Freeport 6 - Sitting at the Bar

[Ash]

I got here yesterday on a civilian transport from Cardiff. Damn those things are slow. In my old Startracker I could'a made that journey in half the time......but i spose it's gone now. I've been stuck here reading through the job boards and recruitment posters for 24 hours. Nothing seems to be offering me any hope in the way of getting a pair of wings.

We woulda got blasted if it had'nt have been for some half rich folk that forked out 2 million credits for a Molleys' Highwaymen job. Never caught his name but he looked like an Interspace Suit. It probably expains it.

So where you come from stranger?

---

[Backo]

An IMG ship poped on Freeport 6's radars. The ship had an IMG IFF and was closing with a cruise speed. In just a few more seconds the name "IMG|Cameron.Mitchell[D]" showed up. "This is IMG Cameron Mitchell. I'm requesting permission to land" said Mitchell and stoped the cruise engines. "Roger that, this is Freeport 6, you have permission to land in dock 2" replied...
After Mitchell landed his brand new "Nyx" he opened the cockpit and jumped out. He hoped to get a good cofe that will keep him awake for his night shift. He gave a last look at the "Nyx" and went to the bar to get his drink.

---

[Doc Holliday]

Tired and irritable, a tall, lone figure walked into the bar at the Freeport, his freighter moored with a load of permithium. He was dressed in a fine shirt, tweed black vest, hat and trenchcoat. His overall appearance was of ancient Earth's old west of the American late 1800's. He checked the time on a gold antique watch on a chain and found a seat. He coughed a little as he motioned the bartender over, a man he saw often as this was a regular stop for him coming out of Galia space.

"Whiskey, Sir," he spoke as he put away his handkerchief. Within a minute or so, the bartender returned with a bottle, poured a shot and as he left, the man tapped the table,
"Leave the bottle, please." The bartender did as asked and went about his business.

He then swirled the contents of the glass and weakly smiled, "to those Galic authorities. You missed me again." He then took his shot and poured another. Again, he smiled, "Congratulations, Matok, on making the Guard. You have done well since your rescue. qa'plAH!!" He downed that shot as well and poured another. To anyone watching, this tired and irritable man seem to be in control but loosened up.

---

[MFE]Med Force One | Tales of Recovery|Med Force Enterprises

[n00bl3t]

"Zoner Convoy Green Four requesting to land."

"Understood. Proceed to dock two Zoner Convoy Green Four. Welcome home."

The Base Commander stood in the Dock Control next to the four docking operators. It had been quiet until this new "house" from Sol popped up. It was his job to protect this station and he didn't like the attention this new house was drawing. The maskers were showing up at larger numbers at the Freeport and they were all on edge-even more than normal, which was never a good thing.

There was only one good thing, the high influx of people meant that the Freeport was making a lot of money selling supplies.

He sighed.

"Ask that Borderworlds patrol about it's IFF and designation." He commanded the second operator half-heartedly, and then left for the bar.

---

Anything I say is not intended as offensive, and to try and deliberately misinterpret it as such would be an attempt at trolling via misrepresentation.

It's not a conspiracy, it's localised bias. They're not intelligent enough to form a conspiracy.

[Bear]

A well built man strode through the door and walked purposefully to the bar and sat next to a drunk man. He proceeded to then order a glass of brew and a sandwich. as he ate the barman asked him a question

"where do you come from stranger"
"far away mate, edge of Bretonia in fact"
"Is that so........many pirates on the way here"
"no not really"

The barman then left to serve another patron leaving Cook to finish his meal. Once done he proceeded to pay the waiter and get back onto his trade route

"have a nice day sir"
"you to mate".

---

 

[sixfld]

"Incoming super heavy fighter pilot, we have you on our scope. Please iden... Six, is that you?"

"Roger that Freeport Six control, this is Six... requesting a docking vector, we've taken damage."

"Understood, proceed to dock 3. I'll have avionics send a team down to meet you in the hangar."


Like a college frat party descending on a late night pizza house, the crew and scientists of the DeepScan6
arrived loudly in the bar. The IMG designed Spatial explorer was well built and well, 'spatial' enough inside
but after weeks in space even a cruise liner starts to feel claustrophobic so they were grateful for the R&R.

Six however, wasn't laughing. Not long before arriving at the sanctuary of the Freeport she'd received a
coded defense message from the Raven's Talon Wing, VanguaRd3: "Do NOT return to FP6. Hostiles taxing
[SIX]_ ID'd pilots $10M at T-23 / Baffin hole. Stop." The sender saw her come in and he stood to attention.

"At ease Sergeant, sit down. Have you filed a report on the, 'incident'?"

"Yes Ma'am."

As she said this she felt her fury rising, forcing a thin smile she nodded to the pilot to continue.

"Three vessels were camping on the Freeport side of the Baffin jump when I came through, they asked me
to stop, I complied. They demanded $10 Million so I suggested $6 million and the 60 tons of gold I had on
board, I'll get to why I had that shortly. They agreed, I paid then came here to FP6 at the end of my shift."

"Well handled, I knew I could count on you. File a reimbursement with accounts before you go." Said Six.

The veteran pilot went on with his report.

"Before docking, a system wide conversation started about the increased tax rate and I was told, second
hand, that a [SIX]_ ID'd freighter had offended the [-=XTF=-] by refusing to stop. Apparently he got away
then taunted them by calling them amateurs on system channel. I apologised, they were very courteous."

"Ok, so can you account for the whereabouts of all our vessels for the time frame?" Asked Six.

"Yes Ma'am. The StarGaz3r was in Munich picking up vacationers, ReCourse3 was in Omicron Delta running
cartography scans from Freeport 11. FR8Traill1, 3 and 6 were all docked for repairs on Freeport 10."

"And where were you, in Munich with the StarGaz3r?" As Six asked this, the pilot lowered his gaze slightly.

"No Ma'am. I was on my way here after taking the new recruit, FR8 Alpha down to Canaria to pick up his
new transport then back to Coronado to acquaint himself with the rest of the Freelancers. I'm suspecting the
rookie may have gone trading first. He was in a Rhino when I offered him the $66 mil sponsorship package."

At this, Six finally exploded. "What? I ordered you to escort the StarGaz3r, have you gone wilde man! That's
a ninety million credit investment and you left it in Hessian territory without a wingman..."

"With all due respect Ma'am, you also ordered me to find trade pilots to make cash to buy more of them and
I couldn't send a rookie through Dublin on his own in a Starflea, the Molly's would eat him alive. Besides, we
asked your cousin to have a look at her, he's reinforced the armour and fitted better shields." He retorted.

"Err, I did didn't I." Mumbled Six. "Ok, erm." There was an awkward pause. "Have you spoken to recruit
Alpha to get his side of the story yet? I don't really want to know where you got the gold, you flew through
Dublin, enough said." Another pause. "Must pop in at the Hood next time..." Mumbling deeper into thought.

"Yes Ma'am, he says he doesn't recall the er, 'incident' but he's assured me he will pay careful attention to
his conduct when confronted by pirates in the future. I didn't mention the pirate tax reimbursement policy as
it didn't apply in this case, I'll make sure I tell him next time I see him." Said the pilot, completing his report.

"Very well Sergeant, now he has a transport, get his Talon organised next. Dismissed." She stood to leave.

Calling back over her shoulder she playfully reminded the officer, "Get me more pilots, that's an order!"

It was no good, the words drifted by unheard. The pilot's lustful gaze was fixed on Six's well toned, 'six'.

Slumping heavily back into his seat, numb minded and slack jawed he sighed. "I love this job..."

---

<span style="color:#33CC00">Sirius Interspatial Xploration</span> Discover New Worlds In Style
[SIX]_Six... CEO, founder, chairperson. Explorer, entrepreneur, philanthropist. Commanding an IMG Spatial during Sirius wide cartography project
[SIX]_FR8Trail6 Border World Transport pilot, Senior Franchisee and commanding officer with 'START' (Sponsored Trade Agent Recruitment Team)