Midnight Conversations
Last night I couldn't really sleep, so I went for a stroll through the station. I found myself in the bar, but it was very quiet for some reason and so I ended up chatting to the owner.
Apparently he's seen me and my ships around and seemed to be aware of my... Ammatar removal work. Intrigued at why he would pay so much attention to this, I asked him what his story was and this is what he said to me:
I hate the Ammatar.
My ancestors were lucky, back when we ruled our stars. In the Uka'a Mountains of Huggar, one of the greatest forges of our ancient wonders was situated. Producing the grand stations, the acceleration gates that survive to this day and of course the pride of the tribal fleets, it was served by the best engineers and like the other grand shipyards of Pator, was held in the highest regard throughout the tribes.
The day the Amarr came to Matar and destroyed much of our civilisation, the few warnings that could be sent were heeded in Uka'a and it was evacuated with every other colony. Of the 18 Star Voyagers that launched, only 3 made it past the blockade of Amarr ships and on to Onga. They were the fortunates: other colonies lost everyone. The Uka'a engineers settled a hidden corner of the second planet and rebuilt from nothing, always keeping the tradition of mechanics strong even when much of the knowledge had been destroyed. Grounded, the community kept its spirit and harboured dreams of rebuilding the fleets to go and reclaim their enslaved families.
My family had been mechanics and mining engineers. My father was the head technician in the main robotics facility and my mother was a freelance refinery efficiency expert. They died in an earthquake when I was in my tenth year and my grandfather, a retired farmer, took me in. On the day the monsoon season ended in my twelfth year, a small starship descended through the clouds and landed in the field behind my grandfather's smallholdings. From inside came a Matari man of a tribe I could not place. We were mostly Sebiestor and Brutor here; some Vherokior and an insular community of Thukker was not cosmopolitan enough. He was dressed in strange clothing made of good quality materials I had not seen before and wanted to speak to my grandfather and myself. He claimed to be a half-Krusual infiltrator of the Nefantar - the tribe who sided with the Amarr and traded away our families and freedom of the mind for expensive trinkets. He wished to reform the Ammatar from within and to do that he would require young, fresh minds from outside the Amarr influence that could become pod pilots and carry sway. He said I seemed to be ideal and that he wanted to speak to the rest of the community to see if there were others who would be interested. My grandfather was guaranteed I would be given the best education and become a licensed pilot: that I could make a difference and help return the wayward Nefantar tribe to their senses striking a blow against the Amarr. Others in the community agreed and 8 other children came with me back to the man's ship. As our families cheered and waved us off, the man lead us into the hold of his ship and we lifted off. Excited, we scrambled around an observation porthole to catch our first glimpses of the stars from space. It was a dream come true for us...
What we saw was beams of red flame carve through our people and within moments a charred, gashed mess was all that remained of the centuries-old Uka'a descendant settlement. The younger children thought it was a joke or a holoreel. Some sat in shock and began to wail. I was the oldest and I hammered on the doors screaming my lungs out at the man who had betrayed us. There was a cloud of blue gas and we all fell into unconsciousness.
The next day we woke feeling terrible and found ourselves in chains in a slave market somewhere in Ammatar space. The man was there, talking to some tall figures in hoods and one by one we were dragged off by more like him. He was not half-Krusual at all. He looked like the ones dragging us off to our new masters - the 'Ammatars', once Nefantar. He looked at us with contempt as if we were dogs and not his own people. I spat in his face as I was manhandled off after some haughty Amarr woman, and earned a broken jaw for my troubles.
I endured seven years of slavery: whips, vitoc, starving, reciting the Pax Amarria... all for some Amarr woman I was never even allowed to know the name of. I was a cleaner in her holiday retreat somewhere in Tanoo and I never saw any of my fellow captives of Uka'a again.
My release came at the cost of another slave. He was much, much older and his sight was failing: a Brutor man with education he had been caught when a passing slaver ship had found his trading vessel on fire after an attack by Blood Raiders. He told me about the space faring community and that there were freedom fighters who would try and rescue us.
It was my mistake - I grabbed the first opportunity I could to transmit a broadcast aimed at the Republic for help. It alerted the Amarr Navy and the older slave took the blame for it to spare me. He was executed as the rest of us were assembled and forced to watch. An injection of a viral accelerant meant he suffered the vitoc death in but an hour of magnified agony.
It was only a few hours later as I sat on my bunk crying that the palace was rocked with explosions. A small cell of Matari freedom fighters had come for us after some friends of theirs had created a distraction for the Navy. We were finally free.
Two years later and I am here now, running a bar on this station. I am saving up to go to Pator Tech School and become a ship engineer because I want to build the ships that will blow the traitors apart. I want to join the fight to free my brothers and sisters... but because I am still dependent on vitoc I do not think I will be granted a pilot's licence. That does not matter, there is still much I can do to help.
I remember Uka'a and the stories of my ancestors. I will be there when the Empire falls.
Above all, I hate the Ammatar.
Apparently he's seen me and my ships around and seemed to be aware of my... Ammatar removal work. Intrigued at why he would pay so much attention to this, I asked him what his story was and this is what he said to me:
I hate the Ammatar.
My ancestors were lucky, back when we ruled our stars. In the Uka'a Mountains of Huggar, one of the greatest forges of our ancient wonders was situated. Producing the grand stations, the acceleration gates that survive to this day and of course the pride of the tribal fleets, it was served by the best engineers and like the other grand shipyards of Pator, was held in the highest regard throughout the tribes.
The day the Amarr came to Matar and destroyed much of our civilisation, the few warnings that could be sent were heeded in Uka'a and it was evacuated with every other colony. Of the 18 Star Voyagers that launched, only 3 made it past the blockade of Amarr ships and on to Onga. They were the fortunates: other colonies lost everyone. The Uka'a engineers settled a hidden corner of the second planet and rebuilt from nothing, always keeping the tradition of mechanics strong even when much of the knowledge had been destroyed. Grounded, the community kept its spirit and harboured dreams of rebuilding the fleets to go and reclaim their enslaved families.
My family had been mechanics and mining engineers. My father was the head technician in the main robotics facility and my mother was a freelance refinery efficiency expert. They died in an earthquake when I was in my tenth year and my grandfather, a retired farmer, took me in. On the day the monsoon season ended in my twelfth year, a small starship descended through the clouds and landed in the field behind my grandfather's smallholdings. From inside came a Matari man of a tribe I could not place. We were mostly Sebiestor and Brutor here; some Vherokior and an insular community of Thukker was not cosmopolitan enough. He was dressed in strange clothing made of good quality materials I had not seen before and wanted to speak to my grandfather and myself. He claimed to be a half-Krusual infiltrator of the Nefantar - the tribe who sided with the Amarr and traded away our families and freedom of the mind for expensive trinkets. He wished to reform the Ammatar from within and to do that he would require young, fresh minds from outside the Amarr influence that could become pod pilots and carry sway. He said I seemed to be ideal and that he wanted to speak to the rest of the community to see if there were others who would be interested. My grandfather was guaranteed I would be given the best education and become a licensed pilot: that I could make a difference and help return the wayward Nefantar tribe to their senses striking a blow against the Amarr. Others in the community agreed and 8 other children came with me back to the man's ship. As our families cheered and waved us off, the man lead us into the hold of his ship and we lifted off. Excited, we scrambled around an observation porthole to catch our first glimpses of the stars from space. It was a dream come true for us...
What we saw was beams of red flame carve through our people and within moments a charred, gashed mess was all that remained of the centuries-old Uka'a descendant settlement. The younger children thought it was a joke or a holoreel. Some sat in shock and began to wail. I was the oldest and I hammered on the doors screaming my lungs out at the man who had betrayed us. There was a cloud of blue gas and we all fell into unconsciousness.
The next day we woke feeling terrible and found ourselves in chains in a slave market somewhere in Ammatar space. The man was there, talking to some tall figures in hoods and one by one we were dragged off by more like him. He was not half-Krusual at all. He looked like the ones dragging us off to our new masters - the 'Ammatars', once Nefantar. He looked at us with contempt as if we were dogs and not his own people. I spat in his face as I was manhandled off after some haughty Amarr woman, and earned a broken jaw for my troubles.
I endured seven years of slavery: whips, vitoc, starving, reciting the Pax Amarria... all for some Amarr woman I was never even allowed to know the name of. I was a cleaner in her holiday retreat somewhere in Tanoo and I never saw any of my fellow captives of Uka'a again.
My release came at the cost of another slave. He was much, much older and his sight was failing: a Brutor man with education he had been caught when a passing slaver ship had found his trading vessel on fire after an attack by Blood Raiders. He told me about the space faring community and that there were freedom fighters who would try and rescue us.
It was my mistake - I grabbed the first opportunity I could to transmit a broadcast aimed at the Republic for help. It alerted the Amarr Navy and the older slave took the blame for it to spare me. He was executed as the rest of us were assembled and forced to watch. An injection of a viral accelerant meant he suffered the vitoc death in but an hour of magnified agony.
It was only a few hours later as I sat on my bunk crying that the palace was rocked with explosions. A small cell of Matari freedom fighters had come for us after some friends of theirs had created a distraction for the Navy. We were finally free.
Two years later and I am here now, running a bar on this station. I am saving up to go to Pator Tech School and become a ship engineer because I want to build the ships that will blow the traitors apart. I want to join the fight to free my brothers and sisters... but because I am still dependent on vitoc I do not think I will be granted a pilot's licence. That does not matter, there is still much I can do to help.
I remember Uka'a and the stories of my ancestors. I will be there when the Empire falls.
Above all, I hate the Ammatar.
posted by Ysolde Xen at 01:03
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