Re: Galactic Prisoners From: jrosenq159@aol.com (JRosenq159) Date: Tue, 05 Mar 1996 00:00:00 +0000 It was a crisp cold day in February, Presidents' Day, and celebrating His Eminance, LEGION, a former Prison President by popular acclaim, were all the captains from every Prison on the planet. LEGION addressed the masses from the comfort and security of His private pallazzo, His words and Image brought to each ATV and Colony vid-screen by Simulcast, courtesy of the Nibor. In the hours prior to the scheduled Address, all prison activity drew to a halt; warring factions broke off hostilities, NTS's closed shop. A collective hush eclipsed the planet, like the umbra from an occulted sun. Even the birds took to the roost, save for a raucous flock of crows, witnessed thousands of kilo- meters away, in Prison Three, which rose in unison exactly as LEGION strode to the podium. It was said later that the rotation rate of Planet Nibor lost an hour due to the cancelling kinetic energies of millions of knees and prostrate bodies crashing simultaneously onto prayer mats the world over. Thousands of Vennok, huddling under heat sacks in fear and search for warmth, froze to death instantly as the Words of LEGION echoed to the uttermost corners of the world: "My name is LEGION!" Those captains favored with stiffness of spine and stoutness of heart were able to catch a glimpse of the Mighty LEGION in all His Glory, radiating Power, Wisdom, and Ruthlessness in a scathing burst of energy and light equal to a quasar gone super-nova. dIt was the last thing they'd ever see as their eyes immediately dripped from their sockets. Many of the captains would say later that the reckless peek was worth it: Nothing in Heaven or Earth would ever approach the raw and terrible beauty of LEGION in GLORY, and that the most scenic vistas available on rugged Nibor were as black and white, as mud and filth, in comparison. It is fitting, they said, that they be blind--sight was worthless to them now, they said, and many sought death, not needing more to live, and many found it. Others among the blinded attracted huge crowds as they waxed elequent in their descriptions of the magnificence of LEGION, rapture writ large on their faces, testimony to the splendor and munificence of LEGION in POWER. One such had this to say: "...and His great broad shoulders seemed stooped, somehow, as though the burdens of State and responsibility were grevious burdens, and etched into the lines of His Face, patience, wisdom, strength...evidence of the countless terrible and stern judgments meted to His enemies, and of rewards rich beyond description granted to the Faithful in LEGION". High seas boiled red as LEGION's Words reverberated through the Prisons. Poorly trained crew, lost in the vast wasteland expanses, covered their ears and hid their eyes in mortal terror for their lives--but to no avail. Their starved frames lacked the musculature to withstand the unholy onslaught of LEGION's Authority, and so flesh was shorn from its bony shackles, leaving steaming heaps of carrion askew amongst fly-blown grinning skulls. "Skeleton Crew" was a term for these unfortunates, in later years, when chanced upon in the wilderness by exploration ATV's. LEGION drew Himself up and thundered His Accusation: "HOW DARE ANY CAPTAIN FORGET ME? WHERE IS MY MENTION IN THE CAPTAINS' CHOICE AWARDS? AND WHO IS THAT CAPTAIN...(and here He grew terrible and wroth)...WHO IS THAT PRETENDER WHO DARES ASSUME THE TITLE "MR. PRESIDENT" IN MY ABSENCE? LET THAT FOOL COME FORWARD!" Thousands of Captains and crew died that day, out of fear, perhaps, or shame at forgetting the Great LEGION on CAPTAINS' CHOICE Election Day. Mainly, however, they died from despair--despair in the knowledge that strive as they might, LEGION set a standard in LIVING PERFECTION against which they would measure as mere insects in comparison. Up