"Free to go" doesn't always exactly mean free to go...The smell was like fresh manure mixed with rancid milk the best smell Fenn Tibarrien could have wished for. He recognized a few of the noxious odors that penetrated his breathing mask, and spoke in his mind what he knew the translator on his arm would momentarily speak aloud: "Free to go." One day those words would be uttered and he would actually be free to leave, but until then they were merely a cruel, ironic reminder of his imprisonment. The only good in them was that he could get off this God-forsaken slope and rest...