In depth: a freed prisoner’s account
Date and Time: June15+, any time
Title = In depth: a freed prisoner’s account
Location: Cubeo
Commander name: Straylight0 (not relevant to story, merely forwarding a message)
Description: A freed slave and political prisoner tells of his former life and life now. As might be expected, he is hardly neutral politically.
News:
The following account came from a shipping worker on Medupe station, Cubeo:
I will not tell you my name or the system I am from, because there are millions like me still there.
I cannot say what slavery is like in other parts of the Empire, but this I do know: my grandparents were slaves, my parents were slaves, and I was a slave despite working hard every day of our lives. I know that my father died in harness although some basic medicines would have treated his heart, and we had credits deducted for attending his funeral. I know that our maximum life expectancy is seventy, which is what the lifespan was four thousand years ago. Women tend to survive longest, but apparently only men have the strength to lead the Empire.
I know that my mother is the toughest and bravest person I know. All overseers are cruel, but we were given a rotten one. The beatings and s were more frequent, people died, there were suicides. My mother finally managed to speak to a manager, and the overseer was removed—probably only to receive a light reprimand and be transferred elsewhere. But no slave can be seen to get away with speaking up, even if it helped the corporation. So the black uniforms kicked our door in at midnight. I tried to help her, so they took me too.
When I was fully conscious again, we were in a shipping facility with many others in chains. The building had a corporate logo on the walls, but there were also posters of Zemima Torval. The black uniforms had taken off their helmets. Under them, they looked bored.
They loaded most of us into cryogenic shipment units. There was no sedative jab first, and many prisoners were shivering in their restraints and pleading as the doors were closed and they began to freeze. My mother did not shiver or plead, she spat at the man locking her in. He just finished closing the door and fixed a red sticker on the cargo label.
We all knew what to expect. Nobody returns but when ships bring fertiliser back to spread on the fields, workers sometimes find earrings or surgical plates in it. I said my prayers as my canister was closed.
Their trip did not go as they had planned. Instead, I found myself offloaded from a privateer vessel at Medupe station, a free man. My mother’s fate remains unknown.
Now I work long hours packaging media materials. I love it. My wages are building up, the overseers say please and order us to take breaks. I see Aisling’s face a thousand times a day on leaflets, posters, photos and data discs. I know what her enemies say about her and I wouldn’t care if it was all true. She saw something wrong and she gathered an army to do something about it.
May the Angels keep flying.
NOTE: Aisling Military command stresses that it is against current orders to take covert action against fellow Imperials, although they confirm no-one has yet been disciplined for such activity.
NB the pasting process likes to strip out spaces; apols if I have missed any