History of Venom – ACT I – Part II “Burned Remains”

As my vision cleared, I saw the charred remains of my village and family, inhaling the smoke from their ashes, choking and sputtering.  My ears rung with a high pitched sound, barely making it able for me to hear the soldier coming for me.

“Serious kid, get on that transport now”, the shuttle pilot yelled again as he grabbed for my arm and tried to help me up.

“What is going on, my Mother, my Father, where are they”, I questioned as I was pulled to the shuttle and looked over my shoulder.

The red dust swirled and mixed with the gray smoke of the ritual hall I had just completed my ritual Ray of Matar.  Some were running for cover and some didn’t make it, their bodies lying in contorted positions.

“This is your chance, get on that shuttle and you are free, stay and you will die”, the pilot informed me.

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For a slave, family is where you end up, the Tribe that takes you in because they have to and because you are Minmatar.  The Amarr have tried to squash our education of who we are but the Tribal oral tradition is hard to quell.  Outside the yoke of the Amarr, our brother’s and sister’s live their lives as a free people, inside we live our lives to just survive.

A shift in the mines is hard work, as soon as you are old enough to hold a plasma cutter you are old enough to cut ore and haul large bins to the central processing plant close to the surface of the Moon.  Red dust gets everywhere, you learn to live with a gritty crunch in your mouth your whole life.  Ore after ore load is cut with large machinery then cut smaller by us and our small plasma tools, then loaded into levitating bins that we push to their final destination as far as we know.  There is a world outside this Moon, we will just never see it.

A normal shift is a 12 hour period, with few breaks and little food, the Tribe takes care of you after your shift but in this 12 hours you give everything to the Slavers.  For this shift I can think of nothing but of the coming ceremony tonight, will I feel more a part of my brethren after or will nothing change.  What symbols will I get and what will it mean, there is so much to worry about.

After my shift I quickly walk from the mine shafts to our Tribal village area, the Amarr allow us to keep our own camps, keeping a small resemblance to what we feel is a home.  On a moon such as this the Amarr are few but they have the power to kill us all at their whim.  Just shutting off ventilation will kill hundreds of slaves in a few minutes, leaving them to wait for a new shipment of slaves from a surplus somewhere.  Knowing this we wouldn’t dare attempt anything to bring that much death upon us.  

Our villages are arranged in circles, with a central circle that houses our Tribal center, each village circle radiating out from the central hub houses anywhere from 50 to 100 of us in multilayered red mud huts held together by a matrix of fabric.  Metallic vents suck smoke from cooking fires away from the cavern and off to who knows where.  We are left to our own so long as we comply with not causing problems, children play and run around the huts, playing games; people bustle from one hub to the next just doing what needs to be done to survive.

My shift is over and I have to quickly get to my home, wash and gather my clothing for the ceremony, my stomach is flipping and my heart pounds with nervousness.

Our Tribal center is made of metal beams coming out of the ground, resembling a big metal flower awakening to the cavern ceiling.  Between the metal beams the red mud that makes up all our structures, is smooth and glazed, the top of the center is simply a fabric tent tied to each beam and then raised in the middle by one central metal post.  We are told that this structure resembles the ceremonial tents of our forefathers.

Five of us are to take the ceremony today, it happens on a yearly basis, and I’ve had 6 months to think about it.  Wearing our ceremonial robes, made by our adoptive mothers, we stand in a row and listen to the chanting and drumming as the ceremony begins.  The Tribal leader is dressed in a robe such as ours yet his notes his prominence with symbols of his leadership, matched by his headdress showing the same symbols.  The Amarr used to try to stop us from conducting such events, eventually they saw it just made us a stronger unit, resulting in greater pride and harder work.  They left us be.

What the Amarr thought was that we actually tatooed or drew on ourselves, they had no idea what equipment was smuggled into our little moon for this ceremony.  

When the drumming and chanting ended, the leader stood before me.

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“……………click………click…..ssss…click….Captain, all survirors are on board the evacuation shuttles, we are leaving the moon”, reported the Squad Commander.

“You are clear for approach, space is clear but getting cloudy, multiple targets inbound, make it fast, we warp as soon as all shuttles have docked”, the lead Battle Ship Captain and Fleet Commander ordered.

To Be Continued….

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