The hired help
13 Nov 2016Charlie Paulson
<BEGIN AUDIO TRANSCRIPT>Things've been so busy here in Wrangell City I wholly forgot about this old journal. A lot's happened since... when did I last... MARCH?! Damn. Well lemme see here... aside from all the work on the ship - and hot damn has Elvira worked wonders on the FSD - I guess the biggest news is that I have a crew now.
They couldn't be more different from each other. Ain't sure how well they get on, but they keep professional around me. First, there was Mr Quintin Wilcox. He's the only one I sought out; heard tell of a man who felt the same way I do about the slave trade, and liberated a whole slave colony on his own. That's a sure hire right there.
Next, I got an application from a Ms Stephenson. She begged me for a job, said something about hunting down some pirates who did for a dear friend. I ain't made no promises on the revenge front, but I'll say this much: Lauren's a natural. Scary how fast she took to flying the Hardrada's taipan. I guess when she's saved enough from her cut of the profits, she'll be off looking to avenge that friend of hers, and that's her business.
Finally, our newest recruit, Ms Kensington Maynard. Who calls their baby daughter Kensington? Anyway, we met in some godawful watering hole in Tangaroa. She was a wreck: wasted on Onionhead and panicking about some trouble she was in with the local gang. You don't mouth off at crooks unless you're holding a gun, but all she had was a half-empty bottle and strong language. These two dudes had been following her ever since, waiting for her to go somewhere lacking in witnesses. She couldn't go to the cops, not when she was still off her face, so I offered to get her off-world gratis. On the flight back to Wrangell City, we got to talking, and it turned out she was the daughter of some high falutin' Imperial Guard type. That explained the accent. Seemed like she had nowhere to go, so I offered her a job, on the condition she cleaned up her act. Clearly I'm going soft. I can't say she's a natural in the pilot's chair, but she's learning, and at least she does a decent job of looking after the passengers.
<SECOND, INDISTINCT VOICE CRACKLES ON SPEAKER>
Say again, Kensi? ... Well tell 'em we're only fifteen minutes away from landing, and if they have to puke, we got bags for that. ... I know I ain't made of sympathy, that's your job. ... I don't know, play soothing tunes.
Oh am I still... let's turn that off and concen---
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