"BREAKING 'S NEWS' ALERT: In a new study, EDEN scientists estimate that the controlled atmosphere out in space will actually prolong life expectancy. Yet another reason to praise Supreme Leader Abaddon – Saviour of humanity: Not only will EDEN save your life, it will increase it as well."
By the time Monkey had rushed Gabe through the building and out of the main gates, Jaibles was waiting in the moonlight of mid-morning and looking more than a little disorientated.
'Got your message, Monkey. What's so urgent it couldn't wait? Oh hey Gabe, you look like crap.'
'We got to get as far away from this place as possible, Geezer. I'll explain along the way.'
'I know just the place, follow me.'
Their footsteps echoed through the narrow-cobbled streets until they reached the familiar sights and smells of the bar - It was dark inside and even more deserted than usual.
The old bartender was still sitting behind his bar, arms folded with a single untouched shot of bourbon in front of him. The light of his small TV flickered across his grizzled features; he barely glanced as they entered.
'What can I do for you gentlemen,'he said sluggishly, still transfixed on his programme.
'Good morning, sunshine,' said Jaibles as Monkey and Gabe slumped at a table in the furthest corner of the bar. 'My pal's chances of making it off this planet have just taken sharp plummet south, so we're hoping to grab a few drinks.'
The bartender glanced across to Gabe and Monkey, eyeing them suspiciously before going back to watching his TV. 'You know I only got bourbon.'
'Of course, that's why I keep coming back. Any chance you also have a jar of gherkins lying around back there?' Said Jaibles pressing himself against the bar to look behind it.
'I do,' said the old man. 'If it's a pickleback you're after, then just come out and say it.'
'Sorry old timer, desperate times calls for double measures.' Jaibles eyebrows danced flamboyantly on his forehead, but they danced for no one as the old man, without once looking away from his programme, leaned back from his chair and collected six shot glasses, a jar of gherkins and a bottle of bourbon.
'Right, well thanks then Treacle,' said Jaibles unwilling to admit defeat. 'Watching anything good?'
'Nope.'
'Okaaay. Well can I give you something for the drinks?'
The old man broke his gaze and stared at Jaibles with growing frustration. 'Got no use for money; got no use for anything anymore. Long as you leave the place unharmed, leave me a few bottles for when the end comes, and above all, leave me in Goddamn peace, you can take what you need.'
'Can do,' said Jaibles with a wink, putting a bottle in each pocket of his leather coat. 'One last thing,' he said, grabbing all six glasses with both hands. 'Do you mind if we put your jukebox on? It's been one Hell of a morning and the last thing those boys need are intoxicated moments of unhelpful silent reflection.'
'Do what you like,' he said, waving him away. 'But I warn you, there's no reasoning with it.'
Jaibles walked over to the jukebox and kicked the switch with his boot, lighting up the lonely corner of the bar in a flashdance of neon, illuminating its hidden past: the scuff marks on the floor, chips in the wood and scratches on the old punk and rockabilly posters that lined its walls each told of lost nights and the crowded revelry of a live band - back when people still did that sort of thing.
Jaibles pushed a few buttons and retreated back to his friends, depositing their drinks on the table.
'Apparently it's got a mind of its own,' he said, taking his seat as the jukebox whirred through its archives and loaded its choice.
Monkey poured them all a shot of bourbon and a shot of pickle juice.
'What in the name of holy Hell have you just poured me?' Said Gabe looking at the shot of pickle juice.
'Just get it down you. You've got bigger things to worry about.'
'It's the nectar of Gods,' informed Jaibles, leaning forward and picking up his shots. 'You drink the bourbon, then the pickle juice and if it all stays down, then you're allowed to still be my friend. You know the theory that you need to try something at least twelve times before your taste buds adapt? Well this works in the same way. By the twelfth one, you'll love it.'
After the fourth pickleback and the fifth repeat of George Michael's Praying for Time, Monkey felt steady enough to talk. 'I can't believe he did that, just to make a point.'
'She only wanted to experience the simulator once, then she was going to quit,' said Gabe devastated. 'Now she's dead because of me.'
'No, not because of you,' said Monkey sternly. 'Because of Cain.'
'But who was Cain making his point to?' Gabe rested his head on the table.
'Why would someone even create a Simulator that can kill you?' Said Jaibles musing to no one in particular. 'Sort of defies the point of a simulation really.'
'So what are you going to do?' Said Monkey.
'Maybe it's a cry for help? Said Jaibles. 'Sounds like a cry for help.'
'Carry on the training, I guess, and try not to get killed,' said Gabe resigned to his fate.
'What? Why?' Said Monkey. 'Get out of there. Take a menial role and live to a ripe old age, I hear your life expectancy will actually go up when we get out in space.'
'Maybe he didn't get hugged enough as a child?' Said Jaibles admiring his glass. 'Or too much. Thankfully I got just enough to turn me into the well adjusted pillar of society you see before you today.'
'I can't and I won't,' said Gabe. 'I made a promise to Tiffany and I aim to keep it. Too much has happened, I owe her this.'
'Did you promise to get yourself killed?' Said Monkey. 'Because unless you did, I think she'd understand.'
'Even if she did, why should I? I was the best pilot he had ten years ago and since then all I've been doing is wasting my life at YAMA, just waiting for the world to end. Now, finally, after all this time, I have the chance to actually make something of myself, I should go back to doing menial work because he holds a grudge?'
'Does it bother anyone else that hugs don't make a sound?' Said Jaibles genuinely concerned, as REM's 'It's the End of the World as we Know it, burst through the speakers.
'Okay, okay it doesn't have to be menial work. You said you were a great pilot back then, so let's find you a shuttle of your own.' Said Monkey.
'Where am I going to get a shuttle from, Monkey? And even if I could, all my training was on the old shuttles. I'd still need to complete the training to learn how to pilot the new models.'
'You know those old EX's weren't fit for purpose, right?' Muttered Jaibles. 'Barely had enough oxygen supply on them to last a week.'
'The worst of it's over now anyway,' continued Gabe. 'Piloting the shuttle is the last module on the Simulator, so as long as I can avoid getting killed for the rest of Engineering then it's just Maintenance; Navigation and Weaponry to get through.'
'Right,' said Monkey sarcastically. 'Just two months of Commander Cain attempting to kill you with immunity and you're home and dry.'
'And people wonder why we never heard back from them,' Jaibles voice fell to a whisper, 'not a single one.'
'So what should I do?' Said Gabe.
'Let me at least ask around. I know a few guys working on the new corporate shuttles and most of the spare parts are coming from the old EX models, they're even taking some of them. Let me find out if there are any spares - pretty sure one of them owes me a favour.'
'I appreciate the thought, Monkey but I need to see this training through. Besides, even if you could find me a spare EX in working condition, I couldn't fly it on my own.'
'So get yourself a crew,' said Monkey. 'I'll come with you. Christ knows it would be more fun than spending the rest of my days aboard that corporate nightmare.'
'We could be Space pirates!' said Jaibles finally syncing into the conversation and becoming increasingly more animated. 'Go hunting for space doubloons, drink space rum, pick the space weevils out of space biscuits, slowly perish of space scurvy...'
Gabe and Monkey stared with incredulous silence at their friend.
'What? I've been listening,' said Jaibles. ' Gabe's going to allow himself to be killed out of a stubbornness manifest from some earlier traumatic event; possibly stemming from an over abundance of childhood hugs.'
Monkey shrugged and nodded at what was a fair assessment.
Gabe attempted to argue but could only sigh, he knew they were right, knew this stubbornness would probably get himself killed but it was too late. The thought of breaking another promise and letting Tiffany down after everything she'd done for him was far worse than anything Commander Cain could ever do.
'I'm sorry,' Gabe began. 'This is just something I need to do.'
'See, told you I was listening,' said Jaibles triumphantly. 'Though I do think you should give some serious consideration to becoming a space pirate with us. I mean what happens when the fleet is held captive by some supreme entity that demands we compete in it's sick games to redeem ourselves as a species? Are you going to save everyone as the pilot of the YAMA Pharmaceuticals? That seems pretty unlikely to me, Gabe.'
'I err, what?' said Gabe, unable to hide his confusion.
'It can't all be about you, you know,' said Jaibles holding his arm aloft towards the bar. 'Barkeeper! We're going to need another bottle,' as Wing's 'Live and let Die' loaded up and settled in for the rest of the night.