"Well kids, I've been at this awhile." He let suspense build while he swallowed another swig, "Truth be this ol' space dog can't remember many of them but..." Harkin was being a bit modest, or lazy depending on how you looked at it, he wasn't even forty yet! He thought for a bit on an excursion to share with his new-found drinking buddies. "Remember the Bluehawks?" A lot had went down with during the Bluehawk disbandment. Even if they knew nothing of the group, every one knew of there fall.
"Few years back, I was signed with them. A captain believe it or not, but anyway, the bounty wasn't on a head, no the bounty was on a tiny vial of some green slime stuff. Don't know who wanted it or what it was, but three teams was sent into this hulking, desolate space station to get it."
It felt good talking. Harkin hadn't noticed that he had set the bottle on the table, and he was leaned in talking with his hands. "Anyway, we get in there, and go all of sixty feet from the cargo bay before were attacked by," Harkin looked between the group. "I swear I could not make this up, we were attacked by reanimated scientists and security...ZOMBIES."
The story was true. And Harkin knew the specifics but they were unnecessary. "Spent three damn days re-killing the residents on the ship, and we ended up floating the station in to a star. It was a pay out, but nothing like we would of had on that vile..." Communication was not Harkin's strong point, and he realized the unnecessary length his story had taken. He reached back towards the whiskey...