*Appears to be beside himself. Mostly out of mirth.*
"...To unknown, from unknown. So perhaps the query is in fact as to what you do actually know, eh?"
"...Congratulations Sir, on your first foray into the boundless realm of unregulated cat-related content that we moniker the neural net. However, as much as I respect your willingness to attack your new-found asset with considerable aplomb, broadening your (no doubt) apt, and well-thought out truths to every inbox in the Sector not presently equipped with an functional spam filter, well. Isn't massively proactive of you."
"Oh and Sir, you have a rank do you? And a flag ship eh? Pray, you have piqued my interest; in what exactly, the 'Salvation Army'?"
"...Spam me again and I'll ram a mercenary down your throat, through your intestines, out your arse, and then proffer a ten million bonus package do repeat the same but in reverse order. Just a friendly nudge to be somewhat more discreet when thinking aloud, ami."
THE SYNDIC LEAGUES
(A co-operative of Rheinland's Shipping Unions, retired from a life of piracy.)