COMM ID: Jack 'Sidewinder' Tar.
SUBJECT: Today's operation.
PRIORITY: Medium.
Well folks, we's done oursel's righ' proud t'day, yes sirree.
I was jus' wakin' up when I hears ol' Buck Harley comin' through on comms tellin' me that he was gettin' a bit o' trouble from dem Ageira folks down near the New York gate, so me an' a few other suits oursel's up, jumps in our eagles an' flies down to give him a hand. We's finding him fightin' like the ol' devil himsel' agin three o' dem Raven claw fighters... He sure was givin' dem's all a run fer their money, but we's jumped in an' finished dem off righ' quick.
So havin' dealt wid dat we decided to be takin' a bit o' revenge on dem Ageira boys by puttin' a few hole in that base them got righ' in our back yards... Pueblo them calls it... Anyways, I got ma ol' bomber out, and we's all flew down there seein' what we could find... Didn't turn out as easy as I was thinkin' it wuld be, but shucks, I guess thats what y'all gets if ya does stuff on the spur o' the moment like.
So we finds oursel's gettin shot at by a bunch o' fighters and some gunboat, goin' by the name o' Clancy Wiggum. Phew-ee, he sure did put up a fight, but I was gettin' him wid ma supernova soon enough.
Ol' Scepter tagged himsel' one o' dem avenger fighters but we lost us a few eagles too. Soon enough I foun' masel' wid all dem widow guns stripped off ma ship I wasn't none to happy 'bout dat, so I took it out on ol' Alexander Casero, some navy dawg who was dumb enough to go runnin' inta my supernova then ma mine...
Anyways, some lil' light fighter by the name o' Eyma, workin' fer them scumbags the LPI was bein' mighty annoyin' seemed like he was playin' fer time or' somethin' cos sure enough some more backup comes by...
By this times it's jus' me an' Ol' Buck fightin' it out, so we thik gettin out alive is better than gettin' out dead....
Well, we had to be runnin' mighty fast.
All in all I's reckonin' we's done a lot more damage than was done to us, but The Boss dun' gunna be happy 'bout sendin' funds down to get dem eagles repaired...
COMM ID: Jack 'Sidewinder' Tar
SUBJECT: Recent activity.
PRIORITY: High
ENCRYPTION: High.
Right, listen up Knights. T'day me an' a few boys an' girls wen' huntin'... We Found oursel' facin' up to a big ol' Liberty Carrier by the name of [LN]-LNS-Retribution... Now you's thinking thats gunna be a tough ol' cookie to crack eh? Well y'alls wrong... Him an' some gunboat went down to four o' us folks, jus' provin the worth o' the true pride o' Liberty.
We's gunna hunt down them lane hackers, an' we's gunna kill dem. Every last one o' dem filthy outcast lovin' scums is gunna die. An' is't gunna be us what does it. We's gunna push that drug an' all them who loves it outta our home. We's gunna be their most feared thing. The navy dun' do nuttin' about dem so we's gunna. We will hunt dem mercilessly, relentlesly. We ain't gunna stop an' we ain't gunna take no prisoners. We ain't gunna tire an' thems gunna die.
David Chambers sat idly staring at his radio while Jack's uncouth voice emanated in a way that made him reach, for the umpteenth time that evening, a neighboring bottle of Knob Creek. With a groan he dragged himself from his cot, idly rubbing his eyes in the dim light of his bomber's hold.
With bottle firmly along for the ride he made a precarious journey to the helm of the ship, banging into several jury rigged and doubtless important whatsits along the way before reaching a small comm station, with eyes closed he flipped to the appropriate channel before emanating:
"YEEEEEEEEEEEHAW, show 'em boss! Solidarity!"
Killing the comm, and the radio, he turned and traced his steps to the cot.
"Gracious, we're fighting the Hackers. Well this is a quantum change from daily affairs."
Ouray isn't so much a base as it is an idea. Before I properly found myself within the ranks of the movement I was as dumbfounded as any other citizen whenever the vague story would come in concerning attacks on Kishiro transports passing through Colorado, how on earth did a group of rickity fighters find themselves deep within the territory of the most technologically and militaristically advanced house in the Sirius sector?
Election times invariably brought up a story or two about how politician A had spearheaded an initiative to crush some 'Xeno' base or another in the region, but few explanations were ever given, or sought, as to how such a mission came to be in the first place. In retrospect I suppose it was always the accomplishment of the act that drew the obligatory reaction than pondering over why the act could even be comprehensible in the first place.
My surprise as to the nature of "Ouray" was doubtless one shared by many pilots before my time. My first Ouray was a derelict mining ship from which loading crews were operating out of battered Rhino freighters to re-arm and re-fuel attending fighter wings. Since then it's been anything from hollowed out rock bases to the broken remains of ancient smelters.
All of which, I suppose, requires a little history for the uninitiated.
Back in the day, Liberty's commercial giant was fueled, in part, by the largess that could be pulled from the silverton and copperton fields. The bonanza of mining opportunities sparked a production rush not seen outside of Bretonia, as workers scrambled over themselves to stake a claim and put the fields to task. In their wake was left behind hundreds of abandoned outposts and refineries, all built to sustain operations within a sector of the field and left fallow when resources dried.
In a show of irony, the leavings of the forefathers of the movement in turn became the staging points for the restless movements of their descendants. Improvisation of available infrastructure and flexibility in its utilization has become the core backbone of what allows the movement to continue. The sheer resourcefulness demonstrated by a group of men hot wiring the powercores of century old freighters to meet the needs of older still base support systems repaired with components salvaged from burning transports never ceases to amaze me.
The Navy, Police or whatever forces array against us will never truly be able to 'destroy' Ouray no matter how many times they may chance upon a pulse of the movement's life out there in the fields. Our future is built in a very real way upon the legacy left to us, a legacy that cannot be denied so long as we've the will to see it restored.
**INCOMING TRANSMISSION**
COMM ID: Ron "Garter" Fraiser
SUBJECT: Hacker Smackin'
PRIORITY: High
ENCRYPTION: High
Howdy' fellas, I been hearin' some real dumb stuff comin' outa the Hackers lately, and I'm mighty insulted to be hearin' that they think us fine and honourable knights o' labour would think for a dang split second that we'd be not shootin' them cardi sniffin' good fer nothin' boot lickers.
I'll be warmin' up my eagle for a good ole Hacker smackin' and I won' stop til my ship cant flight straight! not that I think it can anyways.
**n I wi...*STATIC* ri.. the..m.. ba...*STATIC* ri... o..n..fe...*STATIC*e..m...t...ma..d...**
The combat pilots of the movement are a very strange breed indeed. Some of my closest friends have come from backgrounds as diverse as Liberty Navy pilots on the run, Junkers grown ill with a life of money placed over the value of human life and even myself, a former teacher who ended up on the wrong side of the system. Our respective practical training in the art of flight never seemed to be an issue, if you could physically hack it you could secure your wings and a ship. After that it was up to your squad to make sure you knew the ropes.
I suppose in a way it's not exactly a mark of pride to be a pilot. Anyone within the movement who can actually do something with their hands, ply a skill is immediately put to the task and held in high esteem for his contribution. Us flyboys break things, but we don't build things. We're murderers and crazy men. We launch into the black in ships that hardly deserve the dignity of the name to commit unspeakable acts in the name of other unspeakable acts.
Most of us are more than a little insane for it.
Our stock of pilots is generally drawn from those who've done hard times. Full of the rage you need to look past handicaps and focus on directing the screaming torrents of particle blasters into the hulls of Kusarian transports. Huntsville and the prison-factory cities of Denver provide the cream of the crop, pilots who'll willingly lay down their life rather than serve another term in those hellish pits. Another term that they know is all that faces their future. Or, worse, being shanghaied and sold into slavery partway through some uncertain night in the Wall.
Us pilots might not be the ones who'll actually be building our future, let alone living in it, but for now we're the ones who fight for it... I reckon that's good enough.
Incoming transmission
Opening Private comms
Comm ID: Joseph stinger (Canebrake)
well lads, i have been at it again, i went to liberty to see if there were any cargo ships that needed to loose there cargo. sadly the navy ignored me, that lost me my fun, but then a rogue came up, and he seemed to be in a good mood, so i decided to pick a fight. i started to slowly pick on him, until i eventually challanged him. we met in the middle of new york, for a...interesting fight
Eventually the fight ended, my opponent was a superior fighter pilot, i never stood a chance, But i did not run. I was destroyed and he..i suppose thourghtfully, nudged my escape pod towards the colarado jump hole.
*Incoming Transmission*
Comm ID - Al 'Two.Step' Bundy
Target ID - Da Boss man
While out on patrol in Liburty, I spotted a pair of those nerdy Lane Hacker types that made that silly peace offerin to us Zeeners. I chased em down & let em know we wasn't interested in none of their drug sniffin ways & proceeded to blast holes into their hulls.
I shot one of em down, a Hacker flying a Outcast lookin ship named "TheZombie". Filled him full o holes I did. But his partner, a Jayce 'Tarheal' Brooks got in a lucky shot afterwards & took me eagle out from under me. I made it out in me pod & was picked up by a sympathizer & returned to Ouray.
My Turret Picture Takin device caught some of the action. I duck taped it to this transmission. http://i198.photobucket.com/albums/aa121/t...s_1/2-19-09.jpg
I'll have me Eagle tapped back up & ready for action soon.
I feel that there has been, historically, some confusion even amongst our own ranks as to why it is that we maintain hostilities with the Junkers. Some of the younger members ask why it is that all of our base goods need be purchased at terrible cost from the Zoners when there's a Junker base right around the corner, waiting to make deliveries.
The truth is that the Junkers encompass virtually everything that we're against as a movement and as a people. Their willingness to do business lays entirely in their desire to escape our wrath, to avoid yet another entanglement as they continue their works of profiteering at the cost of Liberty's people and health.
The Junker's surface motives of being scrap movers is vastly overshadowed by their practices of providing aid and succor to the pirate fleets of Sirius, their enthusiastic desires to move poisons to the populations of our worlds for their own profit... Their lack of utter revulsion in the practice of brokering in human lives.
Slavery, profiteering and corruption are at the very heart of what the Junkers are. They're not Libertonian, they're not "working class people trying to get by". They are thieves, smugglers and enablers for those who feed on the darkest desires of humanities' soul.
I would sooner lay dying in my ship before taking a breath of Junker provided oxygen, knowing that breath was tainted with the sorrow they have tirelessly worked to spread for a credit.
The Liberty Navy and our complications with them is an interesting subject, in truth, I've no problem with the men and women in uniform. They're servants of the people, following the mandates of the elected body. There is little corruption amongst their ranks and they seek no profit from the bloodshed they wreck.
Frankly, I'd not have a single kill against them scarred on the side of my ship if they'd find the patriotism to simply leave us be. But they have their orders, which they'll follow to their graves and I will happily oblige them should they come between me and my prey.
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