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...hack.initiated...decryption..in..progress...
...comm.id.Diplomatic.Commission.recognized...uploading data...


Insofar as the interests of The Lane Hackers coincide with the interests of the Xenos, namely the dissolution of the corporate stranglehold on the citizens of Liberty by malignant commercial interests both foreign and domestic, and whereas The Lane Hackers have no interest in assisting those malignant interests in their persecution of other freedom fighters (no matter how unwashed they reputedly are), The Lane Hackers propose an agreement to the Xenos :

~ Lane Hackers will not interfere with nor disrupt Xeno activities so long as Xenos do not interfere with nor disrupt ours.
~ Lane Hackers will maintain a minimum distance of 15k from Xeno installations so long as Xenos maintain a distance of 15k from ours.
~ Furthermore, Lane Hackers shall exclude the majority portion of the Silverton field wherein lies Ouray Base from our area of operations, so long as our hacks of the trade lanes from the New York Jump gate to that dungeon of infamy at Pueblo Station are unmolested by Xenos.

Do you agree, or shall we be forced to hack into your systems and transform the personal photos of your loved ones into the West Point Academy class of 808? We suggest that you consider carefully. The class of 808 was particularly disphotogenic.


...encryption.in.progress...hack.terminated...
****INCOMMING TRASMISSION****

COMM ID: Jack 'Sidewinder' Tar.
SUBJECT: Lane Hacker Proposal.
PRIORITY: High
ENCRYPTION: Public


Howdy.

Now y'all might be noticin' I's broadcastin' this on open comms. A non-encrypted message to the Lane Hackin' folks.

Consider this ma declaration of intent to y'all... An' I wants everyone to be hearin' what I's got to say. Liberty is listenin'.

The Lane Hackers are a good fer nuttin' bunch o' degenerate cardi-sniffin', filthbags wid nuttin' on them's mind but makin' money out o' the weak an' unfortunate. I's not gunna be lettin' ma boys have anything to do wid that kind o' crap.

Yer chummy nature wid' dem hispanics an' trafficin' o' that filthy drug what puts the good folk o' our great nation further under the influece o' unclean outsiders ain't gunna be carryin' on. We's got a few goals common to each other like takin' down the big-wigs who claims to act in the best interests o' Liberty, but infact does nuttin' but screw the little guy. But y'all ain't no better. You's got one hell o' a nerve tryin' to seduce us, an' threaten us all wid some pathetic prank.

I'm gunna be steppin' up ma boys anti cardi operations an guess who be comin' under that... Thats right bucko... It be you an' yer bunch o' techno babblin' losers sat on mount mactan carin' nuttin' fer the sufferin' o' the true blue collar man o' Liberty.

*spits*

Now... You's gunna be seein' us wherever you turns, we's gunna be the bane o' yer existance. We's yer death , jus' you remember that you bunch o' lowdown, theivin', drug takin', scum.

Sidewinder out.

****TRANSMISSION TERMINATED****
****Incoming Transmission****
From:Jack"The Felon"Butcher


Location:Ouray Base





HAHAHAHAHA,ya lane hacker crackhead try to do business whit us now,ya really think we forgot all ya do to us,we will fight you again and again,and be sure The Felon will always be happy to blow up your vessels on sight.



Ya use too many cardi if ya think a agreement are possible between us.





****Link Close****

Opening Transmission
Comm ID: ********13
Name:
Caleb Swift
Location: Ouray
Target: Lane Hackers


Well now, what Jack has put in no uncertain terms is that we're not gonna sit by while you pansies rake in money from Cardamine and exploiting others. If Ageria, Interspace, and all these other companies were to fall to our combined forces, I have no doubt that you lot would construct your own company and carry right on where the others left off.

I, for one, prefer allies that will never turn on me. I also prefer allies that aren't as pompous as you lot.

Bottom line: get lost. But regardless, you better stay out of Silverton -- and Colorado as a whole -- unless you wanna end up real bloody real fast.

End Transmission
Location: Refugio Base, Tau 45

A young man ran into Matthew Gibbs office without knocking, out of breath and looking worried as hell, he threw down a piece of paper over Gibbs already overfull desk.

"What's this?" An eyebrow arched.

"It's a diplomatic message from the Lane Hackers, sir. But Tar's gona and frakked it up. Talking about how..." The young man was cut off mid flow by a gesture from Gibbs.

Gibbs looked over the transmission and then thumbed his comms unit.

"Get me Tar, Now." Gibbs held the man's gaze as he waited for Jack Tar to be available.

"Ah'm here, chief. What ya wantin'?"

Gibbs looked impassively at the man as he enunciated very clearly into his headset.

"Good work, Tar. Send Coachwhip and Copperhead to see me as soon as possible."

"Chief." Tar signed off.

"Now listen up, read Tar's missive again. It's the core of every Xeno's heart. If we could trust the Hackers to keep there word then maybe, just maybe this would work, but even then there's still the Cardamine, and no Xeno worth the blood in his veins, will ever, ever, traffic in that filthy substance. Now GET THE HELL OUT OF MY OFFICE!"

The man ran.
Location: Ouray Base, Colorado

A young woman with legs that went higher forever checked her credit account. She sees a string of 0s which are preceded by her lucky number 7. She with a single red fingernail presses the button at her terminal.

A transcript of communications recently arrived and sent at Ouray Base, travels along the trade lanes like water through a pipe.

Essentially, all communications traveling along the Tradelanes are decoded, transcribed, and sent for further analysis to corporate head quarters. The benefits of having a monopoly.

The data stream within nanoseconds is reassembled. Advanced encryption technicians rush to send official copies corrected for punctuation and grammar, up the corporate chain.


Location: Encrypted

A smartly dressed man in a twenty thousand credit suit and shoes whose selling price would have fed a family for several months rubbed his hands together as he scrolled through the documents.

He smiled as he read the communication packet which had been sent to him from a young woman from the lower social classes, a recent mistress which he had affectionately named Seven, who obviously still wanted more of his favors.

He would return home to Planet Denver from Pueblo Station...and re-watch on the holoscreen wall, the recordings he had made of his time with the young woman, and afterward check his portfolio which should have shown a debit of 700,000 credits.

*** Location ***
Ouray Inn "liquor in the front, poker in the rear"

Ban Jacobs strolled into that bar, ordered a whisky and is told the Hacker propsal!
After he stops laughing, he orders another drink.

"Ahh" said Ben, wiping tears from his eye "That wiz a classic"
Opening Transmission..

LOCATION- OURAY BASE

NAME-JONATHON "DeathAdder" JONES

TARGET-LANE HACKERS

Well mr Hacker. This is Jonathon Jones of the XA's. My friends call me J.J...But YOU may call me Sir.
There is no way in Hell that we would ally ourselves with a bunch of cardi-sniffin hooligans..NOT now..NOT ever..SO get that through those thick boned skulls of yours. And you thought we would stoop down to your level..HA..you must be High!!.
AND..as a word of warning..Stay out of Colorado..unless you want to go home in a box...a very small box..

I've said my piece..and don't come round here no more..or else..HEHE!

DeathAdder out..

Transmission Terminated..