Freedom, such a thing.
Ruled only by the law, and I’ll probably incriminate myself right here.
Last thing I want to do is go back through that “Social re-insertion” program.. Didn’t help.
Hell, after I got back I headed up a strike, shot four, slashed two necks, and helped smuggle heaps of contraband? What more proof to do you need? (Speaking of proof, you don’t have any on the above!)
Irrelevant. Still, I’d rather commit another 100 crimes than go back to those mines. Rocks ain’t my cup of tea. Even if those rocks are worth a small fortune. We never saw a penny of it, anyway. Until recently.
Let me tell you, that revolt wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment deal. That had been planned out.. but plans almost never go over perfectly. Ours sure didn’t.
The arrival of the Alliance was a mishap. Apparently we were not the only ones aware of the Magistrate’s crooked deals. Truth be, those Alliance boys wern’t too bad. Even helped us out in a pinch!
The words are the same, but we don’t speak the same language. Total of four firefights over mis-communication.
I got another battle scar because of it. Add to the collection.
Anyway, The mine heads were given up almost as soon as we took them. We didn’t need them.. it was a red-herring. We had already been taking a cut of what we mined, and reporting that the mines were getting dangerous. An excuse for our low-productivity.
You have to watch what you say, though. No sooner as that was enscribed on the mining-report, it became the scapegoat for an “Industrial accident”. Meh.
I’ll have to take a short break here.. Weapons don’t clean themselves.
This next planet? Yeah, even I’m worried about it. (Infact, I’m going to start cleaning ’em right now.)