Chapter 3: Year 3, Cabin Boy

(rank 0 merchant navy)

Punch, Punch, Kick, Duck.

"Cabin boy! Bloody cabin boy!"

Duck, Leap, Kick, Kick.

John and Lisa were sparring in the cargo bay. There was sweat galore despite the moisture drinking plants that grew along the walls. Between brief breathes the two spoke as they exchanged practice blows.

"It is a step up" said Lisa leaping to avoid a sweep kick.

"It doesn't sound like one"

"Its just the title given to rank zeros, everyone starts at Cabin Boy officially when thy sign their navy papers".

As if in reply John did a leaping salmon kick at Lisa's face. She neatly caught his foot and brought him straight down, flat on his back.

"I've told you," She said "You're not good enough to do that sort of stuff and get away with it.

I could have broken your entire leg then if I wanted."

John, winded, slowly rolled up onto his feet panting.

"It just sounds so small," he insisted gulping air as he reached for a drink.

He pretended to himself that he didn't notice the way her breasts moved as she pulled a top over her head. She politely pretended she couldn't feel herself being stared at, although the idea was surpassingly not unpleasant.

"At this rate it won't be long before you get your gunners licence. Just keep at the sims every time we are in port."

"What about you?" John asked wiping the sweat from his eyes with a towel.

"What about me!"

"Are you going to go for imperial citizenship?" He asked.

She didn't answer, instead she threw the kit bag at him to carry.

He shrugged and followed. But he was forced to stop when she hesitated at the docking bay door.

She turned and said,

"We land tonight and we won't be unloading until tomorrow, shall we go for a drink?"

"Yeh sure," John replied slightly stunned,

"Fine," She smiled, "Wear you new uniform,"

The landing was rough. The port was a flat open plain just outside the one street township. There were no tractor or pressure beams to assist landing. Behind the buildings on each side of the street were corrals for containing the exports.

The planet was called Bef. Its main export was reptilian wolf, beef steaks and grains, its main imports were small arms. It was a mostly tundra to desert planet with deep forest near the mountain regions. It was a pretty lawless planet with no real gun control. Unlike other planets, which usually had one Baron each, this one had split into 5 distinct rival baronies.

The culture was very reminiscent of the Earth American Wild West of the 1850's.

When Lisa met with John at the docking bay she was wearing, instead of her usual skimpy purple leathers (her old gang colours), a dowdy coverall boiler suit, tied back hair and no make up.

John felt disapointed at this obviously not being a date but a friendly drink, but he also felt relieved. This planet wasn't known for its liberal attitude to females.

There were two bars. The locals, which could be heard from here, and the spacers, which was quieter and more moody. As John headed toward the spacers he felt Lisa tug at his arm to go further down the street.

"I don't know about this Lisa,"

"We travel all over the place, I want to see some of it. All the Spacers lounges look the same,"

Hover bikes, reptilian wolves and even horses were tethered and parked outside the bar.

Lisa pushed him gently forward towards the double swing doors. As he went forward he felt the pit of his stomach go weak with dread.

But the music did not stop, no one turned to stare, and the place did not suddenly go quiet.

Lisa passed him and travelled to the bar, like a magnet he followed. There were women here. Lots of them, in bright layered dresses with bare arms and cleavage. Hairstyles were piled high to show pretty necks and ears ordained with cheap jewellery.

Most were sitting on someone's lap or coming up and down the over grand staircase. John had heard there was a shortage of women here, obviously the information on his galactic atlas must be out of date.

There was also gambling and a few sim machines.

He found Lisa passing him a small glass and as green as he was, he knew strong liquor when saw it.

He didn't want to show himself up in front of Lisa so bravely took a largish sip. Lisa knocked hers straight back. She poured herself another and gripped the bottle in the other hand ready to pour.

While she relaxed into the atmosphere John noticed that every one had gun belts. This in itself did not bother him, it was the guns holstered in them that did.

She started tapping her foot to the music and started singing what few words she knew.

John never imagined Lisa singing, but if he had it would be with a voice as lyrical as her prettiness.

In reality she managed to sing both flat and out of tune.

John felt a poke in his back but he ignored it desperately hoping it was just an accidental push in the crowd. Then he felt it again.

He gulped and turned. A thin mutant Dark Elf looked back at him with nine unblinking eyes. He had two sets of arms. Dark Elves like these were known as blessed amongst their kind, who worshiped spiders.

"He doesn't like you," he said indicating the large muscle bound Bigoney behind him.

The extreme of all heavy gravity creatures, John came up to about his waist.

"Sorry," said John.

"I don't like you either! You just watch yourself. I have a death sentence in twelve systems!"

"I'll be careful," said John.

The Elf's arm shot out and pulled John around to face him.

"You'll be dead!" the Dark Elf snarled.

Lisa popped her head around.

"This little one isn't worth the effort. Let me get you something." Lisa chirped.

'Ok, ' thought John 'this has definitely got a aura of deju-vu about it.'

The next thing John knew he was being pushed sideways. The blow from two right arms should of sent a man flying but John had spent the last two years constantly lifting heavy cargo around, so instead he just staggered a little. The two right arms of the Dark Elf each fast drew a pistol.