"How's it out there, Captain?" The bearded man grumbles.
"Ain't nothing but the void, what did you expect?" He sips some more of his sugary drink. "Except the Feds clamoring to end salvaging of wrecks. Cuz its disturbing resting places and such. A corpse is a corpse; a wreck is a wreck. Neither last much in the void, might as well strip them outta what's valuable, you know?" He takes a swig of his drink.
"All them planetsiders being 'ooooh, great Federation, great laws', what piece of shit, you know? They're already living in their fancy towers on their fancy terraformed worlds, so they care not for those living out there, without planetside lover, without planetside house, trudging through space to make a living. They demand 'honorable burials' and 'preservation of tragic battles' and how many of them will actually make the trip to attend those burials and honor those battlefields filled with junk metal and frozen corpses, huh?" He speaks rather fast and you wonder if you poked the 'chat' button on Captain's brain by accident.
"Them Feds serving nothing but to clamp down on the lives of spacegoers. I don't need a law in here. I have my crew and we have our arsenal of plasma disruptors to deal with them boarders, you know? But, eh, whatever. If everything goes wrong in them space laws, there's always cargo to haul. Nobody ever went wrong with hauling containers. It ain't the most profitable of jobs, but it is a job." He tilts the glass and puts it down, nothing but bits of ice remain inside.
A) "Want another drink?"
B) "So you don't like the New Galactic Federation?"
C) "So you and your crew salvage spaceship wrecks?"
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Topic: Bartender of Galactic Refueling Outpost 254831: Arnold! (Read 117035 times)