<strong>Captain Otto "Brad" Bradley - Running late but entering the Sprocket shortly after 1800</strong><br/><br/>He was a Captain once again.  And reflecting on his past as he faced an uncertain future on his way to the bar/restaurant.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body"><br/>(http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs30/i/2008/131/f/c/Patchwork_George_Banks_by_La_Siren_of_Eire.jpg)<br/><br/>"Captain" had been his army rank during the war, though he was hardly the type to strike anyone as a military man.  Certainly not a warrior.  As an attorney with Independence sympathies, he felt it was his duty to join, and as anticipated, Otto Bradley was assigned to staff duty in a relatively safe area.  Just like many other periods in history, putting together a large army from scratch resulted in a considerably different army than if it had been built incrementally.  Militia sergeants became lieutenants, and lieutenants became colonels.  Governors arranged commissions for political allies.  Then, the war attempted to balance things out:  Generals who never should have been generals died, resigned, or were courtmartialed, and majors who should have been generals eventually found their way to the top -- or died trying.<br/><br/>"Brad", lacking combat experience (and perhaps the ability to function in combat?) had been appointed a captain because of his reputation as a competent lawyer with experience in different levels of government.  And he remained a Captain for the duration of the war.  His duty assignments changed from time to time while his physical location remained constant.  For a while he oversaw military contracts for weapons purchases.  He was a cog in the wheel of the organization that reconciled the various planetary army and militia regulations into one common set of rules for Independent forces.  For a while, he prosecuted court martial cases involving some high ranking but incompetent officers, making a few enemies in the process.  And three months before the end of the war, he was taken prisoner along with most of the rest of the general staff on ... .  For those three months, he worked with his Alliance captors to try to obtain the early parole of some of his fellow prisoners.  After all, they all knew the war was over.<br/><br/>Returning home to find he no longer had a home, he first sought to obtain a position with a law firm on any of the border planets, only to find them all controlled by Alliance people who were not interested in employing any more "rebel" lawyers than absolutely necessary for their business.  Then he roamed the rim for a while, trying his hand at bringing justice to the relatively lawless areas, but found out he wasn't suited for that, either.  Finally, he ran into Colonel Green, who he did not know well, but had met briefly during the war.  (The Colonel was a witness for the prosecution in a case Brad was prosecuting.)   The Colonel had a few legal issues he needed clearing up, and Brad was on good enough relations with one of his former captors to help negotiate a bit of red tape.  Eventually the Colonel provided some backing for Brad's run for the Justice of the Peace election, which he won.  Brad's confidence may have been a bit premature, however, when he was soundly defeated in his run for Parliament.<br/><br/></div></div><br/>Now, with a small law practice consisting of two lawyers and enough work to keep one of them busy, Brad had decided to try his hand at something else.  The shipping business.  And in an effort to get things started off on the right foot, he was using the last of his money (except for the emergency reserve) to spring for a nice dinner for the crew.<br/><br/>Reservations had been made.  Not something Clyde the owner usually did, but Brad had been Justice of the Peace and therefore deserved the consideration.  Not that anyone else in the joint would probably recognize Brad at all.  A few of them, no doubt, had appeared before him to be arraigned, but they would have been too drunk to remember.  Mostly his court had been of the "small claims" variety, and most of the patrons here didn't have the means to lose enough to make it to small claims court.<br/><br/>He had yet to meet his mechanic, Chase, so he had no way of knowing this was the man entering the Sprocket just ahead of him. As Brad entered, he waved to Clyde at the bar, who shouted a welcome to "Judge Bradley" and was pointing toward the "rizerved" table.  The tables were large enough to seat eight people (10 if they didn't mind gettin' intimate.) A couple of pounds of beef and a couple of birds had been thrown on the grill, along with some fixin's, and a keg of beer was set on a stand next to Table #1.  There was even a hand scrawled bilingual sign on the table that said "Rizerved for Juge Bradly party" in English.  Clyde's Chinese was worse, and there appeared to be a symbol for a burning house.  Yes, Clyde was one of those people who knew how to show his appreciation, and Brad hoped the burning building wasn't an omen.<br/><br/>Brad smiled when he saw the preparations that had been made, and glanced around the room looking for his crew.  He didn't know any of them well, but they had all come with sufficiently high recommendations, and he was confident the process had gotten him a better crew than he could have on his own by posting ads and interviewing prospects.  In this crowd, he wondered if he would even recognize any of them, or if they would recognize him.<br/><br/>If anything he would at least be one of the better dressed patrons.  That should help.