Journal of a Dead Man

2003/2004 short story by Mark Newbold

Fifteen years before Episode IV – A New Hope

Let me explain something to you before I begin. This isn’t the tale of a preacher, or a leader, or a wise man or a fool. This is the tale of a simple man trying to make sense of all the craziness this universe can throw at him. I have no particular talents, no skills to speak of. I’m a competent father, a competent businessman, a competent human being. I cook a mean spiced shleven steak but not well enough for my guests to ask for my secret recipe. I play hardball with my work mates after hours, but I’m never the first one picked.

I’m your average Ruuthornian.

I tell you this only because us Ruuthornian citizens have a reputation for being feisty. Tough. Callous. I want my thoughts on record, because it isn’t true. Well, perhaps for some it is, but certainly not about anyone I know, or would ever want to know. Where I come from you couldn’t hope to survive without being a fully integrated member of the community.

I live on Ruuthorne, a rocky world on the edges of the sector. Hot, inhospitable, generations of our people worked hard to build what we now have. But work they did, and we inherited a society to be truly proud of.

Or at least we did.

The pirate’s final attack came out of the night like a pack of wild sraw rats eager for flesh. They raided the outskirts of our city, picking off our sentries like shies on a stand, and then made their way inwards. We didn’t stand a chance. We’re builders, not warriors, and these pirates came from every conceivable race you could imagine. Our populace didn’t know what to do when they arrived, or how to defend themselves. We shouldn’t have even tried.

If I had known that to put up a fight would have only cemented our fate then I would have said to my fellows, put down your arms and let them in. But we are proud. We cut our homes from the very rock we stand on.

The raids began early, just a handful of happenings on the very edge of the city. At first we heard whispered reports of sightings in the mountains, but our city is circled by the Karrst Mountains and we know that there are creatures that live there who do not disturb us if we do not disturb them, so we left well alone and put the chatter down to the idle rumours of children. But as the day grew we heard more reports, from people of reputation. Swoops and speeders were being spotted, and ships landing beyond the great Plain of Tralivane that rolls away from the western city walls towards the first slew of mountains. I was busy with my work, eager to get as much done before the midday sun broiled us all into doziness. As I looked up from my workstation I could see a gaggle of men and women approach, concern etched into their sun beaten faces. I squinted as I sat at my desk, next to the open window and acknowledged them as they paused to speak to me.

“Yes,” I said, waiting for one of them to step forward to speak. “How can I help you?”

“There have been more sightings,” said the lead man, a character I had seen at city hall meetings but who I had never had the pleasure of being formally introduced to. Strange, to this day I could not tell you the name of the man, or of his associates, but I would stand and talk to him all day long about any number of matters, like two firm friends. I would have been embarrassed to ask his name, certain that he thought I would already know it.

“And have the authorities been alerted?” I asked, leaning an arm on the window ledge. The man nodded.

“They have. A speeder detachment have just headed out to investigate.”

I allowed myself an easy smile and leaned back.

“Then we have little to worry about. Whoever it is shall soon be encouraged to gather their belongings and fly away.”

The group exchanged glances, some clearly buoyed by my words, others dubious and unsure. I could see that whatever they had heard or seen had unsettled them significantly. Whatever happened, this nervousness could not seep out into the greater city population. I may have only been a man of commerce, and these all citizens of influence and power, but for some reason they saw me as a pillar of the community. My thoughts and words were well held and respected, and I greatly appreciated that honour.

Although I would have gladly traded that privilege to know who these secretive visitors to my world were.

I busied myself with my work, but as the day drew on I was more than aware of the whispers growing, and the news alerts on my workstation only focused my attentions more on the possibility of a growing threat to our city. Rumours of more sightings, unfamiliar vessels skimming the outskirts of the western rock bowl that rippled away into the mountains, of sonic booms as they zigzagged around us. My break couldn’t come soon enough and gathering my lunch and my hat I stepped out of the office and walked the short distance around my building to the city wall that ran across the rear of my place of work. I sat on the wall, bringing my pocket binocs to my eyes and scanning the skyline. I could see a speeder detachment still racing away towards the mountains, the red dust trail kicking up a cloud that marked their location like a flare. And beyond that I could see shapes, glints of metal hidden in the rocks that lay at the foot of the first mountain. What it was I couldn’t tell, the magnification on my binocs already at maximum, but my gut told me it was ships. Off-worlders vessels, and on Ruuthorne that always meant trouble.

Our city had been built over many decades, from the small encampment of tents and temporary buildings to huts, prefabricated dwellings and ultimately the city that we lived in. It had been hewn from the brittle rocks of Ruuthorne, and the red blood of our predecessors was as much a part of our society as the red rocks that surrounded us. We’d be damned if anybody would tear that away from us without a fight. We were born here and would die here, and even though the Setnin Sector might have held riches and sights beyond our wildest imaginations, Ruuthorne was our home and we’d protect it to the last.

Little did I know how that pledge would be tested over the coming hours.

Night came, and for the first time in many years it fell on me like a shroud. I had always welcomed the night. I found comfort in the bright shine of the stars, and the subtle tease of the wind. But on that night I felt only dread. As I walked through the emptying streets of the city I could clearly sense the trepidation, the unspoken, unformed thoughts of worry as the city’s citizens hurried to the safety of their homes, locking and bolting their doors, for what little good that would do.

I stood in the same spot I had stood on that afternoon, gazing out into the distance towards the mountains where our speeder detachment had sped, as yet to return. I let out a slow breath. I knew that trouble was afoot, but in what form I did not know.

I could hear a low rumble building in intensity and looked directly above. A glint in the sky was lowering itself down, growing larger and larger and I could soon tell that it was a huge vessel, of modern design, and at once I marvelled in horror and fascination as it veered away towards the mountains and landed just shy of them, clear to my eye. Now everyone in the city would be aware of our situation. We had visitors.

I drew a deep breath and ran back to my home, just a couple of minutes away. Unlocking the door I stepped inside, to be greeted by my fiancée who grabbed me by the shoulders in worry.

“What’s happening? The children are scared and nobody knows what’s going on.”

I looked down into the eyes of my love, the woman who had taken on my children after the death of their mother, and tried to give her a reassuring smile.

“We have…visitors.”

“Aliens?” she asked, as if I knew the answer, even though she knew I did not. I gave her another warm smile and reached for my blaster rifle, which lay near the door, unused for many years.

“I do not know.” I stroked her cheek and looked her deeply in the eye. “Lock the door and stay with the children.”

She caught my arm as I turned to leave.

“Why, where are you going?”

I glanced outside and saw just what I knew I would. Other citizens, gathering with arms to protect our city. I nodded at them through my open front door and turned back to her.

“You know where I’m going, and why. It’s part of living in a frontier town. Don’t worry. We’ll be safe. By sunrise there won’t be any more trouble and we can carry on with our lives, you’ll see.”

She nodded slowly in hesitant understanding, tears brimming her eyes. I kissed her once on the cheek and left before my own eyes spilled tears and slapped the nearest man on the shoulder.

“Alright, let’s head out and meet these invaders face to face.” The group, growing larger by the second, cheered and began to march towards the edge of town, torches glowing in the night and the spirit of defiance boiling over. If we were to be subjugated it would not be without a fight.

Even under the best conditions, the Plains of Tralivane were not to be travelled lightly. Under only the cold light of the moons, and at dead of night, they were no place for man nor beast, although many beasts roamed the Plain. I was close to the front of our group, alongside the city hall men I had been speaking to earlier in the day, and the pale illumination of our torches only served to illuminate the tension on their faces. Jaw set, I was determined not to bow to the nerves that gnawed away at my gut, the worry that laced my thoughts with dark imaginings. Whatever lay out there, in the Karrst Mountains, would need to be a steely foe to see off my fellow townsfolk.

I kept telling myself that, over and over again.

We reached the final stretch of the plain. Quite why such a harsh and treacherous expanse of rock could be called a plain was beyond me, there was nothing plain about it. Many had tried to cross it, and during the day the temperature rose up to skin broiling temperatures. But at night, under the gaze of the moon, it was at least traversable. I made another mental note to remember we had only a few hours before we would need to set out for our return. The two-hour journey would need to be completed before sunrise, and in this summer season that would be earlier than usual. I could see the lights form the huge craft that had swooped overhead earlier, tucked away in the crevice of a small canyon, and I gripped my blaster tightly in my hand. Our group had taken refuge behind an enormous rock; clearly visible from the wall I often sat on during my lunch breaks, and for some strange reason knowing it was that same rock gave me a measure of confidence. I gathered the men around me in a small huddle and began to speak.

“We are clearly outgunned, but that matters little. We have strong hearts and strong arms.” I motioned towards the canyons edge where the ships nose was poking out. “If we can co-ordinate our attack we should find little resistance.”

A stout man beside me frowned and waved his blaster at the ship.

“And if you’re wrong? What then? I’m ready to die to protect this town, but I’m not ready to sacrifice my wife and daughters.” He blew out a long breath. “You’re sure about this?”

I took my own deep breath and measured my words before I spoke.

“I’m not a fighting man. I haven’t lifted a blaster in almost ten years. But I do know this. Like you, I would die to protect this settlement. My father lived here, his father before him. I’ve read about what’s out there, in the galaxy, but I wouldn’t swap any of it for our life here. Them,” I motioned contemptuously towards the aliens. “They have no idea what this settlement is about, what it stands for. But we do. Which is why we’ll fight to the last man to protect it.” I could see my words had had the desired effect, as my kinsmen lifted their blasters and checked their weapons for the attack. Giving the moons a last sad glance, I knocked the safety off the blaster and began to move.

I could see a handful of the invaders as I slowly edged forward, three men moving silently behind me. They were dressed in unusual garb, like nothing I had seen before. Most of them wore orange scarves stuffed into their top pockets, and a few wore green. I couldn’t make out what they were saying; it seemed almost like another language, a broken form of basic that was broken up into short, stuttering phrases. One of my fellow townsmen tugged at my sleeve.

“Pirates.” He whispered, and my blood immediately chilled. “That’s pirate speak. I remember my grandfather teaching me phrases when I was a boy. They speak it around the Soluman Delta Gulf, on the opposite side of the sector.” He motioned forward. “We must be cautious. They don’t take prisoners.”

I drew a shallow breath. From the second I had seen these vessels make their approach I knew that they weren’t here for good reason, and my first concern had been the safety of my family. But now, it had elevated far beyond that. Our entire town was at risk.

In the moons light I could see a row of men, women and aliens all look down the narrow canyon past the ship and at a shadowy figure. He was both tall and broad, overweight but imposing, with what looked like a crown made of rags perched on the top of his head. Clearly he was their leader, the others deferred to him constantly and he walked with the air of a man comfortably in charge of his surroundings.

Except this was our world, not his.

He was gesturing towards our settlement in the pale light, pointing at landmarks of our township and nodding at his minions concealed in the rocks and the dark. My compatriots all shared the same worried expressions as he watched his men melt from the shadows and gather at the lip of the canyon, then mount their speeders and begin the journey to our town.

“Don’t worry,” said my nearest townsman. “The Plains have a way of eating up men like that. The town is safe.”

It sounded like empty bravado. It was empty bravado, but I clung to it like a man adrift in a stormy sea and nodded. The Plains could indeed swallow men without trace, but my heart told me these types had journeyed through rougher territories, and survived harsher climes. After all, pirates were the dregs of the galaxy and lived on the periphery of society. They only encroached onto the mainstream to steal and loot what they wanted. And if not for our presence here, Ruuthorne would be an ideal base for a pirate clan.

That fact made a hard, cold lump in my throat, but filled me with resolve to rid our planet of these interlopers.

I could see that we had little option but to attempt to surprise these pirates in a swift attack, hoping to catch them unawares and overpower them. We were few, but we fought hard, and I whispered an attack plan to the men close by, who passed the word back down the ranks. There were enough of us to make a good fist of fighting them, and we hoped that the protective glow of the moons would not cast too harsh a light on our sneak attack. I held my hand up to hold our group, realising with a start that I had almost unconsciously become the leader of this revolt, and then waved my hand forward as we all broke cover and ran at our nearest target.

At first I thought that perhaps we had succeeded. The pirates were startled and backed off as we launched ourselves at them, pummelling them as hard as we could and snatching their weapons from their hands. But as we gained the initial upper hand I could see more and more figures stream from the distant ships that lay down the canyon, and felt my heart sink as my townsmen were overcome with hand held weapons and blasters, hammered to the ground with out mercy or pause. We fought for all we were worth, but after what seemed like only seconds but must have been long minutes we were defeated. I breathed heavily, looking down at my fallen and injured kinsmen, gasping for breath or life, and a cold chill gripped my heart. Three of the pirates held me and forced me to my knees as their leader strode towards me, a glint in his eye and thumbs tucked under his belt, accentuating the bulk of his frame. His minions watched with eager eyes, and I knew then that our fate was in the clammy hands of a despot.

“What’s your name, boy?” he asked, rolling his words around his mouth like he was chewing Chakroot. I was no boy, but I glared up at him with as much defiance as I could muster.

“Griftus Llend.” I knew I was treading on dangerous ground, but I choked out my next question nonetheless. “And who are you?”

I felt the rigid boot of one of his henchmen hit me hard across the back and I winced, already sore from the fight. The pirate leader gave his man a deep frown, shaking his head in disappointment.

“There’s no need for violence, now that we’re all friends.” That elicited a raucous laugh from the assembled rabble, and I lowered my head, thinking of my wife and children and the harsh times ahead for us all. The leader cleared his phlemy throat. “I am Tralat Durge.” He threw his head back with a loud laugh and his cohorts raised their weapons, firing into the red skies of Ruuthorne. “The Pirate King! And this world is my new base. That,” He waved a hand at our town. “That is my new home. And you…” I raised my eyes to see the stubby point of a finger aimed at my face. “You are an interloper. And interlopers don’t settle well with me boy.” His face reddened and I truly believed this madman believed everything he was saying to be true. “And what do we do with interlopers?”

“Hang ‘em!”

“Space ‘em!”

“Give ‘em the burning!”

The crowd were growing wilder and wilder by the second, pushing my living comrades and kicking the dead and injured. I knew the end was near, I just couldn’t fathom how it would come. But in this pit of insanity I prayed it would come quick and swift for us all. Durge nodded his head in satisfaction and looked down at me again, a thoughtful look settling upon his face.

“You live out here, on this plain, all alone. No supply ships, no contact with the outside world.”

“That’s right.”

“So if we were to torch your town and kill everyone then nobody would know.”

It was a rhetorical question, he already knew the answer and I felt no compulsion to dignify it with a response. Durge paused, lost in thought. His men watched him closely, and a tall woman with striking green hair and luminescent orange eyes leaned in close to speak to him.

“What are we to do with them sire?” She asked, and I cringed inside at the self-important arrogance of his self-appointed title. “They’re of no use to us as hostages.”

“No, not as hostages, but they may be of use.” Durge was still running something through his head, what I couldn’t decipher. After a minute he turned and faced me again.

“You live, you die, it makes little difference to me. You live, then you waste valuable food and energy. You die, you don’t. But,” he trailed off again, and I could see by the expressions of the assembled faces that he was a man rarely prone to such musings. “But if I allow you to live, you would harvest the land, work the soil, feed us. Allow us the luxury of not having to pay to live.” He turned back to me, a smile creeping across his features. “You would…serve us. Yes boy, you shall live so that we can be catered for.” He raised an eyebrow. “Well, interloper. Is that an acceptable alternative to death?”

This wasn’t rhetorical in any way. Durge was asking me a direct question. A lifetime of servitude, with little to no chance of escape or respite, or death. My soul ached as my sunken, hollow eyes met his and I nodded slowly.

“That is acceptable.”

His hordes began their loud chanting and cheering again, and it echoed through the canyon walls as ominously as Durges words had struck through my heart. Now I knew we were lost, set alone in the universe with only this pirate scum as company. Within a mere day our solitary existence had been bartered for slavery.

I wished I were dead.

So, now you see our plight. That day was truly the day we died. And every day since has been a journey that saps at the very juice of our soul, every fibre of our beings.

I was taught never to speak ill of the dead, but how I envy them.

How I envy them.

Journal of a Dead Man

2003/2004 short story by Mark Newbold

Fifteen years before Episode IV – A New Hope

Histories – The tale of how the pirate crew of Tralat Durge took the world of Ruuthorne as their own and utilised it as a base for their sector-wide pillaging of the space lanes. A sorry tale, this shows how the native people of Ruuthorne were subjugated and used as slave labour for the pirates.

Cast of Characters

Griftus Llend

Pirate King Tralat Durge