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.
No comments:
Post a Comment