Logbook entry

The Heavy Date Part 1

31 Jul 2017Mhera Bathana
<<<<<<STATUS: BLOCKED, UNABLE TO SEND>>>>>>

To my Dearest Friend Dr. Drake,

You must be wondering what has happened to me. Months without any communiques must have you worried sick. And I fear, that you will never receive another one from me. I know it’s pointless to try and send this, it will be blocked, but I need some sort of avenue to vent these feelings.

Despair comes in many forms. The Beagle is all but lost, and my pilot, I fear he is dead. We were ambushed by marauders somewhere outside Maia. They commandeered the ship and took us back to some sort of den. Luke, tried his best to protect us, but he was swarmed and overpowered.

This is hard for me.

We were separated and the last I saw him, he was shunted off to play in the “games.” I sent off to auction. As some “companion.” Not a very clever euphemism. But as it would, all that I have achieved in my life, now comes down to my ability to spread my legs.


I hate it here, and I hate what I am forced to do. Everyday, I wonder if I could muster the courage to kill myself and end the pain. But I cannot do it. I think of mother and father. My brother and you. But I’ve gotten ahead of myself.

I was sold off, with about a dozen other girls and women. Loaded onto some sort of transport. I don’t know what kind. I’ve not one to know the makes and models. All I know is it was a Falcon, something and another. We had broken orbit, and traveled some distance before the ship was tossed about violently. It was much like when the Beagle was interdicted from before. The ship engaged in some sort of firefight. The lights went out. There were pops and sparks and then nothing.

The crew started gearing up, grabbing weapons. All we could do was huddle back in our cages. Then the sound of sizzling and the stench of ionized metal.  I remember seeing, along a wall, a moving spark. Something was cutting through. The men with guns took up a position. There was loud bang. Yelling and screaming, and gunshot all around. I saw a group of men, all in black, with black reflective helmets board the ship followed by a huge man except on his visor was some sort of stylized skull in red. Jagged and foreboding. He held a huge multi-barreled gun of sorts, but it was his right arm that caught my attention. Some mechanical claw like device. He opened fired and mowed the crew down. Blood was everywhere.

I don’t know how long it was, but the man, ripped the cage apart and started pulling the women out. He grabbed my arm, and for a split second, I swore, he looked me over before tossing me into the care of one of his comrades. They were all barking orders at us. In the confusion they led us onto their ship, and locked us up. Time slipped away and they took us to some place. A stylized whore house. The girls were separated out like chaff from wheat and given an orientation. As slaves, we were owned. And it was in our best interest to do the job. Poor performance, led to poor clientele. Having the scientific background I have, I knew exactly what that meant.

Camille,

I miss you so. If this ever reaches you, please send help. Clair Dock, Tjakiri.

Your friend,

Mhera
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