Their weapons were just one of several differences that marked the armed spacers from the Union of Worlds’ heavy destroyer HMS Furious. The most visible distinction was the insignia each spacer wore on the right side of his or her armored breastplate. It was about the diameter of an open hand. In its center was depicted an antique helmet, blood red in color. The helmet was a ridged bowl with an articulated neck guard, a small bill and a mask that covered a warrior’s face. The mask had a snarling, ferocious appearance, obviously designed to frighten the wearer’s adversaries. Six stylized starbursts or explosions were just to the upper right of the helmet, a splash of yellow against the black background. At the top of the patch was written in red, HMS FURIOUS, and at the bottom a date—3500.3.16—the date the Furious, along with the little fast frigate HMS Swiftsure, had wreaked devastation on the Antarian invading forces, destroying the battleship DracoSerpens, the cruisers Monoceros and Centaurus, and the frigates Sagitta, Scorpius, Scutum, and Serpens.
Tora had been only a ship’s boy at the time she had stormed the DracoSerpens’ battlebridge as part of Midshipman Nichos Tonga’s squad of armed spacers. Now, she was a Boatswain’s Mate 2nd Class and Nichos Tonga a Second Lieutenant. Tora again looked toward the view screen noting that the craft’s Marine pilot was steering them over the moon’s sunward pole about ten kilolynts above the surface. As they neared the military s’port the traffic became even worse. Tora observed numerous LCAP’s, cutters, and gravtrucks, some with cargo trains attached others without, lifting off or landing. The gravtrucks would be servicing the needs of the squadron. The LCAP’s and cutters would be carrying out various assignments, but many of them would be bringing fleet spacers and marines in-system for liberty.
Tora sighed. As a newly promoted Boatswain’s Mate 2nd Class in the Furious’ Deck Force one of her duties was ship’s security. As a star sailor who proudly wore over her left breast the wreathed PAW badge signifying combat experience, as well the silver band on her left arm denoting a “chosen senior spacer” of an armored assault squad, she had few qualms about being a “master of arms.” However, when she and her squad were assigned shore patrol duties she’d felt a twinge of unease.
Tora had been born in a spacer’s brothel and raised wild running the tunnels and corridors of an orbiting s’port in Beta Quadrant. For the first ten years of her life she’d led a hard existence made even more so by the casual brutality of the local shore patrol. She’d grown up with a well-deserved wariness of any “patroller”. Many a whore’s child didn’t live past the age of puberty, which came early to those who lived in space. Many had been whacked just for the fun of it by the sadistic bastards who’d called themselves the law in the s’port of her childhood.
She sighed again. But then, Mona Prime was no different than any other liberty base. Marines and spacers, be they merchies or men of war crew, were the same anywhere. When on liberty they wanted to get drunk, fornicate, and generally raise hell. And, as the Furious’ Chief of Boat had told her, someone has to protect the poor sods from themselves, and it might as well be you as some sadistic son-of-a-bitch looking to put a notch on the grip of his blaster. Maybe so, but still you didn’t make friends by knocking them on the head or blasting them with a PAW set on stun.
“Are you going to be staying at the Parro Azul, Tora?” Asked Petty Officer 2nd Class Haz Blu from his place across the LCAP’s compartment. Tora nodded toward the helmeted figure just barely discernable in the shadows.
“Aye, Haz. The LT had old Rufo hold a cubicle for me.” Tora replied over the comm-net. “What about you?”
“Ensign Longo was off ship by the time I got the word from the Chief Bosun we were to accompany you dirt side. So, it looks like I’ll be staying in the barracks.” The other answered. Petty Officer Blu was senior chosen spacer of Ensign Knesa Longo’s assault squad. Tora smiled behind her helmet’s faceplate. She realized Haz was fishing for an invitation to stay with her—well, to be more precise, to sleep with her. Both of them knew all he had to do was ask Rufo and the old Antarian would find the Petty Officer a place to stay. Everyone on the Furious knew of Rufo’s special friendship for Lieutenant Tonga and Ensign Longo, who kept a set of cubicles rented full time at his inn. In fact, the Parro Azul had become a favorite hangout of the Furious’ senior NCO’s and junior officers whenever they were on Mona Prime. Facts that had both enhanced the reputation of the spacer’s inn as well as help protect Rufo from being strong-armed by the growing criminal element attracted by the system’s increasing trade.
“Too bad Haz. Maybe you can come by some evening and we can have dinner.”
“Ah, Tora.” The other said in a pleading voice. Tora smiled primly to herself, not responding over the comm-net. Haz will just have to keep his pants on or find some other spacer to tumble in the hammocks. No, Tora-girl doesn’t put out like that—no more! Tora-girl has other things on her mind, she thought to herself as she unconsciously felt the two chevrons designating her new rank on her left sleeve.
The Furious’ bullet-shaped LCAP flew over the huge military s’port with its hundreds of kilolynts of ferrocrete landing pads and then angled starboard heading toward a range of mountains which formed a boundary around much of the facility. Neither men of war, nor the huge bulk transports, ever touched dirt side, be it moon or planet. These star travelers were always loaded, or off-loaded, in high orbit. The huge gravtrucks and their attached cargo trains which did this work used the open ferrocrete landing pads passing below. The cutters, gigs, and other smaller shuttle craft landed in one of the numerous bays cut out of the mountains toward which the Furious’ LCAP was heading.
Beyond the mountains glowed the lighted domes of Civitas, Mona Prime’s principle city. It was there, within the spiraling towers and sprawling buildings accented by manicured lawns and greenbelts, where Mona Prime’s wealthy lived and worked. Everyone else lived in the tunnels. Just beyond the black horizon punctuated here and there by the colored light of distant stars hung the sienna colored sphere of Alpha Fornacis, the planet which Mona Prime orbited and the seat of government of the Antarian Open Star Cluster, the new ally of the Union of Worlds.
Tora watched as the marine pilot guided the LCAP through the energy vacuum seal of a large rectangular opening piercing the stone of the mountainside. The aperture was about one kilolynt wide by half a kilolynt high, marking the entrance to docking bay 14. Inside the bay were the strobing lights of an interior runway directing them toward one of several adjoining tunnels. High above the floor of the cavernous docking entrance were several traffic control compartments. Tora could just barely make out the tiny forms of the controllers through their compartments’ transparisteel covered windows. Docking bay 14 was large enough to handle dozens of small craft simultaneously and Tora noted several landing and leaving. Then her view was abruptly cut off as the LCAP entered runway tunnel K and made its way toward their debarking area.
“Get your gear ready.” Tora transmitted to her and Blu’s squads. “Haz, take the rear and make sure we don’t lose any of these “children” on our way to Port Security Headquarters.” The fourteen other armed spacers just grinned under their helmets, bent down to pick up their equipment bags, and tightened their weapon slings.
After leaving the LCAP Tora led the two squads through octagonal shaped corridors cut out of solid stone and lined with plasterial, glaringly white in color. Using the gravtubes the spacers moved ever deeper underground. Security HQ was located near the base of the mountain range about a kilolynt beneath the moon’s surface but still within the military reservation assigned to the Union Space Navy.
As they made their way past offices and storage areas they met other spacers and marines and the occasional maintenance bot. Most of the former would nod or say something once they spotted the red badge of the Furious. The latter would just move out of the way beeping and chirping angrily at being disturbed from their assigned tasks.
As Tora and the others waited at a gravtube station about half a kilolynt below the surface a grizzled Chief Petty Officer, who by the emblem on his left sleeve was a Stores’ NCO approached. Noting the Furious’ badge on Tora he nodded and smiled.
“You be in-system for a while?” He asked.
“Oh, aye, Chief.” Answered Tora politely. “We arrived around dark-three last night. We be rearming and taking on stores. Probably be around for at least three weeks as far as I heard.”
“Assigned shore patrol I wager.” The CPO said as he nodded toward their weapons.
“Right you are Chief.” Tora paused, catching a warning tone in the old spacer’s voice. “Have there been problems “downbelow”?” She asked, meaning the warren of brothels, drinking, and gambling establishments that circled the civilian and military s’port underground.
“You know how it is, mate.” The man said, tapping his nose wisely. Just then their gravtube arrived and the Furious’ armed spacers began to board. “Now you be careful out there, Bosun. Don’t take no chances.” Warned the Chief as the gravtube doors closed in front of his seamed face and Tora and her spacers were taken to the next level on their journey.
Eventually Tora and her crewmates arrived at the entrance to Port Security HQ—a nondescript metal hatchway located on Level 75, halfway down Tunnel 21. The Royal Space Marines were tasked with providing security within the military s’port. They also ran shore patrols in conjunction with the local Antarian authorities who had become overwhelmed by the influx of spacers, both civilian and military. The marines, in turn, were augmented by temporary drafts of proven armed spacers from men of war vessels who were in-system.
“Welcome aboard, Furious.” Growled a marine guard, towering head and shoulders above them in powered combat armor, as he scanned their ID-Chips into a hand-held piece of cyberhardware. “Check in with the Platoon Sergeant at the ready room desk. She’ll give you billet assignments and set you up for your intake briefing.”
“Jeez, that’s the first time a strange red-dog ever said he was glad to see me.” Comm’d Blu to Tora as they made their way through the hatch and into the large compartment beyond.
“Yeah, I picked up on that myself.” Tora transmitted back as she gripped her PAW tighter in her hands.
After stopping at the ready room desk Tora led the spacers down an interior passage and into another large compartment which had been burned out of solid rock with laser drills. Lining the walls of their temporary billet were metal bunk beds. The spacers groaned when they saw them. They hated beds; men of war crew always preferred sleeping hammocks. In the middle of the room were chairs and tables made of cheap plasterial. Hanging from the ceiling were several vid screens. Conduit flowed across the metal ceiling and along the walls. The deck was grated metal, and if one looked closely one could see glowing colored cables beneath.
“Listen up, spacers.” Said Tora loudly. Fifteen sets of eyes turned to look her way. “Intake briefing is at light-one tomorrow. We’ll be assigned patrol areas and given a security update. You’ll be issued shore patrol helmets and a neurocane. That will be your primary weapon. However, you’re authorized to carry your PAW, but keep it on stun unless I say different.” Tora paused. “Patrolling will start the second watch tomorrow. We’ll be taking over from squads from the frigates Nimble and Rapid. They’ll take us on a walkabout during second watch before they return to their ships.” Tora paused again and put her hands on her hips unconsciously mimicking Chief of Boat Druse. “Now I know you’re all upset about losing your liberty and being assigned this duty.”
“You ain’t lying, Bosun’s Mate.” Yelled out Able Spacer Grana.
“Thank you, Grana, for volunteering for the first double shift.” Tora answered sardonically, which was followed by the bark of laughter from the others. “Space slugs though you are,” continued Tora with no pause, “Lieutenant Tonga and Ensign Longo have made arrangements for all of us to eat and drink our fill at the Parro Azul tonight and…and every fifth night of our duty here on Mona Prime.” This announcement brought a moment of stunned silence as the spacers took in the news. Mere spacers like them didn’t have the credits to eat a meal at the “Parro” although most of them had stuck their head in the bar so they could at least say they’d had a drink there. All of them knew it was the Furious’ special place, but only senior NCOs and officers had the coin to afford it on a regular basis. Some said that on occasion even Captain Master Tel Horn (Commodore Horn to the rest of the squadron) had been seen there eating supper with his XO, Commander Beru, or another of his officers.
Through the howls of excitement that erupted a few seconds later, Tora yelled out “Class A uniforms at dark-one. I want you slugs shined as bright as the King’s newest coin.”
At the end of light-six the fourteen spacers were standing at attention being inspected by Petty Officer 2nd Class Blu and Boatswain’s Mate 2nd Class Tora. Each of them were dressed in the black uniform of the Union of Worlds’ Space Navy with all their campaign ribbons on their left breast and the Furious’ special red badge on their right. The spacers all wore a standard issue comm set and nonsentient AI on their left forearm and a slimwire holographic projector over their left eye. Tora and Haz Blu both wore a NCO’s half-helmet, while the spacers wore their class A uniform berets. All carried their PAWs. Then Tora and Blu lined up their spacers and began marching them out of Port Security, toward the nearest bank of gravtubes that’d take them to tunnel 11 where the lights of the Parro Azul glared, winking off and on. The famous Parro Azul where an honest spacer could go for good food and good liquor at a reasonable price. At least that was the advertisement before the arrival of the Squadron and the cost of food, drink, and whores had shot heavenward.
As soon as Tora and her spacers left the military reservation and entered civilian territory Tora felt the difference. There was an edge, a hard edge, to the noise and movement around them. She knew instantly that times had changed since she’d last been dirt side on Mona Prime. It was no longer a sleepy backwater trader’s moon, but instead a vibrant and dangerous place. Intuitively she knew that beneath the excitement and glitter was danger. For the first time, in a long time, she felt the old wariness as she noted an atmosphere that most reminded her of when she was a child living in the Palace, the run-down brothel where she’d been born.
Tora, Haz Blu, and their spacers arrived at the “Parro” on the dot of dark-one where they were met by none other than old Rufo and his oldest daughter, Miranda, who escorted them up a short stairway and then toward an enclosed area on the mezzanine where a table had been set for sixteen.
They were served a spiced rom punch as the musicians warmed up on the small stage below. As Tora sipped her only intoxicating drink of the evening she saw that even Rufo appeared to have been affected by the new prosperity. He had enlarged the “Parro” adding additional eating and drinking areas, he’d never had musicians before, and he’d even hired some servers instead of just relying on his numerous children to wait tables. Tora didn’t know if she liked the changes she saw. She hoped, at least, that Rufo had the good sense to keep his wife, Miraz, as cook.
Tora leaned back in her chair and studied the spacers sitting around her. The two squads were as different as night and day. Her squad, well Lieutenant Tonga’s squad, were all clanners, halfbred or thinbreds true, but clanners nonetheless. Tora, herself, was a halfbred of the Venu Clan. It was easy to understand why when one realized that the LT, a slim young man, was a truebred spacer of the Terra Clan as anyone could see by his blue-black skin, white spiky hair, and the Terra Clan tattoo on his left temple. Clanners would flock to a Terra Clan warrior leader like…well only clanners understood what was special about Terra Clan war leaders.
On the other hand, Ensign Longo’s squad came from a hodgepodge of backgrounds. There seemed to be no common thread that explained them except their dedication to the strange and violent young Ensign from the moon-world named Thanatos. But then, upon reflection, she realized that Longo’s spacers were probably the most violent men and women she’d ever met. Before being assigned to the Furious they’d all been busted in rank more often than most spacers could count and had spent a lot of time in the brig—all for crimes of violence. One way or another, all of them had been heading toward the prison hulks or execution until Knesa Longo came on board. There was something about the little woman with the red hair and light blue eyes that forged these rebellious, deadly spacers into a single effective killing unit and also made them effective star sailors when aboard the Furious.
Interrupting her musing Tora observed old Rufo and several waiters make their way up the stairs toward them with their hands full of steaming dishes filled with food. “Right then, mates, here comes the grub.” Tora announced, giving everyone a hard look. “Now mind your manners. No fighting, no throwing food, and no one gets puking drunk or I’ll have you vac’d.” The others grinned.
