Page 19 of Abalim

It was the only place in the dim twilight of the deserted streets with a hazy gleam of flickering light that could be seen a couple of blocks away.

When they stopped in front of the disreputable alien tavern, its mundane appearance was sloppy at best. The corroded metal walls were adorned with faded, flickering holographic signs that offered various libations and questionable services. The entrance, guarded by a towering, four-armed bouncer of an unknown species, emitted an eerie, pulsating hum.

Passing by the steady glare of the guard at the entrance, they entered without trouble.

Once inside, the atmosphere turned out as dreary as expected. A low light gave the place a depressing glow.

Abalim took a deep breath. What coated his senses was a thick conglomeration of gloomy scents, pungent fumes, and the palpable energy of desperate conversations and clandestine deals.

Tables, booths, and nooks carved into the metallic walls were filled with aliens of all shapes and sizes. Those wearing clothing had on a mishmash of worn leather-like jackets and shirts adorned with intricate metallic badges and patches, suggesting affiliations with various crews. Some wore pants, most showing signs of wear and tear. The air was heavy with a dizzying mix of languages that echoed in harmonious disarray.

The furnishings, well-worn and tattered, could have witnessed the rise and fall of countless civilizations. The walls were adorned with faded space-faring artifacts, antique weapons, and holographic memorabilia from infamous space pirates and interstellar rebels. Ancient flickering holo screens hung above the bar, broadcasting news from distant solar systems, underground races, and wanted posters of individuals with bounties that would tempt even the most inexperienced bounty hunter.

Behind the bar, a haggard-looking bartender of a mysterious alien race served drinks from bottles with labels written in cryptic symbols. The drinks ranged from luminescent neon concoctions that fizzed and bubbled to mysterious swirling mixtures that defied gravity.

At a quick glance, it was easy to see the crowd in the Grub & Grog was a peculiar bunch. Grizzled space mercenaries with cybernetic implants, alien traders with shady intentions, smugglers lurking in the shadows, and enigmatic beings cloaked in hoods, their true forms veiled in secrecy. The hum of conversation and raucous laughter accompanied the eerie melodies played by a band of multi-limbed musicians on an elevated stage in the center.

Despite the seemingly chaotic ambiance, an unspoken code of conduct prevailed. Even without opening his psychic senses, it was clear violence wouldn’t be tolerated.

“Arakiba would love this place,” Asmodel quipped.

“No doubt.” Abalim headed to an open space at the bar. Not for the first time was he thankful the Zerins injected him and his brothers with intergalactic translators. He raised a finger to get the bartender’s attention.

The creature stood an imposing seven feet tall, its sinewy frame hinting at a grace and speed that defied its massive stature. Even in the low light, its skin shimmered a shade of deep blue and was adorned with intricate patterns that shifted and danced as he moved.

“Yes, patron? How may I assist?” The alien’s speech sounded like a series of musical notes and random clicks. Obviously, its soothing voice mixed with a melodic quality, was used to calm even the most agitated customers.

“We’re looking for Captain Saphira. Would you happen to know if she’s here?”

“What do yer want ‘er for?”

The male voice behind him made him jump.Dammit!That’s what he got for locking down his psychic senses to avoid getting caught up in everyone's drama around him. He glared at Asmodel’s chuckling. Asshat. He could’ve warned a guy.I think Arakiba is rubbing off on you.He gave his brother a mental warning.

Asmodel just shrugged and gave him a mischievous smile.Not my fault your JR is falling down on the job.

Pick on your own bot.Abalim huffed.

He gave Asmodel the evil eye before swiveling around. He backed up against the bar, putting an elbow on the counter while searching for the person who spoke to him. At first, it didn’t look like anyone addressed him until he glanced down at the small, wiry creature in a hunched position in front of him. The guy couldn’t be more than three feet tall. His skin was a mottled shade of green with rough, scaly patches. Large, bulbous eyes in the middle of his face sported a heady mixture of orange-and-red irises that gave him a perpetually anxious expression.

“I was sent by Rerqel from Qorath to obtain passage to their planet.”

“Fer the both o’ya?” The alien's eyes swiveled to Asmodel before focusing back on him.

Asmodel shook his head. “No. My path lies elsewhere.” His attention shifted to the other side of the room. “As a matter of fact, my destiny is just over there.” Giving Abalim a parting look, Asmodel headed away.

You going to be okay?Abalim asked, even though he hadn’t taken his gaze off the little alien in front of him.

Yes, do not worry. Everything is fine. I was expecting things to turn out this way. I’ll keep our pathway open.Asmodel’s mental tone was absentminded as the crowd swallowed his departing figure.

“I guess it’s jus’ you then.” The alien mused, the sharp claws on his slender fingers retracting as he scratched a patch on his jaw. “Okay. You’s follow me.” The little guy turned around and marched through the dense crowd.

“JR15, hang on.”

“Yes, Mister Abalim, sir.”

The tips of JR15’s legs tickled as the droid scurried to the back of Abalim’s neck, under his dreadlocks.

Following the little alien was easy enough as he shouldered through the thick throng. The billowing cloak of various patches the small alien wore allowed him to blend seamlessly through the room.

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