To Fight for a Country that Hates You... (Tigre-Family Stories: First Generation)

[Mr.Fabulous]

***FWWWWAAAA---BOO[color=#CC0000]OOOOOOOOOOOM***

The Hull Integrity was compromised, the reactor had been exposed, and one last shot from the Salamanca finally sealed the fate of the Corsair Titan when it made its mark on the frame of the ship, detonating it by way of signalling an implosion sequence within the reactor, and the pressure finally bursting outwards in a flaming brilliance of yellow and white debris...

... it was beautiful...

"Lo siento, Señors..." The voice of a Corsair woman is heard within the lifepod's communicators, "... But you left me little choice." The Centurion that had the words The Relicanth embezzled on the side soon turned around and zoomed off in Cruise Speed, leaving behind a trail of scrap and drifting lifepods to the mercilessness of space...







<div align="right]Omicron Delta; Kiribati Asteroid Field



A lowly night it was... passing through the large ice asteroid field, The Relicanth's cruise engines roaring behind. The ship wasn't badly worn, but it did show evidence of numerous accounts of near-death-escapes in its lifetime, parts of its hull patched-up well, but others were permanently beyond repair, the latter group at the very least not too serious. Much of the original components of the ship are still there, but it's evident some scrap had been salvaged to get down on the more serious repairs.

Within the Centurion's cockpit was, strangely, two seats: the back was empty, and it seemed to serve as the sensors-helm for the ship what with the numerous scanner-interfaces around; the front was, however, inhabited by a Corsair woman, who was known as Casini Chrisostomo.

She was about 175 cm (5'7") in height, sported black, shoulder-length hair, green eyes, pinkish-white skin and a very chiseled, yet still womanly body; her flight-suit was somewhat scarred, scorched and tattered, evidences of numerous fights, blaster-fire and fires marked the entire thing; her face, though beautiful in its own right, had a very frank, serious and professional look in their eyes, scanning the horizon for any potential threats.

Suddenly, her side gets some bleeping, but the back-seat gets a more-detailed identification: Casini unstraps herself and crawls over to the seat behind, muttering to herself as she went, "... I so should get a reliable co-pilot for this thing... SIGH..."

The interface says that it managed to pick up the weak distress beacon of a lifepod, 30-kilometers to the North 42º 32' 12" West direction, "Hmmm... This should be interesting..." She then goes back to the front seat and plots a course for the picked-up signal.

---

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[Mr.Fabulous]

"MILAAAA!!!"





Leonardo Tigre, the brown-copper-haired, green-eyed Zoner suddenly opens his eyes and tries to get up, but he finds himself restrained to an operating bed in cuffs, with various tubes and medical instruments surrounding him. And as suddenly as he woke up, a great deal of sharp pain surged through his abdomen, left shoulder and right leg. He also noticed he was wearing a breather mask on his face.

"Oh... You're awake now, Senor..." The voice of a Corsair woman was heard to his left side.

"You shouldn't speak, Sir." Leonardo looked to the voices and saw the Corsair woman, and a Zoner doctor just beside, "You've been through a lot, I can assure you. You currently suffer from multiple microfractures on your shoulder, ribs and left leg. Frankly, I should consider you lucky that's all you've got."

"D... Doctor..." He whispered as he tries to lift his hand in an attempt to reach out to them, but couldn't get it off from the cuffs on it, "... Is... Is Mila---"

"Shhh... Don't speak now... Rest..." The doctor placed a hand on his, and on his forehead, "We'll answer all of your needed questions when you recover... for now, just take it easy..."

Leonardo slowly starts to painfully close his eyes and tries to doze in the midst of his pain...





... M... Mila... I... I'm...

---

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[Mr.Fabulous]

... 1 month later...

<div align="right]2nd of November, 818 A.S.
Infirmary, Module 1; Freeport 11; Omicron Delta





"Can I finally get up now?"

The Zoner doctor laughs humorously at the inquiry, "Yes, Mr. Tigre. You may stretch your legs out."

Leonardo looks up to the metallic ceiling for a moment, and gives off a relieved sigh as he elbowed his way up from the bed. Though a bit stiff from prolonged neglect, his joints only popped slightly as he began sitting on the rim of the bed. Slowly, he lowers his feet to the ground, and, after pausing to feel if his recovery was sufficient and satisfied that his bones had finally healed, he tries to do some light, static stretching on the spot for the better part of a minute.

"Thankfully, your admittance hasn't come upon any complications whatsoever. And with your cooperation, the recovery actually proceeded a bit faster than expected. But I suggest you don't apply too much stress on your body just yet, since it's still recovering from the lack of activity. Just keep yourself at some light calisthenics for the succeeding days until your body has adjusted, and you should be fine in a few weeks."

"Alright. Thank you, Dr. Garrus." Leonardo shakes the good doctor's hand firmly and politely.

"Oh, no! There's no need to thank me, Mr. Tigre...

"... In fact, you should be pointing your gratitude towards the Corsair who found and rescued your escape pod. Ms. Chrisostimo's waiting at Room 7, Module 2. She seems to be the patient kind... fairly rare amongst the Corsairs, as far as I know, so you might not want to stretch her thread too far."

"Did she dictate any form of compensation to you for my recovery, Mr. Garrus?"

"Apart from wanting to have a word with you, no. From the look on her face, I'd say she was quite eager to have brought you here... Or maybe she was just eager to get rid of you, I don't know.

"The medical bill of 400K Credits will be taken from your account, Mr. Tigre."

"Right then. Where are my things?"

"They're at the footlocker over there." He points at the silverish-grey, rectangular chest on the opposite side of the room, just beside the door, "Your things seemed to have faired off better than you did, Mr. Tigre: your clothes are still intact, and your pistol's still in working condition, according to the reports from the Security.

"... Though, I have to ask: are you really a Zoner, and not actually a Junker? All of your instruments and tools seem to have been made from derelict parts and scrap, yet still in quality condition; even your pistol was made from parts that weren't designed for being weapons in the first place!"

Leonardo gives a cool smile at the doctor, "Eh, I get that all the time. I'm just someone who's been given lots of time to fiddle with machines and spare parts lying in his home."

"I guess...

"Now then. I better be off, Mr. Tigre. If you have any more questions, or if your joints are starting to act up, come back and don't hesitate to tell me. I'll be in my quarters here in Module 1, unless my other patients start acting up as well. I'll send you my NNP (Neural Net Profile) to your PDA shortly."

"Well... I do have one question I'd like to ask." Leonardo sits back on the bed, a fist covering his worried face, "... it's about... was there... any mention from Ms. Chrisostomo of another escape pod, by any chance? You see, I was with a friend a while back... Milarosa Tigre, my, uh... adopted sister. I just hope---"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Tigre." Dr. Garrus shortly interrupts him politely, "The Corsair brought only you, and there was not even a mention of anyone else alongside you where you were found. If you really want to know, I'm not the one whom you should ask."

"A... alright... thanks anyway..." Leonardo began, and continued to stare at blank space.

Dr. Garrus frowns at how he was unable to help his worry. All he could do for the time being was simply nod, then turn around and walked out the room, leaving the Zoner to himself.

---

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... M... Mila...

A small teardrop ran down the side of the Zoner's face... He had survived the jaws of a Nomad ambush, and escaped with only numerous microfractures. He suffers not from any permanent physical wounds like a broken leg or arm, nor any mental crippling from the trauma like short-term memory loss...

... Yet the person who had the most unusual, childish and naive attitude that would make any sensible man think twice whether or not she was actually mentally fit, yet which always kept his life full of unexpected turns of mood-swings and surprises of strange and laughable behavior at every corner...

... the girl who's mere presence in a room would be an omen of unluckiness, such that would signal untold misfortune and embarrassment to those around her (a sort of jinx in the basic sense), yet in which those same embarrassing fiascoes, hijinks and shenanigans would inject an existence that never grew old, never grew tedious, never grew dull, never grew boring, and always seemed to make him feel alive with the fact that the day could always grow worse, which gave him a sense of appreciation for his life;

... the woman who stood firm in her somewhat unrealistic outlook of life, in which that instead of a universe filled with nothing more than greedy politicians that ran ruthless and green-collar corporations that sought to exploit the common man's hard-earned labor, bloodthirsty-pirates, killers and terrorists whose only wishes were to see Humanity burn with a black and evil flame of hatred and disgust, and deceitful, conniving scapegoats which sought only their self-righteous hedonistic attitudes of selfish pleasures and meaningless power struggles... but on a universe where the common man DOES get to reap what he sows, where he DOES keep what he reaps, and where he DOES spread what he keeps, where the killers, pirates and criminals are simply desperate individuals who harbor shattered dreams and broken promises, and that they actually DO have a chance at justice instead of taking the law onto their own hands, where many who seem selfish and cold are only those that have lost hope in life, in themselves, in those around them, and that she would be the one to give them their hopes, dreams and goals back... an attitude which gave him a sense of humbleness and honor at her unyielding integrity and spirit...










... the person whom he cherished the most, second only to his loving parents... who had been with the Zoner through thick and thin, through up and down, through darkness and in light... who had given him a new meaning, a new energy towards life...


... the person who was no longer there...










No amount of physical handicap could ever compare to the sheer guilt of knowing that it was his fault he had lost her from his arms... It was his fault for not checking the Solardancer's cargo bay if whether or not she would decide to stow herself for the trip... It was his fault for not turning back to the Estate when he finally realized she was along for the suicidal expedition into the depths of hell... He could've prevented all of this... he could've avoided this... he thought he could've... he knew he could've...

... but no... he just HAD to be full of himself... he just HAD to think more of his revenge than her... he just HAD to put himself first than her... he just HAD to push through, he thought that the chance of trying to do a 'crippling' blow towards the Nomads would be far more important than her...

And now... what has that yielded? She's gone... like a part of him now suddenly silent... now suddenly empty...

Leonardo tries to look to his side, wishing that this nightmare would end, and that Mila would be right beside... only to be met with the quietness of loneliness... It seemed that gone now are the days of constant laughable bickerings, humerous adventures, and the spirit of hope in the positiveness in the galaxy...





... Was this... the end...?





No, as so he thought... He also realized that Mila was actually tougher than she looked: how else would she have been able to pull through a major disaster as the one where the estate had been invaded two years ago? Or what about the time where a Lane Hacker tried to pirate them, but she still kept her giddy self and managed to persuade the criminal to lower his price? Add in the many things that he had taught her to survive, they gave him some confidence that she'd be able to pull through by herself...

... but... what if she did perish along with the explosion...? The mere suggestion of it was dark and hopeless in itself... No...

... I have to believe... I have to believe she survived... it's the only thing I can cling on to for hope... I'll never rest until I do have solid evidence of her true fate... whatever it may be... I must know... I must...

He wiped the tears off his face, trying to get a hold of himself as best as he could, ... Maybe the Corsair has the answers that I seek... She's the one that retrieved my pod, so she ought to have some leads as to where Mila's pod might've drifted off...

... I've also got to find that Freelancer, David... He was with me on the expedition, and he should know what exactly happened...

Leonardo heaves a heavy sigh to himself as he walked towards the footlocker. Taking out his things, he slowly changes to his usual clothes: a brown trench-coat lined with many pockets, dark-brown cargo pants and black boots; he took out the various tools and instruments he normally carries around with him for rainy days, and lastly places his improvised pistol in its holster.

He then takes out his PDA and tries to find the fastest route towards the Corsair's room. After a few seconds, he punches in the route, and heads off through the door...

---

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The door to an adequately-lit room slides open, and Leonardo promptly steps through. The first thing he notices is the Corsair woman in a bored, half-dozed state, sitting on a chair and leaning on the table in front of her, with a beer to the side and a spilled shotglass on the other.

As soon as the door behind the Zoner shuts with a bang, for a moment the Corsair quickly flinches up in surprise, waking up from her stupor. He only raises an eyebrow at her reaction, before clearing his throat as he began, "Greetings... I guess the first thing I should do is thank you for saving me, Ms... Casini Chrisostomo."

Casini recovers herself, and goes back into a formal look, "Right... I suppose you've come here to ask your questions as to what happened?

"Sad to say, I wasn't there when you lost your ship, if that's one of your questions... I only found you in your escape pod, unconscious and in need of some medical attention as I was passing through the Kiribati Asteroid Field, deep withing the Omicron Delta System. Other than you, nada... No other escape pods, no ship scrap, and if there were engine-exhaust signatures they must've been weeks old if my scanners hadn't picked them up."

"But..." Leonardo paces around thoughtfully, "... I was in Omicron Iota prior to my destruction... surely it would've been impossible for my single escape pod to have traversed the Jump Hole back to Delta...

... unless... unless I---"

"Are you implying that when your ship perished, and you rendered unconscious, your escape pod was somehow retrieved by a nearby third-party, and then jettisoned somewhere in the Kiribati, is that what you're saying?" She pointed out.

"Exactly..." He pauses when the idea hit him, "... The Freelancer, David, and I were on an expedition to Omicron Iota to hunt Nomads, and we saw no other contacts other than our intended game within that system.

"I suppose he managed to tractor me in before managing to flee, and when he got through the Jump Hole he jettisoned my pod into space."

"Do you also suspect foul play at work here?"

"No... not that I know of, at least..." He further contemplates to himself, "... Oh wait... mmhmm... yeah, I suppose that could be one. Maybe he wanted to get back at me for having been responsible for destroying one of his ships a while back.

"But... I wonder if..." Leonardo turns back to Casini and said in a slightly-worried tone, "Are you truly certain you only found my pod? Was there no other pod, by any chance?"

"Affirmative. Yours' was the only one I found that day. Why? Was there someone else who came along?"

The Zoner bit his lip painfully, and nodded his head sadly, "Y... yes... I was with... my adopted sister, Milarosa. She and I were on a Moldy Crow called the Solardancer in the expedition. She was my co-pilot at the time... and..."

He puts a palm on his face as he continued, "... She... she was... special to me..." He angrily goes on half to himself, "Why... why didn't I turn back when I had the chance? Why did I have to bring her along, instead of bringing her back to the Estate...?"

Casini solemnly watches as tears start running down the side of his cheek; then she slowly stands up and replies, "... I'm sorry for your loss, Señor... Will you be alright?"

Leonardo's reply was immediate and sharp, "No... I need to find her... I need to find Mila, whatever her fate. I can't go on with the thought of not knowing what exactly happened to her. I don't think you'd understand, but she's been everything to me: she was the one who saved me from losing myself."

"I don't think that's a very logical solution, Señor. The chances of finding her, or her pod are quite slim: if she hadn't been retrieved from Iota, probably the Nomads would've gotten her; if she was jettisoned in another part of Omicron Delta, let along anywhere else, she'd probably be of some significant distance to be---"

"I DON'T CARE!!!" He furiously lashes out at the Corsair, "I've put her through too much... It's my fault I lost her now, and... and... I need to find her, no matter what the cost! We MUST go to Omicron Iota and see if she's been captured by the Nomads! We MUST go find that Freelancer and---"

"SEÑOR!!!" Casini slaps his face without warning, "LISTEN to yourself! You've just been outside the infirmary, and just like that you're willing to go to death's door without a second thought? Do you think that's what your sister would've wanted for you, HUH?! Don't be such a stupido! The last thing you'd want now is to shame her further because you had lost your life again for nothing but recklessness!"

"... I..." Leonardo felt the area affected, and quickly he breaks down in tears, "... You're right, Ms. Chrisostomo... My recklessness has caused me to lose Mila, and... I do not wish for my survival to be in vain..." He walks over to the chair and slumps down on it, "... But what am I to do now?" He places both his hands on his face, "All I have left for leads to Mila now is that Freelancer, and I don't exactly know where he's currently residing."

The Corsair leans on the table with a hand, "The Neural Net should make your search easier. If he's a lawful Freelancer, then he shouldn't be too hard to find, unless he's chosen to make his residence a secret.

"But don't you have your other relatives to go back to your... Estate?"

"That's the thing, really... Ever since the death of my parents, other than my Maid, Milarosa's been my only closest relative... and the irony's that we're not even blood-related. Basically, I'm the only remaining blood-member of the Tigre Family that I know of.

"And so... I can't go back to the Estate... not until I find her... alive, or dead. She's the only one I've got left, and to have lost her... I had lost a part of myself."

A momentary pause descends upon the room. Eventually, Casini breaks the silence with a cough and continues, "So what now? What do you intend to do, Mr. Tigre?"

"... I suppose I should go look for Mila... I'll start with a search for the Freelancer, and try to seek him out.

"But first, I don't suppose there's anything I can do to repay you for saving my life?"

"Well..." The Corsair beams a slight grin, "... I sure could use a co-pilot on my Centurion, but I don't think---"

"No... it's nothing." He quickly remarks, "I can be your co-pilot for a time, sure... but all that I ask from you is that you aid me in my search for my sister. Since I can't go back to the Estate without her anyway, I might as well come along with you. And besides, you look as if you do a lot of traveling, so all the better for me. Do we have an agreement?"

"Alright then. Your choice." Casini walks to the door and opens it, "The room has two beds, so you can pick which one you wish to use for the night.

"We'll be heading off to Trafalgar, a Junker base in New London tomorrow. Surely, if the Neural Net fails you, the Junkers ought to have the information as to where this Freelancer you are looking for lives, at least for a price. I'll be heading to my ship for now to ready it for the trip. Take the time to recuperate your thoughts and plans... please." And with that, the Corsair finally leaves the Zoner to himself.

Leonardo gives a large sigh to himself, and looks out on a window that lead to outer space, the outside showing a slightly-violent ion storm brewing...










----------FLASHBACK

Leonardo Tigre was leaning on the platform's palisades, staring out deeply to himself as the starry-night skies above the Estate's golden fields, which were now brilliant-dark-copper from the darkness, were clapping violently with spectacular bolts of light from the ion storms raging all throughout Sirius. He stood there, undisturbed as the thunderbooms rocked on.

Eventually he felt a shy tug on his trench-coat sleeve; he turned his head around to find his sister Mila with a long, thick bedsheet wrapped around her, parts of it being dragged across the floor, "... Meep... uhm..."

"Hmmm? What is it, Mila? Can't you sleep?" He monotonously asked as he moved his head back to view the horizon.

A quick thunderclap makes her reply almost immediately, "MEEP! H-h-how could anyone?!" She quickly walks to his side before continuing, "Meep... You've also been standing here the whole time ever since after dinner. Normally, you don't stand that long unless there's something REALLY bothering you, and that's... uhm... not very common. What-cha thinkin about, Leonardo?"

Without turning his head he said, "... Marriage... I'm sure you're excited about the... hopefully-still-happening event we're going to attend, aren't you?"

She remarks with a gleeful tone, "Yup! That's righty! But what has that got to do with your thoughts?"

"Well..." He gives a slight, but evidently-embarrassed smile to himself, "... Honestly, I've been thinking about this feeling people call... love... I'm guessing the reason for this event is because they love each other very much, but... you could say that what I'm afraid of the most is I won't be able to understand the couple's feelings should I get the chance to meet them personally."

"... Why not? Everybody knows how to love! Don't you know how to love, brother? You've shown lots of concern for me! Isn't that what everyone calls love too?"

"About that, Mila..." Another thunderclap rings in the air, "That's not the kind of love I meant. The love you're referring to is more like the type parents have with their children... You're more like a daughter to me, what with your childishness and all.

"No... The love I meant is the type that sweeps people off their feet, the one that... I don't know... completes them perhaps? That's the reason why people marry: to become one, and spend their lives together, and eventually have families... Of course, what with this marriage between two females I don't think that's going to be likely anytime soon."

Mila raises an eyebrow at him before she understood, "... Aaaaaahhhh... Meep! Neither do I, heheheh! I've always wondered what it was like to have feelings for someone to really, REALLY love them, meep!"

FLASHBACK----------










... a small teardrop shines from Leonardo's eye, which quickly falls down to the floor of the room.

"... It's only when I've lost what's most important... when I realize just how much I loved you..."

---

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Link to the exact post: http://discoverygc.com/forums/index.php?sh...p;#entry1227396





The wooden door to the Nelson's bar slowly slid open, and two figures walked into the room:

one was evidently a Corsair woman in her mid-20's, who was wearing a scorched, black flight suit, her black, shoulder-length hair, green eyes and pinkish-white skin seemed to contrast her chiseled build, yet the latter wasn't that great, and her figure still looked graceful enough to be called a woman's;

the next person was a bit younger and somewhat harder to read of his origins, what with his short, dark, copper-red hair, green eyes, light tan, his clothes being a brown trench-coat lined with various tools and instruments that looked like they were made from scrap and spare parts, a dark-brown cargo pants equally-lined, and black boots.

The latter featured a still face and an ice-cool stare in his eyes, while the former sported a wry grin to herself.





As the two entered the bar, the man began with a heavy sigh, and says with some disappointment in the tone of his monotonous voice, "... You just had to open your big mouth..."

The Corsair woman turned her head to him and said with upset, "Oh, shut up, Leonardo. I'm not in the mood for this."

"In the mood for what? Realizing that if you hadn't called that Molly in the Ahoudori 'scum' we would've continued on with the mission instead of getting The.Relicanth blown up? I thought you were more of the realist of us both, Casini." The man called Leonardo pointed out.

"Ugh... just forget about it...

"Right now... I need a drink." The two finally sit down on one of the tables, and the Corsair called Casini calls for Nelson with a snap on her fingers, "Bartender... Give me a whisky," She then turns to Leonardo and continues, "What'll you have?"

"Ugh... I don't drink. Just water for me."

Casini rolls her eyes in disgust, "Suit yourself..."

She lets out a slow sigh for herself, "... Ugh... I hate to admit it, but The.Relicanth was nothing but trouble: attracted too much attention, wasn't the most noteworth of ships, and it was already starting to fall apart."

She waves her hand around the air in a relaxed gesture, "Though I feel kinda relieved I don't have to pilot that thing again...

"... I'm broke. I don't have enough cash to buy a decent enough ship for myself."

"Well... I could pay for the ship. It's not like I'm going anywhere else, am I?" Leonardo remarked.

"Really...? That's mighty-generous of you, Señor, I'll appreciate your offer."

"You don't have to thank me... but the bigger question is, 'what ship are we going to purchase?'"

Casini delves in thought for a moment before replying, "... There is one ship that I have in mind. When I was still part of the Empire, I came upon this Freelancer who piloted a Raven's Talon. It looked beautiful, and the pilot managed to down many Outcast Sabres with it."

"The IR-7? That should be adequate enough, yeah. It's a two-seater at the very least, and it's got above-average specs...

"... Problem is, the only shipdealer I know of that sells the IR-7 is at Java... and with your rep being a Corsair, well... that'll present much of a problem, wouldn't it?" He cracks a faint, wry smile.

"There is one other place they sell the ship... Porto Nova, over at Omega-50. It's a bit somewhere in the southern edge of the galaxy, and is a bit treacherous to cross, but it shouldn't present much of a problem."

"Hmmm... Porto Nova, you say...? Is that another Corsair base?"

"No... It's a Freeport, so we should be fine when we get there."

"Alright. Sounds like a simple plan: get a temporary ship around here, ferry ourselves over to Porto Nova, then get the IR-7.

"... But why that ship? Surely the Eagle would be more suitable, and I think those things are also two-seaters. Besides... It's actually IMG-make, and I thought you Corsairs 'pride yourselves in your own weapons'"

"Yes, well... I'm not a Corsair..." She looks away hurtfully, "... not anymore, at least. It's complicated, and it's personal.

"Anyway... Having those tech is just asking for a large target to be painted on your head, so yeah. I have no qualms getting equipment from other sources if it'll mean I won't have to salvage scrap metal from debris fields just to patch up permanent repairs for my ship.

"I'll talk with the local shipdealer if we could rent over a CSV for the trip after we get our drinks. You go and reserve us some rooms, okay?"

"Fine." All that's left was for the two to get their drinks.

---

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"Dauntful, this is Porto Novo Traffic Control, you are clear to proceed, over."

"Roger that, Porto Novo Traffic Control. Casini out."

The CSV, Dauntful, enters docking bay 2, the red docking lights strobing the dimly-lit hangar room of Porto Novo. As soon as the ship lands, the engines powered down, the cockpit pops open, and Casini Chrisostomo quickly descends down the ladder to the bay floor, with Leonardo Tigre following behind. She pats out the dirt sticking to her black flight suit as if covered with ants, and heaves a very relieved sigh to herself, "Ay, carumba! I so hate this Junker-ship: it's practically falling apart at the seams! I'm just glad I got to land before it started to malfunction."

He takes off his trench-coat and flaps it against the air, creating a small dust cloud around him, and after putting it back on he remarks cooly, "That small flash-fire as we headed through that Jump Hole to Omega-50 was merely the cherry on top of the cake. That dealer sure knew how to patch up this hulk to make it appear it was still intact. I'll have to commend him for that someday, heh."

"Right after I catch him by the balls, that is." The Corsair looks around the hangar and made a large frown, "... This place is just sad... The lights are only bright enough for me to discern the difference between a robot and a man, and there's not even a welcoming engineer to talk to around here!"

"Guess again." The Zoner points towards the robot that was slowly approaching them.

"Welcome to Porto Novo, travelers. Forgive us for the inadequate service provided for the time being, due to the station currently experiencing a temporary blackout due to a malfunction in the Power Grid." The robot says monotonously.

"So the station is running on emergency power, I take it?" Leonardo nods at the robot, "Fine then. What we are interested in is this installation's local Ship-dealer, robot. Can you direct us to him immediately?"

"That is within this unit's parameters, traveler. This unit has been programmed to give any prospective tourists a quick review of the installation.

"The Ship-dealer, callsign 'Scott Peterson', has his office situated in Module-4, 1st-Floor, Bay 1. This unit may input the directions on any software-media of your choosing, if you desire."

"I desire your input, robot. Here..." he takes out his PDA from underneath his trench-coat, "Is the Ship-dealer open on this occasion?"

"'Scott Peterson' is available for the time being. His visiting hours are from 0900-1800-hours. Current time is 1435-hours, so it is very likely his office is still open."

"Acknowledged, robot. Are there any other news that have recently happened within this installation within the week apart from this blackout, robot?"

"Negative. Apart from electrical shortages that initiated within the 30'th of November, situation is neutral."

"Well that's a start." Casini walks over to the two, "At least this visit shouldn't be much of a hassle.

"... But we still have to stay alert. This is a Zoner installation, señor, so there are bound to be numerous muchachos that like to create a lot of noise behind the backs of local enforcers."

"Roger." Leonardo takes back his PDA from the engineering robot after the directions were inputed into memory, "We do not require your services any longer, robot, apart from any emergency repairs to be done on the Dauntful in the case the Ship-dealer doesn't have any in stock."

"Acknowledged, traveler. This unit will now commence general maintenance routines." and the robot proceeds to inspect the Dauntful.

"Let's get this over with, si?" and the two head off without another moment's notice...

... 20 minutes later...

... After a few elevator rides and some trekking through various hallways and corridors the two arrive in front of Bay 1, which had the label 'SHIP-DEALER' etched just above the blast-door. Leonardo politely knocked on the doors, which made the doors slowly slide open to the sides.

Both Casini and Leonardo look around as they cautiously walk in: the first thing they saw was a long, narrow, metallic, rectangular table that was backed up by several chairs in the very center of a medium-sized room; to the Northern wall was a very large viewscreen, and on both the East and West walls were wide elevators.

Situated right in front of the viewscreen was this Zoner in a plain-white business suit, who seems to be contemplating to himself, until his deep-thought is interrupted when he notices the two walk in, "Ah! Customers!" He gestured to them both to take a seat as he sat down on the northern face of the table, of which the two choose to sit on the opposite side, "Good afternoon, travelers! My name is Scott Peterson, at your service. Welcome to the Porto Novo Dealership. We---"

"Right then," Casini abruptly interrupts the man, "Let's cut to the chase, Si?" Casini formally places both her elbows on the tabletop, clasping her hands together softly, "My name is Casini Chrisostomo, and my compadre over here is Leonardo Tigre, former-Corsair and Zoner, respectively." She reaches one of her flight suit's pockets, and fashions out her PDA; She slides it towards Mr. Peterson, with Leonardo following suite, also sliding his own PDA towards the dealer's side, "In there you should find everything you need to know."

"... Al... right..." He takes both netbooks and begins browsing over them.

As he goes over the background checks, Casini continues, "Basically, we wish to purchase an IR-7 'Raven's Talon' Very Heavy Fighter, for the simple purpose of having a... better ship than the pathetic excuse of a ship we've currently rented ov--"

"Sorry to tell you this, Ms. Chrisostomo, but we're officially out of stock for the IR-7's." He puts down the PDA's and hands them back to their owners, "The good news is your reps check out... The bad news is, with the power outages going on due to some complications we've been having with the Main Reactor, automated ship production on the Porto Novo has virtually stopped.

"Though yes, I have other ships still awaiting to be sold, all of them are poor, second-hand ships that have started to show their age..."

"Great..." Leonardo leans on the table with a disappointed look on his face.

"... However..." He stands up from his chair and takes out a lighter and cigar from underneath his suit, "... You both don't look like you're after crap... You're after quality... and I think I have just the ship for you." As he walks towards the West elevator he places the cigar on his mouth and lights it. He grins as he inhales the tobacco deeply.

"And what would this 'special' ship be, Mr. Peterson?" Leonardo asks suspiciously.

"Well... I did say that the dealership's 'officially' out of IR-7's... but I've been having trouble selling one ship in particular..." He taps a single button on the elevator pad, and the doors swivel open, "If you would just follow me... I'll show you..."

Casini and Leonardo look at each other for a moment, wondering what this man was intending for them. Soon, they nod to each other in agreement, and decide to go follow the dealer into the elevator.





Upon entering the lift, the door closes behind them, and Mr. Peterson goes towards the panel that showed the many buttons that led to the various ship hangars; but he doesn't chose any of them. Instead, he takes out some keys in his pocket, inserts a particular one into a special slot, and opens up a small compartment that contained a button; he presses it, and soon enough, the elevator starts to move.

"I don't like this..." Casini whispers a remark to Leonardo.

"He seems to have some mysterious intentions at hand, so your suspicions are well-placed, Casini. Let's just hope we don't land ourselves into a trap." Leonardo replies.

"Do not worry, Mr. Tigre..." Mr. Peterson replies with a devilish grin without turning to look at the two as he hefts another puff of smoke, "I'm sure you both will appreciate what I'll have to offer."

"And if we don't..." Casini activates her pistol, which starts to squeal excitedly, "... You'll be the first to die by anyone's hand, muchacho."

The dealer only huffs a short laugh.





After a few minutes pass, the elevator room clicks as it reaches the designated floor. The doors swivel open to a pitch-black room. Mr. Peterson walks out first, and with a quick clap of his hands the lights flash on, revealing a large bay that harbored this single Raven's Talon placed at the very center: it was a beautiful ship that glistened in the flood lights, its loadout being a couple of Mk-I Improved Debilitators, 4 'MEDUSA'-codenames, a Debilitator turret on the back, a single Mini Razor mounted to the side, one Nuclear Mine Dropper, and finally an Enhanced Countermeasure Dropper; the ship looks as if it was well-maintained and well-kept, its paint job still new and comparatively-shiny...

... But something didn't seem to feel right with this particular ship: the black paint appeared to be blacker, the red paint even more blood-red, and as Casini stared at the cockpit it was as black as everlasting abyss. The ship sent shivers down her spine, "Señor... Do you---"

"Yeah... I feel it too..." Leonardo whispered cautiously, "... Though this ship does appear to be just like any other IR-7 I've ever seen... this one... seems to have some form of 'aura' about it... some form of dark history that not even I could ever fathom."

"This... my prospective purchasers..." Mr. Peterson walks over to the side of the Raven's Talon, patting it with pride, "... is the Netherwalker... A mighty-fine ship for mighty-fine people such as yourselves, am I right?"

"And it mighty-fine stinks of pure evil as well..." Casini narrows her eyes at the black-etched nameplate on the side of the hull, "There's more to this ship than meets the eye, isn't there?"

"So what if I told you the devil himself made passionate love with this fighter? Would that discourage you from buying it?" He takes out a remote control, taps a button, and the cockpit smoothly huffs open, while a ladder slowly descends down the side, "Don't let objective feelings keep you back from a potentially-good buy! Why not try it out, at least?"

Leonardo and Casini look at each other in wonderment, "I don't like this, Señor Tigre."

"Pfff... So what? It's just a ship. Big whoop..." Leonardo shrugs his shoulders unimpressed, and starts ascending up into the cockpit. Casini reluctantly follows behind, and soon both are now strapped onto the fighter. And the dealer was right: the ship, though it handled more or less the same as other IR-7's out there, this ship responds marginally faster as it was test-hovered, "Not bad at all, Mr. Peterson. The Netherwalker feels brand-new."

"Yes, well... To tell you frankly, the ship's second-hand. But unlike common second-hand ships, this ship was under capable and skilled hands... MY hands."

"This was your ship?" Casini steps down from the ladder.

"Afraid so! And I can tell you that the Netherwalker has been with me through many a-situations thick and thin back when I used to serve more... infamous groups, so to speak." He slowly puffs another cloud of smoke.

"Why'd you quit?" Leonardo comes out of the cockpit.

"I've got a family to take care of, Mr. Tigre... A loving wife and two teenagers would certainly NOT have appreciated it if I had kept at my previous career, would they?" his somewhat-innocent smile seemed to tell the two he was telling the truth.

Casini narrows her eyes deeply, "And should we decide to purchase this ship from you, how sure would we be that the reputation that you... AND this ship... had garnered over the years wouldn't catch up to screw us over? Who did you work for before all this, anyway?"

"Meh... It doesn't matter anymore... The organisation I've worked for is long-dead and forgotten by this time, so you would have little to worry about such things...

"... But you could say this ship has an unlawful history behind it, so that would initially restrict yourselves if you both had plans to head out into the colonies.

"And that's the problem I have with selling the Netherwalker..." He walks over to the Corsair's side, "Look... Point is, I don't want this ship to go to waste... It truly is a great girl, and I wouldn't want to see it simply age and break down without at least going off in a shining blaze of glory.

"I'll respect your decision if you're still against buying it... But it would mean so much to me if someone with skill gave this old girl her life back. What do you say?" He offers his hand to Casini for a handshake.

"... Hmmm..." Casini rubs her chin as she contemplated.

After a few minutes, she looks back at the dealer and decides to accept the gesture, "... It wouldn't be that bad, I guess. Fine, Mr. Peterson. Consider the Netherwalker sold." and she firmly shakes the man's hand with a wry grin.

"Right then. I'll finalize the preparations tonight. You both just take it easy, and I'll have the Netherwalker ready for flight by tomorrow."





As the three walk out the room, the elevator now rising back up into the office, Leonardo starts to daydream to himself once more...










----------FLASHBACK

"... So? Why do you care, Jack?" Leonardo replies in a cool tone.

"Is it really that worth it to go after the Nomads, Captain? Is it really that worth it to sacrifice everything you have and everyone around you, all for the vendetta you harbor against those blue freaks?"

Leonardo's tone grows very dark in response, "... You don't know what you're talking about. Don't say such things when you yourself don't even understand the pain I've had to go through because of what those monsters did to my family."

"Fair enough... I'm not you, so how am I supposed to understand? But let me at least make myself clear on one thing..." Jack's demeanor gets serious as he continued, "If you're gonna go after those monsters, that's fine by us... but DON'T you ever FORCE us to get involved in your vengeance, and risk our lives in the process all because of your selfish desires for payback. That attitude's gonna be your undoing if the Nomads' don't get to you first... Captain...

"... And you even have your little sweetie in on your misery... It'd be a shame if anything bad happened to Mila because of your hatred."

The last statement from Jack makes Leonardo's eyes widen a bit in worry, ... My hatred... for the Nomads... will she really...

"MEEP! I choose to come along with Leonardo cause he needs all the help he can get. And you being here isn't helping at all... Mr. Avernus. I suggest you don't talk like that to him again... EVER!" Mila's hands start to tighten up in anger.

Jack riles his head back in surprise, "Well, well! I never expected fighting words to come from someone as carefree and innocent as you. You're beginning to grow up now, Mila, heheheh...

"But in a way, you're right... He'll need the help... I just hope that help won't come at a very steep price." He walks away and leaves the two to themselves.

Mila quickly turns to look at Leonardo and said, "Mr. Avernus sure was mean all of a sudden, meep! You alright, Leonardo?"

FLASHBACK----------










"... No... I wasn't... I should've turned back... I should've..."

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The Visit to The Drunken Junker Pub

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::::: Journal Unit J-01-P0025 Activated :::::
::::: Audio/Video/Date-Time/Locator/Encryption ::::: on/off/off/off/off
::::: Profile: Casini Peneleaus Chrisostomo :::::
::::: Entry - 1 ::::::
::::: Beginning Entry Recording :::::





A female clears her throat a bit and starts off with a relieved voice, "Finally... After weeks of searching around and scavanging for the necessary components, I've finally assembled my first Video-Journal... Well, technically it's still just an Audio-Journal, what with the lack of a Video-input device, but who cares? The Motherboard seemed to be the hardest to find, since most of the ones I've found tended to be of... decommissioned-quality, while the specific Bio Neural Processor for the unit were the most... expensive endeavor.

"But the point is, I've finally succeeded in creating my own Journal, and now I'm proud to say I'm recording my first entry in hopes that I might be able to look back and recall my adventures without having to constantly hit my head with the butt of my gun..."





A pause before she continues, her tone being ironic, "... I know, I know, why make one from initially-inferior spare parts when I could just get these things in retail from the Neural Net at possibly lesser prices... and probably with lesser bother? Well, the truth is I've always fancied myself more on using my own creations than mass-produced disposable consumer goods.

"... Also, I know this thing's capabilities and limits, since I myself made it. I've designed this Video-Journal to be adaptable, modifiable, and easier to maintain in the long-run, unlike stock-quality that's mass-produced and built to be disposable... Though yes, this current recording may be of... substandard quality, but as I continue going around I might be able to further modify it, eventually improving it to be in-par with other high-quality Video-Journals... maybe even better, who knows?"





A pause of thought before continuing again, "... Anyway... Hmm... Now where should I start? So much to say, so much to recap on. My past, my childhood, my exploits, adventures AND misadventures previously completed or currently on-going, and other what-nots I could imagine... All too long to mention in just one night, si?

"But I guess I can start off with a short review of why I, an ex-Corsair, am here... in a Junker Base... in the middle of Rheinland's Capital System, New Berlin... living in scrutiny amongst one of the Corsair Empire's hated arch-nemesis, the Red Hessians... and with a ship that has a transponder squaking an ID-signature that practically paints a beautiful, big, red target on my head whenever I exit into space... and with a blunt, melancholic, emotionless, sarcastic and clinically-depressed man for a co-pilot on this aforementioned-ship... Si, maybe I should start there, heheheh... or not, it's my Journal, no?"





Another long pause as the speaker goes on thinking, "... Intro, intro... hmmm... right then... My name is Casini Peneleaus dela Chrisostomo, born on 14 of February, 795 A.S, so I'll be around 24 years of age when Valentine's Day hits... as if such an occassion was important, considering that I'm still single, heheheh.

"Since this Vi--- I mean Audio-Journal doesn't have a built-in Neural Net date-time tracker for now, until I install such a thing I'll have to religiously-monitor the current date and time myself... Right now, it's 02 of January, 819 A.S, just two days after New Years' Eve; time is... 2234-hours in 24-hour-clock-base, or 10:34 PM in 12-hour-clock-base.

"I'm here in Kreuzberg Depot, Module 1, Residential Room 7, in such... awkward cirumstances, because I have a score to settle with the man who killed my papito, Viciente dela Chrisostomo..."

Her tone quickly becomes dark, "... And the name of the infidel that deserves to be sacrificed through holy fire? ... Casus Richiardino dela Machete... a powerful Corsair veteran, with many allies...

"How the Empire blindly lets this [Spanish A.D.M.I.N. censored] live is due to circumstances too long to explain as of this very moment... But what is important, however, is that I'm hunting this man. I'm hoping to one day hold that bastardo's heart and innards with my bare hands, and offer his blood to the Blood God to sate my deity's thirst for vengeance upon the infidel's betrayal on his own amigos."





Then her tone goes back to normal, "... But enough of my past for now, it's time for the present... I and my co-pilot, señor Leonardo dela Tigre, have mainly come here to this green-tinted country in the hopes of fulfilling two things: one, that I may in some way retrieve more information on Casus' current movements within Rheinland; and two, that we commandeer a bunch of inferior Natterturn Zwei cannons from my arch-enemies, the Red Hessians, for a contact back in Ivergordon.

"The second reason's not for me... It's for my co-pilot, señor Leonardo... See, he's here with me not just to help in managing the weapons and communications systems. He's searching for his adopted... and apparently-madly-in-love-with sister, Milarosa dela Tigre, her previous family name being Bloodstone. This contact, a Junker whom we only know as Mr. Barret, was willing enough to help my compadre in his search... but in exchange for his aid, we were to fetch for him several inferior Red Hessian Zweis for his own use... What he intends with the inferior cannons, I do not care, nor will I ever, so long as his info'll be worth the risk... risk indeed.





"... But Rheinland didn't really 'lay out the red carpet' for us, so to speak... As we were passing through Omega-3, we came across a Rheinland Military Valkyrie Patrol Wing, 4 Valkyries-strong, who wasted no time in attacking our 'slaver'-dubbed ship... Not much of a challenge for our superior skill, but they managed to buy themselves time for backup to arrive, which turned out to be the REAL bother, ay carumba! Soon, a to-be-damned cruiser and a couple of gunboats arrived at the scene, and despite having had an engine shot-down we somehow managed to flee into the Stuttgart System.

"Our trip here to this Junker Outpost was fortunately-met with no resistance, since we were lucky enough there were almost-to-none ships flying within sensor range, and so arrived with little hassle. Estimated repairs for the Netherwalker? 567,000 Credits, courtesy of the Starboard Main estupido Engine..." The speaker grunts in disgust.

"... Looks like we'll need to rent another CSV after all if this would be the case... But this time, I should be the one to inspect the thing to see if it'll meet up to... standards. How I remember the last time I let señor Leonardo take care of that, and suddenly it all turned to hell in high heaven, so to speak.

"Not a very pleasant way to spend the first day in Rheinland, that's for sure. I'll have to be careful to not reveal my Corsair origins around here. It's bad enough owning a screaming metal death-trap with a transponder that squaks a signal belonging to a group everyone hates, let alone be born to the group that almost everyone here hates anyway. I still question myself as to why I decided to purchase that ship from that shady dealer to this day..."

She yawns a bit, "... Anyway... It's been a long night, and I need some sleep. I and my compadre will stay here for a while until the Netherwalker's repaired, and we get a tip from the local Junkers about Casus's movements..."





A noticeably-long pause before the speaker continues again, "... Great... He's daydreaming again... You see, ever since I rescued señor Leonardo from Omicron Delta I've noticed that from time to time he goes into these sad episodes of intense memory-recalling, sometimes from out of nowhere, sometimes by specific stimuli. And it can get really... frustrating, especially in the middle of a dogfight... I swear that one of these days his constant, routine daydreaming will be the end of me...

"... But... I know he worries a lot for his sister, and that's understandable to be depressed about, but I'm certain it isn't healthy to be downright-paralizado about it to the point that he'll suddenly and momentarily give up on his existence whilst dozens of fighters try to scrap our ship with their Plasma cannons piece by piece, leaving me with the whole, entire workload to get the ship to safety..."

Her tone becomes inquisitive, "Maybe there's something more to his loss than one would see at face-value... Though I'm not fond of delving deep into other people's lives, if my efforts mean that he stays focused more on the task at hand than leaving me high and dry with the ship, then I guess it's worth bothering over, si?"





She breathes in a sigh before finishing, "... Right then... This is Casini Peneleaus dela Chrisostomo, signing off..."





::::: Ending Entry Recording :::::
::::: Entry 1 Concluded :::::
::::: Log Off? [Y/N] :::::
::::: Logging off :::::
::::: Saving Settings :::::
::::: Journal Unit J-01-P0025 Shutting Down :::::

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::::: Journal Unit J-01-P0025 Activated :::::
::::: Audio/Video/Date-Time/Locator/Encryption ::::: on/off/off/off/off
::::: Profile: Casini Peneleaus Chrisostomo :::::
::::: Entry - 2 ::::::
::::: Beginning Entry Recording :::::





A female voice clears its throat before beginning with a drab tone, "... Entry 2, date and time is 07 January, 819 A.S., 2246-hours... It's evident I haven't yet found a decent-enough video-input device or other convenient hardware, but I'm still hoping to find one...

"Well, as for starters I managed to get Lady Luck to shine her face on me: I got a tip from a Junker, whose name was Orin, that Casus actually has an insider working for him amongst the Red Hessians.

"Rumor and speculation has it that one of the more influential Lieutenants of the infidels is leaking important intel, like weapons shipments and various key patrol routes, directly to the infidel. Though at face-value this might appear to be of beneficial use for the Empire since they now have a spy amongst our enemies, my guess is he'll most likely use it instead to further his own goals like selling away faulty and fake prototype weapons to my amigos, and bringing out false intel that'll lead the competition to their own demise... Si, I guess it's safe to say he has a wonderful two-way deal with the Hessians, the former benefiting from a lucrative non-aggression pact with the infidels, and with the added bonus of making his ascension into the ranks all that much easier, and the latter benefiting from having a leveled-out playing field..."





The tone goes even more wry, "... Unfortunately, that's as far as I've got from the Junker about this insider of his... All the rest were merely stories, with little proof to back it all up... Not even a name, possibly out of fear he might suddenly disappear when he does tell me... or maybe he just got hit on the head with a heavy blunt object, I'm not at all certain, heheheh..."

Then the voice goes cheerful again, "But he had the decency of at least pointing us towards one of the insider's allegedly-numerous hidden gofers who take care of much of his dirty-work... Bad news is, many of the gofers are reasonably-skilled in hiding their tracks... Good news is, there are some that have their mistakes, allowing me and my compadre a chance to begin our search.

"There are a few that haven't really done a good job on some deliveries, but there's this single courier who seemed to stand out above all the estupidos... Argus dela Bolsteirne. Though he did do the jobs as he was told, you could say that he's had a lot of run-ins with the wrong side of Lady Luck. He's most infamous for having had accidentally-jettisoned an entire crate-full of inferior prototype RH-P46's sidearms into space along this system, allowing the local police forces to commandeer the crate and gain an edge in defensive and offensive capabilites. Argus was lucky enough that those particular sidearms were ongoing decommissioning at the time in favor for the RH-P60's sidearms, hence only making the police have a momentary advantage in combat... if it was another, more recent P-series the infidels would've fortunately-suffered heavier casualties instead of just a couple of WIA's, and Argus would've gotten hanged instead of flogged.

"There are other humiliating and demeaning misadventures about Argus which, although are worth mentioning, would be too long to extrapolate at the moment, what with me currently wishing to get some sleep after this entry. But suffice to say there is just enough revealing information about this estupido for me to warrant a hunt for his head first."

Her tone goes darkly humored for a moment, "... And I guess I and my compadre will soon be the last time fortune spits on this estupido's face, heheheh...





"As for the ship we'll be using for our stay here in Rheinland, I've managed to strike a reasonable deal with the shipwright on a quality CSV called the Volkswagen... well, at least as far as a CSV could get in quality, that is. The ship's not bad at all, and I've gotten it at the reasonable rental price of 30,000 Credits per month. The ship will be ready by tomorrow afternoon, and we'll be able to start our search.

"And as for the search itself, well... Orin further stated that Argus used to have his previous office in New Berlin until he transfered after that incident with the weapons shipment. Probably the locals will be able to shed some light as to that estupido's current whereabouts, so I and my compadre will begin our search there..."





The voice then continues in an intrigued tone, "... Speaking of which, I haven't gotten much deeper about that man's past, BUT I did manage to at least take note of specific key words and phrases that act as immediate stimuli which trigger his episodes. Reasonably enough, the words 'sister', 'lover' and 'failure' are some of the words that bring him into short lapses, while more specific phrases like 'you have failed' or my favorite, 'it's all your fault', or the less common, 'you are a failure' are capable of bringing him into hour-long fits of depression...

"Pfah, unfortunately, phrases like these are quite common in my vocabulary, so if I'm to have any chance of having a safe partnership with señor Leonardo I might just have to break the habit of blaming other people for my problems whether I like it or not... even if it truly was their fault, ay carumba...

"But now that I know a fair deal on how to prevent it, there's the harder part of trying to make him come into terms with the daydreams, even if they'd be somewhat temporary, so long as the solution'd last long enough to get us back to safety.

"I've listened a bit to señor Leonardo over the course of our travels together, and it's evident he's had a lot of experiences with this Mila of his. They used to be almost as thick as blood, those two... It's unfortunate that his revenge against the Nomads took a greater priority at the time than his beloved adopted sister, which might explain why he's got a lot of regrets... As far as he told me, he had the choice to turn back to his estate when he suddenly found out the girl was hiding in the cargo bay and so was coming along for the ride, but because they were already so close to the hunting grounds he decided to let her come along... and look where that got him, si?"

She heaves out a long sigh, "But I guess I can understand his circumstances... After all, if I were in his shoes I wouldn't have done anything different...

"Yet the biggest difference between I and señor Leonardo? I don't have any regrets in going after Casus. I've got nothing left to lose anyway..." Her tone goes furious, yet still retaining control, "After that bastardo tipped off my hermanas and hermanos to slavery, then finally killed my papito in cold blood, I had no other person to call family left... no one to welcome me back or miss me should I fail in my mission... but should I ever succeed, I'll be so glad when I get to gut that man's smug face when I see him."





The voice slowly calms down, "... Si... I guess that concludes this entry... I'll make the next one when we've found a suitable resting area in Planet New Berlin...

"... This is Casini Peneleaus dela Chrisostomo... signing off..."





::::: Ending Entry Recording :::::
::::: Entry 2 Concluded :::::
::::: Log Off? [Y/N] :::::
::::: Logging off :::::
::::: Saving Settings :::::
::::: Journal Unit J-01-P0025 Shutting Down :::::

---

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