Dear Martha,

As usual I’m having to pen a q-mail in a separate headspace while I’m still working. I wish I had time to write you a real letter.

Absconder 349 – I guess I could call him Q’ktul(click)2am, since it’s public record – failed to appear in court, so I’ve had to chase him to a muggy backwater world in the arms. It doesn’t offer much, but Vyyl’s Guide To Ethnic BioEnergy does recommend something called “Pulled Pork Barbeque,” which it doesn’t look like I’ll have a chance to taste.

As soon as I hit the system, local apes attacked before I could explain I had a writ for 349. Seems 349 told them he’d been sentenced to death for littering, but failed to mention he’d dumped unrecyclable neutron star shavings onto an inhabited world and imploded it.

Long story short, I had to hold one of their “Imperial Legions” in direct contempt, so now instead of “pork barbeque” I’ll end up having to fill out 1,200 disintegration orders.

This is already too long. I miss you, Martha. Give the kids my love.

-Brian