The Bar

"The days of waiting are always boring. The Abrodi ship still requires a long time to complete its repairs. Reno finds himself in the awkward situation of having nothing to do. This makes him envious of his soldiers: the evil officer separation policy prevents him from being with his soldiers. There are only two officers who came down from the Abrodi ship with him in this sanatorium. One is Alec Davill, the artillery supervisor on the Abrodi, nicknamed 'The Opener,' describing how accurately his cannons always fire, just like opening a bottle. Every time he fires, the ships on the opposite side sound like uncorked red wine, then pour out red liquid. Of course, not every nickname has meaning. Ibby Faulkner, another guest from the Abrodi, is responsible for scientific research on the ship. He's a typical homebody, nicknamed 'Woodpecker.' The reason he got this nickname is simply that one day he curiously used his experimental hammer to tap on a piece of wood from the Alibian star, making a knocking sound... After arriving at the sanatorium, these two quickly found their own fun. The Opener hunts with an old-fashioned shotgun every day and occasionally catches some grouses. He comes to share with Reno; the Woodpecker has developed a strong interest in some native plants on Earth and is doing his research. Reno, who has nothing to do, has to rely on playing games to pass the time. Clarice occasionally comes over and talks to Reno, mostly meaningless chatter, occasionally asking about life on the ship. Once she brought a bottle of wine over, and they got drunk that night. But just drinking, nothing else happened. Claire was arranged to stay 800 kilometers away from the San Juan Sanatorium. She calls Reno every day. Mr. Russell Hill hasn't shown up for several days, which relieved Reno. Today, Reno decided to go for a drink. The San Juan Sanatorium is located on the outskirts of New Darwin City, about thirty kilometers from the city center, a ten-minute drive by flying car. Driving the car into Kantina Street, there is a bar called Black Rose at the end, a place Reno often comes to for no reason. The bar is made from a discarded carriage and has become interesting after simple interior decoration. Stopping the car, Reno pushed the door open and walked in. The strong scent of gardenia hit him. The bar was quiet, with a few customers quietly drinking at their tables, and light music played by piano floated in the air. A beautiful little blue spirit with a pair of wings less than a meter tall flew towards Reno and bowed to him, saying, "Welcome back, Mr. Reno. Miranda is happy to serve you again." "Me too, lovely Miranda." Reno touched the antennae on the top of the little blue spirit's head with his hand, the favorite way of contact for the Blue Spirits. In the vast universe, life is not limited to humans alone. When people truly venture out into the stars and space, more and more species come into their view. Since humans made contact with the first type of extraterrestrial floating creatures in 4988, in the following two thousand years, humans have encountered more than four million types of extraterrestrial life. Among them, there are three hundred thousand complex life forms, more than three thousand higher intelligence life forms, and more than a thousand intelligent species forming civilized societies—according to convention, for non-human higher extraterrestrial intelligence, people append the suffix 'race' to the planet as a distinction. For example, the Blue Spirits mean that they are humans who have migrated to Blue Spirit Star, and the Blue Spirit Race means that this is the indigenous higher intelligence life form on Blue Spirit Star—usually, such life exists only on one planet. The Blue Spirits are one of the more than a thousand intelligent species that have formed their own communities. As for life forms capable of forming interstellar civilizations, none. In other words, in the past three thousand years, humans have not discovered any intelligent species whose civilization level is higher than their own, which makes all the intelligent species they discover eventually become vassals of humanity. Of course, this does not mean that humans will never encounter life forms higher than themselves—indeed, they have. The Blue Spirits are one of the extraterrestrial life forms whose physiological structure is closest to humans, allowing them to speak human languages without the need for vocal cords. After receiving Reno's praise, little Miranda happily flew around in the air, then flew to the bar and said loudly, 'A glass of Crimson Agate with olives, Octavia.' Sitting behind the bar was a young woman with brown hair and wheat-colored skin. She held a thick cigar in her left hand, tapping the counter unconsciously with her right hand, her eyes revealing a wild and untamed fierceness. She was Octavia Bisier, the proprietress of the Black Rose Bar, a famous thorned rose, and the name Black Rose comes from her. Upon seeing Reno come in, Octavia Bisier lazily glanced at him and said in a dissatisfied tone, 'Reno is not a big customer; you don't have to be so attentive, Miranda.' 'But he's my favorite customer, and besides, my name is Mili, not Miranda,' little Mili retorted with hands on hips, obviously dissatisfied with Octavia's words. 'I like to call you Miranda, and I'll keep calling you that. Miranda, Miranda, Miranda!' Octavia Bisier laughed and replied, then said to her bartender, 'Barber, give him the drink.' The bartender behind the bar, Barber, was a Syncantavian. A species with six well-developed limbs—they have four arms, and they are simple-minded extraterrestrial races, bald, green-skinned, and hot-tempered. Before humans arrived on Syncantavia, they were the masters of that planet, and after humans arrived, they became the defeated, captured, and vassals. Precisely for this reason, the Syncantavians never conceal their hatred for humans. Especially the military. The bartender behind the bar glared fiercely at Reno as he approached, skillfully pouring the wine from the barrel. The crimson liquid filled the crystal glass and was heavily placed in front of Reno, while he cursed loudly in his strange and incomprehensible pronunciation, 'Here, you damn turtle's son. May the Sync God pour this thing into your ass and cover your body with the same color...' Reno took the glass and said, 'Thank you for your greeting, Barber. By the way, before you curse at someone, you should take off your vocalizer first.' Reno pointed to the bartender's neck. The bartender looked down and found that he hadn't taken off his vocalizer. 'Damn it!' The bartender Barber roared in anger. The customers next to him laughed and said, 'Hey, Barber, this is the twelfth time you've forgotten to take off that thing this month. I wonder if you Syncantavians don't have brains? Always repeating the same mistakes over and over again.' 'The most interesting thing is that despite their stupidity, they still belong to the higher intelligence species in biological classification,' someone interjected."

Laughter erupted in the bar. Barber shook his head disapprovingly but said nothing. Although Syncantavians were hot-tempered, they had one advantage: they were willing to admit their mistakes—although they never improved.

 With his glass in hand, Reno found a place by the window and sat down. Most people drink for women and indulgence. But Reno drinks just for the sake of drinking itself. He likes sitting alone in a corner, quietly drinking, watching the brilliant lights outside the window, the air tracks left by flying cars in the sky, and people of different races gathering and wandering on the streets. He feels the strong sensation of alcohol rushing into his brain, bringing a slight dizziness, as if his spirit is sublimating.

 This makes Reno particularly quiet when drinking, looking like a shy big boy.

 "Hey, look, here comes a woman," someone loudly pointed at Reno. Reno glanced up and saw a bald strongman. His body was muscular, covered in black hair, with large tattoos on his chest and arms, but Reno knew they were only meant to intimidate. The real threat was his left hand, which was a metal prosthetic, capable of smashing a person's skull with a single blow. Despite looking real, Reno could tell from its stiff posture—it was a cheap, worthless piece.

The bald guy was waving his prosthetic hand and laughing loudly, laughing wildly, arrogantly, and domineeringly.

 Reno shook his head and ignored him. But perhaps the bald guy had drunk too much and staggered over.

 He sat down in front of Reno and said loudly, "Hey, buddy, you know, you look like a woman when you drink. I mean, maybe you really are a woman in disguise? Why don't you take off your pants and let us see underneath."

 This remark sparked a burst of laughter.

 It was clear that the bald guy wasn't alone. In his direction, there were several ruffians sitting there, unabashedly looking at Reno, their eyes full of evil. There was even a damn bastard shouting slogans at Reno, yelling, "Pretty boy!"

 At this moment, a voice came over, "You'd better not mess with him, Poke."

 It was Octavia Bisier, the black rose.

 She was twirling her glass, speaking with arrogance and a touch of casualness, "You can't afford to offend him."

 Reno frowned.

 Octavia's words seemed to be mediating, but they were full of provocative meaning.

 This damn woman, was she crazy about making money?

 All Earth bars had an unwritten rule: guests could freely fight, as long as they remembered to pay for damages. Getting benefits through compensating for damaged tables and chairs had become an important additional source of income for bars, known as the "Pirate Bar Rule."

 Bar owners weren't worried that this would drive customers away, because when everyone did the same thing, customers had no choice, and besides, Earth customers always came and went in waves, never worrying about not having new customers join.

 Realizing Octavia's bad intentions, Reno already had plans to leave.

 But it was too late. After hearing Octavia's words, Poke's eyes widened.

 He said in a coarse voice, "What are you saying, Octavia, darling?"

 "I said you can't afford to mess with him because he's a soldier," Octavia Bisier said, her tone arrogant and casual, "A federal soldier. You can't possibly match a soldier."

 "A federal soldier?" Poke was first stunned, then burst into laughter, "A bunch of garbage, sent to their deaths by the gods. A battle burying three million soldiers, even if you send a pig, it could do better than them!"

 Reno, who had just started to get up to leave, stopped his movements.