“We head for La Mort,” you say easily.”The ninth star fleet will soon fall and that will leave a gaping hole in the OEA defences. If we don’t act quickly, all might be lost. Besides, our ship was fitted with a rewired id-chip, so scanners shouldn’t be able to detect our true identity…for all they know, we’re simple privateers.”
“Set a course for La Mort, Commandant,” you say to Reddling. “Strap in everyone,” you say as you prepare the warp drives.
“Coordinates set, Captain,” Reddling replies.
“Engaging warp-drive,” you say activating the engines.
With a shudder the Freelance makes the transition to warp speed.
***
“Approaching La Mort,” the onboard computer announces.
“Warp drive, deactivation sequence started.”
The ship shudders again and as it decelerates to cruising speed, La Mort flashes into view. Peering from the bridge window, you see a dark – almost black – planet.
The computer commences with a briefing of the planet’s statistics.
“Planet name: La Mort.
Atmosphere composition: 81.01% nitrogen, 20.85% oxygen, 0.93% argon, 0.038% carbon dioxide, remainder – trace elements. Atmosphere, breathable.
Temperature: -5 to 45 degrees Celsius.
Climate: no rainfall.
Geology: 99,9% Obsidian formations consisting of Silicon Dioxide, remainder – trace elements.
Life: non detectable.
Structures: non detectable.”
“The smugglers pay lots of money to keep it that way,” Freemen says rubbing his chin.
“So what now,” you ask looking at Freemen. “Where is the penal facility?”
“Now we knock,” Freemen says.
“Commandant Reddling, do you know old Morse code,” Freemen asks.
“I do,” Shields replies sitting up in her chair. “What…I’m a language expert – you’d be surprised at what I know,” she says sensing the whole crew is looking at her with surprise.
“Lieutenant-Commander Shields please proceed by transmitting the letters I dictate,” Freemen says.
Looking at McQuire, you see he is already connecting Shield’s console to the communications transmitter.
“ R,” Freemen starts spelling the word and Shields start tapping the controller in front of her.
“O…B…E…R…T…O…break… C…O…F…R…E…S…I…”
Shields finishes tapping the Morse code and looks up at Freemen. “Now what,” she asks.
“That’s it,” Freemen says looking at you. “Now we wait…the name Roberto Cofresi is the name I’ve been given by the Free Traders Guild or FREETRAG as they are commonly called, when I became a member. Their computer will check my status and if I’m welcome they’ll let us in.”
“What if you did something to piss them off,” you ask expectantly.
“They will shoot our ship from the sky without asking questions,” Freemen answers smoothly.
“FREETRAG…aren’t they an underground terrorist organisation?” McGuire asks.
“Terrorist is a word so easily used these days,” Freemen replies. “If a group employs the full benefits of a free market system these days, they get labelled as a ‘terrorist’ organisation. So they bend trade regulations now and again…is that really such a crime?”
“What about the battle cruiser they sold to the Guhl,” Shields asks.
“What about it,” Freemen asks, turning around to look at her. “Is it not a willing buyer willing seller arrangement? If the OEA wanted it so bad, they should have bought it.”
“Can we leave the debate for later please,” you demand, not wanting a fight to break out at this stage of the mission.
“Captain, a missile turret has surfaced on the planet – nuclear tipped Super Novas. One of those babies will vaporize us for sure…what do I do?” Reddling asks.
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