***Unofficial Documentation, Williams-Mordhauser Distributing***
***Author Identified: General Secretary Caroline Convair***
Caroline Convair woke up.
The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, her bed was extremely comfortable, the window showed an exceptionally beautiful view of the Edge nebula, and her house smelled pleasantly of breakfast. Indeed, her domestic servant had just finished cooking a batch of delicious waffles, with a side of potatoes, bacon, and even an egg. The broadcasted news was good, the stock market was on an upward trend...yes, today was going to be a good day.
And then the news reports switched to a special report on a horribly unethical corporation that had, in violation of every trade regulation in Sirius (estimated), filed patent and copyright on the most popular trade route in the sector. Oh dear. She immediately called the office, only to be met with vaguely-coherent panicked noises from the hand-picked receptionist. If it was enough to un-nerve the normally unflappable receptionist, then she needed to be in the office eight hours ago.
No, today was not going to be a good day. Not at all.
...
The office was alight with activity. Or, perhaps, it would be more accurate to say that things would have been better of it was merely on fire. Chief Executive Williams' latest "hare-brained scheme" had turned out to be very hare-brained indeed, with angry letters from every corner of Sirius. The Freelancers were mad. The Xenos were mad. The IMG was mad. The Rheinland Police was mad. The Ghosts of Razgriz were mad. Atlantic Manufacturing was mad. The National Council was mad. The owners of the space station were mad. The fledgling business contacts in Kusari space were almost certainly going to clam up. The Junkers had even issued an official denouncement. Williams, how, in God's name, do you even manage to piss off the Junkers?