O'Hanrahan's Pub - Pirate Recruiting

[benbarrow]

Ben sat down at one of tables in the McKinlian pub O'Hanrahan's. He didn't know too much of Persephone, but he had been told O'Hanrahan's was the best place to look for people who weren't so fond of the Alliance. As a matter of fact, O'Hanrahan's Pub could be called an Independent bar, since Alliance supporters pretty much steered clear of it. Coming into said pub to celebrate Unification Day would be the last mistake one would ever make.

Ben looked around as he waved at the waitress to come take his order. So far he didn't recognize anyone, or anyone that seemed trustworthy enough to work with. Ben knew he couldn't be picky, he had a boat now, but without a crew the Orlando wasn't going anywhere. Ben wouldn't let just anyone on his boat either. He preferred someone that didn't look too shady, and preferably still had all of his or her limbs. And sanity.

"What'll it be for ya, sweetie?"

Ben looked up. A slender waitress who looked much older than she actually was now stood right next to him. Ben couldn't help but to feel sorry for the woman, it looked as if life hadn't taken it easy on her.

"I'll have a pint of beer. Preferably something local. And you can direct anyone coming in looking for work to me." Ben answered.

He then took a piece of platinum out of his pocket, and flickered it on the table for the waitress to grab.

"And you direct them only to me, okay? You're getting more of that if you keep sending more people my way, understand?" Ben said, as he pointed at the piece of platinum that now lay on the table.

The waitress eagerly took the piece of platinum and put it in her pocket. By her eagerness Ben could tell she had accepted his deal.

As the waitress left to get Ben's beer, Ben took a clipboard with registration forms out of his backpack and put it on the table. He figured that this would be the proper signal that he was a captain looking for crew.

In any case, he had nothing to lose. He wasn't going anywhere, not until the Orlando would take on some crew.

Ben was in for a very long night.

[stoot]

"You'll love this place," Ryan assured his friend as they entered together, one after the other. Stoot was still new to the world outside of Higgins' Moon, and every place they visited was a wonder. The man had taken to collecting one thing from each new place, so he'd never forget. He'd probably keep a napkin from this bar or something.

Ryan had informed Stoot that this was an Independent-only bar, so they could loosen their collars tonight and have a drink without any interruptions. The two friends hadn't gone out as just the two of them in awhile; the last time they'd spent any time together, in fact, had been a few target practice sessions on the ship. Not really the best way to bond.

The bar was dim, loud, and a little messy. Just the way Stoot preferred his pubs to look. The waitress approached them and offered them a table near the back corner of the place. "And," She said as she got them their drinks, "If it's work you're looking for, that gentleman over there would like to speak with you." She had an eager look to her eye that meant that she was interested in whether or not they went to him. Stoot looked in the direction she pointed, and nearly dropped his mug in mid-pull.

"Dung ee-miao," he said, squinting across the smoke-laden room at the man she pointed at. The years had surely aged him, but Stoot knew he recognized the gentleman looking for employees. He squinted harder, in such a way that Ryan raised his eyebrows and pushed him a little to break his concentration. The captain flinched violently when Stoot slammed his mug down on the table, a huge grin across his face. He recognized that coat anywhere--Bulletproof.

"Tsai boo shr!!" he said, standing up. The waitress looked a little alarmed, but Stoot was oblivious. He pulled Ryan up by the upper-arm and pointed, unashamedly, across the room at the man in question. "You know who that is, don'tcha?" He said, excited. Ryan took a moment to look carefully across the room, and once realization dawned on him, his eyes widened and his features brightened, though his expression of excitement was not nearly as much an outburst as Stoot's had been.

The two men walked over to Bulletproof's table, from which he had surely seen them coming by now, and Stoot took initiative to shake the man's hand. "Take me out back and tan my hide, it's Bulletproof Ben Barrow in the flesh!" He greeted, his beard twitching as he spoke. "Well hell, I ain't seen you since--well, since we pulled you outta that war, I 'spect! How ya been farin' since? Lao pung yo, nee can chi lai hun yo jing shen. And you lookin' for workers now, I see? Got a boat?"

Stoot was absolutely elated to see the old war hero in the flesh again. In the war, Ben Barrow had been in command over Ryan and Stoot's company. They hadn't gotten to know the man on a very personal level, but had grown to respect and enjoy his company. The last time Stoot and Ryan had seen ol' Bulletproof, they had been pulling him to safety. While the man had been at a state of serious weakness, Stoot was incapable of letting that tarnish his opinion of him; it only made him more of a hero in his eyes. He was human, and he didn't have a superiority complex. He was a hell of a feller.

Ryan looked happy too, as Stoot finally let go of Ben's hand to give him a turn to shake it.

---
1) Hold on a second.
2) No way!
3) You're Looking Wonderful, Old Friend.

OOC: And since it's too annoying to sign in and out on Stoot & Ryan, I'll have them god-modding each other a little bit in their posts. xD

[benbarrow]

"Take me out back and tan my hide, it's Bulletproof Ben Barrow in the flesh!"

Like any normal human being Ben looked up in the direction of where he heard someone call his name. He saw a chubby looking fellow who apparently had grabbed his tall, skinny friend by the arm. Both of them were now coming at him. It took Ben a second, but he then recognized both men as soldiers that had served under him during the war. The chubby fellow, who Ben recognized as Stoot, grabbed his hand and started shaking it.

"Well hell, I ain't seen you since--well, since we pulled you outta that war, I 'spect! How ya been farin' since? Lao pung yo, nee can chi lai hun yo jing shen. And you lookin' for workers now, I see? Got a boat?"

Ben couldn't believe it. All these years he had been wondering who saved his ass during the Battle of Serenity Valley. Now he knew. Ben was stoked to see some of his old war buddies again. It was nice to finally see some friendly faces on this planet as well.

"That was you?" Ben asked. "I've been wondering about that for years! I can't believe it! You never were one to leave people down, Danny Stoot! And neither were you, Ryan!"

Ben felt happy. He was glad to finally know who saved him when he was knocked out during that final battle.

"Have a seat guys!" Ben said. "Drinks are on me, we've got a lot of catching up to do."

Ben sat down as his two old friends did the same. The waitress had finally brought him his pint of beer as well.

"Waitress, put these men's drinks on my tab." Ben said, while giving her something extra again. He then turned to his two friends again.

"Well I guess I owe you both my life." Ben said. "Therefor, from this day on, if you ever need something, you hail me at my boat. It's a little vessel I called the Orlando. Although I must admit that at the moment, I'm doomed to remain grounded: lack of crew."

Ben took a chug from his pint of beer. The cool nectar of the hops was quite welcome.

"I can't believe I'm actually meeting you boys here after all those years." Ben said. "What've the both of you been up to?"

Ben knew better than to ask what happened to them after the war. Unlike him, many people were uncomfortable about talking what happened. Ben had noticed that Ryan didn't act like he used to, perhaps the war had gotten a little to him. In any case, Ben was glad to see both of them were still alive, and now he owed them big time. Perhaps the two of them could point him also in the direction of people looking for crew.

[hackanut]

Ryan's smile was genuine and modest as he took Bulletproof's offer for a seat, as he sat down quietly in contrast to Stoot's heavy, chair-sliding plop. It really was an honor to be in Bulletproof Ben Barrow's presence again, albeit under different circumstances. The last time Ben had seen him, Ryan had been a gun-toting Independent, a grin at his face and a glint in his eye. It had been how he and Stoot had clicked so well--they were perfect optimists in the face of negativity.

The man who Ben probably saw now, though, was still a gun-toting independent, but the glow had dulled. Ryan had shadows under his eyes from all of the sleepless nights. His hair was tousled and un-kempt, not from intention, but from sheer laziness. His clothes seemed to hang from his form instead of fitting to it, for his appetite consisted of one meal a day, if that. Recently, Stoot had caught on to his rapid weight-loss and had started forcing him to eat at meals, but it wasn't any good. Sometimes Ryan's nightmares were so vivid, he vomited on the floor at his bedside.

He carried the air of a man who was haunted by a lot of ghosts, and had no idea how to exercise them.

And here Ben Barrow was, looking just as well as he always had. Ryan envied him; he seemed to have everything going for him. The ma was practically indestructible, a legend amongst the browncoat regime and even some of the Alliance. And now he even had his own ship--Ryan had a ship as well, and he loved Atlas with every fiber of his being--but seeing Bulletproof here was a sort of wake-up call. Ryan had Atlas, but he did not really have his crew. He was distant with them, most of them. He knew that Bulletproof would make a far better captain than himself, and he envied that more than anything. 'Why isn't he haunted?' he wondered. 'He saw it, he was there...and Danny-boy...and yet I am the only one who suffers. Why me?'

His self-loathing, in real-time, only lasted an instant. Ben Barrow was ordering them drinks now, and putting them on his tab. He really was a hell of a feller.

Stoot was already taking the initiative to respond. "Yep, yessiree, that was us alright!" he confirmed, nodding, at Bulletproof's pleasant surprise as to who had pulled him from a near-death experience. "Prob'ly woulda found a way out on y'own, though, if it hadn't been us."

Ryan grinned, as Bulletproof told them his ship's name and offered his service at any time.

"So you're th'one with the black Firefly out there, then?" He asked, remembering the ship in question with the name 'Orlando' printed on its side. It was a pretty little thing, though Fireflies were bottom-of-the-barrel. Mainly used for smuggling, which seemed to be the obvious profession of Ben Barrow. 'So we have something in common, even now,' thought Ryan. It seemed a little obvious though, for Barrow to take a Firefly on, given their reputation.

"And just so we're clear," Ryan added, raising his drink at their old friend. "You ever find y'self in a bind, your offer is returned. You hail us should y'need anythin' at all." He inclined his head towards his subject and took a shot, setting the glass down on the table. "We're the Stargazer Class transport out front; We call 'er Atlas." Ryan's tone typically carried a friendly but hollow tone; but when he said Atlas' name, there was that old spark in his eye. He loved his boat.

"And ain't she a purty one, Cap'n?" Stoot threw in, also holding a lot of pride in his home-ship. To which Ryan replied, "She sure is."

"I'm sure you'll be gettin' in th'sky in no time," Ryan assured, turning back to Bulletproof. "Ain't no one stupid 'nough to turn down a feller such's yourself."

"Charisma," Stoot chimed in, nodding reverently.

[benbarrow]

"Charisma."

"I don't know about that, Danny." Ben replied. He never was one to call people by their nicknames. He preferred calling them by their first names, or the abbreviation of their first names. All through the war he had called Stoot Danny, it was just the kinda person he was.

Ben was a modest man, and wasn't someone who let his reputation get to his mind. He always believed that actions spoke louder than words. And everything he did was because of the Independent cause and to keep other people from dying, not for his own glory as some would probably think.

"But you got that correct, Ryan." Ben said. "It is the black Firefly down at the docks. Won her in a game of cards, and had her painted over with the platinum of the other winnings. A black boat is much harder to see when out in the black I figure. Also, I won me the deed of a warehouse on Three Hills. So if you boys ever have some goods that need storing..."

Ben took another chug from his beer. It sure was nice to be in this conversation. Ryan and Stoot saved his life, so every service he could offer them, he would.

But there was another thing Ben needed to ask Ryan and Stoot. Although now was not the appropriate time. But maybe, just maybe, Ryan and or Stoot saw what happened to Ben's friends, the ones he lived with on Londinium and escaped prison with. But in order to keep the friendly and jolly sphere Ben decided to postpone it until later. It seemed that from now on Ryan, Stoot and Ben would never be too far from eachother. It gave Ben somewhat of a relieved feeling, knowing that from that day forward, there were at least two friends out there he could count on.

Ben turned back on his chair as he heard music come from behind him. A band had started playing and they were playing old folksongs. Songs that some Independent soldiers played when off duty during the war, or in times that the Independents actually had something to celebrate.

Ben couldn't help but smile. Songs like these always reminded him of the girl he danced with during one of the celebrations. She never said anything, she just danced with him and smiled at him. To Ben, it was the best moment of the entire war, and somehow it made everything worth it. The girl had long brown hair, blue eyes and the cutest freckles on her nose. It was only later that he found out her name was Lindsey, and that she worked in one of the general's staffs, usually far behind the frontlines, away from all danger, and Ben. Ben had run into her a couple of times afterwards though, to which she always gave him a sweet smile, but never a word. Never.

Ben couldn't help but wonder what happened to her after the war. He wanted to see her again, even though he knew there probably wasn't a chance in hell he would. She could've been killed for all he knew. But something about that girl... it just seemed right.

But Ben then turned his full attention back to his two friends. Them meeting up like this again just asked for a celebration, although Ben couldn't neglect what he came to the bar for in the first place: find a crew. Perhaps Ryan and Stoot wouldn't mind helping him interviewing people. That would've been a great idea though. They were more experienced when it came to flying, and they would definately know when someone was speaking truly, or when that person was full of tzao gao.

"So I don't know about you fellas, but I've got nowhere to go for the rest of the night." Ben said. "How about you boys help Ol' Ben interview some people that come looking for a captain? Hell, it's just as good an excuse to get boozed up as any other, right?"

[OOC: Amy, I absolutely ADORE the idea of a black Firefly, real nice find! <3]

[stoot]

OOC: It was only fitting
--------

Stoot grinned as Bulletproof denied his charisma. To which he replied, "Yeah, well I do!"

At the proposal the man made about gettin' boozed up while helping him find crew, Stoot raised his glass cheerfully. "It sure as is!" he agreed, pulling the mug back to his beard and chugging it down. "Aah," He said baldly, setting down the empty drink. He was, however, polite enough not to burp. The waitress swung by and refilled him.

"So," Stoot said, "You got yerself a Firefly?" He gave a low whistle. "Ain't many-a them flyin' anymore from what I hear from this ol' bastard," He clapped Ryan on the shoulder; Ryan had worked for years on the docks and was therefore informed of what ships were most popular. "Not since The Uprisin' and such. Serenity. Also, 'cause they're s'damn old nobody wants ter trust 'em anymore. You got a likin' for 'em or somethin'?"

Stoot wasn't done asking questions yet, though; as Bulletproof answered one query, he threw out another.

"And what you been doin' for all these years? What's it been now--nine years since the war? What've you been spendin' all your time on?" Since Stoot had spent the last nine years before Atlas doing nothing but muddin', he was interested to hear what this man had bee up to. Surely his tale was much more interesting than his own. He liked to live vicariously through others' adventures.

[benbarrow]

"I'll be honest with you, Danny." Ben said. "Me owning a Firefly at this very moment was more a thing of chance. I didn't plan it at all. To tell you the truth, I don't know a single thing about ships."

It was true. Ben knew how to motivate a crew, Ben knew tactics, various ways to make a lot of platinum with a boat, and he could lead without a problem. But he had no idea what owning a Firefly actually meant, and he'd be lucky if he could tell one ship apart from another. Maybe in time he'd learn. He'd have to if he was to command a boat. But for the moment, he didn't have a clue.

"I heard about the Serenity, but I had no idea it was a Firefly." Ben said. "Pity though. That whole Miranda thing should've come out nine years ago. Then there wouldn't be any doubt that our side would've won the war."

Ben took another chug from his mug of beer to wet his throat a little. He knew what he was about to tell next was going to take some time.

"As for the last nine years..."

Ben paused for a second. Sure, now he could ask Stoot and Ryan if they saw what happened to his friends after Serenity Valley, yet it was always with a sort of lump in his throat that he talked about his friends. Ben couldn't forgive himself for leaving them alone, and always blamed himself for not staying with them.

"You remember Danco, Jerro, Jacky and Tank, right?" Ben asked. "The ones I lived with on Londinium, I escaped prison with, and the ones that never left my side all through the war?"

Danco , Jerro, Jacky and Tank were the older ones of the gang of kids Ben lead when he was a kid himself back on Londinium. They were the ones that were with him when they killed Caleb Orogo and his family, and they were the ones that followed him to war. The other, younger ones that escaped prison with them Ben had send off to Haven.

"During Serenity Valley, we were on our way to meet up with you guys on the frontlines when an Alliance shell downed our transport." Ben continued. "I wasn't banged up too bad, but they were heavily wounded. I got sent away on a mission and left them in the field hospital, thinking I'd return. But, as you guys know like no one else knows, I didn't."

Ben put both hands on his mug, and just kept staring at it. The guilt seemed to be overpowering him now. He didn't really want to talk about his friends until he had found them all back, yet he knew he had to if he was to find them all. And the more Stoot and Ryan knew, the better they could help him.

"I heard that the forwarded commandpost got annihilated, and that general McReary was killed along with everyone else." Ben said. "But after the war I ran into people, ex-soldiers, who I saw working at the commandpost. So I figure, if they survived, then maybe there's a slim chance my guys could be still alive as well. So that's what I've been doing for nine years: I've been looking for them."

Ben scraped his throat. He figured that if he was going to ask Stoot and Ryan if they saw them after he got knocked out, now was the time. He knew some people didn't like to talk about the war, but he couldn't leave it.

"Danny, Ryan... I know most people don't like to talk about the war." Ben said. "But please, I need to know. When you guys brought me in, did you see Danco or one of the other guys being moved as well?"

[georgewest]

West looked questioningly at the door to the pub questioningly. He wasn't making enough to keep his practice running and his last patient said, while his stab wound was being sealed, that this was a good place to look for work. Of course... this was where he had been stabbed.

West walked in and stopped a waitress, "I'm looking for work, do you happen to kn...." she cut him off and pointed eagerly over to a corner booth where three men were seated. One had a clipboard and some papers. He must be the one

It took him a second but he soon recognized the man with the clipboard as "Bulletproof" Ben Barrow.

West immediately walked over to him and said, "You may not remember me but I was a medic in your company near the end of the war. I...well...I kinda saved your life once, but you were unconscious at the time. He looked at the others and he recognized them as well.

"Stoot, Ryan... how's it been. I remember when I took that shrapnel out of you like it was yesterday...Good Times" George looked at the three men hoping one of them would remember him.

[benbarrow]

As Ben waited for either Stoot or Ryan to answer, he saw someone else come towards from the corner of his eye. Ben turned his head around and saw a man coming at him. He looked familiar, but Ben couldn't quite put a name on his face, or where he had seen him before. In any case, the man seemed eager enough to get to Ben's table. It looked liked the first person looking for a job had arrived.

"You may not remember me but I was a medic in your company near the end of the war. I...well...I kinda saved your life once, but you were unconscious at the time."

The man talked too fast, and Ben had to pay close attention to what he said if he was to understand him.

"Stoot, Ryan... how's it been. I remember when I took that shrapnel out of you like it was yesterday...Good Times"

Good times. Not exactly the best referral to the war Ben figured. This guy better toned it down a little if he didn't want to get a grade A beating in this bar. He was a veteran so he couldn't be all bad, but Ben knew he had to keep this guy's voice down if he wanted to avoid trouble.

"Whoa, chief!" Ben said. "Slow down. Why don't you have a seat first and introduce yourself to us first?"

[georgewest]

West sat down and took a deep breath. "Sorry, I tend to speak fast when i'm remembering the old days. I'm George West, but most everyone refers to me as West." He sat there for a second before saying, again hurriedly, "When I say good times, I didn't mean the Shrapnel. I just meant...maybe it be best if I stop talking for sec."

He sat there for another moment before rifling through his bag to get some papers out. They were a list of references and achievements in the field of medicine and in battle. He would show these to Ben if there was in fact a job.

[hackanut]

Ryan sipped modestly at his drink, never being much of a drinker in the first place. He enjoyed a cup or two every now and then, but inebriation was never good for him; his PTSD was at it's worst when he was too full of the drink. It was best to indulge in moderation to keep himself from getting embarrassed.

Stoot brought the war up and Ryan looked down into the amber contents of his glass, not wanting to be a part of this conversation at all. He never spoke about the war; his feelings, his thoughts, his memories...none of it. Ryan would only listen to others, and even then, it was still hard. Most, such as Stoot, could speak about the war as if it was just a funny memory. But Ryan took it much more personally; he had seen good men die in that war. Men he probably could have saved if he weren't too busy saving himself. The failed war was the biggest let-down in Ryan's life. Ben was right; if only The Uprising had happened a smidge sooner, none of it would have happened. Instead of being happy that The Uprising had happened at all, he felt resentful that it had taken it's grand-ol' time. It had let him fall to pieces first.

Ryan let Stoot do all of the talking for a moment; he was too lost in his own flashbacks for the time being to be capable of forming a single sentence. All he could see was the vivid images of dying men before his eyes, and the jeering smirks of Alliance soldiers, standing over them, knowing who had lost...

A new person sat down next to him and Ryan blinked. He didn't recognize the man; but he seemed to recognize them. When he told them his name, Ryan remembered a little; Doctor West had been his name when they had met, though. He didn't have a great memory for medics, they mainly remained faceless to him...but West stuck out in his mind because he had been one of the only ones to be interested in conversation as he patched up his patients. So, therefore, he stuck out. Not very much, though...but Ryan recognized him at least.

"Hey," was all he said, quietly, as he nodded to him. He smiled sheepishly, feeling a little embarrassed; if nobody else, Stoot had surely caught on to his sensitivity to the topic. It suddenly felt stuffy in here. "Excuse me," he said as he stood up. "Need some air. Nice seein' you 'gain, Doctor."

He felt all eyes on him for the moment, but really wanted to be alone. They would survive a few minutes without him; he just needed a minute to put his mind back into the present where it belonged.

[stoot]

Stoot nodded reverently at Ben's sentiment on the war. It was a shame that The Uprising hadn't come until six years later, but it was a blessing it had come at all. At least now, the Alliance steered clear of the border (for the most part). They didn't have such an iron fist anymore. "They won the battle, s'all," Stoot said with a shake of his head. "We won the war, though, with that Uprisin'. I think we got a lengthy ways t'go, too, 'till we win it completely."

He did not expect Ben's reaction to his nine-year question; he expected Ben would have been off fighting crime or on amazing adventures for the past decade; instead, he had been in search of his friends. His heart sank as it reminded him of Ari, and her mission to find her father. Their woes really weren't that different; two great people who took a selfless stance in recovering people they loved and whom they had lost a long time ago.


"I remember 'em, alright," Stoot said. "They was always with ya, weren' they? But I'm sorry, Bulletproof...I ain't got much more'n that for ya. Last I saw your crew, they was fightin' along with ya. When we scooped ya up...it was only you. We didn' see anyone else lyin' around. Maybe they lived?" He ended hopefully, sensing the other man's grief. Stoot felt awful that he couldn't provide any more information than that; but it was the truth. Maybe they were alive and Bulletproof would find them. Or, they were dead and Bulletproof would die searching.

Stoot would tell him to give it up, but he knew that if he were faced with the same situation, he would die searching too. You don't give up on people you care about; and that's what made bulletproof a hero. Not only was he bulletproof, but he had a heart, too. Stoot admired that.

The conversation had taken a very mournful feel, and it was obvious that Ryan wasn't handling it so well. He cast a concerned glance towards the man, and was prepared to apologize for bringing up the war despite his condition, but they were met with a new acquaintance at the table, and Stoot felt it best not to embarrass Ryan in front of him.

"Well hell, look who it is!" Stoot said after George introduced himself and had a seat. "I remember you stitchin' up my leg after--" Stoot had been in the process of lifting up his pant-leg to show the scar from the shrapnel, but caught himself as Ryan looked more depressed than ever. "So...you still puttin' folk back together?"

Awkward. He knew it. And Ryan seemed to feel it, too, as he rose from his seat. Stoot gave him a 'was it something I said?' sort of look as he left the table. Crestfallen, Stoot sighed and turned back towards the other two men.

"No need ter go after him; he'll be back when he's ready. Sad t'say that Ryan never seemed to get over the war; he never talks 'bout it to nobody. I reckon he is shell-shocked, the poor bastard. He always gets this way when it gets brought up in conversation. Can't avoid it, I says, but he ain't ever listen t'me. Can't help it, he says." Stoot felt bad for his friend, and felt a little treacherous to explain his ailment to these men; but it had to be explained to them, didn't it? They had to understand where Ryan was coming from.

"Say," He said, turning to George. "You doctors ain't cooked up a cure fer that yet, have ya?"

[benbarrow]

Ben couldn't help but to feel bad for Ryan. Like many, the poor guy suffered from PTSD. Ben was lucky he didn't suffer from the same, even though he saw so many men that were under his command die. Maybe it was because he focused himself on finding his lost friends, and he didn't allow himself to think about all the men he saw killed.

Ben couldn't help but to feel disappointed also after Stoot told him that he didn't know what happened to his friends. Many other veterans he met after the war told him the same story, yet Ben could never get used to the disappointment.

"That's okay, Danny. Someone out there is bound to know something. Thanks."

But now there were other matters at hand to take care of. Ben now had a doctor sitting in front of him, who seemed eager enough for work. George handed Ben his papers and Ben took a look at them.

St. Lucy's on Ariel, and then more papers showing he worked as a doctor on more border planets, and he was the one that patched him up in Serenity Valley. It also appeared that George had his own practice, and Ben was curious as to why he gave that up.

"So George, you had your own practice too?" Ben asked as he handed the papers back to him. "Why give that up to become employed on a ship?"

If there was some kind of malpractice thing involved, Ben would definately have second thoughts about hiring George, doctor or not. Although he did know that beggars can't be choosers. The only question was, that if there was malpractice involved, George's achievements would outweigh it.

[georgewest]

"Say,You doctors ain't cooked up a cure fer that yet, have ya?".

It was a question West had asked himself many times while working on the border planets in the aftermath of the war. Many of those he treated suffered from the same affliction and every time there was nothing he could prescribe than years of therapy.
"'fraid not, but by God I wish there were.

"So George, you had your own practice too?" Ben asked as he handed the papers back to West. "Why give that up to become employed on a ship?"

"Well, I didn't really have a choice in the matter," the Doctor confessed. "Ya see...most of the people I treat in this area don't have much money and can't hardly afford to keep their children fed. So...I give 'em a break and either nothing charge 'em next to nothing if they're too proud for a handout. My debts 'came too high and the bank took back my building."

West sighed as he finished the story. It wasn't easy to tell because he felt most would see him as a fool for running himself into the ground just to help others he didn't even know.

"My last patient was a stab victim who needed to be sewn up but couldn't afford a hospital. He recommended I come here. I must be brave or stupid to take his advice cuz this is where he got stabbed." West chuckled slightly under his breath as he finished his sentence.

[benbarrow]

Ben admired George's altruism. At least the reason for him stopping had nothing to do with medical malpractice or something of the like. And Ben figured George deserved a chance to get even with the Alliance banks. To Ben, George was hired. Only thing that remained now was to tell him.

"Well, good thing your friend lived." Ben said. George's friend probably wasn't an Independent if he got stabbed in O'Hanrahan's. He could've been a supporter of the Alliance, or just a guy with a really big mouth. Ben made a mental note to keep an eye on George's friends if he was going to hire him, just in case.

"Well George, it seems that I'd be a tremendous fool if I wouldn't hire a talented doctor like you for my crew." Ben said. "So consider yourself hired."

Ben took a contract and a registration form from the clipboard and put them in front of George with a pen.

"If you'll just fill these out." Ben said. "Don't worry, it's a just a standard contract stating that I have to pay you and that you owe me work. And the other one's just a formality, some background info. Bloodtype and the sort, in case you get injured."

Not many captains used this system, but Ben was different. He wanted to know everything about the people he worked with. The paper also mentioned who to notify if they were killed or if they didn't have any family, how to bury them, but that wasn't something Ben was going to say out loud. They'd just have to read it for themselves.