-|- Herman Hannspree -|- Wolfgang Vulker -|- Anya Rommel -|- Konrad Schlesinger -|- Gunther Hoffmann -|- Felix Wulfmann -|- Markus Schwab -|- Dorris Kebirh
Accessing Vargulf Squad Promotional Letter ... .. .
I'll keep this succinct, as I doubt you'll read it. I have to write it as per contract but I already know that if you've staring down this black corner of the Daumann company profile you're either too bone headed to heed any warnings I might give you or too damned to have another choice. But I wont have your charred corpse dancing in my mind when your family wanders through to pick up your box. Assuming you've anyone to pick it up. I'll smile and wave this bit of letter at them and give your sister the dirty eye.
There are other jobs.
Vargulf squad looks like a bright spot to black listed pilots, people looking for hours, some poor schlub with a day working for ALG in a CSV thinking he'll get a company license to scoop a double handful of diamonds and walk off with his ten percent.
It's not worth it.
Live out of your car, give up the skies. That we're directed to take anyone should set off a warning bell in your head.
Daumann does not support us. We support ourselves. They give us the license to operate within company space and purchase company ships. After that we're on our own and we have to pay them for the pleasure of it. You will be busting black rock in a region where instruments do not work. The sun will break your ship within ten minutes time. You will not reach safe harbor without a fight. Every time you set out you do so knowing that your path home will be sat upon by Corsairs, Hessians and aliens which will tear your mind and send your ship hurtling into the sun just to get them out.
Oh yeh, the Hessians. If my mining group isn't attacked every hour on the hour its because they're going to throw two hours worth of it at us at once. Omega 11 isn't an excavation point, it's a warzone. This system doesn't belong to Daumann, it belongs to the Hessians. Half of the people who sign on with this outfit will be running to them within a week, crying of hard labor and a woe filled life.
I'll enjoy killing you.
If you do work for me I will put you in a junk ship. I can't afford real kit on new joins. If you make it past that you will fight for me. If you do not die fighting for me you will drive my transports. If you do not die driving my transports than you are either living in an over elaborate fantasy world or you will be redeemed in the eyes of Daumann and free to seek employ in a location which doesn't conspire in every possible way to kill you.
But you won't go. Because you'll have gotten to like it.
Then, if you really have an attitude problem and refuse to die, well, you might even get to write a letter like this one day. Wont that be nice.
This isn't the job for you. This job will end you. Live your life.
Burning home to Rheinland in my personal ten percent, my Ragnar. Taking an off the books field trip up to Liberty. Lines were pushed through without much event, seems that there's enough discontent taking place behind their lines to muddle up the pickets. But then I'm the guy who had the better part of a Liberty battle group fly past him in Frankfurt so I suppose our own boys lack a pillar to stand on.
At any rate, there isn't a law in the land that worries about an enterprising fellow wandering into that particular neighbor's house to bump a few crates of this and that into the back of their freighter. So it seemed prudent to see what manner of depots I could crack.
The depots weren't lacking but I don't think that the treasure of this trip came in the form of a ton of hydrocarbons and scrap metal.
For reasons utterly beyond my ken the locals didn't find my freighter to be worth consideration. There was but one gunboat, the LNS-Champion who provided me with some trouble but was extremely easy to shake.
But. No matter. I was provided with plenty of opportunities to run scans, which I'll be forwarding to the Liberty Navy aside my report to the Rheinland Military. Hopefully the latter will give me a high five and the former will gnash their teeth.
Bone dead tired. Damned if I've got the juice to keep going. Killing the feed. Same time later.
My initial foray into Liberty, lured by the promise that the LNS-Maryland was making patrols of the system and the possibility of capturing some recon information on the infamous ship, evolved into a far more interesting scenario.
Following the usual dance with the LSF I picked up a systemwide distress beacon from a disabled LPI drone. Sensing a possibility of, well, possibility I hastened to encounter the ship and see what could be seen.
I found the vessel above West Point station, apparently suffering from some unknown malady which had rendered its systems inoperable. I took a lead from the philosophy of "Look to fitin and the walls will change their color to match you" and cruised past an onlooking BattleCruiser and two Naval officers to park adjacent to the drone, connect a dataline and commence uploading its low priority day to day operations cache.
I was able to secure ten minutes worth of data and had moved on, brazenly, to cracking the restricted information when one, ah, lets see. Vega of the [LN] realized that the Daumann vessel in front of him might -not- actually be a repair truck fit to mess with LPI drones.
He requested that I leave.
With a tip of my hat I did just that and walked away.
I can see now why they add so many explosions to spy movies, the reality of it is roughly as simple as going to the grocery store.
For the record. Once I make it back to Rheinland space I'll have the patrol path data uploaded to the Rheinland Military's files.