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Giggy, what the hell?

Last night I get called in to look at a blip in the comm baffles. Surprise, its encrypted. I run homoporphics on it anddouble surpriseit looks like someone is sending secret binary messages to a certain mechanical third party using transponder codes I gave him.

You ignore my messages, lock your door, duck me in the passageways. For a year. It hurts like hell but I get it. I deserve it.

Then suddenly its all Hey Siggy, this is business. Need your help. What do you know about transponders?

I gave you those codesin confidenceso you could prove Litvin is lying about the Vanguard. And maybe to shed a little of this guilt I carry. Thats it. Now I find youre talking to the thing? Are you kidding me?

I love your wrinkled ass dearly, but you better believe Im coming down there tout-effing-suite for a full explanation. And I dont want any of your spooky hangers-on to be there when I arrive.

Sigrid



Siggy:

Sorry dear, I wont be there. Had to pull up stakes again. Some nice young men with expensive haircuts and blank expressions were asking questions around the market. 

Dont worry. Im somewhere else now, cozy and safe. This boy even brings me those lemon drops I like every day, like clockwork.

I ever tell you how proud I was, when you moved up to Fore? Ndugu wouldnt stop bragging for weeks: Sigrids gone fancy, Dad. New job, new clothes. But she still comes down and hangs with me at shift end. I told you she would. 

Its hard to think of you two as grown ups. To me youre still ponytails and a crooked smile jumping on the bed. But I guess children grow.

I do still hold you in my heart, and I am so, so proud that you made it up-deck to your new life. But I wont be explaining myself to you. Stay away from me.

-G

