Tír na nÓg (Space Opera Team-Up)

OCC: Not sure the deadline has passed but this sounds like a great chance for a comeback post.

Somewhere in the Terran Solar System, 2221

"Draink up boys. Yer luk loike yer nee it." the old man said pushing two stained metal cups to the pilots with some clear like liquid.
"Dis is yer jammy day. If dat Trawler wus not de piece a cr'ahp it is dats an' alwus late we wud 'av missed yer beacon."

The two young pilots looked at one another confused and still a bit dazed, trying to make sense of the situation. They had been pulled from their ship and dragged through dark and steaming corridors to a noisy and quite frankly smelly bar with the scent of unwashed bodies and rotten food.

The old man in front of them frowned. Or appeared to. Half of his face was a dark stained metal plate and that did not move with the rest of his organic parts.
Where his wrinkled flesh met his implant, infected scabs oozed dark pus.

"Ye ma not tell yer is rude ter gawk?" the old man glared at the younger pilot with his milky blue eye. "Nigh draink up. Yer boys are still alive. For nigh..."

A crowd of rowdy shadowy figures standing behind the two seated pilots laughed. Both men choked and coughed hard when the first drops of the drink slid down their throats bringing up even more laughter.

"Let me have the blonde one boss. He has pretty ears." someone shouted from the back eliciting more laughter and a few whistles.

"Aye. Yer Mudders 'av grown saft, wi' yisser fancy colonies, wi' yer shinny ships an' yer silly lookin' uniforms." the man said wiping at the pus in his face and licking his finger. " They don't make dem loike ter use ter in auld earth."

A hulking black man in an crimson exoskeleton slid next to the old man and passed him an info pad.
"Flight plans. You are not going to believe this. They are test flying a coaxial drive."

The group of men surrounding the pilots went quieter looking at the old man who was clearly a leader of sorts.

"Well spank me cheeks an' call me Susie. A coaxial drive? 'Tis rapid waaat drops in our laps oyt 'ere in de oort cloud." The old man scanned the pad and the preliminary information gathered from the first scans.

"I made sure we disabled the beacon before we dragged the ship in." the man in crimson said assuredly. "Anyone tracking the signal will conclude they were lost in the Graveyard."

The old man nodded. "Ah bet yer were not expectin' ter fend anyone oyt 'ere. So far away from waaat yer mud monkeys are callin' yer empire ." He grabbed a silver cup and drank down the firewater.
"Naw, t'be sure not. Everyone is too jammers bein' another cog in de 'ands of yer puppet nations. Too jammers worshipin' de megacorporashuns almighty SVU's. Too jammers ter understan' dat de more we move outwards de more freedoms we loose."

He sneered at both men.

"De moon shipyards, colonies on mars. o'neill cylinders everywhere yer luk on de asteroid belt an' yer still nu nathin' aboyt waaat is truly waitin' for us oyt 'ere."

"Wait until they find those ruins on Triton, boss." a small redhaired woman shouted from the crowd. "It's going to drive them insane." More laughter and whooping.

The old man ignored the shouts and drank some more. His cybernetic red eye focused on the pilots uniforms for the first time and the stylized letters across their chest. "Trailblazers. Is dat waaat they are callin' yer nigh?" he snapped his fingers.

"Take dem ter 'er. I want ter nu everythin' they nu.." the two pilots were dragged away amidst shouting and some screaming.

"Welcome to Tír na nÓg." the old man grumbled.

The large man in the exoskeleton looked at the info pad once again.
"This is going to change things boss. A coaxial drive?"
The old man nodded.
"The Hindu are moving into the Jovian system. The Chinese and the ESA are strengthening their grasp on the Asteroid Belt. Only a matter of time before they come for us."

"Not if we go for dem first,,," the old man grinned wiping more pus from his face and licking his fingers.

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