Capn's announcement to Liberty crew, and posted in the galley:
(I typed this, and ran this through spell check a bunch so it's readable. Damn computer still doesn't get my accent.)
As of now, Liberty and her crew are all free agents. That's right, we don't work for NavKor anymore. Due to Shara's new ... condition ... and through some intense negotiations, I've gotten out of my contract with Navaar.
This has a lot of ramifications for each of you. To start, we won't be drawing a weekly paycheck anymore. That sucks, I know, but the upside is you all get a fatter share of each job we run. It may be feast or famine for a little bit, but we'll get it sorted out.
I'm going to ask of you to make your decisions now. If you can tolerate the shakiness in pay for a while, Shara and I would love to have you stay aboard. Your room and board on ship are covered, as always, so you won't go hungry. Some of you have families and other lifestyles that need a more steady paycheck, and we'll understand if you need to find other work.
So, now's your chance. See the galaxy with us, or all's ashore that's going ashore. Your choice, folks - no hard feelings if you're taking another path, and clear skies.
- Ian and Shara
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Monday, March 5, 2012
Capn's Log: #DeathOfShara
I can't believe she's gone.
It ain't fair. It ain't right. This's her ship, not Navaar's, not Dash's, and damn sure not mine. She should be here. This's her home.
One minute she's makin' fun o' us fer bein' "paranoid", th' next she's lyin' on th' ground in a pool o' her own blood. Who woulda thought a plant would shoot karkin' poison darts like that?
Navaar prolly did, tha's who. Damn bitch. I gotta find out whut's in those classified files. I been hackin' on them fer hours, but I can't git in. I ain't good at this stuff. Gimme somethin' ta blow up, I'm yer guy. Movin' bits 'round... not so much.
I know who c'n help, tho, if she'll take my call.
I gotta know. I owe it ta Dash. I owe it ta her, too. She been kick'd 'round enough in life, she deserves th' truth 'bout her death.
Where's mah damned scotch? Oh, there it is.
I'm gonna try ta make it right. As right as I can now, anyhow. Everythin's all karked up.
I owe it ta her.
I shoulda told her.
I can't believe she's gone.
It ain't fair. It ain't right. This's her ship, not Navaar's, not Dash's, and damn sure not mine. She should be here. This's her home.
One minute she's makin' fun o' us fer bein' "paranoid", th' next she's lyin' on th' ground in a pool o' her own blood. Who woulda thought a plant would shoot karkin' poison darts like that?
Navaar prolly did, tha's who. Damn bitch. I gotta find out whut's in those classified files. I been hackin' on them fer hours, but I can't git in. I ain't good at this stuff. Gimme somethin' ta blow up, I'm yer guy. Movin' bits 'round... not so much.
I know who c'n help, tho, if she'll take my call.
I gotta know. I owe it ta Dash. I owe it ta her, too. She been kick'd 'round enough in life, she deserves th' truth 'bout her death.
Where's mah damned scotch? Oh, there it is.
I'm gonna try ta make it right. As right as I can now, anyhow. Everythin's all karked up.
I owe it ta her.
I shoulda told her.
I can't believe she's gone.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)