Council for the Defence
21 Apr 2018MMMMMalcolm
OOCMatt Horner got caught up in some of real life. As a result I am writing this log for him. Please read his account of these events when he is able to post them.
"Eight hundred thousand credits, are you serious?" I bellowed. You slave away for the local minor factions; like their favorite pet gofor. You "go for" this and you "go for" that; all the while smiling and swallowing comments you would say under different circumstances, hoping they would trust you enough to give you a real mission. Then when you complete it while avoiding pirates and back-stabbing double dealers, the local shipyard takes your hard earned credits right back.
"You have to remember commander, this is a brand new Cobra MK IV. I know it looks like the MK III but trust me it's anything but. AND its extremely rare. You won't find one anywhere else."
"I don't care if it's solid painite, I'm not spending eight hundred thousand credits on a Cobra. I'll go back to a Sidewinder first." I gathered my things and turned towards the door.
"Hold on now Matt. I can call you Matt can't I? Neither one of us wants you to leave here in a ratty old Sidewinder. I tell you what, I have a used Cobra MK III a young fella not unlike yourself just traded in for an Asp Explorer yesterday. I know you said new Cobra, but this MK IV is the only new Cobra we have. Would you be interested in looking at the used one?"
I was about to answer when an incoming communication alert sounded on my data slate. It was flagged urgent, but I did not recognize the the pilot on the other end.
"Is there somewhere private I can take this call?" I asked the sales man.
"Why don't you use my office? While you're talking, think about my offer; I'm going to help this couple that just walked in." He rose to leave.
"Howdy folks. Welcome to 'Sammy's Shipyard'..." He closed the door behind him. I accepted the communication request. A digital image of a black man with short dreads appeared above my slate.
"Commander Horner, you don't know me. I'm Commander Malcolm Goodwin."
"Hello commander. How can I help you?"
"It's not me that needs your help. Commander James Barrett has been arrested. I have evidence that can free him, but it's not safe for me here anymore. Can you come to San Tu?"
"I'm working on that right now. After I buy an inconspicuous ship I'm supposed to contact him and meet him in San Tu. I'll head there right away."
"Good. I don't have to tell you to be careful. If you get arrested as well, there will be little I can do to help you."
"Don't worry commander, I know how to handle myself."
"Good to hear. I'll be in touch."
"Sammy!" I called out of the office. "How much do you want for the MK III? I'll take it!"
***********
The minute I arrived in San Tu I went searching for Commander Barrett. I focused my attention on the San Tu State Network; doing missions for no other faction but theirs. If I could get friendly enough with them, maybe they would arrange an opportunity for me to see James. It only took a couple of days before Senior Executive Willie Craft invited me for drinks at Gernhardt Enterprise.
Willie Craft was an old man surrounded by broken dreams. His office was among the mid-level suites of the station tower; due in large part to the system being controlled by the Dragons of San Tu instead of the Federation to which he belonged. On his mahogany desk rested his long retired flight helmet. On a shelf behind him, above the Federation symbol that covered his wall, sat a model of a Farragut Battle Cruiser he never got to command.
Despite all that, he greeted me with a warm smile that pulled on the corners of his white beard. Still hopeful brown eyes flanked a long nose and rested under black and grey gelled hair combed neatly on his head. His stance was tall and his handshake firm when we met.
"Commander Horner, it's nice to finally meet you. Please have a seat. What can I get you?"
"I could really use a face to face with Commander James Barrett." He suddenly stopped half way to the mini-bar sitting in a corner of his office. As if remembering where he was going, he completed his trip to the bar and poured us drinks in two crystal glasses.
"Young, a bright future, and a straight shooter. You would have made a fine officer in the Federal Navy." He handed me a glass half full of brown liquid.
"I still might," I answered sipping my drink. The liquid slid smoothly down my throat with just a dull burn. "I recently made Midshipman. But first I need to talk to Commander Barrett." Executive Craft downed his drink and sat behind his desk before responding.
"What is it about this guy? We arrested him for treason as ordered by superiors in Sol; a charge that carries an automatic death sentence. Just before the sentence could be carried out, another order comes down to move him to a prison ship."
I listened closely to every word the has been spat my direction. After the last drop of my whiskey settled in my belly, I look him in the eye and spit a few words of my own.
"Tell me Willie, didn't you find it a bit strange these orders came in for a person not even on the Federation's wanted list?" The Senior Executive didn't flinch.
"That's Executive Craft to you son. I may be old, but I haven't forgot my academy training. You'd do well to remember yours. They said Barrett was trying to gather intel for the Alliance. We didn't blindly arrest the man. We know all about his ties to the Alliance's Terran Colonial Forces; and yours too for that matter." My turn not to flinch. I pointed my finger at the man; as if pressing in my point.
"Think, and be honest. Is it customary Federal law for the accused to be placed with killers, military criminals, and terrorists without so much as a trial? James Barrett saved my uncle, former Rear Admiral Blasius Hajdu, many times. Who in the Federation would be threatened by someone like that?" I glanced at the model above his head and added, "Farragut Battle commanders aren't idiots. You know letting me speak to James is the right thing to do."
"Is that true son, your uncle was a Rear Admiral in the Federal Navy?" I nodded. Executive Craft sighed and leaned back in his chair. "Look, some big people are pulling the strings on your friend. I can't afford to get in trouble again. I just want to keep my executive position in this God forsaken system long enough to retire. However, I appreciate everything you've done for us here. Out of respect for your uncle's service I can tell you he was transferred to 'The Master of Courage". It's a prison ship in a system called Puppis Sector CQ-Y B1. An unmarked Dropship ferried him off yesterday morning. If you're going to talk to him you better hurry. 'The Master of Courage' lives up to its name. I doubt he'll survive there very long."
I rushed out of the office straight to the docks. Yesterday! I missed him by a measly twenty four hours! Well at least he's still alive. "Hang on James, I'm coming."
*********
I was livid.
"What do you mean Barrett wasn't on the Federal Dropship when it arrived? That's unacceptable warden. Prisoners aren't supposed to just disappear. Don't you care a prisoner escaped your transport? What kind of an operation are you running around here?"
"The kind that keeps the galaxy's psychos from making arrogant little twits like you their personal ball scrubbers; among other things. If the ship avoids being blown up by pirates or being carried away by a defecting pilot I'm satisfied. One less report I have to write and one less piece of filth I have to babysit. Now get off my ship before I forget my favor to Craft and lock you up with Hugo. He loves pretty mouths that won't stay shut."