To:TAZ from CW|Encryption:"Buy your CW-grade Decryptor at: www.OHNO0ffHacker$.com."

[Enkidu]

*****Incoming Transmission****
*****Transmission Impending**
**Transmission still Impending*
***Yawn**************************
***Finally....**********************
****Sender ID: "Achille Augustin Nadeau, Commonwealth Science Advisor****
****Sender Local: Taus, Tau-37, Freeport 10, Deck-13----ERROR---Further Intel Classified----***

----Unpacking logs-----

*A suspiciously well-dressed Gaul walks up to the camera and appears lounging in front of it. From the way he self-consciously adjusts every item of his clothing every other instant and the angle of the surrounding screens, it would be safe to assume that the man is actually preening himself. After several lengthy moments he slides a bowl of generic fruit into full-view of the lens, and proceeds to dine from its contents. *


“…Ah, well met my irreverently discordant Baffinites,” *chews* “ …It’s a pleasure to be acquainted once again with your admirable kind. So do inform an ignorant Gallic, how fairs the alignment of Hodge? Or Podge? Or that remarkably Grecian Eris woman, sweet Discordia, great picker of the Apple of Contention; who somehow mysteriously manifests herself as an abnormally massive gas giant, apparently. Indeed, your venerable Goddess (for indeed, she is rather old by now), has a certain… history for being tacked on to varying stellar bodies; one of ancient Sol’s dwarf planets, for instance. Quite an ascension, that; from an Olympian figment to a world of snow, then to greater heights as a Sirian, I mean…” *chomp* “…Brava. She’s certainly worthy of the accolade you dispense upon her.”

*Chomps, then picks up a large, green terrestrial windfall fruit of common identification, examining it with a lengthy stare.*

“…One of the many aspects I admire about your myt… deity, is that she’s ethically contentious. She won’t be trod upon, oh no. I’m sure you’re all familiar with the events which led to the judgement of Paris, oui, In sweet Earth’s mythos? Intriguingly the marriage the Olympians were celebrating in that instance was the marriage of Whoever and Don’t Care, parents of the greatest warrior in the Illiad; (and my personal favourite none-existential figure), a certain Achillies, but that’s not really relevant to anything now, is it? When Discordia was barred from attending the festivities by her extended family (on the grounds she would have made the show considerably more amusing, no doubt, but the archaics were such spoil-spartans), she… to use a Libertonian phrase that appears to have survived centuries… kicked arse. And that, my dear pineal adorning compadres, is what I admire about your kind… You (if infrequently), kick arse, and with a sufficient delta-V in your step to really set off the fireworks…”

*Crunches into the apple*

“…Anyway, since the majority of the Zoner community’s time appears to be *sighs* permanently policing the Edge Worlds like some form of universal, all-seeing, all-dancing United Nations parody, just very occasionally a small degree of… *sighs louder* “Aid work” runs across my desk from time to time, as though I bear some form of passing similarity to Mother frea<expletive>kin’ Theresa. To be honest, I don’t care if there are starving Corsair families who are eating their own offspring to survive. Life is tough, deal with it or talk to Mr Darwin. The strong (read rich), survive, the poor don’t. Such an eventuality is unfortunate of course, but hell, you can’t have winners without the odd socio-economical dropout…”

*Consumes a grape*.

“Anyway, I’m rabbiting. Shall we cut to the actual point in this transmission, oui? I do so… want to. So, my dear disordered compatriots, I’ve heard you happen to have a minor issue with this…”

*Switches on viewscreen*




“Nukes man! Veritable megatons of them in fact; pooring down on that dear, darling local of a holiday resort that we all know and moniker as Gran Canaria. Is the bombardment still going? Hell, I have no idea. News is slow to filter all the way up in ’37, especially when it doesn’t have any relevant effect on any of the people you know, love, pay the insurance for, or particularly care about. But after watching hour after hour of funny people screaming over the Neuralnet, the Commonwealth’s collective consciousness has finally been appealed to. Yes, that’s right, we’re offering you aid. Take it or leave it, but take it, preferably, if you wish to save lives.” *Shrugs* “It’s all the same to me mon ami”.

“What we do know of the on-the-ground situation is that a vast concentration of planetary infrastructure has been vaporised, and that a considerable number of people still need to be safely rehoused, preferably off-world whilst the planet convalesces. That’s where we come it. We’ve got ZXBT’s, tonnes of ‘em, and a load of bored captains ready to risk their lives (and quite possibly their reproductive organs), fishin’ ‘em off the irradiated surface and peaceably relocating them in a neutral location within the upper Taus, far away from the influence of either of the renegade combatants who have reduced the world to such a state. Put simply; we’re going to help you out; take the burden out of your logistical core. It’s a good offer, friends.”


“All you need to do is give the word. Now, friends, I realise you may not fully trust us; this is… somewhat understandable. Considering the eminent dogs-dinner existing as of present in Omicron ’74, the old illusion of Zoner comradeship is now what it once was. So take this offer… (this entirely free offer, I might add), for face-value and accept, so we may begin collaborating together… on mutually agreeable terms.”

“This is an offer friends. Accept with the generosity you’re famed for.”

----Close transmission----
******Tranout****
******Trangone**

---

THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
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