Marceloi
May 31st, 2005, 02:21:33 AM
On a fa flung part of the Galatic Empire, on a planet that few know the name of....
Cold.
That was nothing unusual, a planet that was on the furthest reaches away from it's star to support life would always be cold, the only place beings sucessfully ever settled on the equator of the largest continent, away from the bitterly cold and heavily salted sea. This was a hell hole of a reversal to the usual images of a volcanic and lava blasted rock - instead of hot gesyers and boiling mud, with magma that burned always, here was glaciers and ice meters thick, snow and screaming blizzards that could kill in mere minutes. The poles were a dim dark point never explored, even by the most hardy or foolish, the very air you breathed was too cold, it froze the lungs and bit at the skin. The winds tore at the flesh and blasted ice into the sky, to break and shatter on sheer cliffs and mountains. Even in the warmest summer at the equator, snow could fall along with ice storms that killed produce and livestock without discrimination. Only underground could anyone survive for long and it was underground that was the only reason anyone bothered to even try to eck out an existance.
The planet itself was mineral rich, untapped in it's true wealth. There was money to be had for anyone brave enough to come this distance from the centre of the Galaxy, for miners that could bear the harsh reality were few and far between. Givent he Galaxy had so many beings in it tho, workers were not a problem. Those willing to stay however..... now that was what the company that mined for minerals struggled with. The boredom could send a being mad and many did, crazy enough to brave the surface. No one knew what became of them and no one cared.
In recent years, the Empire had solved the problem - there was always a need for somewhere to take prisioners. Be they political opponents, rebels, common theives, prostitutes, traitors, it didnt matter. The Empire sent them all on what was basically a death sentance. The weak died first, the poor food and the cold crushing their souls and will to live. Not many lived two years. But those that did, they were strong, the desperate. They obtained power of sorts and it was thorugh them the prisioners were enslaved. The company discovered quickly that those who had fought, scratched, killed to a position of relative strength would band up to keep what they had gained. They controlled and guarded the new prisioners, they ran the mines, they saw to it production didnt stop. They knew if they didnt, the Company would simply cut power and they would all die and be replaced.
It was a strange working relationship, but it worked better than anything else the Commissioner of the planeet, Jeg'Fra Twopu, had seen. But it didnt stop him from feeling a tingle of fear when he met one of the 'High ups'. These beings were tough and usually thoughily evil. Twopu knew his only control was the heat and power The Company controlled - he was under no illusions what these scum would do to him if they could.
Twopu had only three more weeks to go on his assignment and he could retire young, rich with the credits he would earn as a bonus for serving out his contract. No way was he signing back on again. Not especially as he looked down at the datacard and seeing again the details of the individual on it.
Tall. Bald. Looked about 50, although the way this hell hole aged someone, it was hard to say. Data card said he had been here 25 years, twice the time anyone had. What he had doen to earn a trip here was anyone's guess. How he survived, well that much probably hinted the reason. Twopu had only ever met this man once and it was not somethign he ever wanted to do again. Even the High Ups were scared of the bald man who never spoke. So scared....
"..That we locked him in that steel room. Yes, I know this. But you want him further locked away?"
the High Up stared at the Commissioner. The prisioner was dressed in an odd assortment of furs and skins, probably taken from their original owners by the blade of a knife. "Yes Twopu, if your not going to just dump the freller out on an ice floe, then we want him locked away tighter"
"How much tighter do you want, we welded the damn door shut. We only ever shove meals through a slot and wash out his crap every second day with a hose. You just cant get any tighter security"
"And he still gives me nightmares. I dont understand how no one can be made to either let him starve or cut his heat, it aint natural, I hear funny things when I have to go past there. He makes me have nightmares"
Twopu would have laughed at how ridiculous this was, but frankly that man in the steel cage could do it. Twopu was careful to not go close himself, not after what happened to the female who had gotten too close to his feeding slot. "I know Shaki, I know. I would love nothng better than to fill him with laser bolts, but I heard what happened to the last Commissioner. I didnt believe that could be physically done and still one could still live"
"It cant. that bastard somehow forced your predessessor to keep living even as his back broke as his head was forced up his own anus. How is he, by the way?"
"Still in that mental hospice. You know, I thought that was a Holoshop job until I saw the unedited medical reports. Shaki, I got three weeks until I can get out of here, I aint going to risk it by potentially annoying this guy. I bet we couldnt have got him in there if he didnt want to be in that room and why he wanted that, I dont even want to think. Now, as much as you want it, that's my final decision, but if you want to go and try to kill him, go ahead. Maybe I'l get credit for selling the holo recording as he forces you to eat your own foot, while it's attached to your leg...."
The subject of their discussion sat on the cold floor, a simple jumpsuit on, crosslegged and seemingly asleep. The only hint of his continued existance was the slow fall and rise of his chest. frost covered the walls and the floor, but ended in a neat circle about 1 meter away from him.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Meditate.
for hours on end, sometimes for days, only comign out of this trance when his anger coudl no longer be held off or he was hungry. The simmering fury of the injustice that bought him here kept him alive. He released it to stop him from loosing control, for it wa control that kept him as he was.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Seek, stretch out. Connect.
Brea....
For what seemed like hours he froze, eyes snapping open, hardly even breathing.
Lightning. a scream. Blue flash. Death and then it cleared
He realised he was sweating, heart beating hard. He wiped his brow, not noticing the sweat drops he flicked freezing to the floor.
What the hell had that been all about? It was not usual for him to dream.
Suddenly, the light went out. In the dark, he could hear the whirr of the heater also had come off. frownign, he was about to stand, when he heard from not far, muffled by the steel, but still distinct a scream of rage.
More shouts.
He stood now, deeply puzzled. The shouting sounded worse than the usual arguments, but now it was punctuated with running boots thudding on the floors. A scream.
Blaster fire?
The footfalls and other sounds over the course of the next hour became sporatic. He by this time was looking out the slot where they pushed in his food, wondering what was going on. The hallway was dark, only lit by emergency lighting. Even in the dim redness, he could see his own breath and feel how much colder it was with the heaters off.
He rocked back on his heels. What was going on?
Cold.
That was nothing unusual, a planet that was on the furthest reaches away from it's star to support life would always be cold, the only place beings sucessfully ever settled on the equator of the largest continent, away from the bitterly cold and heavily salted sea. This was a hell hole of a reversal to the usual images of a volcanic and lava blasted rock - instead of hot gesyers and boiling mud, with magma that burned always, here was glaciers and ice meters thick, snow and screaming blizzards that could kill in mere minutes. The poles were a dim dark point never explored, even by the most hardy or foolish, the very air you breathed was too cold, it froze the lungs and bit at the skin. The winds tore at the flesh and blasted ice into the sky, to break and shatter on sheer cliffs and mountains. Even in the warmest summer at the equator, snow could fall along with ice storms that killed produce and livestock without discrimination. Only underground could anyone survive for long and it was underground that was the only reason anyone bothered to even try to eck out an existance.
The planet itself was mineral rich, untapped in it's true wealth. There was money to be had for anyone brave enough to come this distance from the centre of the Galaxy, for miners that could bear the harsh reality were few and far between. Givent he Galaxy had so many beings in it tho, workers were not a problem. Those willing to stay however..... now that was what the company that mined for minerals struggled with. The boredom could send a being mad and many did, crazy enough to brave the surface. No one knew what became of them and no one cared.
In recent years, the Empire had solved the problem - there was always a need for somewhere to take prisioners. Be they political opponents, rebels, common theives, prostitutes, traitors, it didnt matter. The Empire sent them all on what was basically a death sentance. The weak died first, the poor food and the cold crushing their souls and will to live. Not many lived two years. But those that did, they were strong, the desperate. They obtained power of sorts and it was thorugh them the prisioners were enslaved. The company discovered quickly that those who had fought, scratched, killed to a position of relative strength would band up to keep what they had gained. They controlled and guarded the new prisioners, they ran the mines, they saw to it production didnt stop. They knew if they didnt, the Company would simply cut power and they would all die and be replaced.
It was a strange working relationship, but it worked better than anything else the Commissioner of the planeet, Jeg'Fra Twopu, had seen. But it didnt stop him from feeling a tingle of fear when he met one of the 'High ups'. These beings were tough and usually thoughily evil. Twopu knew his only control was the heat and power The Company controlled - he was under no illusions what these scum would do to him if they could.
Twopu had only three more weeks to go on his assignment and he could retire young, rich with the credits he would earn as a bonus for serving out his contract. No way was he signing back on again. Not especially as he looked down at the datacard and seeing again the details of the individual on it.
Tall. Bald. Looked about 50, although the way this hell hole aged someone, it was hard to say. Data card said he had been here 25 years, twice the time anyone had. What he had doen to earn a trip here was anyone's guess. How he survived, well that much probably hinted the reason. Twopu had only ever met this man once and it was not somethign he ever wanted to do again. Even the High Ups were scared of the bald man who never spoke. So scared....
"..That we locked him in that steel room. Yes, I know this. But you want him further locked away?"
the High Up stared at the Commissioner. The prisioner was dressed in an odd assortment of furs and skins, probably taken from their original owners by the blade of a knife. "Yes Twopu, if your not going to just dump the freller out on an ice floe, then we want him locked away tighter"
"How much tighter do you want, we welded the damn door shut. We only ever shove meals through a slot and wash out his crap every second day with a hose. You just cant get any tighter security"
"And he still gives me nightmares. I dont understand how no one can be made to either let him starve or cut his heat, it aint natural, I hear funny things when I have to go past there. He makes me have nightmares"
Twopu would have laughed at how ridiculous this was, but frankly that man in the steel cage could do it. Twopu was careful to not go close himself, not after what happened to the female who had gotten too close to his feeding slot. "I know Shaki, I know. I would love nothng better than to fill him with laser bolts, but I heard what happened to the last Commissioner. I didnt believe that could be physically done and still one could still live"
"It cant. that bastard somehow forced your predessessor to keep living even as his back broke as his head was forced up his own anus. How is he, by the way?"
"Still in that mental hospice. You know, I thought that was a Holoshop job until I saw the unedited medical reports. Shaki, I got three weeks until I can get out of here, I aint going to risk it by potentially annoying this guy. I bet we couldnt have got him in there if he didnt want to be in that room and why he wanted that, I dont even want to think. Now, as much as you want it, that's my final decision, but if you want to go and try to kill him, go ahead. Maybe I'l get credit for selling the holo recording as he forces you to eat your own foot, while it's attached to your leg...."
The subject of their discussion sat on the cold floor, a simple jumpsuit on, crosslegged and seemingly asleep. The only hint of his continued existance was the slow fall and rise of his chest. frost covered the walls and the floor, but ended in a neat circle about 1 meter away from him.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Meditate.
for hours on end, sometimes for days, only comign out of this trance when his anger coudl no longer be held off or he was hungry. The simmering fury of the injustice that bought him here kept him alive. He released it to stop him from loosing control, for it wa control that kept him as he was.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Seek, stretch out. Connect.
Brea....
For what seemed like hours he froze, eyes snapping open, hardly even breathing.
Lightning. a scream. Blue flash. Death and then it cleared
He realised he was sweating, heart beating hard. He wiped his brow, not noticing the sweat drops he flicked freezing to the floor.
What the hell had that been all about? It was not usual for him to dream.
Suddenly, the light went out. In the dark, he could hear the whirr of the heater also had come off. frownign, he was about to stand, when he heard from not far, muffled by the steel, but still distinct a scream of rage.
More shouts.
He stood now, deeply puzzled. The shouting sounded worse than the usual arguments, but now it was punctuated with running boots thudding on the floors. A scream.
Blaster fire?
The footfalls and other sounds over the course of the next hour became sporatic. He by this time was looking out the slot where they pushed in his food, wondering what was going on. The hallway was dark, only lit by emergency lighting. Even in the dim redness, he could see his own breath and feel how much colder it was with the heaters off.
He rocked back on his heels. What was going on?