Jack rolled into his landing, just as he had been taught in the Marine Force. It wasn't the best landing, but he survived. As he shrugged off the parachute harness and removed his helmet, he took a good look around. 

"Well, I guess this my new home." he said with resignation. The court-martial had been quick, and the ruling never in doubt. Kicked out of a Navy transport in an old vacc suit and a personal re-entry system. At least both had worked. Looking around, the terrain was scrubby grassland with scattered trees. Jagged mountains marched off to the north. 

"At least there's water, and the biology is compatible. This may not be as bad as I thought it would be."

"Oh no, it's much worse." Jack wheeled around. Emerging from the brush was a band of men, about a dozen. They were dressed in tattered prison uniforms and animal skins. All carried spears and knives, except for the big man in front. He carried a massive revolver. Jack noticed the right side of his face was ruined, with heavy scarring and a patch over the eye. 

"Welcome to Hell. My people call me Dugger. You can call me Sir, assuming you live long enough. Your survival kit, vacc suit, and parachute. You can give them up willingly, and join our posse, or we can kill you right now. Your choice." 

There was no choice. "Take what you need. I would like to request that I be allowed to retain the camp knife. I have a personal connection to the blade."

Dugger nodded. "I'll think on it. Prove your value, and you get your knife back. We're part of the Campos Posse. You're with us now. We work together to survive. New guys like you get the shit jobs. No one cares what you did to get here, and forget your old name, that life is dead. You'll get a new name soon enough. Now help with the load and start walking!"

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