“Very good Captain. Your ship awaits in port 34-Delta. Good luck.”
As you enter port 34 Delta, you are welcomed by a man in his fifties wearing a grey trench coat.
“Pleased to meet you Captain. I am Lord Freeman – at your service.”
Freeman shakes your hand with a firm grip and looks you straight in the eyes. The combination of his greying hair, his green-grey eyes and his grey trench coat almost gives him a benign quality. However, knowing the way that trade masters operate, you decide that he will have to earn your trust the hard way.
Turning your attention to the Freelancer, you are impressed. The ship is the newest range of the Freelancer series, so called due to its versatility. Weapons-, cargo- and electronic utility pod-bays are interchangeable and with a large cargo hold it can carry anything from cargo to weapons or soldiers. A common favourite of space rangers and bounty hunters, the Freelancer series had proven its track record in action.
“Ah, here they are”, you hear Freeman say behind you. Turning around you see three men enter the port. As the first one reaches you he extends his hand and introduces himself, “Captain Gunn, I am Commandant Reginald Reddling. I will be your navigator on this mission.”
“Welcome Commandant,” you reply easily. “I see your record says you graduated from the Academy under Admiral Miraz.”
“Yes…uh…sir,” Reddling replies, seemingly not sure how to address you since he technically outranks you.
“You can just address me as Captain, Commandant. I know it’s unorthodox to have a mission commander that does not outrank you, but trust me there is a good reason I find myself in this position.”
Slightly intimidated by the calibre of your crew, you wish you hadn’t said that, realizing that it sounded as if you were trying to convince someone.
Moving on, you encounter the next person in line.
“Master Chief Sam McGuire sir,” the engineer says. His bulky frame and log-like arms do not fit his job description. The engineers you are used to are more of the geeks-in-glasses type. With his five-o’clock-shadow and jet-black hair, it looks like McGuire just strolled out of a pub. A slight belch escapes McGuire’s mouth. Smelling alcohol on his breath, you realise McGuire did just step out of the ship’s pub.
“No worries sir. There’s also a good reason I find myself in this position…” McGuire responds sensing your doubt in him. “I find,” he starts elaborating, “that a quick drink before a mission relaxes me and…”
“That’s fine, Chief,” you reply cutting him off. “I’m sure the fleet commanders had good reason assigning you to this mission.”
With some concern, you step past him to the last person in line – the language expert. Not getting a good look when the three crew members came in, you are surprised to see it’s a woman.
With dark-brown hair and brown eyes, you are taken aback by her good looks and hesitate for a moment.
“Lieutenant-Commander Michelle Shields, Captain,” she says, taking the opportunity.
Oh great, you think to yourself, another person that outranks me.
“Let’s move out people,” you say, not wanting to extend your torture any further. “We’re on a tight schedule.”
Three minutes later you find yourself strapped into the pilot’s seat. With expert fingers you punch the controls in front of you, making the console blink to life. Shortly after that, the ship’s engines whine alive.
“Pathfinder seven-zero, you are clear for takeoff,” the voice of the space traffic controller-robot announces over your earpiece. Powering the engines up, you find yourself sliding though the open hatch of the America.
“Commandant Reddling,” you say over the microphone strapped to your throat, “what is the closest destination to a trade centre so that we can get rid of the extra Pylene and stock up for the mining operation?”
“That would be the Kepler sir. It is actually a mining station, but there are small numbers of traders that would buy our Pylene. They should also have the appropriate mining tools. There are however Miras-Guhl on Kepler sir, and we would have to go in quietly,” Reddling says confidently.
“Our second option is a planet called Rokkla. It’s quite a bit further away and we would have to use 30% of our Pylene stock to get there. Prices there are also quite low for Pylene, but there are no Miras-Guhl on Rokkla.”
Looking at Freeman, he nods in agreement, confirming what Reddling had just said.
“I believe we should consider a third option, Captain,” Freeman says.
“There is a decommissioned penal-facility on a small planet nearby called La Mort. It doesn’t display on our star maps, because it’s not supposed to exist anymore. However smugglers use it as a relay station. They pay top dollar for Pylene, and have an impressive inventory of weapons and equipment.”
“If they don’t kill us first,” Lieutenant-Commander Shields chips in.
Looking back at Freeman, he rubs his chin. “That is a possibility,” he responds, “but only if they learn we’re with the law, as it were. It can also be our fastest ticket to completing our mission.”
With all the crew looking at you, you have to decide:
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