A youngish man in a long white coat appears on the screen, with unkempt black hair and striking green eyes. Behind him is an array of computer equipment, likely that of a Lane Hacker installation.
"Good evening, Mr. Breen. I am Escher, a taskmaster of the Vagrant Raiders. I was directed to you by the crew of one of your bombers, [MR]Sacred.Heart. I contacted them in Dublin today to discuss business, you see." He paused, and pushed some buttons on the table console in front of him, switching the table's display to a scrolling text window. "The pilot said that it wasn't his place to discuss this, which is understandable, and directed me to you. The Raiders are interested in more than just the Cardamine trade. If it brings us money, then it's good for us. I understand that you are motivated by a different cause, but this doesn't make our goals incompatible - you need supplies, we have a sizable transport fleet that can deliver them. And your Gold will fetch quite a price in Liberty; we both have something to gain here."
He pauses, as though he were trying to remember something. "Of course, I understand your position on cardamine as well - as part of any trade deals, we are willing to not move any cardamine into or through Bretonia, save for what some of our crews might require for their own use; we do have a few severe addicts, you see. It's why I'll never touch it." Another few buttons, and the viewscreen behind him blinked to life, showing the transfer of almost two dozen Bounty Hunter escape pods to the Sacred Heart.
"As a show of good faith, I transferred these captive Hunters - most of which were found in Dublin - to the Molly bomber. And," he pushed another three buttons and the view changed again, this time to a flyby of the Newgate, "another gift. I've analyzed the Newgate's defenses, and they're still damaged after the escape of Henry Morgan - I believe you're familiar with the name. If you have any prisoners to break out, now's the time to try."
He flicked a switch and both displays instantly went black. "Well, Mr. Breen, I look forward to your response."
The man appears on-screen again, this time with a far cleaner appearance.
"Ah, because I wanted to see if you were interested first. And because I was juggling five different tasks, something I'm sure you understand too well in your position."
He begins typing, and the following appears on the wall-mounted monitor behind him.
What We Want:
Permission to trade with Molly bases (high-security systems excluded.)
A mutual non-aggression agreement - MR doesn't attack VR, VR doesn't attack MR.
What We Offer:
We will not sell or transport cardamine in Bretonia.
Once-monthly convoys of needed supplies.
"The only problem is that I don't know what kind of supplies you need. My information network doesn't expand far beyond Liberty, sadly. So, if you tell us what you need, I can work on organizing the supply convoy."
An inventory of sorts appears on the table. The viewing angle makes it almost impossible to read for the viewer, but Escher has no such trouble.
"Let's see... we have a surplus of deuterium and iridium, and reliable sources of more." Each item appeared on the wall-mounted screen as he said it. "Much to the dismay of other bands of Lane Hackers, we still have reliable sources for and production of valuable software that you would have some trouble getting legitimately. We can get light arms, though our only immediate surplus is set aside for our own use. Heavier, illegal weapons are another possibility - in the interest of full disclosure, they'd be from the Outcasts. Superconductors and alloys are also readily available to us... and, ah. Medicines. We have a steady supplier of those, and I'm sure you could use some on your bases. Anything catching your eye so far?"
Arranmore Base -- Dispatcher ID: Colin Breen -- Recipient ID: Escher -- Encryption:Level V [font=Agency FB]
We're a bit more well supplied than ye be thinkin', I ken.
We've food, fuel, medicine, an' booze in abundance. Arms're passable.
Yer offers o' Iridium an' heavy weapons are intriguing... we could be usin' the Iridium fer creatin' more destroyers of o' Belfast. Our docks're a little light at the moment, we donnae hae supplies t' be makin' many o' them. Same goes fer the heavy weapons... though, ye interest me.
Escher appears on the screen again, this time in a black jacket, white shirt, and dark slacks. He looks slightly tired.
'Ah, the weapons. Mostly heavy machine guns - here's one," he says, touching the table screen near the left side, then again near the middle. A vicious-looking belt-fed machine gun appears on the wall display. It does look a bit inconvenient to carry around, however. "You can't fire it without a bipod (if you try it'll shake like a used Startracker) and it's pretty heavy, but they're damn good at guarding a base. We also have quite a few rocket launchers. Most of the rest is your standard fare - modified assault rifles, a couple grenade launchers..." He pauses, suddenly remembering something. "Ah, that's right. We do have some portable SAMs. Not many; I think the cargo loaders weren't paying attention and mixed up the orders. But we don't need them..."
Escher appears again, consulting a smaller datapad - one that can't be viewed at all by the recipient.
"Bigger? Just what scale are we talking about? Multi-man weapons, light vehicle weaponry... ship-mounted? I can't say just yet what we have or don't have out of those, I'll have to confirm with Petrucci."
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