<div class="floatright">(http://cdn.madamenoire.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/08/adrien_brody_restaurant_001.jpg)</div><strong>Moshe Dayan (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=207352.msg10191162#msg10191162)</strong><br/><strong>In the MechBay.</strong><br/><strong>Tagged: None</strong><br/><hr/><br/><strong>DropShip <em>Dark Star</em>, outbound<br/>Deneb Algedi, Benjamin District<br/>Draconis Combine<br/>1 January 3145</strong><br/><br/>For the third time in his whole Life he really felt like using the sort of foul language that most mercenaries seemed to fling around like a monkey in a cage. It was the sort of language the local rabbis would reprimand urchins for back in the street days. Foul-mouthed kids didn't get the handout meals in the afternoons. It served as a sort of skewed morality for Moshe in his youth. Beating a kid up and stealing his stuff was for survival, swearing like a JumpShip-crewman was a sin. Of course he knew very well of everything surrounding Yahweh and his chosen ones, including the Ten Commandments and the Elder Words butonce you got down to street level it was hard to argue religious dogma with your teeth bashed in and your shoes stolen.<br/><br/>He looked up at his S'hot, the quad drooping its Diamond shaped head as if lamenting with him. Why would they do this to them? They had done a good job despite some minor problems. He had taken down that Blade honestly and taken down a few tanks and multitudes of hostile infantry. And now they were going to gut S’hot, exchange his weapons to Adonai knows what. It was anything but fair and his knuckles were already white from how hard he clenched his fists. He wanted to strike out but couldn’t bring himself to do so.<br/><br/>“Feh… it will never be the same again old friend…”<br/>