*The world was still hazy as commander Greg woke up in ICU ward of the Manhattan hospital. Greg forces himself up to a sitting position but is too badly wounded, dropping back down on the bed.*
"Where the hell am I? The Corregidor, what happened?"
*He pauses as bits and pieces of his memory drift back in to place then he mutters to himself*
"Prospector, I could use a pilot like him. Too bad he's on the other side. What the hell am I saying? That guy just blew up my ship, my crew, everything! Damn, I shouldn't have jumped him. Damn his load out, made quick work of me. Damn back-up for not showing up on time. Damn HQ for being slow on the ship authorization. But damn me most, for not being good enough! I have to do something, Colorado wasn't even my call, that was LSF's job, not mine. Where is everyone when I need them? Damn it!"
*Hours later the commander sits in the den of his estate, pondering what could be done about the rising crime rate and minimal back-up*
"*sigh* More cash today, again? I have enough for a small fleet of my own. ARGH! Here I am again asking if i should take the law into my own hands. This isn't right anymore. I've had it!"
*Commander opens his files on the computer and brings up plans on the LNS-Bataan 2.*
"HQ may not sponsor this nor even approve it yet. But I'm mad! Now, lets see. An adjustment here, more guns over there, this and that go over there. Done! Send file to Norfolk Shipyard Engineering Department, and bingo, ship under way! Now, for my private ship. I'm sure 1 mark 8 armor upgrade is enough for both ships to share. I'll be above quota in a week's time anyway."
*The commander had a certain twinkle in his eye, as if to say his vengeance would cover the universe...*