To the [LN], [LPI] and all Libertonians

[Altejago]

Gentlemen, including Mr Ortiz,

• There is a common saying in ancient folk lore about freedom is never free. Reference #1 You wish to live in Liberty, where individualism is promoted and endorsed. We let in Rheinland folk, who settled here before the war, work and gain citizenship. We let Kusari folk trade with us despite their embargoes they place upon our borders. We even bring Bretonian refugees into our culture to form their own populace upon a planet in the heart of Liberty. We even let whining folk like you in to cause a stink because our House has laws and policies that make it so our House can survive with the liberties she has, and yet you have the audacity to complain and moan about how and where to park a fleet. Were you born in Liberty, Mr Azzameen and Mr Ortiz? Are you true Sons of Liberty? Are you even permanent citizens? If so then vote at the next elections like the rest of us and quit your whining. If not, deal with our rules and regulations while staying in our House. It is that simple.
  
  The more you whine and complain, the less likely your fleets will be received well by the Big Boys in this House.
  
  And Mr Ortiz, you're a Junker caught on the sharp blade of the law. I wouldn't hold your opinions in high value here after the various scenes of criminal activity you have been caught doing. Run along now.
  

John Doe
President
Deep Space Engineering

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[Commissar]

****INCOMING TRANSMISSION****

[font=agency fb]TARGET ID: [color=#99FFFF]Channel Participants
SUBJECT: RE: -blank-
ENCRYPTION: Public
PRIORITY: Low

Well, if everyone else is throwin' in their opinion...

I flew under the Junker banner for more years then I care to mention, so when I say I'm with the V.A on this, I want ya' to understand my full meaning. Nothing wrong with voicing your opinion. In fact, darn glad to hear you doing it. There's no point in the ma'am being out there fightin' for your right to do so, if no-one actually does, right? And you know what. You're probably not too far off, son. We're all human. We make mistakes. I'd be a liar if I tried to tell you anything different. The fact we're in a military organisation don't change that, there's still morons and genius and everything in-between. You watch for long enough, and you're bound to see some odd stuff. Sounds like you might've just tuned in at the wrong time.

Now, Mrs Grey's already talked about the military side of things, so I'm not going to go repeatin' it. Though I would like to point out a couple of things in your message that, in all honesty, I find downright offensive. You seem to think that our fleets make a habit of sitting on their hands. Well I can't say some Captains don't, but it's a hell of a generalisation to say they all do. I've patrolled through Texas. Chased hostile gunboats out of it, and been chased right on back. I can tell you that I was mighty glad of those 'highly unprofessional' crews manning their stations. You imply they're traitors. As I said, I've got no objection to your opinion. 'least have the backbone to put your own name to it would you?

The Vice Admiral's done a damn fine job in the past, and I trust her to keep doing it in the future. You've got issues with policy? Fine, no problems. When you turn that into a personal issue with a senior Officer, one I happen to hold in the highest regard, that's when I start doubting your argument. You might pay my wage, Mr Azzameen, but I challenge you to find a single darn officer in this service that would leave the cockpit if it stopped. Trust me, no-one here does it for the pay, and there's a lot of folk in uniform prepared to give up a whole lot more then you do. I'd say it's the least you can do to treat the Admiral with some common courtesy.

No hard feelings, Tom. You've given your view, reckon I had to give mine. Ma'am, my apologies for the intrusion.

Talmont Out.

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May you live in interesting times.
| Sarah McFarlen | Jane Hartman |

[Ingenious]

An unidentified contact walked into the private area of the bar at Rochester Base unannounced.

"Where is Ortiz?" he intoned impatiently, in a hoarse whisper.

Carlos Ortiz rose to meet the man and took him to a small table in a secluded area of the bar. Two Outcasts exchanging blends of cardamine nearby quickly vacated the area for unexplained reasons. The stranger, having been offered a seat, declined the offer, only introducing himself as the man known as Azzameen. He began without pause.

"The authorities are after me. I said too much."
"What?" Carlos replied.
"I don't have much time. I wrecked down my ships on the used dealership on Pittsburgh-- they'll be worthless and void tomorrow, anyway. So here is what I received for them. No, I insist: take it."

Azzameen proceeded to remove a substantial amount of credits from a deep, deep pocket within his jacket. He placed them on the table and nudged the stack toward Ortiz.

"Fifty seven million credits. Take them. I quit."

Carlos stared blankly at the dough without saying a word. Azzameen exited the bar and was not seen again thereafter for an unquestionably long period of time.