[Jmenschenfresser]

Chapter 2--Part 1
2401.3
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TYR
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Tyr returned home.
The virgins fields of the new world in Primidara granted her the peace she needed. The grasses have a wonderful smell, near to that of the prized annex fruit back home. Giant forests of reeds rise like a fog cloud on the distant side of the river. She learned that although beautiful and exotic to the eye, the landscape of this world can easily become deadly. The mountains on the horizon are home to semi-intelligent beasts. Brutes for that matter. They fight with rocks and bones. They run from the siren sounds of Vellon propulsion systems. Tyr's father has been away for a week, attempting to survey the land and decide what to do about the primitives. Enslavement. Tyr knows her father will find some manner through which to exploit them.

Tyr stayed at home. The initial thirty million colonists had been scattered about on one of the northern continent's shorelines. Ten central locations and numerous outPosts throughout the entire planet. Colony homes were makeshift boxes. Giant solar arrays had been set up, but energy was rationed. The short nights were spent in the unabated darkness. All water was cold. The word was that the expected winter months would be extremely cold. Along with the thirty million colonists, four million slaves and hired workers had made the several month trip. The workers received better pay than usual and the slaves were promised freedom after four years of service on in the new world. Tyr, the cynic, knew that was a lie.

She had heard that a transport was on its way. Perhaps Garrak would make the transport. She wasn't really in love with him. Call it intellectual fascination. Far too few Vellon had anything different to say from every single one of their neighbors. How ironic that the Vellon thought themselves so independent and individual. Were it not for authority and the talking heads no one would know what to do and no one would know what to say. That is why she 'liked' Garrak...but it certainly wasn't love. Tyr had promised herself she would never love. Love was for all those pathetic, empty-headed debutants fretting over family rites and acceptance.

Tyr returned to her small alcove, where a bed and small desk sat crammed in a space hardly large enough to contain her ideals. Discipline didn't come easy to Tyr, and such a deprived space made it all that much harder. Her and Garrak had cooked up a plot to begin a change among the Vellon youth. If the elders were too stubborn to listen to logic, and were too numerous to be slaughtered wholesale (the preferred method for settling the Vellon generation gap), then they must round up all those who felt as they felt...who grew up under the harsh reality of the Last war. A secret society. The beginnings had to seek out like minded channels. They would write and network. Inspiration to hope.

Two years ago, angry at her father for inviting a snobbish rich Vellon aristocrat's son around to peruse her like a piece of livestock, she ripped the traditional earloops from ears without undoing the clasp. Now she fingered the deformed lobe of her ear. Oh, how her father had beaten her. There was so little pride in the young life a Vellon female, but like the males judge their battles by their scars, so she judged her career in dissent by her deformities. With that she put pen to paper...

"The galaxy is weary of the sobs of our battered women. The galaxy is impatient with the drunken libations of our men. Those who would rather remain subjected to the past, bound eternally by authority, enslaved and violated by the perverted words of their ancestors, than struggle to the death for new ideals, deserve every misery our depraved tribe has to offer. Those who remain silent, I, myself, convict and execute..."