Page 15 - The Chronicles Ser2 (6-10)

“Do you want something to drink? There’s a part decent Mescal bar just down that side street
opposite” he offered, pointing the direction of the bar to her

“Are you trying to get me drunk? No; scratch that… Show me. I’m getting to the point where I might
just do something I regret. Why ARE they so slow?” She quickly adjusted the overcoat she was
wearing. “I can’t get used to the poor warmth.” She mocked shivering and grinned.

“We are in Nova Thule, they like the weather on the chilly side here. Look, I’m sorry they’re taking
their time. It’s a matter of diplomacy and protocols. You’ll get your visit soon. Now; let’s get some
warm Mescal into our systems. The Achenazi make it from a form of Cactus…” he explained about
the Anasazi and the Osir etcetera as they walked. The bar was not as crowded as he’d first thought.
The crowd consisted of mostly traders and a few tourists out for a walk on the wilder side of the
Home World Tour. They found a table at the rear facing the doorway and Fenton signalled a waitress
over. She handed them a Menu listing all the various mixed drinks available and the varieties of pure
spirits. He ordered them two Balerophon Sunrises and further explained that raw or “neat” Mescal
was extremely potent.

“Our people have our own varieties of Alcoholic drinks. “The Low Free” of our society make a spirit
so powerful it can polish steel” she boasted as the drinks arrived. Fenton sipped experimentally from
his sugar rimmed tumbler of a garish cloudy yellow fluid. Meorr took a swig from hers and coughed.

“I tried to warn you, Mescal has a fierceness all of its own”. She sipped more slowly and let the warm
liquor flood some feeling back into her chilled body. “I was a young Cadet when I had my first
encounter with this rogue temptation. My peers thought it would be a good idea for me to sample
the raw spirit. Two glasses and the next thing I remember is waking up in the Infirmary with some
very worried looking compatriots. I never did get an explanation for why I was naked from the waist
up and wearing a grass skirt from the waist down.” Meorr giggled as she pictured a young Fenton in
Polynesian dress. He was pleased that she was beginning to relax.

“My Father saw to it I had my first taste of the spirit when I was still a cub. I would have been around
thirteen by that time and just starting to take on my “colours of growth”, as you would say, I was
entering into the beginnings of puberty. It was only a mild spirit called among my people Thaghara,
fermented from the bark of one tree and the fruit of another. The liquor is distilled from the results
of the fermentation. It’s heady, sweet and deceptively potent. I drank almost a full flagon before the
first drink hit me like a Gudarah fist. I was ill for most of the next few days. It readied me for life’s
trials though.”

They made small talk as they sipped their warmed drinks. Fenton had not been allowed into
some of the Meorrs’ sessions with the Council, who were currently meeting here in Nova Thule, so
was interested in what the Council had asked her about. At first she was reluctant to say, but as the
Mescal took hold she relaxed and told him. Fenton’s’ communicator bleeped, it was a text message
from his friend on Lunaris Edo. As Fenton read the message his eyes widened. Meorr looked at him
worriedly as he continued to show strange expressions as he read further. When he finished he sat
back in his seat with a blank look on his face.

“What was in the message from ... Leah?” she asked “Good news or bad?”

“They managed to get into the Bridge on the Sphere. They found some of the crew in stasis …
They’re “Old Visitors” from my peoples distant past!” he said quietly. He then explained about
mankind’s encounters in its distant past with races from the stars. Recounting the Unat, the
Vahamat, the Osir and, more importantly, the mysterious Greys.