George R.r. Martin

Starport


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DESK.

      A MAN OF

      ACTION?

      DON’T GIVE

      ME THAT LOOK,

      PARK. YEAH, OKAY, I’M

      NOT INTO YOUR

      KUNG-FU...

      ...BUT I’M

      STILL WHO

      I AM, YA

      KNOW?

      HAPKIDO.

      A MAN OF

      ACTION.

      DAMN

      STRAIGHT!

      HEY,

      MORELLO.

      THERE HE IS!

      HELP!

      THIEF!

      LEGGO!

      HEY,

      HOLD IT!

      GET

      DOWN

      HERE! I’M

      WARNING YOU,

      I SWEAR…

      HAHA

      HAH!

       SKREEEE!

      HAHA

      HAH!

       SKREEEE!

      I TOLD

      YOU, LITTLE FILTH

      MONKEY...

       HISSSSS!

      ...TO

      GET DOWN HERE!

      HAHAHA

      HAHAHAHA

      HAHAHA!

      ARE YOU

      ALL RIGHT,

      MA’AM?

      HE...

      IT...

      I SAW.

      CAN I

      HAVE MY

      PURSE BACK

      NOW?

      THAT’S IT! I’LL SHOOT ITS WINGS OFF NEXT TIME, I SWEAR!

      I WAS FOUR YEARS,

      TWO MONTHS, AND FIVE

      DAYS FROM MY PENSION WHEN

      I MET MY FIRST ALIEN. REMEMBER,

      BOBBI, WHEN THE MUNCHKINS LANDED

      AND THEY ANNOUNCED HOW THEY’D

      BEEN WATCHING US FOR NEARLY SIXTY

      YEARS, WAITING? AND THE DELAYS

      TRYING TO OPEN A STARPORT HERE?

      WHAT WAS IT, FIVE YEARS OF

      ANTICIPATION BEFORE THEY EVEN

      SET FOOT ON AMERICAN SOIL?

      ENDLESS CONGRESSIONAL MEETINGS,

      TREATIES, AND RED TAPE OUT

      THE ASS. THE TUNNEL COLLAPSE,

      THE RIOTS IN NEW YORK.

      ENDLESS.

      POINT IS, THEY

      TOOK SIX DECADES

      TO COME KNOCKING ON

      OUR DOOR, AND ONE MORE

      BEFORE KNOCKING ON MINE,

      SO DON’T YOU THINK THEY COULD

      HAVE WAITED A BIT LONGER? MAYBE

      LET ME GET ON WITH MY DAMNED

      RETIREMENT BEFORE I BECAME

      BEHOLDEN TO SOME PINK

      FROG-FACED ASSHAT WHO

      INSISTS ON BEING

      ADDRESSED AS

      "TOPMAN"?

      AND WHY HERE,

      KELLEHER? WHY ME?

      WHY MY CITY?

      DON’T WORRY,

      CAPTAIN, YOU STILL

      GET TO RETIRE. THE

      TOPMAN HAS SENT A

      SKIMMER. IT SHOULD

      BE OUTSIDE RIGHT

      NOW.

      THAT’S ALL

      I NEED. IF GOD HAD

      MEANT CARS TO FLY, HE

      WOULDN’T HAVE GIVEN

      THEM WHEELS.

      I SPENT MY

      WHOLE LIFE ON

      THE FORCE, BOBBI.

      UNTIL THE STARPORT

      OPENED, I FIGURED I’D

      SEEN JUST ABOUT

      EVERYTHING...

      BUT...HE

      LOOKS LIKE A

      COCKROACH.

      WHO?

      THE SKRIT

      TRADE ENVOY.

      HE’S FIVE FEET THREE

      INCHES TALL, ONLY HE’S

      A COCKROACH. KAFKA

      WOULD BE PROUD, BUT

      IT CREEPS ME RIGHT

      THE FUCK OUT.

      WITH 314

      OTHER SPECIES

      IN THE HARMONY, IT

      FIGURES THAT SOME OF

      THEM MIGHT BE

      INSECTS...

      THE MAYOR

      IS GOING TO GIVE

      HIM A KEY TO THE CITY.

      HE’LL PROBABLY SHAKE

      HANDS WITH HIM. CAN

      COCKROACHES SHAKE

      HANDS?

      DO

      COCKROACHES

      EVEN HAVE HANDS?

      MAYOR DALEY

      WOULD NEVER HAVE GIVEN A COCKROACH THE KEY TO THE CITY!

      WELL...

      MAYBE IF IT WAS A

      DEMOCRAT?

      IF THERE’S

      NO DRIVER, I’M NOT

      GETTING IN.

      C’MON,

      CAPTAIN.

      THE TOPMAN’S

      EXPECTING

      US.

      WOULD YOU

      ENJOY TO HEAR

      LISTEN ATTEND TO

      MUSIC TUNE

      MELODY?

      NO. NO,

      WE’RE FINE.

      POSSIBLY

      PREFER TALK

      CONVERSE

      SHARE-VIEWS?

      SHOULDN’T

      YOU WATCH WHERE

      YOU’RE FLYING?

      BUT, OF

      INTERESTING

      ARE YOU...

      NOT

      NECESSARY