Nearly half a quadrant from the nearest Confederation planet, is Out World Six. The planet 'India' as it is known to its inhabitants and the many visitors that stopover. A mostly dry dead planet. Two huge cities one on either side of the planet house most of the population. Bethlehem and Jerusalem. Trade between the cities is dangerous work. The borderlands, the space between the cities is fraught with danger.

The ships engine blasted forward to slow down. Inside, the ship shook and rattled. It was approaching the edge of Bethlehem limits. The tall shiny  buildings gave way to the lower levels as Philips descended through the buildings towards landing zone 3.

"Beta 279... You are cleared to land in hanger three..."

The ship slowly touched down and was clamped in to place. The hydraulic door of the small ship released in a puff of steam as it slowly it came down. Philips walked down the gantry and on to the deck. He was a tall black man with short cropped black hair. He wore a long black leather coat that almost reached the floor. As he walked he heard a familiar sound behind him. It was the click of a weapon being charged. Philips slowly raised his arms and turned. It was Brent the spaceport owner. 

"You best have my credits Philips or I'm going to shoot you... again"

"Keep calm Brent, I've got your credits"

Philips handed her a small credit card. Brent tapped on the card.

"Okay, Philips. Welcome back"

She uncocked her laser weapon and put it back in its holster.

"Jesus Brent... Give a man a chance"

"You've had plenty of chances, Philips. Keep up to date and we won't need to have these little situations develop".

They walked over to the office.

"Brent I'm looking for work, you got any"

"Now why would I want to work with a slime ball like you"

"Hey! I'm an honest trader"

Brent smirked, Philips was anything but honest, but Brent knew when hiring this kind of pilot was worthwhile.

"I do have a job actually. Transport some goods to Jerusalem. Keep it under the Confederation radar"

"What's the pay off"

"Seventy thousand credits. Half when you go, half when you complete the job"

Brent knew that Philips would take any job with this kind of price tag.

"What's the cargo?"

"That's strictly a need to know"


"You don't need to know yet. Meet me at the Frankfurt tonight at eight and I'll hand over the cargo".

Philips returned to his ship, and told his crew of two to prepare the ship.

The End

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