"Ah, Venus: illustrious jewel in the Corpus Empire. Endless days, limitless opportunity. A planet of contrasts; extreme heat, matched by boundless tracks of shimmering ice. Our predecessors the Orokin seeded the skies with blocks of ice; smashing them down and rendering the planet fit for surface occupation. Their vision is continued today by the tireless work of Anyo Corp, who are proud to announce yet another lucrative third quarter."

- extract from Profiting from Profiteering - A Corpus Trader's Guide to the Origin System

"Stay away from the Frozen Sectors. Original Orokin tech; don't ask me how it works. High yield salvage, if you don't freeze, but the crews it attracts are… unsavoury. Stick to the hot zones. You'll live longer.

- Unknown Solaris United worker

A war barge rumbled over the Frozen Sectors. Unlike the clean, square lines of a traditional Corpus trading vessel, this was lumped with additional armour plating, bulging anti-air turrets; even a cruel looking grappling hook design for spearing other barges. Chains trailed low beneath its hull, securing a small collection of smaller strike skiffs and landing skimmers. A passing trader had once remarked that it was the most Grineer-looking Corpus vessel to ever behold.

The trader's comments were quietly noted, and then his skull mounted on the prow. The crew of the Severance Package were not known for their subtlety.

Appearances were deceiving, however. The crew of the Severance had not acquired such a vast array of hardware by being simple marauders. They were the best at what they did, and were amply rewarded for it. Internally the ship was festooned with drone manufactories, scanning equipment, redundant shield systems; every modern convenience a Corpus sub-contractor could hope for. The ship had been built under the merciless drive and singular drive of its captain, Kahrl Bravic.

If Bravic belonged to one of the trading families it was impossible to tell. He cut an immense, savage figure, corded in lean muscle. His head was shorn; his face a bristling beard of silver grey. The man's left arm was a Grineer augment, a battle trophy from some ancient skirmish he never spoke of, and none were stupid enough to ask. Similar trophies adorned either hips; twinned Grakata sub-machine guns; retro-fitted with all manner of optical attachments of dubious utility. The only visual sign of his allegiance to Anyo Corp was a single armoured shoulder pad, stencilled with their logo.

Bravic lounged in the throne seat, one armoured boot resting on a console before him. He idly toyed with small Moa articula as he watched the trade displays. He had taken a position on a number of weapon shipments entering the Jupiter markets. Just as well. Grineer galleons had blockaded the shipping lanes, spiking the value. Bravic was pleased. The port side rail guns could use an upgrade.

Kahrl Bravic was no mere scavenger; indeed, the Severance was but one of a fleet of scavenging barges he operated in this sector. His portfolio work was simple, but calculated on ruthless principle: predict the next war, take the necessary long positions. If necessary, start the fight yourself, loot the dead; repeat.

"Transmission coming through from Prospect 141." Teico, his coms officer announced.

Teico was the only person on board who bore the closest resemblance to a traditional Anyo crewman. This served Bravic's purposes: he looked more official when they absolutely had to deal with the powers that be.

"Put it through."

The message was encrypted, Kef Mehrino was the sort of paranoid, low level idiot that believed such measures were necessary out here on the frontier. Bravic quickly ran their agreed upon cypher, and digested the information carefully. He very suddenly sat up in his throne.

Kef Mehrino may be a fool, but he had his moments. Bravic snapped his fingers at a passing officer.

"Speyer, prep a collection crew." Bravic ordered, "You'll need dig gear, boring drills. Probably a grav lift."

Built like an Eidolon and twice as mean; Speyer had done a significant amount of field work on Europa, the icy moon of Jupiter. Ice work in particular was his specialty. There were few more dependable.

"What are we looking at, Boss?"

Bravic gestured magnanimously, the servos in his arm whirring.

"Take a look."

Speyer had an aquiline face; his skin daubed in the ritualistic blue tattoos so many of the Anyo Corp favoured. His brow knitted as he took in the site telemetry.

"This what I think it is?"

"I believe so. Tier 0."

Speyer let out a low whistle. After a pause, he concluded:

"I'll need six men. Armed. One of the larger skiffs too."

"Done." Bravic nodded.

"Anything else I need to know?"

Bravic set the articula aside, folding his arms.

"A two man crew called it in. Site rights are theirs."

"They licensed?" Speyer asked.

"Unfortunately."

Speyer scratched at his jowls; mulling it over. Bravic studied his lieutenant carefully, not saying another word.

"Your thoughts, Boss?"

"It's your call. Dangerous work out in the ice."

"A lot can happen." Speyer agreed sagely.

A ghost of a smile tugged at Kahrl Bravic's lips.

"… and I'm not inclined to share fees."