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<div align="center]Freeport 10
Until Freeport 10 was established in 760 AS by a band of Zoners looking to establish an outpost as far from the colonies as possible, Tau-37 remained a virtually unexplored system at the distant edge of the Sirius Sector. Largely self-sufficient due to a Synth Foods biodome, the Zoners have continued the open-to-all tradition of the Freeports and frequently play host to members of the Independent Mining Guild (IMG) and Outcasts.
Heimrick's Saloon
The saloon is the only bar onboard Freeport 10. And the central hub of the working staff of the Freeport. It is also where visitors spend most of there time when they come abroad the station to watch news streams being feed to them on one of the many screens. Or even to have a friendly chat with those they normally don't talk to. One of the most common occurances are found to be IMG pilots and Outcast pilots gambling and drinking together whilst in the the Saloon that has become known as Angels Haven, nicknamed so for its relaxed atmosphere.
Many delights are to be found with in the Angels Haven Saloon, from local brews to music being played throught the bar.
The new owner is of a Rheinland/Bretionian decendant, simple known as Heimrick. He rarely ever speaks of his last name but is well versed and educated, well dressed and ever watchfull in running the Saloon.
Freeport 10 Policies
1. The No-Fire Zone covers a 10 kilometre sphere around Freeport 10
2. The No-Fire Zone is an area in which no offensive actions against a Zoner is allowed. This includes attempts at piracy/taxation, the use of weapons (guns, missiles, mines), and intentional ramming.
3. Violating a No-Fire Zone can lead to immediate prosecution and engagement, by the stations security assets and/or any Zoner pilot present.
4. Part two includes stray shots that land upon the Freeport itself.
5. Two kilimetre sphere around freeport 10 in which no Capital Class vessel may reside, except for repairs and docking purposes. Gunboats are not included with in this. All Zoner Capital Class Vessels are free to reside with in this buffer zone.
Part five is in the intention to risk accidental shots against the Freeport. Breachs will be dealt with on a case by case basis as it is only a guidance area and may be changed in the future.
Freeport 10 Policies Part Two/Internal
As well as the External No Fire Zone Freeport 10 follows the following policies with in the Station itself.
1. No fire arms may be carried on board the Freeport. A locker is in the launch bays for holding all fire arms.
1.1 All Zoner identified Freeport Security personel are permitted to carry fire arms.
1.2 All Zoner Traders and Council Member's (of Freeport 10), including there repersentative, may carry one side arm.
2. Brawling will not be tolerated.
3. Any Visitor must remain away from our two Bio-dome deck.
3.1 Anyone caught with in the bio-domes will be shot on sight.
4. Visitors are free to visit and use certain service's that we provide for free for 7 days.
4.1 After 7 days there is a rent charge of 100 000 to 1 000 000 Credits per week (Dependant on service).
4.2 Services included in section 4. are on the following as Listed;- Beverage's
- Dining
- Stateroom's [100/0, None used]
- Recreation Room's [4/0, None used]
- Unused Room's (All of these can be converted to most requirements) [200/0 None used]
5. We have can also provide other service's in the likes of ship weaponry, trade goods, repairs, organ replacement and a variety of ship equipment.
5.1 Ship weaponry can be purchased by contacting Steve Vontaan where you will be asked some questions.
5.2 all other services in 5. accessable as normal.
5.3 Organ replacement costs 1 000 000 credits per organ to be replaced.
6. Conduct on the station must be civil at all times.
7. No bladed or blunt weaponry may be carried on the Freeport.
7.1 Any Zoner may carry such a weapon only with express permit given by Steve Vontaan.
7.2 Council Member's (including the repersentative) may carry a sheathed sword at all times.
7.3 Any visitor may be able to get permission from Steve Vontaan to carry such weaponry. However permissions will only be given to certain cases and valid reasons for carrying them.
8. If a breach in 1. 2. 3. and 6. will be met with force.
8.1 If arrested you will be charged from a severe fine of 5 Million Credits. Or shot out of the Airlock towards the sun.
8.2 Breachs will not be tolerated at all.
Signed
Steve Vontaan of Freeport 10
Steve Vontaan walks over to a empty table taking a seat, lumping a large folder containing a variety of communications that are in printed form.
Looking around him Angels Haven is empty but him. Music droning out the hum of the stations power drainage being caused by the ever weakening shield generator, as well as that, one of the solar panels is completely messed up.
The Salloons lights flicker on and off at random intervals, as is with the rest of the stations main light system's. And as such other systems keep on failing, many having to be repaired over and over. Which is only building up. Even the old damage from an attack from the Gallic Royal Navy is being put on hold for these more frequent repairs. The station outside of the saloon is of chaos, kits everywhere for repairs, case's upon case's of spare parts being stored in the corridors. Even the stations flight controller deck is in a shambles with control panels burning out. But in here, the saloon everything seems to calm down.
By now Steve is buried in to files of texts and doesn't even look up when Heimrick stands a glass of Freeport Ten's own brand of Rum. who only goes back to the bar hoping someone will come to talk to him.
- -- --- ---- -- Freeport 10 Automated News Cast -- ---- --- -- -
Gallic Talks
In a surprising move the Gallic Royal family have been talking to our very own repersentative. However it cannot be confirmed that he has recieved any reply from his last communication. Does this mean they are not going to talk to us anymore? Or will these talks turn out to be fruitfull?
Station: Is a wreck in progress.
The continuation of the ever growing repair list is now becoming un repairable. With over 2793 main repairs needing to be done, and over 5000 minor repairs. The major issue right now is re-wireing the elecrical systems to cope with running from one solar panel. Whilst also the Sheild Generator that was fitted earlier this year has now been turned off. Every where on the station is a jam pack of spare parts and tool kits. The estimated damage cost is now of 150 Million Sirius Credits, the majority of which is not yet repaired.
- -- --- ---- -- Freeport 10 Automated News Cast -- ---- --- -- -
The stations power conduits were humming a random tune as Steve slowly drank is drink to which whenever it was empty another came swiftly along from one of the waiters. Spread across the table he was sitting at were files, some open and all to see and some closed un-neatly packed or neatly packed. To the left of him was a high pile of un opened folders neatly staked.
A few of the stations residents walked in taking a meal and drink as a break from the labour of working. By the condition of their cloths working near one of the few conduits that the station holds. As well as them a few easily noticeable people came in as well. Noticeable as they are likely passers-by visiting the stations bar.
A Sabre with the markings of the Reapers of Sirius sits in the docking bay of Freeport ten, its occupant having refused to dis-armor or become weaponless was pretty much restricted to his own ship while the ship was being refueled. He took a point to stand in his armor very close to his ship awaiting for the time he might be able to leave how ever it'd look like he was more ready to storm a station by himself with his normal usual a tire changed to more heavier equipment.Pistols on both hips, swords on the underside of his back and a crest engraved into the metal on the right shoulder as well as the removable velcro symbols at his chest-plate as well as other bits and pieces such as throwing knives. For now the figure was waiting and standing guard about his ship.
The Stations staff in the hanger worked un-easily. Working many hours show in their movement's speech and eyes. The Sabre, where by a man is not happy to secure his weapons in a secure locker, is hooked up to the fuel pump and a generator to keep the ship warm. All around are many box's, opened ones, closed ones and empty ones cluttering the hanger. The normal Security guard personnal are relaxing, looking over at several screens holding views of a section of the base. Mostly all around the hanger and with in the hanger as well.
"Yea, Freeport 10. IMG black-two requesting to dock. Got some damage but not in any immediate danger. You can thank your northern neighbours for that."
Dan Stone muttered the last quietly as he came out of cruise. His Raven's Talon was pretty beaten up, which wasn't at all unusual on the fringe. Freeport 10 was about as far as any sane IMG pilot would go, and even then, only in an emergency. It was sniffer land in all but the minds of a few dreamers. Not the orange kind.
"Roger that, IMG black-two. Proceed to dock 3." the stations flight control responded. He flicked his nav to auto. The fighter lurched and spun oddly, then started to accellerate towards the biodome. With a sigh he flicked the autonav off again.
"Be advised Freeport 10, auto guidance failure, probably on my end. Damage must be worse then I thought. I'll take her in manually. Might want to ready an engineering crew." Bastards, he thought. I just had the damn thing tuned.
Not a minute later, the hangar doors closed behind him. He heared the soft hum as the Talon made contact with the gravpad that would suspend it from the bay, flicked the engines to idle, and generator to off. "Right, time for a drink after all that." he muttered to himself, exiting the craft. He raised a hand in greeting to the two crewmen approaching. "Just patch her up as best as you can. Careful of any undetonated Kraken rounds in there somewhere. I get the feeling some of those Maltans are starting to feel nasty. Here's the down payment."
A few cred chips changed hands and the Zoner maintenance crew went to work. Dan himself figured it'd take a while, so he went to the bar instead.
"One Leeds Slammer. Cardifree, if you would." It paid to mention that in Angel Haven. This close to Outcast space, a lot of the food and drinks were laced with the stuff. The Zoners catered to the Outcasts often. Heck, he wouldn't even be surprised if the station atmosphere itself would contain traces of that orange poison. Not much he could do about it either way.
The lights flickered briefly, although the tavern didn't dim much as a result. Tau 37 was bright. Very bright. He reckoned the reflected light off of the Barrier pocket the system's suns had cleared alone, was enough to run a solar panel or too whichever way it was oriented. But space was cold... very cold.
"Loose wires in the panel?" he asked the bartender.
The maintance crew have a laugh as the newest ships pilot leaves them to work.
'Undenated ammunition!' One laughs heartilly to the other. 'Never seen that sort of ammunition on a ship, for well...' He pauses', taking a deep breath, 'Never.' And both laugh hard together, trying badly to get to work on the pilot's Talon.
Meanwhile....
The bartender looks at this appaerent guild miner.
'Wonder what he is thinking. Maybe he is on of those mindless idiots thinking we have that Outcast stuff in our stuff. Sounds it certianly. O well...' Thinking to himself before replying.
'Sorry don't serve Leeds Slammers here, never have never will. Though what do you mean by cardamine. You think we serve it?' Letting out a giggle. 'I recommend our Rum, tastes very fine, unless you want to add something to the rum, to drink it over a longer period you know.'
Looking around their is only a few personnel in the bar, two seperate groups are talking over some food, whilst a single person is all alone by the window to the system view towards the star. The bartender is a rather scruffy looking skin head, though is well shaved and remarks a good accent.
'Ahh, yes. Several power systems are failing and causing havoc to other electrical systems. Shall I get you some of our very own rum?' Looking in to the guild members eye's with his own jet black ones.'
A Nyx appears on the scanners of the freeport. With the designation of the Colonial Remnant the ship got closer to the station. A female voice was to hear as the pilot wanted to request a permission to dock.
"This is the Colonial Remnant fighter Lost Star II. Requesting permission to dock at the station." The Nyx was just a few hundred metres away from the docking ports as the traffic control answered. "Lost Star II, you are clear to dock on docking port three."
Johanna brought the Nyx into position and initiated the docking process. After the hangar doors closed she lands her ship on one of the several landing pads. The engines deactivated, the cockpit opened and a woman around the age of 30, with black, mid-length hair, jumped out of the ship. After getting out of her ship she noticed another Sabre in the docking bay. She saw the pilot and the sign of the Reapers on the other ship. She got a bit nervous as the man looked at her as she passed him. It didn't seem like she was carrying any weapon and after the security checked her she went to the bar with quicker steps, sometimes looking back at the Reaper pilot nervously. Arrived there she saw the bartender and the other IMG who seemed to arrived some minutes before her. She sat down on a stool at the counter.
"Hi...erm..can you bring a water please? Or...no. Do you have juice here?"
She sometimes looked around, still nervous about the presence of the Reaper on the station but finally found some rest, relaxing a bit.
![[Image: fpj6-sized.jpg]](http://www.nndb.com/people/341/000026263/fpj6-sized.jpg)
"Copy that, FP10 Control, proceeding to Docking Bay 2"
Smooth as a feather, Chris Connors brought his Colonial Nyx into the docking bay. Most systems these days were automated, but he followed his fathers advice - manual docking keeps you sharp, makes you concentrate - any number of things can go wrong in something as simple as a landing procedure - if you trust it to automation, youll have only yourself to blame if something goes wrong. He could still hear the old mans words in his head, as clear as if it was yesterday. Interlaced with the bad memories of drunken binges and his mother crying from a broken face. Yeah Dad...I remember...
Memories of his father kept his mind occupied, while his hands moved of there own accord. he brought the Nyx in, set it down gently on the gravpad, and let the slow humming reverberation through his pilot chair tell him the ship was secure. After that, it was paperwork - he pulled out a pad and went through post-flight checklist, switching off the various systems in the Nyx and marking it down one by one. At the end, he pulled out a stylus and wrote down that the second engine was still producing a vibrating followed by a flutter in output percentages - a note for the mechanics at either Jave or Sulawesi to take care of.
By that time, the hangar crews had already rolled up a ladder for him. Removing his helmet, and observing the rules, he removed his issued sidearm, tucked it inside his helmet, and laid both on his chair, before pulling out of the cockpit, down the ladder, and into the station proper, handing off his flightbook to the lead hangar tech, for what needed to be done in the servicing.
Making his way into the "Angels Haven" he noticed Joanna, and gave a nod, pulling up a stool beside her.
"Heeey, didnt think to see you here..." He gave a nod, and removed his rank insignia "Dont worry, no rank here. Just two pilots having a drink."
He nodded at the bartender "Beer please, umm...bottled...gimme a Stackhouse Light." As he pried the cap off, and took a drink, he could still hear his fathers words... Thats good...drink, but not too much, you still have to fly out of here - no telling what might be out there when you undock - let the edge off, but never to excess - a fighter pilot is not a marine, not a barely controlled killing machine - he's a precision, tactical instrument - highly intelligent - highly perceptive - highly skilled - and like any precision piece of machinery, it must be kept in pristine shape to run perfectly - you hear me boy?!
"Yea...I hear you..." he whispered, taking a drink of his beer...
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