The video stream starts - it shows Espi standing next to a window, camera recording his profile. His cold, emotionless face is illuminated by a source of light outside the window. He then turns to the camera and starts speaking as he slowly comes closer to the recording device.
Well... I just got your message. You are lucky our Freeport 1 couriers found me here. The timing couldn't be better, as i was just about to leave. Concerning your question...
he reaches the chair in front of the camera and sits down
... my last message to you showed we gave your crew some medication to fight the radiation. Unfortunately, the smaller ones seem to be in a bad shape, anyway. From my experience, light or medium radiation poisoning, but nothing terminal so far. They DO need some medical assistance at this point, and as I said already, we don't want them to die. That would be rude, to say the least.
he pauses for a few seconds, thinking
I will give you the sick ones. We will keep the others here as insurance that you hold your part of the deal, BUT ...
... since we are doing a BIG favor to you I will want something in exchange. I want you to come to the exchange site with two transports containing no less than 4000 food rations and 4000 pharmaceutical packages. I won't give out the place of delivery yet, since this channel can be hacked easily. You will meet one of my men on Freeport 1 and he will lead you to our transports. And do not worry of any ambush, we still hold some of your crew in check. Something happens to my men, and the rest of your crew will fly through a jumphole ONLY in a space suit. Understood?
I have already sent someone to Freeport 1 to wait for you. Make haste...
Sound of a man vomiting can be heard from the back. Espi signals the recorder operator to turn around with his hand. As the camera turns, 3 men are revealed, two of them barely standing on their feet, supported by Corsair thugs, one of them kneeing on the floor, his hands on the ground, covered in vomit now. Espi's voice can be heard from the background:
We will be waiting. Come soon, or face the consequences.
The stream fades to black while depicting a man searching his own vomit for medication he just threw up
#########Transmission#########
Source: Newcastle system, Lancaster trade center, Bowex HQ
Sender: Ian Wills, Acting Director of Operations
Target: Freeport 1, marked to be delivered to a <strike>gentleman</strike> person named <strike>Whiskas</strike> <strike>Whisky</strike> <strike>Vilkas</strike> Espee
CC: Bowex Archive, Security office.
Topic: Missing personell and material resources.
Corsair,
The ships are getting loaded as we speak, and will be there shortly. You better have our men handy...
Kirkland is seen sitting stiffly in front of the broadcast terminal. His uniform is showing the wear of the days of his captivity. His lips are split, and his left cheek is one massive bruise. He is also sweating buckets.
"Our captors have once again given me opportunity to communicate our situation to you, Sir," he begins after clearing his throat.
"We're not being told much, but I assume you are negotiating our release. I noticed we are given the corporate ration meal packets now. The crew must have also noticed this, because..." he paused squirming on his seat nervously, "spirits ran high that night, If I can put it that way. The following morning the female members of the crew were removed from our room. I assume they were released to you in exchange for the food shipment?"
"I have been... explained, that I'm to give a status update on the crew, and nothing else, but... well, I'm not sure it was in time, whatever you did, Sir. We are now being fed pills, that these bastards call medicine, but noone is completely healthy anymore in this rathole, Sir. Earlier on the day of the emergence of the food packets, they came and took the sickest members of my crew. You might want to notify the families of Astrogator 2nd class Robert Shaw, whom I've mentioned earlier, deck hand Bill Taylor, who was running a fever, and Engine Technician Carol Bramston. I'm sure their personnel files will give all relevant contact data. I fear any negotiations were too late for these good men."
#########Transmission#########
Source: New London System, planetary orbit; Bowex Yacht Dreamscape.
Sender: Ian Wills, Acting Director of Operations
Target: Freeport 1, marked to be delivered to a <strike>gentleman</strike> person named <strike>Whiskas</strike> <strike>Whisky</strike> <strike>Vilkas</strike> Espee
CC: Bowex Archive, Security office.
Topic: Missing personell and material resources.
Corsair,
I would be willing and able to make the requested funds for release of Captain Kirkland, his crew, and his ship, available in five to six standard days.
Can we agree for a simultaneous transfer at the position in Omega 3 system, near the anomaly, where we have conducted our last "business"?
Ian Wills, Acting Bowex Director of Operations
Signing off.
*garabage transmission*
=($&#?=$#)(? N!"#)J ?)Y$UH"XN)"$XY!*E:L_!"YEČ!Š*X_EČYE!*"=#$!
Multi level encoding initiated, message as follows: Captain Kirklan)Y$UHd, lads, we're getting you out of there, have no worries. If you somehow manage to see this message, I want you to know that the :L_!"Ycrew that had been taken away had been exchanged for some food an#)(? N!"#d medical supplies. They are safe.
I am sorry to hear about Shaw, Taylor and Bramston. I shall make sure that their families recieve their pension.
Hang on there chaps, EČYEwe shall get you out of there.
=$#L_!"YEČ!Š*X_EČYE!*"=#$!
The video stream starts, showing a random nebula in Omicron Eta. Espi's voice can be heard:
I am recording this message from my private ship, do not be confused.
He pauses as an Outcast sabre approaches from something what seems to be a minefield
Ah ... excuse me for a moment.
An inferno projectile swishes through the air, almost hitting the Gladiator.
Well ... Not only are you a backstabbing attacker, but you are an incompetent pilot aswell! Ah these rookies
Espi engages weapons and starts thursting towards the sabre, dodgind its fire. He drops a mine, immediately afterwards starts sliding sidewards... he fires a mini razor into the sabre's shields, targets the mine and launches a cruise disruptor.
Farewell, Outcast... You won't be missed.
The mine gets hit by the disruptor missile just as the shieldless sabre nears it, ending the outcast's life in a single, silent flash.
Hm ... So predictable, they are these days. But back to the exchange - We will meet at the place of our last interaction. Simply tell me when you have it all ready. I'm sure your men are eager to see their ship, families and colleagues already.