[As your radio spools through empty stations, you pick up some chatter on a previously dead CB frequency] *Krzrkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk--Click* Enthusiasm. Well good maaaaaaagical morning to all y'all out there, plying that infinitely spectacular and ever-treacherous road among the stars that we call the Trade-Lines! Philosophical. Now it can get a might-bit lonesome out here, and things ain't bad enough without the USCM and MiniKnog crawling up our waste output valves and sniffing around in our all too private business, so here's a word to all of you. Gentle Understanding. There's always gonna be the Pioneers. The Soldiers. The Adventurers and Would-be Heroes in this big scary universe of ours, but people forget the humble Starcrawlers just doing their jobs and keeping everything running. Growing Fervor. Where'd the Hivemind Kings get their gold? How do the Humans keep their colonies afloat? Who helped the Floran make the final jump into space? How in the HELL do the Apex drag all that Titanium all the way back to Alpha Sector? Proud Glee. The answer? is us, ladies, gentlemen and otherwise! All you Freight-Runners, and Engineers, and Contractors. All you Mercenaries, and Miners, and Miscreants, you ain't forgotten. Because we all know it's you that make the stars keep on spinnin'! Smug Pride. So c'mon all you Contract Pilots, send the word up on this Frequency. Throw out your callsigns, and holler out your woes, tales and horror stories. It's about time these big ole' rustbuckets we call home got a little less lonely. This is FreightPsychoanalyst [FP], opening up the airwaves to all of y'all~ [Somehow the voice manages to carry an accent while remaining completely and unnervingly monotone]
