Crack in The Wall

[Culbrelai]

. . . Captain James Marshall , Liberty Insurgency . . .INS-Fretensis, The Bridge - Comms Console / Omega-55 System The red, ominous alert reflects off of the Captain's tired eyes, as he hovers over the shoulder of Comms Officer Shepherd. It has not been an easy road since fleeing the destruction of Veracruz, and everything I and my crew hold dear. The hasty nature of our escape left the Fretensis with a complement well-under our peak fighting strength, with some of my crew that did manage to board left permanently injured in the chaos of the aftermath of the fall. We're orphans, seemingly doomed to drift forever, stateless in our decaying steel tube. We've been scraping by, by the skin of our teeth - scrapping and selling bits and pieces of the vessel for purchase of provisions, and for critical treatments for those injured. Our auxiliary generators have long been sold to the Junkers of Invergordon, as have our stockpile of ground-operations equipment. God knows what the Junkers or their toadies want with armored vehicles, drone attack craft and dozens of other pieces of military hardware. I am somewhat comforted by the realization that our technology may go on to fight Liberty's tyranny in some future conflict, our guns will find their way to the skull of the Libertonian menace, even though it may not be us on the giving end. It feels as though we are defiling the vessel - the only real place we can call home - but needs must. The Captain motions for Shepherd to forward the comm to his private console. An offer . . . \\ "Alright, Barney. You willin' to get your hands dirty? That's fine by us. We need you to help deliver in bulk some cargo from point A to point B. Simple enough, yes? So be our big, mean courier and make sure these containers reach the Invergordon Salvage Yards. Don't fuck this one up, or we'll take your entire home for parts as compensation. Transporting goods of this kind in such large quantities is a dangerous job, but it should be able to cover your expenses for a while. Tell your Captain I said hello, by the way." // . . . This message is not from High Command- Shepherd wrote in his analysis of the message, despite it being sent on the requisite frequency. The message header is garbled, the further fields listing commanding officer, orders and so on are no better - just junk data. It is suspicious, but not out of the ordinary for these ilk. I cannot afford to be foolhardy - my crew and our new home depend upon my good judgement... but even my good judgement can be clouded by the idea of this many credits, credits to repair this deteriorating hulk. Credits to buy food to fill our bellies. Credits to allow us to set our feet on solid ground for the first time in how long. It is not an offer I can refuse in good conscience, despite the risks. The captain orders Lt. Shepherd to respond to the offer in the affirmative, and orders the holds to be readied.

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#NotMySNAC