DSE) Rollcall

[Sprolf]

A man appears on the screen. He is rather nondescript, with brown hair and a round face. He wears a basic business suit. He's sitting at a chair in a generic DSE conference room, the hologram logo visible on the wall behind his head. He is smiling.

"First of all, employees, merry Christmas." He stops smiling. "Second of all, my name is Aliester Brown. I am the vice president of the company you are employed in - Deep Space Engineering. More specifically, I was. I am now the president." He pauses for a moment and looks down at his hands, fingers intertwined. He glances back up after a second, an odd expression on his face. "Our previous president, Lars Johansen, has gone missing since the company crash during the Tremont Operation, phase 4... Investigation is underway."

His eyes glance down at the table again, and he pushes a piece of paper with the side of his hand. "I'm taking charge of Deep Space Engineering now. And..." He glances back up for a second at the camera, and then looks back down at the paper. "... given that the company did crash, I'm not sure how many of you employees have simply left us for dead, or how many of you have retained your employment. Given that, I'm going to be requiring anyone who still considers his or her self a part of this company to sign in on this channel, giving your name, owned ships, and contact details. The latter is simply because we might not have all our old information on file, due to a recent hack that may or may not be involved with the company crash."

He sighs and leans back in the chair, letting his left hand rest on the paper, while the right hand slips to his lap. "I'm hoping that we still have a workforce. I'm positive that we can make a comeback. I hear Ageira's getting on its legs again too - that gives us ample opportunity to recover from the devastation we experienced during the mining operations at Tremont and the subsequent mining out of the Platinum Dust, along with the exhaustion of the Silver Ore in the Wilkes-Baare field - both decades ahead of any predications. I... we, DSE, we have eight-hundred million credits in the bank, two and a half barges - last I checked - and at least a good portion of whatever spacefleet we had."

"In short? It's enough to make a comeback, ladies and gentlemen."



"Enough, that is, if I have your help. You have two weeks until we purge all old files."



"Brown out."