If I had two credits to rub together I'd be a richer man then I find myself now. My poor ship is leaning heavily to the left in the Freeport 5 docking bay. Left strut sheared off by a Corsair lazer, engine coolant is leaking a green sludge all over the deck, and my oxygen system smells like week old moldy socks.
For years I've been hauling tequila from Planet Crete into Liberty and giving them Corsairs the kickbacks necessary to look a blind eye. This last trip I stop on the Freeport to refuel and get a cup of spice coffee the Zoners sell here. Next thing I know I'm getting m' brains beat out of me, kicked in the gut, and three OPG goons are blasting my ship to pieces right here on the docking bay. They laughing as they haul away my load of fresh prickly pear tequila.
The space gods must be smiling on me cuz parked next to my ship is the .:j:.Praefectus.
The captain steps off his ship and helps me off the ground. I'm seeing double and feel like a broken sack of potatoes, but he's telling me about the Junker Congress and the way of Power-Profitability-Security-Freedom.
The captain of the Praefectus offered to be my sponsor and may be the kindest man I ever met. I owe him my life and would be honored to serve in the Junker Congress.
Please find this application offered in good faith and a warm heart.
