Hard Luck Hermit

Tooley kept a close eye on Corey as they navigated the Centerpoint streets. While she did not take Kamak’s order to ‘keep him safe’ seriously in any way shape or form, Corey actually did need to be kept safe. Here moreso than a lot of other places. Tooley preferred her bars seedy and out of the way, which made the odds of getting mugged or assaulted much higher than usual.

“If space stations had assholes, I’m pretty sure this place would be the asshole,” Corey said.

“You’re half right. The septic ejection system is a few klicks that way,” Tooley said. “We’re for sure in the crack of the space station, though.”

Centerpoint was a centuries-long work in progress, and many of the older, out of date structures had become more and more dilapidated as they became more obsolete. While still habitable, the archaic structures of old sub-platforms were mostly set aside for shifty businesses, slums and septic ejection systems.

Tooley led the way through the detritus of the universe’s center, trawling through the tightly-packed substructures until they reached what had once been a bustling marketplace, the center of commerce in the oldest version of Centerpoint. Now, what few storefronts weren’t abandoned were serving as pawn shops, bars, or brothels.

“There we go,” Tooley said, satisfied. “Hey, do you want to go to a brothel after we’re done drinking?”

“Is that your usual routine?”

“No, but I can persuaded, and I’ve been watching you glance at alien asses all day,” Tooley said, elbowing Corey in the ribs as she spoke. “You know you’re curious.”

“I’ll admit that, but I shouldn’t.”

“Why not? I’ve seen your dick, it’s compatible with most alien orifices out there,” Tooley assured him. “And you’ll be able to tell if you’re getting near any of the orifices that have acid in them.”

“Well, thanks for that assurance, but that’s not what this is about,” Corey said. “Doprel was talking about taking me to a clinic and getting me some vaccinations and stuff tomorrow. I don’t want to catch anything. Or give anyone anything. Who knows what kinda fucked up diseases I could swap with someone up here?”

“Hmm, good point,” Tooley said. “All night drinking it is! More fun anyway.”

Tooley gave Corey a hearty slap on the back to push him forward towards her favorite bar. The dilapidated doorway opened to reveal and equally ramshackle interior, with broken tables sparsely populated by broken people. Some of them appeared to be having a good time, but most were in various stages of drunken comas.

“Looks like a fun crowd,” Corey noted.

“We’re not here for the ambiance,” Tooley said. “We’re here for cheap drinks.”

To that end, Tooley claimed a seat at the bartop and started making demands of a very tired-looking bartender. In short order, two matching rows of alien alcohols had been laid out in front of Tooley and Corey, and the bartender left to tend to other customers.

“Hey, I probably should’ve asked before we ordered, but is tipping important in space?”

“Tipping? I thought you weren’t doing sex tonight?”

“I’m not- okay, I’m not going to ask what your version of ‘tipping’ is-”

“It’s when you grab someone by the ass and-”

“I said I’m not asking, Tooley,” Corey said. “Anyway, what I mean is, when you get served by someone, is it polite to give them a small amount of money in addition to what you’re paying for the food or drinks? To show appreciation for their service, or whatever.”

“I’ve never heard of that,” Tooley said. “Which means it’s either not a common thing or I’m an even bigger asshole than I thought. We should ask Doprel later, he knows what polite things to do are.”

With that issue only halfway resolved, Tooley dragged Corey’s attention forcibly back to the alcohol. She grabbed one glass at random and pushed it closer to him, taking her own matching glass in hand as well.

“Is this one made out of meat too?”

“Nope, this is vodka. Katali vodka, specifically, made out of a tuber that can grow to be the size of Doprel’s species.”

“Neat.”

He raised his glass to the air, and got a funny look from Tooley.

“It’s something my people do,” Corey said. “When you drink with someone you tap the edges of your glass together before you start.”

“I’m down,” Tooley said, as she rammed her glass into his hard enough to make both spill a little. Corey called it “close enough” and took a drink.

He regretted it.

“Holy shit,” he gagged. “I think my throat’s melting.”

“Yeah, it’ll do that,” Tooley said. Her voice sounded hoarse, though her reaction was more muted than Corey’s. “Give it a bit. Deep breaths.”

Corey took a deep breath and found that the chill of the bar’s cold air helped a lot. After a few long exhales, his throat had cleared enough that he could talk almost normally again.

“Holy fuck,” he mumbled. “Do you actually like that stuff?”

“No, I fucking hate it,” Tooley grunted.

“Then why’d you make me drink it?”

The outrage aggravated Corey’s throat again, and the coughing fit that followed last a minute or two. Once he could pay attention again, Tooley explained her reasoning.

“Well I don’t like it, but you might’ve,” Tooley said. She waved her hand at the rows of alcohol in front of them. “We’re scouting, finding out what you like, trying new things.”

“Okay, I sort of get that,” Corey said. “Just give me a warning next time, holy shit.”

“For sure. We’ll do one of my favorites next, even it out,” Tooley said. She offered up the next beverage, and after a few more deep breaths, Corey dared to try it. To his surprise, he found it to have a very pleasant citrus taste, with a smooth finish.

“Oh, I like this one,” Corey said. “What’s this?”

“That’s called katasis,” Tooley said. “It’s from some fringe nebula. Made out of carnivorous plants.”

“Oh, more meat booze. Is that common in space?”

“It’s a big universe. We got a lot of booze made from a lot of things,” Tooley said. “Fruit, leaves, eggs, hair, you name it, if it could reasonably, or even unreasonably, be fermented, someone out there has fermented it.”

“Hair?”

“Yeah, you want to try some? It sucks shit, but it’s unique.”

“I’ll pass,” Corey said. “So. Any of this booze from your home world?”

Tooley immediately shoved another drink into Corey’s hands, and took one for herself as well. Once they’d both downed the bitter drink, Tooley took a deep breath.

“Nah, all the booze from my home planet is shit,” Tooley said. She took another shot and choked down the sickeningly sweet taste of it. “Everything that comes from my home planet is shit.”

“You came from it.”

“And I’m shit. What’s your point?”

Corey decided not to belabor the point and instead reached for another drink. This one was thick, almost syrupy, but it tasted like salt and strawberries. It took a long time to choke down, but Corey was surprised to find he enjoyed every second of it.

“Hot damn. What was that one?”

“Hado liqeuer. It’s made out of some berry or something. Dogshit, right?”

“You kidding me? That was the best thing I’ve had all night.”

“Different taste buds, I guess. Tastes like ass to me.”

“More for me, then,” Corey said. He flagged down the bartender and ordered more of the sweet liqeuer.

“Hey, don’t go doubling back, we got like seven more of these things to try,” Tooley protested.

“But I like this one,” Corey said. “I want to have something I actually like to drink.”

“Corey, those are like eighty percent alcohol. You drink two more of those you’re going to be shitfaced before we get through our shots.”

The bartender set down four more of the liqeuer shots. Corey looked at them, then back at Tooley.

“Is that a problem?”

Tooley also did a double take between the booze and Corey.

“Guess not,” Tooley said. “Bottoms up, bitch!”

Tooley grabbed another shot, as did Corey, and they repeated their awkward toast before downing the rest.