Hey everyone. I'm afraid this next XAP segment might be a little late, although hopefully the quality will make up for that.

But we have one main problem; we still need a voice actor for a small character called Knife. The only two requirements are a decent mic and the ability to do a South American accent (Edit: To clear up confusion, I am referring to the continent South America, not the Southern US. Think Peru and other jungled places like that.)

It would be really helpful if someone could try for this, and we would all appreciate it very much. As well as that, it should be a bit of fun, plus you get to appear in the next XAP segment, which will have quite a few forum members in, all voicing different characters.

Lines are below, the character is Knife. Anyone who is interested is not required to audition, please feel free to try out the lines and send them to me (although please reply here before you do so, so that I know someone will be trying). Thanks a lot.

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“It was a ship that was reported hijacked three weeks ago,” said Knife.

Rick nodded. Sitting at his desk in his office, shoes off and feet crossed up on his desk, and smoking one of his huge cigars, he grunted.

“Pirates are getting bolder,” Rick said.

Knife, actually Jeffry Ravenfeather, a solid black jaguar with the most startlingly bright green eyes ever seen in his race, licked his nosepad and nodded down at his captain. He was Rick’s First Officer.

“Yes,” Knife said calmly. “They are obviously becoming bold enough, now, to hijack military frigates.”

Rick blew a plume of smoke and nodded. “Dispatch it.”

The jaguar nodded. “Speaking of dispatches,” he said then, eying his captain. “There was another warrant dispatched for your arrest.”

Rick chuffed, dismissing this with a wave of his cigar. He scrunched his toes, looked at them briefly in thought, and then said to Knife, “How many does that make - thirty, so far?”

“Thirty two, Sir.”

“Yeah, well, the SAC Alliance isn’t getting this ship. Nor am I paying the greedy shites any taxes.” He waved his cigar, dropped his feet down from the desk and got up. “I have little doubt they’ll ignore our dispatch, but send it anyway. Maybe somebody with two brain cells to rub together will receive it.” He looked at Knife. “What is the compliment on one of those frigates - 55 crewmen?”

Knife nodded again, grimly. “Yes.”

Rick strode over to the bar and poured himself a drink - and another for his first officer. Bringing it to him, he said to Knife, “Maybe when they’re finally tired of the press releases that the SACA Navy is losing ships and they are burying their heads in the sand about it, somebody will start listening. Until then...”

He clinked his glass to Knife's “We’re going to try to help.”

Knife nodded, but looked at his captain sceptically. “Sir, there’s a lot of space out there. And so long as SACA (pronounced “saka”) insists upon sending small ships so far out alone like this...”

“I know,” said Rick, sighing. He turned up his glass and drained its contents in one continuous series of gulps. It was good orange juice.

Knife drank his down, too.

“Send a dispatch on the Naval band. Invite all small ships that are being forced to conduct remote, solo patrols to transmit their locations and call signs to us.”

“Sir?” Knife asked. “I doubt...”

Rick cut him off. “Yeah, they won’t give their positions, military security, yada yada.” Rick gave a dismissive chuff. “Send it, anyway. In it also, I want you to send an invitation to talk to us. Tell them we are offering assistance if or when needed.”

Knife’s brows rose.

“Yeah,” Rick said. “I may be a little off my rocker for thinking that something like this could work, but...”

Knife blinked at his captain. “Something like... what, Sir? Getting them to talk to you? A lot of them will doubtlessly refuse to, but some may. Are we talking about something larger here?” The jaguar's eyes narrowed. "Maybe a military coup?"

Rick straightened. He plugged his cigar back into his mouth and regarded his first officer. “Just get it done, Jeff. I’ll discuss my plans at tomorrow morning’s briefing. I just need to... heh.”

Trailing off with a chuckle, Rick returned to his desk and sat down again - his feet going back up on the desk, and he resuming his cigar smoking.

“I just need to ask myself whether I’ve gone off my rocker.”

Knife nodded slowly, doubtful, and turned to leave to carry out his captain’s orders.

Rick stopped him with another laugh. “Ever heard of something called the ‘Ranger Clans’, Knife?”

Knife paused at the door, blinking at his captain. “Can’t say as I have, Sir.”

Rick laughed. “Something I read in a book once. About this clan of people who broke off from their government. The usual story, corruption, got tired of being over taxed, big-brothered, stuff like that. They formed this alliance. Were pretty successful with it, too. Eventually grew into a whole new nation, captured the attention of their whole world.”

Knife’s brows rose.

“Sounds fascinating, Sir.”

“It does, doesn’t it!” Rick said with a laugh. “Heh, either way, I’ll think on it tonight, and tell you all more about it in tomorrow’s briefing. And oh! That new kid on the bridge - that fox?” Rick snapped his fingers. “What’s his name - Devin? Yeah, that’s him. Stick him on a day of cooling duct duty. Good kid, but he needs to learn the importance of not questioning orders on the bridge.”

Knife nodded, turning again to leave. “Aye, Captain. Will there be anything else?”