– by Tlador

The survivors of the colony ship, those few who did survive, adapted or died. It wasn’t the ever-present howling wind or even the carnivorous dog-like indigenous creatures that killed them though. The single most deadly thing on the planet we named Tarpeia was the survivors themselves. They fought over everything. They fought over salvaged foodstuffs at first, but then when those ran out, it was holo-reels or antibiotics, or anything else salvaged from their old lives. It seemed that any piece of wreckage or debris was worth fighting over, even the smallest bit of hull.  But even that wasn’t the worst of it.

The colony ship was originally planned to land on a remote planet in Villinnon. Fate had other plans however, and during one of the jumps, the colony ship took damage from a stray asteroid, crippling the ship. Momentum and the skilled efforts of the capsuleer allowed the crash landing on Tarpeia, but crew and most colonists were lost. Of the 2500 colonists, and 500 supporting crewmembers, less than 100 remained.  Of the survivors,  we lost 7 more to the predatory wildlife, another 3 to plain old stupidity, and another 5 died due to injuries they received during the crash. 62 people survived the first hellish months, 48 men, 14 women.

The environment they survived and the transition they made from their civilized lives was cataclysmic.  What happened next was the real shock from their previous lives. Argenta Sopporo was a reject from Concord. He didn’t offer up any explanations for the expulsion ( Concord usually expels it’s unwanted through open docking bays in deep space, not to the general populace ) , but the colonists soon discovered his past. Argenta wasn’t the type of man who took no for an answer, so it wasn’t long before he took what he wanted, and the result was a dead colonist couple.  Though many of the colonists wanted something done, none were bold enough to make a move, and Argenta soon set himself up as dictator for life. He organized the colonists, and when he was opposed, his opposition either had an accident with the boros ( what we named the dog-like predators ),  or later in his reign, they became slaves.

That was over 80 years ago, and since that time we’ve seen rulers come and go, always through an “accident”, and on at least one instance,  a duel. But one thing remains constant, every ruler of this planet has continued the practice of slavery, and each has come to power as the result of violence. The more skilled amongst the colonists soon claimed a spot as the upper class, while the less skilled became labor or worse.

My thoughts have wandered back to this history after listening to my mother’s tales of life on a station. Shops, ships, agents, and traders, and oh never forget the space.. that starry night we only see a small piece of.  I’ve heard of vessels large enough to carry hundreds of thousands of people, and with terrifying weapons that could destroy an entire planet even.

I long for the freedom to be able to move in that space, to be able to pilot one of those ships, to explore beyond and see the great sites of the universe. Dare I say, I long to be one of the immortals, the Capsuleers. But the rattle of my yoke and chain soon remind me of my true place in life, I am but a lowly slave. Doomed to be plaything of whichever dictator is in power at the moment, and possibly even be graced with becoming a human shield for him. Had I been born with more attractive features, perhaps I could have been chose to serve in the harem, but I was not. But don’t misunderstand, that life has pitfalls of it’s own, or so I’ve heard.

Mother’s  ramblings have become more frequently now, and I’m sure she’s approaching the final stages of her life. The older ones say we once lived to be several hundred years old, but the brutal climate and life here has shortened that dramatically. Mother’s the last of the original colonists, and even some of the first generations born here have passed on. At 63, I can already begin to feel the pressure on my joints when I arise, and my inner strength doesn’t answer as quickly when called upon.  Will I ramble on incessantly about past events ? Am I already starting to ramble like Mother.

The night sky is calm for the season, and we can see the stars. The turbulent weather of Tarpeia doesn’t allow this often, and I lie here fantasizing on what life would be out there. Displayed brightly among the stars is a new moon that appeared only within the last week, winking at me as the sun glints off it’s surface. I have to wonder if there’s life on the silver moon, life like ours not the boros. As I return to our hut, I notice that the new moon seems larger tonight, much larger, as if it was descending to the surface. I overheard a conversation earlier tonight that it was a ship, but since no one remains who’s ever seen one, I doubt it’s true. And should it turn out to be a ship, so what? Turn in my life as a slave to become a slave to someone else? No, I will live out my life, hard though it may be, here on Tarpeia. Why would they even care?

It’s just a silly thing to think about I suppose. Why would anyone come here?  If anyone had cared, they’d have found the original Colonists long before now. And we’ve never had anything strange happen.  I wonder, then I realize that I wouldn’t know a ship if I saw one. Perhaps in another age, or in another life, but for now I must sleep, and dream of sailing through the stars.