*A light binks, and Achille is revealed reclining on a lounge chair, taking petit mouthfuls of what looks suspiciously like blueberry jelly, but might easily be something else*.


"To be impeccably honest my dear Michael, I've been liberally laughing my arse off since the beginning of this whole affair. I would adore to go into specifics with you over a copious glass of the finest De France, but I'm sure you happen to be slightly preoccupied, what with the pest fumigation and all."

*Turns to face the camera*.

"Being brief my dear sir, I happen to be a Zoner - a rather good one - with a certain fascination for the... forbidden fruits of the Omicron regions. Of course, as a scientist that often means I am forced to drag enormous quantities of what is colloquially known as 'science stuff', to all forms of forbidding, godforsaken corners, let's say, the allegedly inhospitable 'nomad worlds'. Now I happen to be rather... drawn in by the contents of the aforementioned locale, and I'd..." *coughs*

"Excuse me mousier..."

*takes another spoon of "jelly"*

"Ahem, anyway, although I happen to find a good cull rather amusing, I'd be happy to watch you dispatch those chickens into the afterlife from a copious distance, I.E., not in my immediate vicinity as the CW|Concurrence is somehow... mistaken for an errant Alliance supply turkey. I prefer my state of being... undesintegrated, shall we call it".

*takes yet another spoon*

"Whilst I accept some amusing collateral will occur, you'd make me a very happy man Michael if you and your merry merry men kept well clear from anything with a CW| (that's Commonwealth for those of you who happen to live in a hole without food, running water, language or the neuralnet) tag. In fact, more than kept away, avoided completely. The crux of the matter is that the Commonwealth will, or may, or quite possibly never, run supplies, ahem, research materials, through the Omicron 74 system. I'd rather look at the light show of juggernaughts being torn to infintesimal fragments by bloodthirsty robots, from a moderate distance".

"As for the Alliance? Well, I'd consider them serious entrants for the Darwin Awards. Survival of the fittest and all that." *Yawns* "...Well, at least this ratifies the evolutionary maxim."

"But I digress. Commonwealth, you, no, shoot. Can't render it with any greater clarity than that Mr Gollanski".

"As soon as you greenlight the NFZ exemption, I'll dash up there and run a few tapes. There's some rather amusing experiments of human idiocy to be derived from this encounter and the potential wealth of psychological data is astounding. Oh and there's always the fact I'll get to see moron's heads explode into the ether, there's always that too..."

"Until next time. Oh, and keep me posted if anything too upoarious occurs in transit, oui?"

"Right now, I've got some samples to gather".

*grins insanely*

*appears to be laughing so hard he can barely stand. After a short while Achille recovers, flourishing his cape*

"...ah you fools, life would truly lose it's flavour without you..."

*smirks, then apparently adopts a tone of the deepest solemnity*

"...It's a pity pity that most of you incorrigible harlequins will be dead in twenty-four hours, but ah, such is life."

"Oh and I'll feel free to amuse myself as much as I wish within this exquisitely open channel. Never before have I encountered such an absolute selection of respectable, well-reasoned, none-violent personages as those true and absolute Zoners who appear to find this little... peacekeeping venture..." *appears to be giggling* "...Somewhat untoward. Oh well, If it's any recompense, I'll place a decorative bouquet on all of your gravestones. Perhaps it will make the manner of your self-chosen demise seem more "brave", or, dare I utter it; "heroic" even? I'm sure your grandchildren will bawl in your memory."

***Collapses into mirth, before mumbling on the floor:***

"Oh, and..." *Chuckle* "...Corsair, you might wish to speak slightly louder, oui? It appears that these inferiors haven't truly appreciated the..." *giggle* "...'Moral weight' of your transmission, shall we call it? Perhaps a Siege Fleet up the posterior will settle that for them. Or maybe several".

"Slay them all my friends, slay them all".