It always saddens me when I have to fire one of my crew. With the heavy losses the Minmatar have been sustaining lately, it’s just not practical to keep drafting civilians into duty. I’ve been hiring from my own pocket.

I am pretty demanding as a commander, but I am just as demanding of myself, if not moreso. Still, it’s never easy having that one on one conversation, where you know emotions will run high, and no positive will come from it.

“But, but this is all I have! I swear I can improve, Commander!” We’d been at this for ten minutes already. He was a likeable enough fellow, but reviewing his file I could see he’d already been given numerous opportunities to improve his performance, and he hadn’t.”

“Look son,” I said sympathetically, “I just need to know that every single member of my crew is of the same top caliber. I’m not saying this to hurt you, but I just don’t think you’re cut out for this line of work.”

He bit his quavering lower lip for a few moments before he couldn’t contain himself anymore and the tears burst free.

“But I really have nothing else; no girl, no family, nobody to go back to. This is it!” 

I learned long ago that it’s important to balance out your life. Never rely on just one or two things. I mean, if you think about it in that context, losing one thing in your life means you’re now 50% empty. I try to fill my life with as many things as possible. That way, if there is loss, it’s not as impactful.

“What about friends? Or hobbies? Any other interests or skills? Religion? School? I’m sure there are plenty of things that you are passionate about.”

He sobbed quietly, shaking his head. 

“Well what about politics? Or sports? Anything?”

At the mention of sports, his eyes lit up momentarily, before glazing over subdued once again. I seized the moment.

“You know, I don’t tell many of the crew this, but I’m a bear racer.” The room became deafly quiet. His eyes bugged out of his head, his jaw reaching as far as possible towards the floor.

Bear racing was a common practice thousands of years ago, but outlawed in recent times. Nevertheless, it wasn’t difficult to find an illegal bear race among any of the Brutor Tribes. There’s just something about grabbing a hand full of fur, and inflicting your will against that of the beast that is a bear. It gave me a thrill second only to the feeling of ship combat.

And the term Bear Racing is really just a technicality. More often than not, the crowds that come to these events could care less about the race. They are more interested in the brutality of how the racers struggle to reach the finish line. Hand to hand combat, unmuzzled bears, it all adds to the thrill of the sport. I was already starting to daydream.

Back to the present.

“You ever been to a bear race?” He shook his head violently in the negative. “Tell ya what,” I began. “I’m gonna take you to my next race ok? Introduce you to my bear. If he likes you, maybe I’ll hire you to feed and clean up after him. How’s that sound?”

With the amount of excessive nodding he did, I was astonished his neck didn’t snap. I patted him on the shoulder, telling him I would be in touch, and again, to keep his chin up. We all have a potential to fill.

As he left, I realized I forgot to mention what happened to my last bearkeeper…