a few feet above the floor. Kas responds to Newt's greeting by making a silent one of its own and rising a bit higher.

Wiendrbac quirks a brow, "Shippin'? I'm supposed to be doin' that." The La Terran chuckles, glancing over as Jared approaches. "Sup, Jared."

Silvereye smirks good naturedly towards Swiftfoot as she offers her proposal, eliciting a shake of the Demarian's head. "Nah. Public shuttles're good enough for me." The Longclaw concedes. He then glances at Wiendrbac, wearing the same expression. "Shipping? LTDF not good enough anymore?"

Also worth of note is the complete absence of any local law enforcement. That is, of course, until just now, when two armed men dressed in constabulary uniforms step into the tavern, taking up positions to flank the entrance. Their stern gazes seem to take studious interest in the tavern's patrons.

Freyssinet tilts her head to Kasta, "Do they? Interesting..." she frowns, watching the couple, "Not a place for a kid..." she hasn't noticed the constabularies yet.

Swiftfoot eyes Wiendrbac and nods in assent. "Same herre. Worrk hasn't been so grreat lately, but meh. Them's the brreaks," the orange-furred felinoid notes sagely. Looking around the room, she notices Jared's approach, and waves a paw vaguely in his direction. Upon the entrance of the armed and uniformed men, she spares them a brief glance, quirking an eyeridge, but otherwise pays them no real attention.

Newt kinda, sorta spots the others and stands up, trying to wave John down.

"Not a thing, Jack." Jared replies to Wiendrbac, he comes to a stop nearby, listening casually to the conversation occuring. His gaze drifts a little and he notices some of the patrons casting looks towards the door and he glances over his shoulder towards the local 'fuzz' scanning the room. "Looks like they're lookin' for someone." He comments casually.

Jasra walks into the tavern just before the cops and takes a look around the room before making a beeline to an open space at the bar, "Hey Eddy..." she says to any barkeep that happens to be listening and it doesn't matter if it's Eddy or not, "Scotch neat. The good stuff, not the gut rot."

Wiendrbac frowns at the arrival of the local cops, but doesn't pay them any mind beyond that. "My terms of service ran up and didn't sign for another one. The LTDF was a shit job. I 'liked' La Terre, but I could hardly say I loved it. Only been around maybe four years, yeah? An' heya Jared. It does appear that way." He doesn't spot Newt waving in his direction, having already claimed a seat at a table.

Brokichev steps into the tavern, making his way toward a vacant seat at the bar, near Jasra.

LeBeau looks over at Kasta "I don min, bu yer free to do wha yu wan." He then looks to Frey and motions to the bar "Wan to ged a sead?"

Silvereye glances past Wiendrbac and Jared at the door as they turn their attention that way. He notes the law then shrugs. "Maybe." He comments tO Jared. "I don't come here much. A bit cramped." He observes, glancing at the ceiling before turning his gaze back towards the table and its inhabitants. "And don't tell me about the job bein' bad." The Longclaw replies to Swiftfoot. "The past week has not been one of my favorites."

Freyssinet nods to Remy, "Sure." she follows him.

Newt hrms. Being short can suck. He takes his drink and tries to make it over to Johns table.

The old man with the young girl also notices both sentries. He takes his drink in shaking hands but stays put. His daughter is all smiles and giggles. The constabularies seem to have found what they were looking for and one of them begins a silent conversation with his commlink.

LeBeau walks with Frey up to the bar and waves over the bar tender. "So wha es dis, wanning to ged an aduld nigh oud wit oud Gracie?"

Swiftfoot cants one ear to the side thoughtfully, and turns her gaze back to the Longclaw. "Rreally? What all has been happening back on the home frront?"

"I've only visited Castor a little bit," Kas explains. "It seemed like it had a lot of good safe communities..." Kas comments thoughtfully, shifting behind LeBeau a bit for a better view of where she was looking. "Paying attention here's important. A police officer said little fights happen here on a lot of weekends." The young Centauran then seems to listen interestedly to LeBeau's question.

Freyssinet nods to LeBeau and points out the little girl, "Not sure if that is a proper place for little girls..." she frowns as she notices the constabularies, now. "Huh hoh..."

Brokichev plunks himself down on the barstool. "Vodka," he mumbles at the bartender while he's passing. He looks around the tavern's interior, drumming his fingers on the table.

Jared's attention drifts back to the constabulary. "Not too fond of cops." He says with a brief glance to Wiendrbac. "They're deffinately here for somethin' tho." He shrugs his shoulders a little.

Jasra settles in at the bar, ignoring the cops as she pays for her drink when it finally arrives. Circling her gloved fingers around the glass she lifts it to her lips and takes a swift drink that empties the glass. "Hey Eddy, another." she requests, placing the now empty glass on the bar, "Matter of fact, leave the bottle." she orders, placing more payment on the bar.

MacNamara is in a secluded booth in a corner, alone with a bottle of vodka and a half-full glass. He was probably easy to ignore earlier, as he was resting with his head on crossed forearms at the table; but as the commotion in the tavern starts to rev up, the cyborg raises his head.

"Ain't us, so I ain't worried about it." Wiendrbac replies, drawing out a small game player, powering it on. A cheerful tune begans to play, and he quickly gets to work on beating his best score.

Newt finally squeezes his way through and makes it over, "Hey John."

LeBeau nods to Frey as he looks over to the child and Law Officers, watching quietly.

"Lost a pilot to some idiot yesterday." Silvereye comments, looking over his shoulder to see when the barstaff will get over to the table. "And I don't know if you read about that guy sellin' Demarian pelts on *Demaria*, but I had the pleasure of takin' him down." The Longclaw shakes his head, laying his forearms on the table and leaning forward. "There's somethin' else but I don't feel I can talk about it. I did get a run in with Ripplefur, though. That was good." He nods slightly, then glances at Swiftfoot. "How about you?"

Kastaprulyi slides over the seat next to LeBeau and suggests a bit of puzzlement at Freyssinet's comment. "Do you see something wrong?" Kas queries.

Swiftfoot snorts in derision at the mention of the so-called merchant. "I hearrd about that. I would have loved to be therre, even just to see him get his due," the felinoid notes with more than a hint of envy in her voice. "Sorry to hearr about the pilot, though. I know a good pilot isn't easy to rreplace. Me, I've mostly been hanging arround, trrying to find worrk and laughing it up with these guys." She waves a paw vaguely in the direction of Jack and Jared.

Freyssinet nods slowly to Kasta, "They are looking for someone..." she whispers, watching the constabularies. to Remy, more loudly, "What will you order?"

"Hey Newt, what's up man?" Wiendrbac ask, after flashing a brief grin as Swiftfoot motions toward him and Jared.

MacNamara blinks once or twice, shifting upwards in his seat. "Wha? Huh?" A protective hand wraps around his half-finished bottle of vodka.

With a reassuring smile towards his daughter, the nervous man rises from his table and examines the area with frantic eyes. "You," he says, quickly approaching the table where Silvereye, Wiendrbac and company sit. "You must help me." His voice is low and so is his posture, clearly trying to hide from the two armed men by the door. "They will take us back."

Newt shrugs, "Not much." He looks around taking his drink, before stopping as the nervous guy comes over.

Jared's attention drifts away from the door at Swiftfoots gesture and comment, his words are lost as the man and his daughter approach the table, and his gaze narrows a bit.. he casts a sidelong glance towards Wiendrbac.

Wiendrbac turns back to face the man, raising an eyebrow. "Help? Whatcha' need, mate?"

Silvereye wears the same amused half-smile as he glances at Jared and Wiendrbac. "Any luck?" He asks before the man comes over and steal his attention. The Longclaw blinks largely at the old man, stating plainly with a slight twitch of his tail: "They're the law here. You cross 'em?"

Swiftfoot swivels an ear in the direction of the nervous man, and glances sidelong at him, but says nothing.

"Am I on?" Mack asks, all drowsiness and confusion - and probably a good deal of liquor - as he slides towards the edge of his booth. "Did I mish shoundcheck?" The cyborg looks back and forth eagerly.

"I guess the police looking for somebody'll be good as long as the one they're looking for doesn't bother anybody," Kas comments encouragingly, then queries, "What're you learning to like about Ungstir?"

Brokichev nods to the bartender as his drink is offered to him and tosses a few credits on the bar counter. He sips nervously, eyes darting back and forth.

Freyssinet nods to Kasta, "The buzz, the people around... Kinda like them. Better than tea-sippers any day!" she frowns as the father seems nervous, and whispers something to LeBeau

"I am five, five, four," the nervous human explains rapidly, casting quick and fearful glances in the direction of the sentries. "You must help us. If not me, then my daughter. You must! You--"

The change of pace is almost immediate. An alarm blasts across the Rockhopper's Haven and a large group of armed constabularies burst into the tavern, barking orders. They take key positions surrounding most of the occupants. "Everyfone vill please remaink calm," one of the soldiers requests aloud, repeating this every now and then to ensure general calm. The self-proclaimed 554 just watches in silence, an absence of reaction very similar to that of those about to face certain doom.

Freyssinet startles at the blare, and shrinks visibly, eyes intent on the little girl.

Newt startles and looks around quickly, trying to spot what is going on. His drink gets placed on the table. What the?

Swaying a little in his seat, MacNamara's hand clenches on his vodka bottle as the alarms go off. "Ow," he complains. "Not so loud ..."

LeBeau shrugs and shakes his head "I don know."

Swiftfoot flinches at the sound of the alarm, ears going back reflexively. The felinoid's body tenses, and her tail starts a slow, ominous twitching as she looks around, but she remains in her seat.

"What? Five-Five-Fo-Uh." The rush of constabulary draws Wiendrbac's attention, wincing at the noise. "Oh, that's good... Say, I'd love to help man, you seem like a nice fellow, and all..." He stays in his seat regardless of his words. "What did you do, actully?"

"HOOP!" Brokichev flies out of his seat and dives to the ground, hands shielding his head. "We're under attack! Someone protect our precious vodka!"

"Did I say I don't like police?" Jared says, setting his hands on the top of the table as the police swarm. He casts another glance towards Winedrbac.

Silvereye reacts much in the same way as Swiftfoot, ears tilting back at the harsh sound of the alarm and a visible tensing in his posture. He watches the constables rush into the establishment, beginning to rise but settling himself as he registers the number and the fact that they're armed. A bit of sense. He doesn't say anything more to the man, just looking at him.

Kastaprulyi twitches slightly at the alarm as well, but suggests a bit of relief as the police enter. The little Centauran remains watching quietly for now.

The alarm stops and a short man steps into the tavern. He stands at a little over five feet tall, with black hair cropped short, and a pale and hollow face. His clothes are mostly covered by a fading brown trench coat. "Dobry utra. Good morning. I am Kommissar Gustav Barlov," he announces calmly, slowly allowing his eyes to take in as many faces as possible. "I am looking for a man and his young daughter." It is then that he spots the child by herself at the table. She appears confused, but does not budge from her chair. "Where is this man I am looking for?" The detective places a hand gently on top of the girl's head. "Where?"

Newt turns to look at the short guy and tracks him as he moves around, a frown forming on his face as he does so.

Freyssinet stands up and walks to the Komissar. "Don't know, but could we at least see your credentials? Komissar..." She tries to smile reassuringly to the little girl.

Wiendrbac gives the Kommisar a bemused glance, "Did anyone elses creepy ass hole alarm go off, or is it just me?" The La Terran tugs at an arm of the 5-5-4, "Sit with us, just for a second... Explain what the hell is going on. Quietly. Right now, you're name is Bob, got it? Keep ya head down and act casual." Brokichev's ridiculous outburst only recieves an annoyed frown, before he refocuses on the guest.

Swiftfoot quirks an eyeridge and eyes the short man dubiously. Her ears are flat against her head, and her tail continues to switch. At Wiendrbac's comment, she looks vaguely pained, but stills her reaction before it draws any more attention.

Jasra has refilled her glass from the bottle that now sits beside it. She turns at the alarm, rises from the bar stool and places her back against the bar while she still holds that glass in a gloved hand, "What the hell." she murmurs, but stays quiet and observing.

Kastaprulyi rises a bit as Freyssinet departs the bar, watching curiously from a couple feet higher above the stool.

Silvereye hmms at the Komissar, the sound a low growl at the base of his throat. He glances at Wiendrbac but doesn't say anything, instead looking towards Swiftfoot. "Hells, I guess I can forget about getting that drink. Should've just gone to the pillow."

Jared glances towards Wiendrbac, "These guys are lookin' for some trouble." Jared says, "Somethin' big I'd guess, and old boy over there'll prolly kill anyone he has to t' keep his secrets."

554 obeys and sits down slowly, but he is clearly more preoccupied by the fact that the Kommissar now has his hand on his daughter.

Freyssinet gets a raised eyebrow for answer. "Credentials? My credentials are the fact that I have a group of armed men surrounding you, tourist. If we are not who we say we are then who are you to stop us? You will simply have to rely on trust," Barlov explains simply, once more turning to the crowd. "I grow tired. Where is he?"

Freyssinet shurgs, "He stood up a few minutes ago, didn't see him again. Maybe he's in the loos, you should search there instead of scaring a child." she states, firmly in place by the girl.

Wiendrbac turns his attention back to his game player, playing casual, turning the game off when his man dies to a saddened tune of gloom. The player is stuffed into his pocket, glancing over at Jared's paranoid statement. "Let's try not to jump to assumptions here, yeah?"

Swiftfoot nods at Silvereye in agreement, but her demeanor is not improved in the slightest. "I could have used a drrink myself," she murmurs to nobody in particular.

MacNamara teeters further out to the edge of his seat, knuckles around the bottle growing white. "Thish ishn't how Kommisharsh are shupposhed to act," he growls, almost sulks.

"Yeah." Silvereye replies absently to Swiftfoot, leaning back in his chair and laying his paws flat on the table. His attention is on Freyssinet and the Komissar and his tail lashes once violently.

Jasra lifts the glass in her gloved hand and sips slowly while her green gaze takes in all that's happening in front of her while staying out of it. Her attitude is one of a person who's seen many strange things in this bar and is not totally surprised to see another.

"I've had some experience with th' type." Jared says to Wiendrbac, his gaze drifting to the Komissar, "We'll see though..."

"You believe I am scaring the child?" Kommissar Barlov smiles at Freyssinet. With a quick movement he grasps the girl's hair and yanks her out of her chair, pulling out a gun and placing it against her head. She flails and cries, adding a tearful 'Papa!' as well. "Yes. Papa indeed." Gustav's face contorts with visible rage as he once more addresses the gathered crowd. His rage even forces his accent to regress. "Vhere iz he? VHERE?"

LeBeau sighs and slides off his stool and moves over to where the Frey is confronting the now gun drawn Kommissar. "Alrigh time to calm down yu gun happy nud. 'm sur if dis fader es such a man dat he leaves hes daugher to yer gentle mercy, dat pudding a gun to her head es jus gonna scare her an piss e'eryone else off."

Jared gives one of those 'I told you so" Looks over towards Wiendrbac, he doesn't say anything though, attention returning towards the drama centered around the Komissar.

Freyssinet 's eyes open wide as the pseudo-komissar grabs the little girl ; she tries prevent him, but misses by inches. she pales, and steps back closer to Remy. "And you are not any more a komissar than I am a nun." she grumbles.

Swiftfoot starts at the sudden movement from Frey, her lips pulling back from her teeth in a feral snarl at the treatment of the child. Ears back and tail lashing, she digs her claws into the table and glares at the Kommissar.

Wiendrbac's face tightens, drawing out a small pistol from a holster on his belt, bumping Swiftfoot's knee with the weapon. "Take it. I think we can assume these guys are no cops now. Bob, stay put... we'll get her, you'll just make it worse."

Kastaprulyi, at the attack, suggests a feeling of surprise, a moment later falling over the bar to float low behind it.

Newt just continues to watch the girl, his fists clenching now but he stays put.

MacNamara rises out of his seat, fist clenched on the neck of his vodka bottle like the hilt of a sword. "Girl the put down," Mack demands, although his grammar can't quite match his tone. He pauses, takes a deep breath, and tries again. "Put down the girl."

Silvereye rises abruptly as the Komissar takes the girl by the hair and puts the gun to the side of her head, probably a good way to get yourself shot but the outrage is there in his face. The Demarian's claws are apparent on the tips of his fingers, digging into the surface of the table where his palms lay flat.

The guards somewhat brusquely direct a bland-looking, quiet Specialist off to one side as he tries to enter Rockhopper's and tell him not to leave. Alistair, nervously eyeing the displayed weaponry, is not one to argue.

"Wait for someone to do something to draw their attention." Jared murmurs to his table, "If we wanna start shootin' that is.." his hand moves from the table to his jacket, unzipping it. "Nudge my foot if that's th' plan."

Jasra's face blanches a bit as the child is grabbed. She slips the now empty glass onto the counter top without looking behind her, keeping her back still pressed up against the bar. Placing both gloved hands on the edge of the bar she gently pushes herself a few inches away from the edge to be ready for anything.

Volidana enters the tavern apprehensively and glowers a bit at whoever pushes her aside but makes no physical resistance watching the scene for now

Brokichev pokes his head up from the floor and slowly stands. "Hey now, play nice." His hand is reaching for his vodka glass as he speaks. "No need for shooting or none of that hoop. Let's all have a drink."

Kurtz walks into the Rockhopper, just behind Alistair, whistling a happy tune. He is cut short however but two armed guards who push him to the side and tell him not to leave. Seeing the looks on people's faces, and the gun to the girls head, Kurtz starts whistling again and heads over to where Wiendrbac is. "Evening John." Kurtz takes out a cigarette and places it in his mouth, but does not like it. "Seems like a rough crowed tonight."

"You don't understand," the cowering 544 says, some degree of courage seeping into his body as he stands. "They are who they say they are." He begins to walk forward.

Gustav glares at LeBeau. "A true shame, but it seems to me that tourists are not familiar with the meaning of law enforcement. We will resort to brutal force if necessary." It is then that his intended target's approach becomes evident. "Ah. Good. Now there will not be need for blood. You two," he adds quickly, eyes again on the Cajun and the Terran doctor, "will now step back." He releases the child, who, crying, rushes to her father's side.

Swiftfoot glances sidelong at Wiendrbac and nods minutely, taking the weapon discreetly under the table. The rage does not leave the Demarian's face as she looks back over to the frightened child, but still she remains in her seat, tense as a spring, her tail lashing erratically.

Kastaprulyi, remaining among the bottles under the counter, rubs worriedly at a few arms at it fishes out a commlink. The childlike voice explains quietly, "Some police, some people dressed like police're were keeping people in the Rockhopper's while they looked for a man with a girl... now somebody called Kommissar Barlov's holding a gun to the girl's head..."

LeBeau puts an arm out slowly over Frey's stomach to hold her back and even starts to step back andp ull her with him.

"Put away that away unless you want to get killed." Silvereye growls low to Swiftfoot. "That goes for all of you." He glances to Wiendrbac and Jared after her. "They're the law. This is an asteroid. You do the math." He turns back to the Komissar, eyes narrowing.

Freyssinet glares at Gustav, but steps back as Remy pulls her with him, fists clenched. "And what did that man do, to deserve that you'd threaten to blow his little girl?"

Brokichev sips his vodka slowly. "Gospadin Barlov," he takes a step forward. "It is bad form to threaten a child's life. Did they not teach you this in academy?" Another step forward.

Alistair notices Wiendrbac among the crowd and edges his way over, tilting his head and asking sotto voce, "What's happening?"

Wiendrbac blinks at 5-5-4, pulling the gun back to his lap. "Don't lecture me, Silvereye. I know what cops are, and that had to be the worst act of legal professionalism I've ever seen." The La Terran scowls, but having not left his seat, gives 5-5-4 an encouraging nod at his back, before looking back to the Kommisar. "What is the crime, sir?" Alistair is currently ignored, already in a tense situation, but does hold up a hand that suggest 'Wait a sec'.

Jasra stands with her back to the bar, gloved palms resting on the edge as she watches the scene unfold before her.

The Kommissar turns to Brokichev, then to a nearby soldier. "If he moves closer, kill him." He looks back at the approaching 554. "This man is a criminal. Now this is it. The Factory awaits. One last drink, comrade? There is always time for one last drink."

The father nods slowly, glancing at his daughter. He reaches and with a gentle hand rubs away some of her tears. "Ungstiri seel'niy." The child's eyes widen, but she allows herself to be wordlessly taken away by a constable.

Wordlessly, Mack towers over the rest of the bar with empty eyes, fingers loosening on his bottle.

Newt still stays put but watches the Kid. With a stutter he quietly says, "Gotta be somethin we can do..."

Valerie steps inside, totally oblivious. For about two seconds. And then she just blinks and, after a moment, murmurs, "Guess I found everyone." The little human glances left, then right, and then stage-whispers, "Jack? Jared? Kiddos? Hey you guys?"

Swiftfoot glances at Wiendrbac wordlessly, quirking an eyeridge slightly. She nods again minutely, and pulls her paw back into her lap, empty. The irate felinoid then turns her attention back to the scene at the bar, eyes widening as the child leaves.

Freyssinet 's eyes follow the child, one of her hands unconsciously grabbing Remy's left arm as she shakes her head. "the factory?" she whispers.

"Your idea of the law and mine, maybe." Silvereye replies to Wiendrbac, remaining standing. "But not theirs." He watches the old man being taken away wordlessly, then shakes his head. "Nothing we can do."

"Excuse me..." Wiendrbac saids at the constable moving away with the girl, "I'm sure I know where this is going. If the girl needs a protectorate, I'll take her in like family, at least until immediate family is available." Considered or not, he offers regardless.

Jared glances towards Silvereye, "They kinda liked to work like this on Luna too. The Humans I mean." His gaze drifting back to the Komissar..

Kurtz gives Wiendrbac a worried look, not overly confident with the La Terran's ability to handle the brutish Militia troops and the harsh Kommisar.

Kastaprulyi picks up a bottle in the end of one purple-clothed arm, poking it above the bar as a prism to see what is going on.

"Oh, I get it." Brokichev nods to himself, idly swirling the glass in his hand as he addresses Barlov. "You are one of these 'cops on the edge' I see on the holo. All big and tough, da. But please, you make us look bad in front of the tourists." He gestures toward the non-Ungstiri gathered in the tavern.

Alistair avoids looking at the representatives of the Militia, and by dint of this notices a bottle sticking up over the edge of the bar. Curious, he moves that direction and looks over the bar to see Kas. He offers a little wave and glances over his shoulder nervously.

Jasra sighs sadly, then turns away from the activity to refill her glass with scotch from the bottle that is still on the counter.

The constable turns to Wiendrbac and there is what could best be described as sadness in his face and voice as he replies, "Ungstiri seel'niy." The little girl, who truly cannot be any older than five, follows of her own choice and they both leave the tavern.

"Tourists be damned!" Barlov growls at Brokichev, watching 554 take a place at the bar. At this point, the soldiers change their formation, giving maximum protection to the area where this is unfolding and preparing to leave. "One last drink, comrade." 554 whispers an order to the bartender and accepts a shot of vodka in response. He faces the Kommissar squarely. He raises the small cup and just as it is passing in front of his chest, Gustav Barlov aims his pistol and shoots. The glass shatters and the blast nails its intended victim on the chest. He bounces against the counter and falls forward, face-first on the ground.

Kurtz 's eyes widen in shock at the killing, and his unlit cigarette falls out of his mouth to the ground.

MacNamara's hand clenches involuntarily around the neck of his vodka bottle, and it shatters. He lowers his head wordlessly.

Newt tries to follow the little girl but stops when the Kommissar shoots 554, mouth agape.

"I certainly hope none of these fine people are travel writers," Brokichev eyes the crowd again. "Ungstir will be getting a very poor write-up---" He is startled by the pistol shot, almost dropping his glass. He glowers angrily at Barlov.  he spits at the Kommissar in Mierznykovy.

Silvereye's ears tilt back reflexively and the Demarian blinks as the shot rings out, watching the man tumble and then just shaking his head, letting out a slow sigh and sinking back into his chair.

Volidana gasps, aura turning bright purple as she murmurs a native curse, "Darkness take you

Kastaprulyi responds to Alistair with a worried feeling of greeting, not saying anything aloud. The arm holding the makeshift periscope wavers at the the shot. Several seconds go by before Kas activates the communicator again. "Kommissar Barlov just shot somebody who didn't look dangerous..."

Swiftfoot watches the little girl leave, tears coming to her golden eyes. As the 554 gives his order, the orange-furred Demarian turns back to the scene at the bar, able to do nothing more than watch. She flinches at the unexpected sound of the pistol shot, and looks away as the body falls, gritting her teeth and digging her claws into the table.

Alistair instinctively ducks, hands going over his head, as the gunshot goes off, and then as he finds himself alive, straightens, shaken.

Jared shrugs his shoulders a bit as the man known as 554 gets shot by the Komissar, he looks to his companions for reactions.

Valerie starts sidling over toward Kurtz. Engineers gotta stick together, y'know. Startled, she stops a moment when she hears the shot, and then hurries the rest of the way over. She looks up at Kurtz and points at the body. "What the hell is up with that?"

Wiendrbac shakes his head at the Ungstiri catchphrase, after glancing briefly over at Valerie. "So young, it isn-" His voice trails off as the shot goes off, first reaction that of a soldier, get low... but then he springs to his feet, eyebrows drawn down in a look of pure hate directed at the Kommisar. "You sick, sadistic little creep. That isn't justice, that's murder."

Jasra's shoulders jump as the shot if fired, after a moment she turns once more from facing the bar to facing the evidence of what just happened, "Oh shit, this is why planets suck."

Gustav Barlov walks to the bar and pushes the corpse a few times with his foot, then nods, pleases. He takes out some money and places it on the bar counter. "Comrades, this man clearly intended to throw the glass at me. It was self-defense. I apologize for the inconvenience and hope this gruesome ordeal will not deter you from further visits to our beautiful home." He then turns to his soldiers. "Take the body back to the Factory. We leave at once." And so he does, promptly moving out. Gradually, the armed constables follow suit, taking 554's body and leaving the Rockhopper's Haven in relative peace.

It is then that Kastrapulyi finally gets an answer through his commlink: "The matter shall be investigated. Think no further of it."