CAST OF CHARACTERS
The Space Pirates.
Admiral Keith Sundross.
The Galactic Federation.
"I remember, when I was a boy, my father always told me that chance liked to play the funniest of games with the surest of people". "How right he was".
Admiral Keith surveyed the damage caused by the aerial strike. The remaining pirates had been eliminated by troopers. The prisoners of the Calthurn were shaken and each in worse shape than any man he had ever seen. For all of the prisoners were men. It appeared that the pirates had killed the woman and children aboard the Calthurn. In the old base there was only one object of interest to the Admiral. It was a diary. Yellowed and old, but the curious thing about it was that the language in which the diary was written was english.
All he had managed to save was a diary. A diary full of good old paper. When the pirates assaulted the Calthurn he was surprised when they wanted all of the men on the ship. The woman and children were left on the Calthurn which was consequently destroyed.
"My recount of the attack is blurry, it is still unbeknownst to me why they took prisoners or where we are. My Zebesian is not that good so I can't understand the pirates. So far I have been able to keep this diary a secret, even from my old friend Anton. This is the only thing keeping me sane." --Troy
"The pirates have taken us out of our rooms now. They used a translating device to tell us their intentions. They wish to remodel us, and that they mean us no harm, only help." --Troy
"I am learning Zebesian bit by bit. It is hard, with all of the "therapy" sessions. Thats what they call them. I won't break though, I just won't. Someone tried to escape today as well! Just as we thought he was home free to one of the cruisers a plasma rifle shot took him out. We were unable to pinpoint where the shot came from. Me and some others have taken to calling them watchers." --Troy
"The pirates raided the room today, thankfully I was able to hide the diary before they found it. My good friend Anton was able to cover for me! If he hadn't done so, I would surely be dead right now! The pirates made us play a game today. It resembles the children's game "octopus" of Old Earth. The moral of the game was that if we try to escape we will surely die! No! I will not die. I must escape!.... Or my words must." --Troy
"The therapy sessions have increased. I have lost all track of the day. My friend Anton has been repeating disturbing things lately. He swears the pirates as his masters. I WILL NOT BREAK. I swear this to myself." --Troy
"The pirates are trying to place a new language called CODE into our heads. The language consists of clicks, pops, and motions of the body. This "code" seems to erase memory. I'm finding it harder and harder to hold out." --Troy
"I can't remember anything. I don't know my own name! Troy...Troy...Troy...Troy... it seems so unfamiliar to me. I don't know anything anymore. My nightmares are reality and reality seems dreamlike." --Troy?
Solar Cycle 128.93
"I love my new masters. They promise me the galaxy! I will no longer be living in dirt like a filthy animal. Like the Galactic Federation, those beasts. My new masters dub me "EWAN". Having this (diary?) (journal?) fragment of a (shattered?) (disrupted?) past is a blasphemy against my new masters. However, I do not turn it in be cause of a tiny voice inside (us?) (me?) that calls to me and tells me to keep it. Soon enough I will turn it into my (loving?) (gracious?) masters." --Ewan
Solar Cycle 241.83
"I turn it in today! I wonder what (reward?) (privilege?) I will receive for this?" --Ewan
The diary ends there. Admiral Keith gives a command to one of his troopers. "Find a passenger by the name of Troy on the Calthurn records will you?" "Yes sir!" A few minutes later the Admiral receives a shocking answer. "There is no record of any Troy being on the Calthurn's last trip sir." "So he was a..... criminal." The Admiral ponders this broken man. He ponders what is left of Troy. "No" he thinks "that's not right". He ponders what Troy has of himself. He ponders... these scraps of paper.
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