Dyton, at last. She was finally in the right town on the right continent of the right planet, but after 6 days travelling in the cargo hold of a semi-derelict goods transporter, Magda could not afford to rest just yet. She had somewhere to be, but she needed to know exactly where that was first.

At 24 years of age she’d seen a lot, some of it in the last 6 days. Magda flexed her right hand and examined the shadow of what had been a nasty bruise a couple of days ago… That hadn’t got what he’d expected when he came looing in her direction, instead of a leg over, he’d got a black eye, a cracked rib or two and a funny walk. The captain had told her he’d been confined to quarters and given the sack, but there was clearly some sympathy for him amongst his crewmates. Her meals got smaller, and rather suspect, and her senses got sharper for the rest of the trip. Still, you get what you can afford, and as far as a corner of a cargo hold goes – it had been a bargain.

Every fibre in her body cried out for a bed and at least 12 hours sleep, but she knew she needed to find a pub first. The biggest, noisiest one about, both easy to spot and easy to blend in to.

No hard spirits, although she would have enjoyed some right then… Instead she purchased a mug of the most watered down beer she’d ever paid real money for, and settled down at a table by the wall where she could observe the goings on around her. She had spotted the group she was here to find the moment she’d walked in the door, now she needed to wait, watch and see where they led her…

There were about a dozen of them of various sizes shapes and ages, men and women, playing or observing an animated game of tall card, and clearly had been enjoying something other than watered-down beer. A cheerful, round faced young woman was apparently buying drinks as penance for losing the precious hand, whilst a quieter young man was shuffling for the next. Notes, both familiar and unfamiliar in their appearance, were changing hands, and there was much being said by those concerned.

Without catching too much of the conversation Magda could already tell quite a bit about the 76th battalion members she was here to join. Their ranks were drawn from a range of planets and colonies, some experienced, some very green. Men and women from all over the ‘verse, drawn together for a common cause.

Perhaps it was sleep deprivation. Perhaps it was the warmth of the pub, or even that the beer wasn’t as watered-down as she thought, as she sat in her comfortable environment and started to get drowsy. Either way – she didn’t see him coming.

Bailey – the crewman who’d attempted to rape a few days earlier, was off the ship, off his face on booze and already had one hand on her arm when she snapped out of her voyeuristic activities and cursed herself for not being more alert. She’d thought to blend in to the background of a place where nobody would know her, but she ought to have known that there would be one person who was looking to find her and would be mighty pissed when he did.

Instinctively she swung at him with her almost-empty mug, but he had the advantage of height, weight and self-righteous anger.

you think you’re too good for me, eh? Let’s see how good you really are!” His face was contorted in an alcohol fuelled rage and as he attempted to pull her up from her seat by her hair, slamming her head against the wall as he did so. She tried to brace herself against the wall to get enough swing to effectively kick him, but she was stymied by the heavy table, which limited her movement to his advantage. She swung her right arm, using the heel of her hand this time, and the crunch as she made contact, followed by the flow of blood told her she’d broken his nose. She used the few seconds he reeled in pain to get to her feet and find a stronger, defensive stance. She was ready as he steadied to charge her.

Wham!

It was over.

Bailey lay sprawled on the floor, out cold with blood still streaming from his face. Turning towards her was a 6’ 6” bear of a man in 76th uniform with the rank of SFC on his collar. His face changed from fury to concern as he spoke.

“Are you alright m’am?”

Magda looked at the prostrate crewman at her feet, then up to the face of the soldier who put him there.

“Yessir, don’t think I’ve been much better.”

Then to her everlasting consternation and shame she did something she had never done in her life… she passed out.