Tyr's Transport
Running fast, safe and secure through high and low sec in a blockade runner with cargos up to 4.200 m3.

From the founder himself:
"The last one that bit of my hand is still slavering tied to a rock with a sword stuck in his craw. Be warned."

"Mammas Don't Let Your Babies Grow Up To Be Spacers"

Spacers ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold
They'd rather give you a song than pyerite or gold
Concord belt buckles and old faded skinsuits
And each gate begins a new warp
If you don't understand them, and they don't die young
They'll prob'ly just warp away

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be Spacers
Don't let 'em pick guitars or drive them old haulers
Let 'em be corporate lawyers and such
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be Spacers
'Cos they'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with someone they love

Spacers like smokey old pool rooms and clear starry skies
Little warm puppies and children and girls of the night
Them that don't know them won't like them and them that do
Sometimes won't know how to take them
They ain't wrong, they're just different but their pride won't let them
Do things to make you think they're right

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be Spacers
Don't let 'em pick guitars or drive them old haulers
Let 'em be corporate lawyers and such
Mamas don't let your babies grow up to be Spacers
'Cos they'll never stay home and they're always alone
Even with someone they love