Transmission target: Reply to unknown source
Antenna operating at Bruschal Base
Sender ID: Herr_Ripplinger
Sir, my apologies for my late response. The Bundschuh leadership ignored your precious communicae, so I am going behind their backs. I hope that you make this worth my time. I just don't want the fighters for Rhineland freedom to be at a disadvantage. Please contact me with the information you desire, as well as your purpose.
Transmitting Message: ZIC
Comm ID: Crateria
**Opening Channel**
Crateira here.
Hmmm.. Interesting be your offer.. I am intrigued to know more about your proposal, Feel free to contacted me over Private comms.. Or over the ZIC if you would rather remain anonymous.
**Transition Terminated**
___ New Avatar.. Needs a Bit of cleaning (Damn, I forgot the transparent Background again) The Crateria is Unhappy. From now on if you think you can carry on trading after you've faced Death you SHALL Face him again, and again until it Sinks in! Come on, Traders need to Follow the 4 Hours Cool down after death.. So your dead, Whats that? Your going to get me with a Big Bad Cruiser? As long as it is NOT piloted by yourself let it come...
The Manhattan Communications hub; a marvel of communications technology, routing transmissions from Kusari, Bretonia, and even Rheinland to all the others. There was, of course, work-arounds, but the fastest way was still the hub. And there, crouching in between two massive computers, their backs open and optical guts spilled out, was a man. He was dressed in black, a special cloaking device on his back. One of the optical cords went up and into the back of his neck, and he worked on the hardware as the feed dripped directly into his eyes via the neural interface in his head.
"Pirate transmission, eh?" He muttered to himself, voice hidden by the hum of cooling fans and beep of self-diagnostics.
"Gonna have to keep an eye on this..." The reason the man could read that transmission was because he knew the pirate codes. Most familiar with the Lane Hacker ones, however, this hacker could still read the other ones. Plus, with a recent crack into the Texas LPI database, he had a few Navy codes. They wouldn't last long, since like any decent military, the code changed at timed intervals, but still...
"Yes, definitely going to have to keep an eye on this one. Commander DarkStar will be interested to see what's up..." There was a single patch on his shoulder, that of the screaming skull symbolic of the Phantom Empire. Overload continued to watch. He had time; he was very careful about sneaking in. Nobody died, and nobody came into this room unless there was a problem with the machines. Overload was just glad he had an oxy-re breather in this suit. Argon was not something he could easily breath, despite the C'tan enhancements...
This is the real true story of rock and roll; it was not about anything more then, how to live your life, as a gangster, in sartorial splendor, and turning the world into a place where normality would never return again...- Malcolm McLaren
The bar on Buffalo, was busy with pilots coming and going, Outcasts and Rougues enjoying Cardamine and drinks alike. A older man, with a optical reader over one eye, sat a table in the corner with a group of ragtag pirates, enjoying Liberty ale and talking about old times.
Soon after there drinks where refilled a man walked out of the elevator, in a sharp black buisness suit escorted by two more men dress the same, only wearing sunglasses. The man scanned the room, and once noticed the Captain and his men in the corner, walked over to the table.
" Excuse me, are you Captain Aurther Brown? " the stranger asked. The captain nodded, " Yeah kid thats me, whats it to ya? " the stranger just nodded, placing a breifcase on the table, he opened it, " Im in need of information, my associates and I are looking for a very precious gem and are wondering If you have any Information on it? " he Pulled out a picture and handed it the captain. He whistled when he saw it, " Its called the Maidens Tear, it was mined out of asteroid in Dresden, a teardrop saphire encased in a Diamond the size of a softball.
The Captain smiled, " Even If I didn know anything about it why would I tell you, and not just grab it for myself? " The stranger smiled, " Because whomever has it, has kept its secret well guarded, and my associates and I aren't the only ones, there are others, though there ends for obtaining it are far more deadly than our own, were willing to offer 10 million credits for any information, truthfull information " the Stranger stated. " well ya know what I did happen to hear a rumor or two about something like this, but there only rumors " the stranger smiled pulled up a chair, " Please due tell "
~ Several hours later observation Deck Buffalo Base ~
The strange man and his body guards stared out the window as the Rouge Ship uncoupled from its mouring, air clamps were being released then a beeping noise in his earpiece snapped him out of it.....
" Yes ma'am? " he asked, a womens voice came over the comm, " Did he have any usefull information? " the voice asked, " Just some rumors he was told, they could be anything ill transmit them over a secure channeel, one second.......there ", there was a pause then she replied, " hmm very interesting, did you make sure he was payed for his aid? " there was another pause, then the Rouge ship of Captain Brown heaved as a massive explosion in the Engine compartment tore the ship apart, then a second explosion in its ammunition store vaporised the forward sections and broke it in two before falling silent.
" Yes ma'am he was payed in full, his information is with him to the grave "
~ Somewhere in Unknown space ~
A women sat in large expensive chair, the room only lit by candle light, the window show a blackhole in the distance surrounded by various nebulas, on her desk old starcharts and a halo screen showing Mordens report, after pressing a button on her chair the picture changed to the Maidens Tear.....
" Where are you......"
Alignment:The Outcasts Status: Retired Personal Bio Click here Current Ships:The BlackPearl Base Of Operations:Pryde Villa, Planet Malta
Comm ID: Juan Montoya
Channel origin: Elder Channels
To: Unknown
Representing the Brotherhood.
Juan Montoya's my name.
As the representatives of the faction, the Corsairs, that Controls the southern half of the Omicrons and Omega's, we might have what you seek, or at least information to its whereabouts, provided its a physical object.
When... no, If you reply to this transmission, please do so on the channel from which it was sent. The Elders of the Brotherhood will be able to reply in the case of my absence, if it is neccessary.
Comm ID: Duchess Juno Elizabeth Kietan.
Answering for Commodore Stuart, and the M.K.s
//Message begins
I have no idea what you want, obviously.
But, I have people all over Sirius, and a more than capable fighter wing for any extraction.
Whatever you want, you should always come to me first...everything you might need, in one place.
**IncomingTRansmission**
**CommID** Rogues Raptor Squadron AShenhurst, Wogiss, and Damien
"This is Ashenhurst, Pilot of the Rogues Raptor Squadron Bomber, Raptor 1. I am very interested to see what you have to offer. My crew and I will be presant.
This time it wasn't the heart of Liberty... This time, he was out on a satellite in New York, Sabre fighter drifting near-by, once again plugged into the machine. He monitored the feed, both the normal lawful traffic, and the piggy-backing pirate ones.
They, whoever they were, obviously had connections. And were looking for something...
"Maidens Tear, eh? Let's see what the International Museum of History's files have to say about that..." Once again, the hacker Overload delved into the world of machines, riding the super-highway of information that spanned the sector. He would find out about this object... Why these people might want it... And then, possibly take it for a bargaining chip. Unknown factions who liked to blow up contacts needed to be watched, caught, and dissected to see what they were... Oh yes...
This is the real true story of rock and roll; it was not about anything more then, how to live your life, as a gangster, in sartorial splendor, and turning the world into a place where normality would never return again...- Malcolm McLaren