>To whom it may concern,
The signal is quite weak here in the ice, so I must be brief. My name is L_Chapman, and I wish to join your cause. Proof of my qualifications shall follow this message. Not an hour ago, I was working in an Agiera office on Manhattan, but those days are long behind me. Agiera has crossed me for the last time! Those corporate dogs dismissed me! Dismissed! And from the project I started! ...Or was... loosely affiliated with, at the very least. This is an outrage, regardless.
While testing a new type of holographic pilot training simulation, I was approached by my supervisor, who proceeded to tell me to "calm down," and that "that particular sort of enthusiasm isn't appreciated." Who are they to tell me whether or not I can get a rush out of blasting some hostiles into dust? What's a few obscenities a-
>SIGNAL.LOST
>CHANNEL_FIDELITY.RESTORED
.......
>SIGNAL.RECAPTURED
>RESUMING.TRANSMISSION
>*static* -gathered my things, stole all of the information I could on the project and ran. Those Agiera dogs will never see these ballpoints again! What're they going to do? Track them down? Has Agiera ever failed to recover a missing office ballpoint? AHA!
I made my way towards the badlands, keeping off of the trade lanes lest they track my ship.
The rogues at Buffalo were reluctant to sell me a fighter, but when the comms lit up with wanted reports regarding my disappearance, I threatened to remain in their hair until the Navy finally tracked me down. They finally gave me a dagger, pointed me in the direction of Magellan, and sent me on my way.
The journey through California was a difficult one, and I was accosted by several Hunters who had somehow caught my scent. Their fighters were easily outmatched by my dagger; what a hot rod! You just don't see this sort of construction in the houses anymore. I know not how they're tracking this new ship, but I'm en-route to Freeport 4 as we speak. Still following me... Maybe it's... The pens! They must be tracking the pens! Jettisoning cargo!>