...incoming transmission.... antennae aligned.
Comm ID: Kerouacs Krate
RE: Application
...message begins...
Howdy Congressmen, my name's Frank Cooper. I fly the tub known as Kerouac's Krate. I...ah hell, why I gotta make out a stinkin' biography? Oh #$^*, this thing's still runnin'.
Ahem, anywho, I was born in Liberty, Colorado to be precise, in 766. Yeah, Im old, get over it. Ive always been a bit...antisocial. Thats what people call it anyway, I prefer to think of it as preferrin' my own company. Now I aint a curmudgeon or nothin', I just take a while to warm to people. Trust is earned, it aint given. I grew up gatherin' Silver in the fields, like most Colorado boys. It aint safe, no matter what people say; if it aint the natural hazards o' the job, its the damned Xeeners. If it aint them, its the Rogues. If it aint them, its the Navy hasslin' ya. You learn to be self-sufficient, to take care of yer own problems. But you also learn to rely on the men out there with ya, and them on you. You pull yer own weight, and if the man next to ya falls ya carry his load as well, cause you know he'd do the same fer you. Still, its a hard life and I wanted ta see more than ore fields. I got a BAD case o' wanderlust and that aint seemin' ta go away. So, I made a deal with one o' the corporate types that haul off the ore ta work on his ship as a crewman. He gets an able spaceman, I get ta see more o' the Black. Well, turns out them corp boys aint much better than truck drivers; they just go back and forth the same route, at the same time, doin' the same thing. Borin' as hell, you ask me. So, one time we put down near a Freeport, I aint rememberin' which, and I signed on with a new ship, the Trash to Treasure. I didnt know what a Junker was at the time, but thats what they were. The Cap'n, Harry Farraday, took jobs as he could get them; seemin' not ta care 'bout the legality o' such endeavours. Sometimes it was on tha up and up, sometimes it wasnt. When work was slow they mined, which is really where my expertise came into play. After a while, I was treated just like any other crewman, and I really liked the lifestyle. Go where ya want, do what ya want. So long as ya got food in yer belly and fuel in tha tanks, you are FREE.
Well, this happy-go-lucky lifestyle went on fer about ten years, but well, luck had to run out someday. We got caught in the California system carryin' munitions to the Rogues by some Navy types. They didnt seem too inclined in parlay and just startin' shootin' the hell out of the ship. By accursed luck, we blew our power grid and couldnt even shoot back. We wanted to surrender but comms had had it too. *Long pause* Anyway, when the ship's hull got holed, I was lucky enough to be in engineerin' and got into a suit in time. The others......most o' the others werent so lucky. Apparently, our atmosphere ventin' into space convinced the Navy that we were done; I watched them fly off. The few of us left alive managed to rig enough power to get to Ontario; Thunder Bay I think it was. We....we couldve recruited some locals and got tha ship goin' again but.....it wouldnt have been the same. We split the ships funds between ourselves and went our seperate ways. I still see them every now and then.
Well, turns out those funds were quite a bit more than we suspected; we made out pretty well, small comfort that it was. So...I had to decide what to do with myself. After spendin' some time drinkin' and thinkin' I came to the conclusion that I HAD found the life for me, it was just poor luck catchin up to us. Happens to us all eventually, but that aint reason to quit. So, I bought me a ship, a CSV, and went on with me life. Eventually though, even I got lonely. I missed the camaraderie of a tight crew, a family if ya will. So I went ta Invergordon and started watchin' people and quietly askin around. Found me a few, not a full crew, but enough to keep a ship in space and bought the Krate secondhand. Bein a Captain is quite different than bein a crewman but I managed. I aint afraid ta ask the crew what they think and they aint afraid to voice their opinions. We survived. Time goes on we find the people to fill in the holes in our crew in various places. Skill aint as important as temperment. Its been a few years now, and were doin okay. But I seen yer ad in Freeport 10's network and it got me thinkin'. I talked it over with tha crew and we want in. We want to be a part o' somethin' bigger. Course its MY ship and MY crew. You keep that in mind and we'll get along fine. I aint doin suicide runs fer nobody. There. Thats GOTTA be enough.
Oh yeah. Sponsor and skills. *Snort* Sponsor; like Im doin a charity run. Anyway, that guy with tha funny accent, Finnegan or some such has been makin' noises about us joinin. Never took it seriously till I saw that ad and got ta thinkin. Skills? Well...hell I dunno. Everybody on the Krate is whaddaya call it...multitasked. Course if ya mean me specifically, I suppose Id have ta admit Im purty good at weaselin' my way outta trouble. Got a silver tongue I been told. Musta been all the minin' in me youth. Hell, thats it, Im bored! Krate out.