All Gummed Up

     The Dark Star Bar, haven to an array of grubby miners, greedy merchants, and the cold-hearted mercenaries that patrol these outskirt belts and trade lanes, a place where the opportunistic prey on the idealistic in a gritty parody of those same ancient terrestrial struggles. Therax tried to disregard the painfully wide grin growing on Nuri's face as the two of them approached the broad main entrance of the busy establishment.

     The Dark Star was not Therax's favorite place to spend his time or ISK. The clientèle was rough and boisterous, and the prices were inflated to compensate for the damage caused by the occasional brawl or unruly patron. Despite this, Therax came here often. The owner had made some spectacular contacts and regularly stocked some of the best synth-foods in the region. This combination of quality and grit brought in a lot of folks who were the "real deal", like Therax, but it also lured a constant swarm of groupies, posers, and hangers-on. Social parasites who leeched a sense of style and belonging from the raw spacers who frequented the bar, these sycophantic kids were usually too scared or too stupid to sign on with real a crew. The gaggle of dyed, inked, and pierced girls that Nuri immediately gravitated towards certainly fell into this category.

     A momentary look of disapproval twisting Therax's face as Nuri tickled one of the vibrant vixens and was slapped in return, the scruffy miner turned towards the back-lit bar, choosing a stool at one end. The synth-wood laminate surface of the bar was marred with ring-shaped stains and blackened scars made with pocket fission blades.

     "Evenin' Therax," boomed the tall bartender, "What can I get'cha?"

     "Bell peppers and beef," grunted Therax, looking up at the athletic man, offering a polite nod of acknowledgment.

     "Hmm, we're all out of beef," stated the bartender simply, waiting patiently for another order.

     Therax curled his upper lip in annoyance and scratched the stubble on his cheek. He had already been driven to surliness by Nuri's ceaseless banter as they unloaded their cargo of compressed gas. He had kept his mind on task by focusing on the dinner he was about to have, and this denial did nothing to improve his mood.

     "Just bring me a pork ramen," said Therax, dejectedly, "And a bottle of that black cider."

     The local planet was home to a strange, swarthy tree that bore a fruit the size and shape of an apple. But the similarities ended there. The hard, near-black fruit were waxy, with a harsh, bitter taste and smell. However, if one allowed the fruit to ripen in brine for a score of solar cycles before juicing, bottling, and shelving, it made for a heady, flavorful beverage that sparkled on the tongue. Therax occupied himself with the frothy, black drink while he waited for his noodle bowl.

*   *   *

     Despite his disappointment at the Dark Star, Therax was feeling much better. The hot bowl of noodles had filled him up and calmed his nerves. Even the goofy laugh of Nuri as he blathered on about the girls he had dumped his pay into wasn't enough to bother Therax as they slowly walked back to the ship hangar.

     Therax planned on heading out to their last location to clean up the few clouds of gas that remained, and the prospect of more income had been all that Nuri needed to drag him away from his harem. One could never be sure of a strike remaining for more than a standard solar cycle. If the gas didn't dissipate or move away, it was only a matter of time for other miners to find it and pull it into their own hungry cargo holds. The two miners were wasting no time.

     Entering the ship hangar, Therax and Nuri walked down the wide lane towards the berth where the Gandalf was docked. As the gray hull came into view, Therax noticed a man in the jumpsuit of a station repair technician standing beneath the cockpit, an assortment of starship components organized into rows on the floor a few meters away. As the two miners approached, the technician, equipped with a tool akin to long scissors, probed inside a hole where the left gas harvester used to be.

     "What's this?" announced Therax, his sated demeanor melting away at the sight of his dismantled ship.

     Spinning around, a few spindly metal rods clenched in his fist, the repair tech seemed startled. "Oh, hey! I had to take your harvesters appart."

     "You did what?!" spat Therax, "I asked for a routine maintenance checkup before we headed back out."

     "Sure," replied the tech, nodding as he moved to set the rods down in a pile of similar items. He shooed away a pair of genegineered Siamese kittens that had run over from beneath one of the neighboring vessels. Genetically modified cats were a common sight in hangar bays, doing a better job of keeping the vermin population down than any poisons or automated devices ever did.

     "I was checking over your systems, as you requested, and was looking for scars in the teflon sockets on your harvester pivots," he wiped grease from his hand on a rag tucked into the pocket of his stained jumpsuit. "I don't know what you guys got into out there, but it looked like someone had been throwing marshmallows into your intake manifolds. It's going to take at least a solar cycle to clean up."

     Therax stared stunned, then stammered, "Wha...wha....a whole cycle? You can't be serious." But he knew it was true as he looked around at the bits and pieces of his ship strewn about the hangar floor. He growled a quiet obscenity, shoving a thumb under his belt.

     "So...were not going out?" Nuri asked sheepishly. The glare Therax shot his way curtailed any further dumb questions.

     "Alright then," Therax addressed the repair technician, "But you better not find any more things to tear apart on my ship."

     Therax turned to leave, Nuri following close behind. Frustrated, Therax found himself walking towards the station's coffin hotel. A good rest would clear his head and put him in the mood for scouring out a new gas site once his ship was reassembled.

     Upon reaching the hotel, Nuri stuck his hands on his hips, "I don't really feel like sawing logs." He shot a hinting glance at Therax.

     "Eh, don't worry about it," Therax waved dismissively, "I know where to find you, go have your fun."

     Nuri bolted off towards the Dark Star, Therax watching after him for only a moment before heading into the front office of the coffin hotel.

---

This is a combined entry for the Eve Friday Flash Fiction hosted at Eclyptic Rift and the Wordzzle hosted at Views from Raven's Nest.

I used all the words in the Wordzzle list, making this entry a Mega. The list of words and phrases is:
Main
   beef
   idealistic
   kittens
   marshmallow
   opportunistic
   sawing logs
   scissors
   slapped
   teflon
   tickled
Mini
   goofy
   laminate
   ripen
   shelve
   Siamese