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The reason Humans are banned from bars
🕑 Added 2023-07-09 13:49:53 +0000 UTC“I hope we made the right decision…” Senior Adjudicator Moxara Senior Adjudicator Moxara sighed and promptly dropped into one of the seats reserved for exclusively Ladies and Gentlemen with a thud.
Only time will tell," Senior Adjudicator Moxara murmured softly, the whisper of her voice seemingly drowned out in the quiet lounge. She had just dropped herself into a chair with a somewhat defeated thud, a sigh escaping her lips. Her datapad clattered onto the table, its screen's glow casting eerie shadows across her face.
She reclined into her chair, feeling the soft cushion mold around her. Her tired eyes flitted across scanning the area she had come to regard as a sanctuary amidst the station full of beings from across the galaxy.
Moxara was one of the very few species that were able to ingest alcoholic beverages without facing immediate medical consequences. Most beings across the galaxy, with their varying biologies, did not react well to ethanol. But for Moxara, a well-aged cocktail was a small, heavenly pleasure that she regularly indulged in.
A holographic display popped up as she swiped her fingers through the air, pulling up a virtual menu and selecting her preferred drink. Moments later, a soft ping echoed from the bar as the bartender fluidly moved to make her drink. As the bartender poured the golden liquid into a glass with an expert twist of the wrist, she couldn't help but be entranced by his adept showmanship. Their movements were so smooth and practiced, they could be considered an art form in themselves.
He wasn't a robot but one of her kind, another Tauri and a male one at that. Seeing another one of her kind wasn’t all that special, but encountering a male that would lower themselves to work as a bartender was a rare sight on this intergalactic station. And she had to admit, he was quite attractive. His dark hair was cropped short, his strong jawline enhanced by a faint layer of stubble, and his eyes were an intense shade of green that seemed to hold an enigmatic glint.
After a final swirl of the cocktail, he slid the drink onto a small translucent serving bot and flashed the Adjudicator a flirtatious smile. Moxara found her cheeks flushing red before mirroring his grin as the small bot hovered in her direction.
Once Moxara received her drink, she decided it would be improper for her to stare too long and turned towards her newly acquired cocktail. Suddenly, her worries about the humans seemed to melt away as the Adjudicator savored the sharp, citrusy aroma of the drink before taking her first sip. A sense of warmth flooded her as the strong spirit burned a delightful path down her throat. Even in this strange, far-flung corner of the galaxy, it was the familiar taste of home.
Moxara sighed contently as her tail whipped and lashed around. “Ahh… What was it that humans liked to say? Ah right, ‘Whatever’… I’m sure they won't be THAT disruptive to the Empire-” she suddenly was cut off by barks of laughter as the doors to the lounge slid open.
“God, I didn’t think we’d ever get off the damned ship!”
“Ya, but our deployment was extended AGAIN. Fuckin’ Sam jinxed it.”
“Fuck you Luis, all you do is bitch.”
Somewhat recognizing the voices, Moxara snapped her head towards the intruders and saw that the very same human Marines that were stationed on her ship were walking into the bar.
Enmasse.
As soon as Moxara laid eyes on the cluster of human marines, she couldn't help but tense up as anxiety gripped her once again. The entrance of the group, their boisterous laughter echoing around the lounge, felt like another one of their coordinated and violence assaults in her quiet sanctuary.
Moxara willed herself to blend into the backdrop, an attempt to maintain her invisibility among the rowdy crowd. Her hopes sank as a few pointed in her direction, however, the humans seemed largely indifferent to her presence. She was expecting a salute or at least a formal nod given her rank, but instead the men and women flooding in seem only to give her a passing glance or a momentary stare. The Adjudicator felt more like a curious object in a museum display than the Senior Officer that she was.
Her brow furrowed in confusion as she looked around the lounge. Caught in the tide of their chaotic energy, Moxara was uncertain whether to feel relieved at their lack of recognition or annoyed at their casual disrespect. The contradiction tugged at her, a conundrum she hadn't expected to face.
Leaning back in her chair, The Adjudicator’s slender fingers tapping rhythmically against her glass as she mulled over this new experience. Among her own kind, her position commanded respect and a certain degree of deference. But here, in the face of these humans, all her status seemed to count for very little.
However, the door to the lounge slid open once again to show another and even larger group of humans sauntering in. These new arrivals, however, wore different uniforms from the ones on Moxara’s ship. Their attire was equally regimented, sporting various emblems and badges that were completely foreign to the Adjudicator's eyes.
“Lovely, the jarheads have arrived…” One of the new arrivals muttered, rolling their eyes as they surveyed the boisterous marines. There was a tangible tension in the air as the new humans joined the crowd, almost as if an invisible line divided the two groups.
Despite their uniforms signifying they were part of the same species and armed forces, they appeared to operate on completely different wavelengths. They were both equally loud, boisterous and prone to hearty laughter, but there was tangible difference between the two. The marines' rowdiness was rough and tumble, akin to a pack of wild beasts, while the newcomers expressed a sharp, sarcastic humor that seemed to both entertain and antagonize their marine counterparts.
In response to the cheeky barb, a marine Moxara recognized as Hana retorted with a casual flick of her hand, “Great, it’s fucking squids… Your mother should've swallowed.” Her dismissal sent a ripple of laughter through the nearby marines, while the newcomers smirked, setting the stage for the night.
The newcomer just mockingly pouted, nodding his head up and down as his drink floated down in front of him. “Okay, Okay. I see you.” he conceded, holding up his beverage in toast. The icy liquid in the glass glinted under the lounge's dim lighting as he lifted it for a toast. "To mothers everywhere, especially yours. I dicked her all night."
Watching the unfamiliar humans howl with laughter, throwing back their heads as they drank their beverages like water, Moxara's eyes squinted in thought. The atmosphere was beginning to resemble that of a rowdy squabble between children than the sophisticated cocktail lounge she had come to love.
She then turned her attention back to the newcomers, trying to jog her memory. Their uniforms were unlike the typical camouflage battle dress worn by her ship's human marines. Instead, these individuals were donned in uniforms of solid color, a dark, but solid white that commanded a certain level of respect and authority.
The fabric of the uniform itself had a certain luster under the dimmed lounge lights, hinting at its resilience and functionality. The jumpsuits were well-fitted, but loosely hung, making it a lot more comfortable for the wearer.
However, her question would be soon answered as another human she recognized bent over the bar to get a better look at the person he was about to insult. “Jesus you Navy losers are so fucking annoying, all you guys think about is dicks.” Samuel, another human’s voice Moxara recognized, spoke up. “Can you stop fucking breathing so hard? You’re stealing air from the rest of the station.”
This time, the raucous laughter was joined by a chorus of cheers, encouraging the verbal jousting. Moxara could only watch, fascinated and somewhat alarmed, as this entirely new facet of human interaction unfolded before her.
As she paused for breath, she quickly chimed in, "First off, I'm genuinely astonished.I know saying those many words could be taxing to a marine as opposed to just saying one noise.”
“Rah?” A voice from the back of the group of sailors echoed her sentiment, igniting another burst of laughter across the lounge.
Before Samuel could offer his comeback, the sailor woman raised her hand, silencing him, “But, I think the most baffling thing is that we all found out two of you are capable of speaking coherent sentences.” The woman said, passing the bottle to the sailor that was currently snickering right next to Hana.
Taking a swig from the bottle, the sailor smirked at the marines. "Honestly, if you guys spent more time on operational planning and less time snacking on crayons, you might not be so dependent on the Navy. Imagine that - marines running their own branch."
Moxara stared wide eyed at the scene, unable to make head or tails of any of it. Usually insults like those would end in blows, but Samuel just laughed and walked over to shake the sailors hand. To the Adjudicator’s surprise, Samuel's grin remained intact as he strode confidently over to the sailor and extended his hand. The other man took it, a smirk playing on his lips as he met Samuel's grip. For a moment, it seemed as though the situation had been defused.
“OOF!!”
However, no sooner had they clasped hands than Samuel's free hand moved in a swift arc, delivering a sharp blow to the sailor's abdomen. The impact made a soft, but audible thud, echoing in the sudden hush of the lounge. The sailor crumpled slightly, a pained grunt escaping him.
The lounge was no longer a place of tranquility. In mere moments, it had transformed into a raucous battlefield. The air was thick with flying bottles, stools used as makeshift weapons, and a relentless volley of shouts and jeers. All sense of order and decorum seemed to have been swept aside by this sudden and chaotic storm of human brawling.
Even the well-stocked bar wasn't spared from the madness. Bottles of aged spirits and exotic alien beverages were used as artillery, their once precious contents spilled and forgotten on the floor. Stools that once served as rest for tired patrons were now employed as bludgeons, adding to the cacophony of the unfolding brawl.
Standing there in utter shock, Moxara could only watch as the horror unfolded before her eyes. It wasn’t until a stray bottle flew past her, was she prompted to duck behind the dividing wall in safety. As she hunkered down, her eyes met those of the bartender, a fellow Tauri, who had magically appeared to her side of the Lounge to take cover.
Strangely enough, the sight of her fellow Tauri, managing to stay cool under the chaotic situation, sparked a sense of pride in her chest. She found herself unable to tear her gaze away from him, fascinated by his agility and calmness.
"Ah, Hello Madam. Is this your first experience with drunk groups of humans?," he said, giving a small bow knowing her societal status was much higher than his. "May your nerves be strong and your patience infinite."
"Indeed," Moxara replied, shaking her head slightly at the bartender's comment. "And I fear I may have made a grave mistake…." Her sight went to the datapad clutched in her. On the device, held her already sent recommendation for these human’s to have a contingent on as many Tauri Imperial ships as possible.
“A grave, GRAVE… mistake…” The Adjudicator murmured with shaking eyes.
Comments
scribbles
Ya, I'm in the middle of completely overhauling the universe, there may even be changes to the beginning of Oof and Eli/Bens background and origin story.
Tupperwarez
I was wondering, which of the Patreon stories are part of the Men With Green Faces world? Eli and Ben are from there before they got teleported, right? Edit: Just re-read some Green Faces chapters. Forgot the ruling aliens from that world were the Tauri, thought they were called Ashurans for some reason, lol
