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I was right, as usual, but that's just the curse of being Tek.

"Now you're talking," I said, mostly for the sheer joy of hearing my satin pipes churn forth the butter of silkiest cliche. "Cappy, you know what I'm going to tell you?"

"But what if it's a trap," he said, exuding all the cowardice a good ship captain needs to keep his crew from being devoured by hungry space manatees.

"Then we go in guns blazing, kick ass, take whatever names they have, get our alloy on, our rocks off and fly that coup before they know what hits them in their trap-laying asses... don't we?"

How a man like me came to be surrounded by boobs like Cappy, I'll never understand, but I don't have to, I'm Tek Jansen.

"How soon can you get me there, and while you're at it, why don't you tell me where this 'there' place is I speak of?" asked I with pensive expressions littered about my face.

Little N looked up from his written word archai-book, "It's Margbwar-12, Tek. I don't know if you know who they are, but their a sordid assortment of folk alright."

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