FROM SIM WITH SHELONEI AS DOC, MIKE AS MIKE, MIDDOUR AS TYCHO, VICKIE AS HOBBIE

Celchu, Doc, Ngo and Hobbie decided to go to an old, run-down pilots bar to unwind after a long day. They found a table near the bar and not too far from the dart-boards, and after a short while, Tycho was heavily indulging in the local Lum.

While Doc went to get some spiced ale from the bartender, Hobbie moved off to play darts. Mike, in a tan flightsuit, wearing his squadron jacket, had just gotten back from patrol duty, and was sipping a recently ordered lomin ale.

"So, how about that split-S maneuvre I did on that squint, eh?" Celchu asked as he eyed newcomers to the bar. He was wearing his usual black flightsuit.

"Picture perfect, Colonel, picture perfect," Ngo looked away, rolling his eyes. This was the third time this evening that Celchu had asked that. "Nice set up with the eyeball though, he didn't see it coming."

He kicked back, propping one foot on the table, grinning ear to ear. The Colonel's cheeks were beginning to get a little flushed from all the drinking he'd done.

After getting her ale, Doc turned and leaned back against the counter. She wore her old, patchless, grey flightsuit. With half an ear she listened to Ngo and Clechu, but her attention was set to watching Hobbie play darts. She sipped absently at her spiced-ale.

Hobbie threw three darts, the first one bounced off the board, as did the second. The third stuck on the outer ring. "I'm no good at this," he sighed before he grabbed the darts back up to try again, he also grabbed up a fourth one. The first two bounced off again, the third sticking in the second of the three rings. The last one bounced off of the board so hard it landed in the middle of their table. "Oops, sorry!"

Doc dryly commented, "Wow, one actually hit the target... I'm impressed." She chuckled and drew on a lopsided grin.

He stuck his tongue out, "Think you can do better?"

She smirked, picked up the dart, and tossed it at the board. A bullseye, "Yep."

Celchu looked blearily at the dart, and raised his glass to Hobbie. "Your aim's improving, Major."

"Women," he grumbled as Doc laughed. He grabbed up six darts, enough for both of them, and waved a hand holding three toward the dartboard. "Lady first."

"I'm not in the mood for a contest, Major. I came to drink, and drink I'm doing," she took a pull of her spiced-ale.

*

As Celchu refilled his glass for the 'nth time, a disgruntled Y-wing pilot got up from a nearby table, and began to stumble his way over.

*

"Not even for a friendly wager, Amanda?"

She worked her jaw a moment. "Can't turn down a bet," she downed the rest of her drink, and grabbed the three darts from Hobbie. "You're on, what're the stakes?"

"Best two out of three... if you win, I do your laundry duty for a week."

"And if... on the odd chance, you win?"

"You come to dinner... with me," he replied.

*

Celchu looked up and smiled drunkenly as the Y-pilot reached him. "Whasss up wissh bone?" he grinned.

*

"Hardly sounds fair, Major," she frowned. I better win, can't get too close... somebody'll get hurt.

"Then you make the wager."

"I win, you do my laundry duty for a month. You win and I'll go to dinner with you," she tossed the first dart, and it bounced off the edge. She frowned, she'd have to do better than that.

"A month!"

"Yep, a month," she replied as she tossed the second, it hit near the bullseye mark, in the second ring.

*

The Y-pilot stared daggers at the Colonel. "None too much here... cheater."

Celchu put his foot back to the floor. "Cheater?"

*

"Okay, okay," Hobbie sighed.

Doc grinned lopsidedly at her hit, and tossed her final dart. Like the first, it bounced off from the board. "Sith," she muttered.

Hobbie stepped up and quickly threw his three darts. If he could get even two to hit the board, he could take her to dinner, and she wouldn't be able to refuse him. He winced as the first two bounced off, and the third bounced straight back at him.

*

"Yeah. Cheater. The brass thinking you're so good that they give you hardware that allows you to play as gods... while us real pilots do all the dying."

"Whaa' makesh you shhay that... pig driver?!" Celchu replied angrily.

*

Doc laughed, "HAH! A MONTH!" she pointed at Hobbie's chest.

"I said best two out of three.... Games, not darts."

"Sure sure... change it when you lose."

He sighed, "Fine. Whatever." He went back and sat down at the bar.

Doc sighed, and filled her empty mug with some lum from Tycho's pitcher. The Colonel stood, and pulled out his blaster, handing it to Ngo. "Here, Captain. Hol' thissh for me."

"Uhm," Ngo held the blaster, "Colonel?"

"Hey Tych, what's going on?" Hobbie asked as he moved over.

Raising an eyebrow at Celchu, she turned to Ngo. "Isn't he rather drunk for this?"

Celchu pointed his thumb at himself as he stared down the Y-pilot. "I'll have you know thissh ish Rogue Shquadron you're meeeshing with."

"Yeah. Rat squadron, I heard you," he cracked his knuckles.

Doc stood, putting her drink on the table. She may be new to the Rogues, but she knew that it was an honour to be one, and she wasn't about to stand by and let the Colonel be the only one having some fun tonight.

Celchu pointed at the Y-pilot, while looking at Hobbie. "You hear what thissh hutt drool said?"

"Tych," Hobbie tried to calm him down.

In response, three other pilots from the Y's table stood.

He smiled back at Hobbie, "I'm fine major." He swayed slightly where he stood.

"I know that, Tycho, but these fellows don't. Now, maybe you should have a seat."

Celchu ignored him and looked back to the pilot, "I don't think thissh guy could hit a death sshtar with a ssshuper lazher!"

Doc frowned as she moved to stand just behind Tycho's shoulder.

"Nobody can hit much of anything in a wishbone, Tych. We both know that," Hobbie said. Celchu and Doc both laughed, and Hobbie went on. "I mean, after all, it takes two pilots to fly those pieces of junk."

He put his hands on his hips, still swaying. "Nah.... Junk isssh too good even for those scrap heapsssh."

Doc snorted her agreement, "A hardluck smuggler wouldn't even take them for scrap, Celchu."

The lead pilot brought up a fist and aimed for Celchu's nose. The Alderaanian ducked, but hit the table. Getting up, he extended his leg quickly at the pilot, but missed as the momentum carried him around.

The other three pilots joined in the fight.

Hobbie backhanded the first pilot, and the drunk man went down, hitting the floor with a loud thump.

Anreson stepped forward and took an uppercut at one of the other pilots, he turned his head in time, the blow glancing off his chin, and he took a swing at her, connecting solidly, splitting her lip in the same place it'd been split before. Her head snapped back while she brought up a knee, but it only connected with his side, and he spun around to backhand her again.

Tycho turned, lunging at the Y-wing pilot he'd been fighting. The pilot sidestepped slightly, and though Tycho had hit him, the Rogue fell to the floor while the other only stumbled slightly. "Sith! Ssstand shtill, would ya!!!"

Another pilot took a left hook to Ngo's gut. The Rogue clenched his teeth from the pain, blood dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Anreson's head snapped back slightly witht he blow, and she shook it to regain her sense. Then she bowled after the guy, bringing a punch to his gut. Hobbie saw that she was in trouble and went to help her, throwing a punch at the pilot. However, he missed as Doc's punch connected, doubling him over.

Hobbie growled and looked around, seeing that Anreson had things under control, and did not want any help. When he turned away, the pilot grabbed her metre and a half long braid, and she yelped as he pulled her hair, jerking her back.

He pulled a kidney punch on the one fighting Ngo, causing the wishbone pilot to double over, nearly falling to the ground in pain. Ngo grabbed a pilot's head, and slammed his head down on his knee. Then he pushed the pilot away, and swung about with a roundhouse kick, slamming into the side of his opponent's head, flipping him over the bar.

Tycho got up and fell back clumsily, missing a punch that would have connected with the pilot's head had it landed. The Rogue stood quickly, and executed a roundhouse at the wishbone pilot, and the pilot's ribs gave as the kick connected him mid-chest and tossed him back. The momentum with which Tycho had delivered the blow caused him to be tossed back to the bar. He caught the edge and grabbed a glass of lum on the way down. He drank it quickly and got back up as the other pilot returned for him. With a fist to the nose, the wishbone pilot fell.

Anreson nearly broke free of the hold on her braid, but was caught again by her newly-healed injured shoulder, causing her to cry out slightly as she brought up her right fist, hitting him solidly on the side of the neck, causing him to go down.

"You guys okay?" Hobbie asked as the Rogues regathered.

Anreson pulled her braid from the limp hands of her unconscious opponent and flipped it over her shoulder, then looked around to see if anyone needed help. "Yeah, I'm fine," she swiped at the blood from her re-split lip with the back of her hand.

"I'm fine, really..." Tycho went for another drink.

Doc nodded to Ngo, "He don't look so good."

He coughed up a little blood, the result of a blow to his gut.

"And I thought I'd have the night off," Anreson sighs and steps away from the bar. She quirked half a smile, wincing as it pulled at her split lip. "That was fun, can we do it again?"

Tycho staggered to the others. "More Lum?"

"I don't think I'm going drinking with you three again," Hobbie shook his head.

"Why's that?" she asked with a chuckle, her laughter ringing out along with Ngo's.

Celchu pouted, "Awwww, Major. Why not?"

"To rough for you, Major?" She teased.

Ngo went over and took the bottle of lum away from Tycho. "Hey!"

"Don't think so, Colonel. That's enough for now," the younger pilot smiled.

"Because you three always get drunk, and I always have to be the designated driver," Hobbie explained.

"I'm not drunk!" Anreson retorted. "I out-darted you!"

"Doesn't mean a thing, I'm pretty bad at darts anyway."

The doctor just shrugged. "You still have my laundry duty for a month," she smirked.

"Hobs, just the Colonel is drunk," Ngo corrected him.

Celchu grabbed a glass, chugged it, and turned back to the bar for some more.

"Yeah, yeah..." Hobbie moved over to the XO. "So, Tycho.... What's going on?"

With a growl, Ngo hoisted Tycho off from the bar counter.

Anreson finished her glass, wincing at the stinging of the alcohol on her lip. When she finished the drink, she stood.

"Hey!!! Wait!!! I need one for the road!!!" Tycho struggled.

"We should probably get him to his quarters," Ngo said as he grappled with the Alderaanian. "Or med-bay, perhaps."

"Good idea," Hobbie moved to help him.

"I'm not ssshhleepy."

Anreson just shook her head. "I'll drive."

=======END=======