Mala was a tiny blue and brown sphere, suddenly growing larger in their screens.
Their radio blared on the emergency channel.
Kelly swore. "That's the Galactic patrol boat from Azolith. What's he doing here?"
"Blockade," said Beliakoff. "Standard practice to quarantine a planet at war. We can't touch down legally until the war's declared over."
"Nuts. We're going down." Kelly touched the controls and the freighter began to descend into the interdicted area.
"Attention, freighter!" the radio blasted. "This is the interdictory ship Moth. Heave to and identify yourself."
Beliakoff answered promptly in the Propendium language. "Let's see 'em unscramble that," he said to Kelly. They continued their descent.
After a while, a voice from the patrol boat said in Propendium, "Attention, freighter! You are entering an interdicted area. Heave to at once and prepare to be boarded."
"I can't understand your vile North Propendium accent," Beliakoff bellowed, in a broad South Propendium dialect. "If you people can't speak a man's language, don't clutter up the ether with your ridiculous chatter. I know you long-haul trampers and I'll be damned if I'll give you any air, water, food, or anything else. If you can't stock that stuff like any normal, decent—"
"This area is interdicted," the patrol boat broke in, speaking now with a broad South Propendium accent.