DECCAN MINING CORPORATION,
QUARRY JUNCTION, SECTOR -16,
TRES CENTAURIAN SYSTEM, 4th Era. 80999
Long and hard was their fight, a hundred million souls in all, rising as one to fight for their right to live under an open sky yet again, to fight for freedom.
But alas here they are now, a gathering of humanities forsaken at the twilight of their revolution, robbed of fellow comrades felled, and old dreams forgotten, in the end what do they seek but vengeance, against the ones who did them wrong.
They marched with broken strides, armed with mining tools reforged for slaughter. The planetary dome of their prison that once locked up doomed outlaws to be buried and forgotten, acting as an oppressive crude iron tombstone that enforced its cruelty under the guise of justice, how its mighty walls that caged them, the pillars that held up the entire hollow planets crust, now lie broken, molten, ashen as dust under the fury of their righteous purge.
Their cries that once couldn’t pierce through the thick concrete walls of their cells reinforced with bones of ghosts past, now rumbled the very atmosphere of the world they dug hollow. For then they were divided and alone, enslaved as unarmed and unenlightened pillagers of nature. But now they stood as one before their prophet commander floating high in the sky like a crucified god. United by his sermons they sung the song of a revolution promised long since. Now they were not pillagers, they were nature itself.
High from the sky he spoke, a single word from him silenced the air. Such a man was General Sanders, the warrior prophet of Centauri. For he spoke with a solemn pride of a geriatric angel, with a fatherly smile that didn't suit one bathed in black blood which seldom cloaked his naked visage from the scorching winds rising from hell itself, as lava veins flooded the mine shafts beneath them.
“Citizens of Centauri,” he cried. “Be not afraid of its light.”
“Cower not from your salvation’s sight.”
“Hear me, and rejoice! For beneath your feet lie the institution of your oppression, the Centaurian branch of the Deccan Mining Corporation. Where a billion souls of our fellow brothers have served and died, all for what but their greed…..”
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The cries from the horde returned to rumble the air silenced by the warrior prophet. With a wave of his hand he split the very earth beneath them, and from them arose seven corpses who yet lived, impaled on phantom stakes high into the sky for all his brothers to see.
“Behold! For these are the men of stone, under whose watchful wrath we served, who enslaved the ones forsaken by the stars for a millennium!” Rage fermented the winds that dared to enter the hollow mining pits.
“The ashen snows that fall, tell the tales of their cruelty. The secrets that spilled forth from the shattered dome that lays bare, the secret plots by these noble puppeteers that drove us here, that robbed us of our homelands. But now warden Kayaba is nowhere to be found….“ The bodies that lay impaled on phantom stakes began to twitch and scream.
“In the night of our rebellion, Chief Hanz was the first to perish. Soon the rest of management, cowards all, chose to scatter and flee in horror, while the security supposed to protect them remained headless.”
“The mad taint of strength that corrupted their characters, where was it then, and where is it now…..”. The screams of the horde deafened the ears of conscience to the plight of the impaled.
“Arise now, fellow comrades. Ye who have been enslaved for the reptilian glory of lesser men! The call of war speaks to us all!”
“Behold, the last of what remains of their injustice!” He said as he pointed to the living corpses suspended before him.
“Assistant Superintendent, and team leader of the black guards Guy Oldson!”
One by one he announced their names they had for themselves, along with qualities that adored them.
“The never brilliant coordinator of duties Felix Long!”
“Associate administrators of the “correctional facility”, Modi and Magni!”
“Farookh Amidala, the guardian protector of sector-16!”
“The ever dreaded loathsome executioner, Redard Volt!”
“.... and the dead who yet lives on, Pastor Gon, the immortal!”
He raised his hand the cries that rode winds of insurrection yet again came to a still.
“O Warden Kayaba the Cruel! Never in a million years would you have pictured…. That your sins shall come to haunt you in this manner.”
He continued. “We shall arm ourselves with your tools of pillaging.”
“We shall armor ourselves with your mining gears of cloaked thorns.”
“Your Haulers and Graders shall be our tanks, your excavators and draglines our rides, your bulldozers our attack ships, your drills and loaders our siege engines.”
“We shall raise your defaced banner, under our name and the singular mission of vengeance.”
“What is yet to transpire, yet you know not, but I do…. For they shall be the terrors of the earth.”
“You think you have fled to a life free of your past! You shall never know peace again I swear on my priesthood. You have fled your prison, only to end up in a prison of your own sins.”
“You will pay. All shall pay…..”