A Plea for Justice and the Return of Democracy
15 Nov 2024Natasha Blackwood
To Li Yong-Rui,My name is Natasha Blackwood, and I write to you not as a political figure, but as a daughter. As a sister. As a woman who has lost everything.
I was born in 234 G. Carinae, a system like many others where the Empire's grip grew too tight and too cruel. The Marlinists were always viewed as a threat to their vision of order—our belief in democracy, our fight for independence from the tyranny of the Empire, was something they could never allow. Our people were persecuted, driven from our homes, torn from our land. The Empire sought to silence us. We had no choice but to flee.
We found a semblance of safety when the Sirius Corporation took us in and built us our sanctuaries in and around Concordia. For a time, it felt like we had finally found peace. We rebuilt our lives, started anew, and clung to the hope that we could live without the constant fear of imperial oppression. The Concordia system became our refuge—our home.
But that safety has once again been shattered. Pranav Antal, once seen as a beacon of hope and unity, has brought his Utopian vision to Concordia and imposed it upon us. What was once a thriving community of refugees has been turned into another prison. Under his rule, we are not free—we are subjected to the ideals of a man who seeks to control us all under the banner of false peace. He promises us a future of equality and fairness, but all we see are the signs of another oppressive regime, one that seeks to remake us in his image.
My family knew the danger of speaking out. My mother, father, and little brother dared to voice their dissent—dared to speak against Pranav Antal’s vision for our future. And for that, they paid the price. They vanished without a trace, taken by the authorities in the middle of the night, their names erased from all records. No explanation. No justice. Just silence.
What happened to them? Where are they? Are they alive? Are they being tortured in some dark corner of this broken system? I do not know. And no one will tell me.
I am not alone in my suffering. There are countless families like mine—displaced by the Empire, taken in by Sirius, only to be betrayed once more. The Marlinists are not enemies, Li Yong-Rui. We are the displaced, the oppressed, the ones who have been driven from place to place, seeking only the right to live free. We are not asking for charity or for the empty promises of peace. We are asking for justice. We are asking for the restoration of democracy, for the return of the rights that have been stripped from us.
And yet, despite all this, you remain silent.
I am writing to you not just for myself, but for all the Marlinists who have suffered. The pain of our people echoes across the galaxy, and still, your attention has not fallen on us. How many must disappear? How many must die before you act?
I know that you have the power to make a difference. I know that you are a man of principle, who has spoken of unity and justice. But words alone will not save us. We need action.
We need you to help us. To stop turning a blind eye to our suffering. We need you to raise your voice for democracy, for the right to self-determination, for the return of our families, our lives, and our dignity. The Marlinists have waited long enough.
I do not know where my family is. But I know this: If we do nothing, there will be more families torn apart. More lives lost. And I will not let that happen in vain.
Please, Li Yong-Rui—help us before it is too late. Bring the Marlinists the justice we deserve. Bring us democracy, freedom, and the hope that we may one day be whole again.
Sincerely,
Natasha Blackwood