NARRATOR: Mercenary Commander Kevyn Andreyasn takes a fateful call from his employer
KEVYN: Hello, Petey. You've interrupted vacation time, just like you said you wouldn't. What broke?
PETEY: Tagon is dead.
KEVYN: *shouting* He's what? He's...
*normal* No, I heard you. I...
Unghhh.
KEVYN: You know, as smart as you claim to be, I'd have expected you to find a better way to break that bad news.
PETEY: I phrased it the way I did to ensure that you'd focus more on the messenger than the message. This accelerated your passage through grief's "denial" phase and concentrated your anger-phase energies in a safe direction, thus minimizing the possibility that your judgment will be impaired in these critical early hours.
KEVYN: *shouting* You arrogant, manipulative, motherless son of a psychotic, virtual hairball!
PETEY: Case in point: direction of anger at messenger. You're going to get through this just fine.
PETEY: Ennesby, Thurl, and Der Trihs can verify Tagon's documented last wishes. Command of the company devolves to you, along with Tagon's majority shares.
Be angry with me all you want. You're in command now, and you need your wits about you in the next few hours as you break this news to the company.
KEVYN: Fine. But I won't be taking further advice from you. Our contract is terminated. Pay everything out, and leave us alone.
PETEY: I expected this. That's why you need to be as smart as possible on your own
SFX: *interrupting* KSSHHT-KLIK
ENNESBY: Orders, sir?
KEVYN: Fire up the fabber. I need some sportswear for schooling the enlisted troops in a game of volleyball.
NARRATOR: There probably is an "AAIIE!" in "Team."