Blackbat
06-13-2005, 06:14 PM
Icelander
Year: 2658
…………………………………………..
Interrogation Room 332A – Goloran Galactic Prison
“What is your number inmate.”
All inmates were required to commit their prison ID numbers to memory, and be able to rattle it off for any guard that asked. Individual names were forbidden for inmates, they had no identity, they had no names and they had no freedom.
A sharp blow from the energy baton was his punishment for hesitation.
“Your number inmate, what is it?”
“My name, is Konrel, you son of a_.”
The energy baton struck him before he could finish his defiant statement. This time, the guard didn’t stop. He kept at it until the prisoner was unconscious and bleeding profusely from the head. It brought him a sick satisfaction to rule over these rebels. The Galactic Nation invasion force had only just arrived on this planet 6 short months ago, and already they had taken over. This planet, the planet Goloran was always kept out of the invasion plans. It was rumored throughout the galaxy that its inhabitants could not be controlled, and thus were not worth the trouble, time and money to conquer them. They had the reputation of being defiant, so defiant that they would rather die than be ruled by others. Their reputation had come to be well deserved, the first month of war, had resulted in over half the native populations death. They refused to quit fighting, even when severely outnumbered, outgunned and outmatched. But the planet had to be taken, it was prime real estate for the Galactic Nation, it was situated within the coveted Goloranus Star System. Which was ripe with trade routes and short cuts for the Galactic Nation’s trade ships. Four months after the initial invasion, the rest of the planet’s people were either killed or put to work as slaves.
Of course, there were rebellions. There were always rebellions. This planet was no different, in fact even more so. The rebels were small in numbers, almost insignificant. But what they lacked in numbers they made up for in cunning and ruthlessness. Those rebels that were captured weren’t put on slave detail. They were housed in a Galactic Nation prison, which was built on one of the nearby Goloran moons. The incarcerated rebels were tortured for any information they knew, when they had no more information to give, they were killed to make room for more captured rebels which were brought in daily.
“Take him back to his cage.” The guard ordered.
Two guards picked up the limp, unconscious inmate and carried him to the other end of the prison. To the cell blocks, where all the inmates were housed. They roughly dumped him back in his cell and shut the heavy iron cell door behind them, as they walked back to their posts.
As the guards left the cell block, several nearby prisoners came out of the dark corner of their respective cells to get a closer look.
“Is he dead this time?” One of the nearby inmates asked.
“Nah, he’s breathing. They got him good this time though.” Another inmate replied.
“Why doesn’t he just tell them what they want to know?” Yet another inmate asked from 3 cells over.
“Because…” Konrel started to reply before a sharp pain made him wince while trying to sit up.
“Because, I refuse to let them break me.” Konrel finally replied while sitting up and leaning against the metal bars.
“You know, you are just about the most stubborn bastard I’ve ever met.” Said an inmate in the next cell over.
Kon, as everyone called him, looked over at the man in the next cell.
“Coming from you, that means absolutely nothing.” Kon replied.
Soft laughter filled the cell block as they let humor give them a small reprieve from their living nightmare.
…………………………………………..
Warden Conference Room – Goloran Galactic Prison
The newly appointed Galactic Prison warden walked into the huge conference room and stood at attention before all 8 members of the Galactic Nation High Council. They had made the long trip from the Havoc galaxy to get a progress report on the ongoing invasion.
“Warden, what is the progress on Inmate 49372?” Asked a High Council member.
“Information gathering has not been effective, my lord.” Replied the warden.
Soft murmurs of impatience were heard as the members whispered among themselves.
“Warden, you were assigned here because of your exemplary service record back on home world. It was thought, that you could handle this station better than your predecessor. Need I remind you what became of him?”
“No, my lord.”
“The rebel forces are gaining momentum as well as new members. Every day they are allowed to survive is costing us time. Time equals manpower. Manpower equals equipment and supplies. Equipment and supplies equals money. The Galactic Senate has put a cap on our budget for this invasion. We are approaching it at a discouraging pace. This inmate was the former Co-Leader of the rebellion. He has information that we need. Must I spell this out for you!” The Chairman of the High Council screamed as he leaned forward and smashed his fist down on the table.
“No, my lord.” The warden replied.
The Chairman leaned back, straightened his shirt and composed himself.
“We are going onto the surface of Goloran to meet with General Slavik and get his report on the invasion and reformation of the planet. When we return here, you will have answers for us. Is that clear?”
“Yes, my lord.”
As one, all the High Council members got up and left to their awaiting Galactic cruiser that would take them to the surface of Goloran.
The warden walked to his office and paged his head guard as he tiredly sat down at his desk.
Moments later, the head guard appeared and stood at attention, waiting for his orders.
“Setup my personal interrogation room, and bring me Inmate 49372.” The warden instructed.
“It shall be done.” Replied the guard as he saluted and briskly walked out to make the preparations.
Year: 2658
…………………………………………..
Interrogation Room 332A – Goloran Galactic Prison
“What is your number inmate.”
All inmates were required to commit their prison ID numbers to memory, and be able to rattle it off for any guard that asked. Individual names were forbidden for inmates, they had no identity, they had no names and they had no freedom.
A sharp blow from the energy baton was his punishment for hesitation.
“Your number inmate, what is it?”
“My name, is Konrel, you son of a_.”
The energy baton struck him before he could finish his defiant statement. This time, the guard didn’t stop. He kept at it until the prisoner was unconscious and bleeding profusely from the head. It brought him a sick satisfaction to rule over these rebels. The Galactic Nation invasion force had only just arrived on this planet 6 short months ago, and already they had taken over. This planet, the planet Goloran was always kept out of the invasion plans. It was rumored throughout the galaxy that its inhabitants could not be controlled, and thus were not worth the trouble, time and money to conquer them. They had the reputation of being defiant, so defiant that they would rather die than be ruled by others. Their reputation had come to be well deserved, the first month of war, had resulted in over half the native populations death. They refused to quit fighting, even when severely outnumbered, outgunned and outmatched. But the planet had to be taken, it was prime real estate for the Galactic Nation, it was situated within the coveted Goloranus Star System. Which was ripe with trade routes and short cuts for the Galactic Nation’s trade ships. Four months after the initial invasion, the rest of the planet’s people were either killed or put to work as slaves.
Of course, there were rebellions. There were always rebellions. This planet was no different, in fact even more so. The rebels were small in numbers, almost insignificant. But what they lacked in numbers they made up for in cunning and ruthlessness. Those rebels that were captured weren’t put on slave detail. They were housed in a Galactic Nation prison, which was built on one of the nearby Goloran moons. The incarcerated rebels were tortured for any information they knew, when they had no more information to give, they were killed to make room for more captured rebels which were brought in daily.
“Take him back to his cage.” The guard ordered.
Two guards picked up the limp, unconscious inmate and carried him to the other end of the prison. To the cell blocks, where all the inmates were housed. They roughly dumped him back in his cell and shut the heavy iron cell door behind them, as they walked back to their posts.
As the guards left the cell block, several nearby prisoners came out of the dark corner of their respective cells to get a closer look.
“Is he dead this time?” One of the nearby inmates asked.
“Nah, he’s breathing. They got him good this time though.” Another inmate replied.
“Why doesn’t he just tell them what they want to know?” Yet another inmate asked from 3 cells over.
“Because…” Konrel started to reply before a sharp pain made him wince while trying to sit up.
“Because, I refuse to let them break me.” Konrel finally replied while sitting up and leaning against the metal bars.
“You know, you are just about the most stubborn bastard I’ve ever met.” Said an inmate in the next cell over.
Kon, as everyone called him, looked over at the man in the next cell.
“Coming from you, that means absolutely nothing.” Kon replied.
Soft laughter filled the cell block as they let humor give them a small reprieve from their living nightmare.
…………………………………………..
Warden Conference Room – Goloran Galactic Prison
The newly appointed Galactic Prison warden walked into the huge conference room and stood at attention before all 8 members of the Galactic Nation High Council. They had made the long trip from the Havoc galaxy to get a progress report on the ongoing invasion.
“Warden, what is the progress on Inmate 49372?” Asked a High Council member.
“Information gathering has not been effective, my lord.” Replied the warden.
Soft murmurs of impatience were heard as the members whispered among themselves.
“Warden, you were assigned here because of your exemplary service record back on home world. It was thought, that you could handle this station better than your predecessor. Need I remind you what became of him?”
“No, my lord.”
“The rebel forces are gaining momentum as well as new members. Every day they are allowed to survive is costing us time. Time equals manpower. Manpower equals equipment and supplies. Equipment and supplies equals money. The Galactic Senate has put a cap on our budget for this invasion. We are approaching it at a discouraging pace. This inmate was the former Co-Leader of the rebellion. He has information that we need. Must I spell this out for you!” The Chairman of the High Council screamed as he leaned forward and smashed his fist down on the table.
“No, my lord.” The warden replied.
The Chairman leaned back, straightened his shirt and composed himself.
“We are going onto the surface of Goloran to meet with General Slavik and get his report on the invasion and reformation of the planet. When we return here, you will have answers for us. Is that clear?”
“Yes, my lord.”
As one, all the High Council members got up and left to their awaiting Galactic cruiser that would take them to the surface of Goloran.
The warden walked to his office and paged his head guard as he tiredly sat down at his desk.
Moments later, the head guard appeared and stood at attention, waiting for his orders.
“Setup my personal interrogation room, and bring me Inmate 49372.” The warden instructed.
“It shall be done.” Replied the guard as he saluted and briskly walked out to make the preparations.