Rising Son

[Haste]

February 9, 820 A.S.
Transport

“Hey, slant eyes,” One of the guards shouted at him, “Get a move on! You’re goin’ somewhere real nice today.” As he spoke those last words, a foul grin appeared on the man’s face.

Rokuro got back into the line of slaves boarding the Bison. The massive, heavily armed ship looked beat-up from its unconventional landing. The slavers’ mines were far away from any cities, and therefore, far away from a mooring point.

Not long after he’d entered the ship’s cargo hold, the loading doors slammed shut. Men and women of all ages and ethnicities were packed together like cattle. Left of him stood a middle-aged woman, thin as a twig. To his right, a broad-shouldered, tall man. It was too dark to see their faces.

After what seemed like hours, the engines could be heard firing up. The ship was shaking as the incredibly powerful forces started to bring it into motion. It took minutes before it calmed down. “We’ve taken off,” he whispered. He wasn’t quite sure to whom, as neither the man nor the woman next to him said a word.

It was getting harder to breathe. The cargo life support systems could barely cope with the number of people aboard. “Stay calm,” Rokuro thought to himself, “you’ll only waste more oxygen if you panic.”

Suddenly, the ship started shaking violently. The hull could be heard creaking as it was struggling to hold together. Rokuro could feel the ship accelerating more and more. Again, he whispered: “We must be jumping to another system now.” The man to his right turned his head towards him, but said nothing. The woman simply kept staring right ahead, into the darkness.