Prison Pit |
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Stephen Thompson was born on Alebee, Tupindor, in the Spica sector in 1068. His father, already unimpressed with one infant son, was even less appreciative of a second brat around the house, and left three months later. Dorcas Morel kept both boys, raising them in the rather optimistic hope that her man would one day come back - which of course he never did.
Neither boy was academically or intellectually gifted. Colin, the elder by a couple of years, accepted his alloted place in life with a stoicism similar to their mother's, and as soon as he was old enough secured employment at the great docks at the edge of the vast ocean. Despite constant efforts to better himself within this arena, Colin Thompson was never able to ride above the post of simple dock-hand. Money was tight, and both Colin and Dorcas leaned on Stephen to follow his brother's example, especially after his brother's marriage in 1084, but the younger sibling's eyes were turned outwards instead. Rather than the seaport, his feet took him to the glamour of the planet's starport.
Spica sector is nipped between the Solomani and Hiver empires, falling under the control of the Solomani or Men of Sol. Despite all this, Stephen's attention was caught by the recruiting posters for the Imperial Marines. The terrible Solomani Rim War a hundred years ago had ended with the Imperium invading and occupying Terra, ancient Earth, and Stephen's drive to do better than his brother pushed him beyond any loyalties to some vague government sectors away and towards the winning side. He enlisted in the Imperial Marines on his eighteenth birthday, 195/1086. Turning his back on his homeworld and heritage, he boarded the transport for the Imperium without looking back.
Although no mental giant, he excelled in all forms of combat training, especially hand-to-hand forms. His skill in wrestling was such that he became company champion, after which his comrades - pleased with the results of their wagers on him - christened him 'Gripper'. After three years he was picked out for commando training, and in 1090 he transferred to the Commando branch. His time in the infantry had been rather dull, but in the Commandos he found the action he sought; so much so that 1093 and 1094 both saw him wounded, the second time a massively traumatic injury involving his groin and a plasma bolt.
After medical treatment and some retraining, he returned to active service, taking part in a raid in 1097 under the command of Major Andrew Valour that saw him awarded the MCUF and promoted to Gunnery Sergeant. Valour was a major influence on Gripper, a role model of considerable personal integrity and honour, and Gripper resolved to emulate him as far as possible. This was not to be, unfortunately, as Gripper was posted to the command of one Captain Nathan Carfax the following year on a counter-insurrection assignment. Carfax was a completely different breed of trout, high-born if not exactly noble and loathing both the Solomani (fighting whom his grandfather had died) and the Vegan people of the world they were operating on.
Things came to a head in 1099, when the company Gripper was serving in was assigned to control a riot by disaffected Vegans in a low-status ghetto. Callously, Carfax ordered the marines to disperse the rioters with live fire, despite their being clearly unarmed beyond clubs and bottles. Several marines questioned his orders, Gripper among them. He was quite sure that Major Valour would never have ordered such an action. Carfax rounded on his troops brandishing his revolver, focusing his abuse on Gripper the despised Solomani. What happened next was never conclusively proved. Gripper's gaussrifle discharged, filling Carfax's right leg with a full burst of ten 2mm steel needle bullets. Carfax insisted Gripper had shot him on purpose, Gripper maintained he had been (reluctantly) obeying orders and firing at the rioters when Carfax's tantrum took him into the line of fire, and every other marine in the platoon averred on oath that he had been somehow looking the other way at the critical moment.
Had there been evidence that Gripper had purposely shot his superior, things would have gone hard. However, the brass was aware enough of Carfax's nature to realize that there was a strong probability that the Sergeant was in the right. This changed nothing; a conflict of an officer's word against that of a sergeant could only end one way, but the tribunal were able to restrict Gripper's punishment to a simple Dishonourable Discharge without the five years' military prison he could have faced. Gripper found himself ejected from the corps, penniless and disgraced, on Ghandi/Rhylanor in the Spinward Marches, hundreds of parsecs from home. Everything had come to nothing, the last twelve years of his life utterly wasted, and had he had the money he would have drunk himself to death on the spot.
Being on a world on a major trade route with a B-Class starport has its' advantages, though, and after he'd pulled himself together a little, he discovered the hiring exchange was very lively. He scraped together enough credits to register, and booked into a startown flophouse to await developments. Much to his delight, after a week he received a comm from a man calling himself Leighton Needham, recruiting for a mercenary company to operate on the contentious Sword Worlds border. Needham was very keen to enlist the experienced ex-marine, and insisted that past history was washed out for new recruits to his merc company; if you performed, you stayed, and if you screwed up, you were out - if you survived. It seemed too good to be true; a second chance, a new start, where his skills and training could be respected and rewarded once again. While they are not the corps, most merc outfits operating in the Imperium conduct themselves with honour according to the rules of their trade.
As with most things that are 'too good to be true', it was exactly that. Needham turned out to be the Master-at-Arms for the corsair Asfodel, and Gripper found himself signed on to the troop contingent of a pirate vessel. His first year was spent standing guard on things and places, and as a soldier this was not an unusual thing; he managed to insulate himself from the overall purpose of the vessel to some extent, and the Asfodel spent its' time smuggling things across the Sword Worlds border, which while illegal wasn't too hard to live with. Then the captain changed routes, and took his vessel slaving into the non-aligned worlds of District 268. A raid on Flexos procured a hold full of pitiful captives, who were hauled across the subsector for sale in the Sword Worlds at immense profit. His disgust at the process slowed Gripper's reactions and he was wounded guarding the slaves, unable to bring himself to shoot them either.
Despite his revulsion for the life, the Asfodel's depredations had been extremely profitable up to this point, but in 1102 her captain made his big mistake. Choosing an inoffensive-looking Marava-class trader as a target, he forced her to heave to and sent a boarding party aboard, Needham leading his troops to storm the ship, deep-six the few crew and sieze the cargo. Unfortunately, the Danseris was a Q ship - a merchant refitted for anti-piracy and crammed with Imperial Marines. The pirate boarders were met with combat-hardened marines in battledress and armed with gaussrifles. Gripper alone among the pirates fully appreciated how hopeless opposing them was, and threw down his weapon almost with relief as Needham led his thugs forward to their deaths.
The very few survivors were tried and sentenced to life on Odegra. Most found it difficult to adjust to life as prisoners, but here Gripper's background came to his rescue. He was back at the bottom of the pile, and like Colin, he shrugged and made the best of it, though still determined to take any chance of escape that presented itself. By 1105 he was the last of the Asfodel's crew still alive.