With military precision the doors to the vehicle pool opened and glowing symbols along the wall indicated the path to take so that even the most dim-witted of the new candidates could find their way along the path to the waiting shuttles. As he walked along the path a trio of men pushed past, jostling to get to the shuttle first. One of them crashed into Spartan, almost throwing him to the floor.
“Hey!” Spartan reached out and grabbed the last of the group by the shoulder.
“What’s your problem, pal?” said the man with undisguised contempt as he tried to pull away. He was roughly the same height as Spartan and sported a neatly trimmed ginger beard and moustache.
“My problem is you.” He straightened himself up prepared for a confrontation.
The other two men stopped and came to their friend’s aid, standing either side of him. They were exactly the kind of people he expected to find here. Well built, probably college sports jocks sent away for a tour on the frontline. After one year’s posting they’d come home and expect a cushy state job where everybody would crow over their service. The tallest, a man wearing a name patch of Burnett, stepped forward. He was almost a head taller than Spartan who was hardly a small man himself.
“Hey, Matt, this guy causing you grief?” He turned to Spartan.
He knew what was coming and also from years of experience you never, ever let your opponent get the drop on you. He also knew that a distraction was always a smart move for the first part of any offensive action.
“Burnett? Isn’t that a girl’s name?” he said with a grin.
The man was obviously used to being ridiculed, curled his face up in anger and opened his mouth as if to spout some clever line.
Spartan knew this was his moment and without hesitation slammed his knee hard into the man’s crotch. Burnett was taken completely by surprise and hit the ground groaning in pain. Spartan took one step back and lifted his hands so that his palms faced the group. To the untrained man it looked like he was worried or trying to plead with them. For anybody with knowledge of martial skills though they would instantly note the similarities to the basic training of systems like Krav Maga.
Matt, the man that had started it all took a step forward, sensing that Spartan wanted to avoid a fight. As he moved closer the number of people heading for the shuttles slowed as some of them stopped to watch the unfolding event. At the far end of the corridor a number of men in black body armour were making their way towards them.
He attacked, as far as Spartan was concerned he may as well have written down on a sheet of paper what he planned to do. He moved his feet first, instantly giving advance notice of his intentions. Then he made the classic mistake of pulling his arm back to deliver the strongest punch he could muster. He obviously lacked any real fighting skill and as his fist flew forwards Spartan sidestepped and pulled his arm from the side. He grasped the wrist from the back and put his hand on the man’s elbow forcing him to the ground. The armlock looked like a classic police move and immediately forced the man to the floor.
“Let him go!” shouted an electronically enhanced voice.
Spartan knew when the voice of authority had arrived and this time it was in the shape of two armoured Military Policemen. They bore a striking similarity to the men he’d fought at the illegal fight and for a moment he was tempted to continue where he had left off. Then his brain kicked in and he recalled he’d only just got away with not going to prison. Spartan let the man go, leaving the two men on the floor. The third man lost control and was prancing about like a man high on drugs, probably trying to psyche himself up to fight him.
“Step back, hands in the air!” The second officer unclipped his shock maul, no doubt preparing himself for violence.
Spartan took a step back and raised his hands slightly, showing deference to the police, but not raising them too high to suggest guilt. The third man was having none of this and moved towards Spartan, presumably thinking he was vulnerable.
“Quit while you’re still standing, pal!” he said with a snigger, adding the ‘pal’ for dramatic effect.
The man just couldn’t see the situation for what it was and rushed forward. The first officer flipped out his maul and slammed it into the charging man’s stomach. He went down hard, straight to the floor. Spartan just stood there, saying nothing. The second officer moved up to Spartan looking at him carefully, noting the marks and scars on his face.
“You looking for trouble here?”
“Not today,” replied Spartan sarcastically.
The first officer laughed as he helped lift the men from the ground. “Get this out of your system, you’ve got plenty of time to sort this out, the trip to Prime is at least thirty-five long weeks. Lots of time to get acquainted.” He then pushed them on.
The three men staggered along with Spartan following at a safe distance as the officers walked discreetly behind them. He was safe for now but as always he wasn’t making friends.
As he reached the end of the corridor the crowd of people split into three smaller columns as they moved off to different parts of the shuttle. It was a big craft, much bigger than he’d expected. By his guess it could carry about two hundred people. He stepped inside noting almost all the seats had been taken. The three troublemakers were already sitting down and one was holding his nose, blood still dripping slowly from his exposure with the floor. The ginger-haired man smashed his hands together Spartan gave him a smile. It was futile but it made him feel better, for now anyway.
He spotted a seat a few rows back next to a Hispanic looking woman who was muttering to herself. Making his way across the craft he sat down and pulled the harness over his chest. Turning to the woman he held out his hand.
“Spartan, pleased to meet you.”
She looked at him and then turned away, looking out of the window.
“Fair enough, you haven’t hurt my feelings, I’m sure we’ll get to meet again during basic.” He looked back to the rest of the passengers.
In front of each line of seats were a series of pods hanging down with video displays. Each one was showing a commercial for the Confederate Marine Corps and no matter how hard he tried, Spartan couldn’t contain himself and he let out a laugh. On the screen a single marine had just sheltered a child from a rain of bullets and then lifted the child to safety.
“Fucking Marine Corps propaganda!” shouted one of the men further inside the shuttle.
“Why are you here, Spartan, if you think this is so funny?” the woman next to him asked.
From the confined position in the shuttle he could only just make out her long, curly hair. She looked tiny compared to most of the hulking men there but Spartan knew from experience that a short woman was just as capable of knocking you down as a two-metre wrestler. If she knew what she was doing.
“It was this or prison.”
“Prison? Did you make the right decision?”
He looked at her, confused by her question before spotting her wicked grin. Spartan laughed, appreciating a normal conversation that wasn’t about to devolve into a fistfight.
“How about you then?”
“Foreclosure. They threatened to come in and take everything. The Judge ordered me on one tour to cover my debt or they will close my home down and take away my family.”
“The asshole, looks like they nailed us both in the ass. What’s your name?”
“Teresa,” she replied, but added nothing else. She sat for a while before asking the question she was dying to know the answer to.
“So, did you do it?” she asked coyly.
“Well, I’ve done quite a bit,” he answered with a grin. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Funny. You know what I meant. Why were you in court?”
Before he could answer the door slid shut with a sucking sound and the craft started to vibrate a little. The voice of the pilot came over the sound system.
“Captain Tyrol here. We are due for departure in thirty seconds. Please ensure your harnesses are fitted. We will be leaving the platform shortly and no harness means you’ll drift and get hurt. All crew confirm status. Have a good flight.”
Around the shuttle the crewmembers wandered about, checking the harnesses and hitting a few buttons
