Venoms Bite

“Child, are you of open heart and intention, are you prepared for the Ray of Matar to shine upon you and give you your place amongst our people and your destiny”, the Tribal leader looked upon me as he said, glowing with a warmth of love I’ve never felt before.

I nod, “I am”.

The Tribal leader raises his left hand and removes my robe, leaving me standing there bare skinned from the waste up.  He then places his left hand on my right shoulder to steady me as he raises a large steel needle full of chemicals and pigments.  Quickly and with skill he plunges the needle into the root of my heart, injects me, looks into my eyes to help keep me calm and not allow my heart to race.  The liquid instantly pumps through my body, producing a stinging sensation from the inside out.  I turn and present my back, with the same skill he plunges the needle into the base of my spine, this time I let out a small yelp as the needle strikes nerves and sends a shock wave of pain through my body.

I turn and the Tribal leader places my rob back on my shoulders, warps it around my body and pulls my hood up over my head so I’m shrouded in darkness.  I am left to stand and wonder where and what tatoo might appear on my body.  The intense burning and stinging of the chemicals slowly tapers away and it’s all one can do to keep standing upright and not want to fall to the ground and wish it all to stop.  The chemicals and pigment move through your body, eventually coming together at the surface of your skin, forming various symbols.

When the others had been injected, the Tribal leader presented us to the anxious crowd of family and friends.  Starting with me, each of us was to drop our robes and present our marks of position and belonging.  

By the time I drop my robe, I can’t help the tears rolling down my cheeks, every emotion is coming to a head and wanting to explode out of my body.  The Tribal leader is standing in front of me with a mirror.  

His face is full of pride and a hint of fear is in his eyes, of which I don’t understand.

“You child, have received the mark of the Brutor Tribe, as your brethren here around you”, the leader smiles as he states, “as well my child you hold the mark of Visionary Sight”

The Brutor Tribe symbol had appeared above my right breast, close to the shoulder, dark in color, the vision giving me a surge of pride.  

The second tatoo radiates from around my eyes as if flames the color of blood are being licked by a wind my face cannot feel.  This tatoo is a special tatoo, it is one that will appear when I am excited, angry, anxious or any emotion that causes my heat rate to rise.  This tatoo was created by nano-bots mixed with the chemicals, listening to my internal self, presenting itself to the world.

“Master, what does this tatoo mean?” I stammer as I inquire.

“Child this tatoo is one of great power and destiny, this is the Tatoo of the Bleeding Sight, a symbol of your internal skill of seeing beyond what most can see, you have an intuition and an understanding of things most will not”, he proudly explains.

“How do I use it Master?”, I ask

“Over time, I will teach you what you already know”, he offers.

I look over to Magani and Tristoric, both have huge smiles on their faces, holding each other…..

________

The explosions only took seconds, within minutes the cavern was filled with dust, smoke and flashes of light.  Bodies lay burned in every direction, some people run for cover.  The confusion is great, one minute I was in the Ray of Matar ceremony with my family, the next the chaos begins.

This time the shuttle pilot says nothing to me, he grabs me by the arm and throws me with others I recognize into the shuttle.

“What just happened?”, I ask, yet nobody responds.  Everyone in that shuttle is shocked and amazed at what might have just happened. I sit there, looking out the shuttle door and what was my home, with my knees to my chest, I stare at the burning remains of my family and Tribe.

The door closes, the swish of an airlock can be heard, we are bathed in a red light, huddling together, saying nothing.

The father of a friend of mine from Tribal lessons gets up and asks a soldier what just happened.

“Rebellion”, he stated, “Your free and will be taken to a secret processing location, you will get more instruction as get under way”.

“Rebellion?” My friends father asks, “What are you talking about?”

“Sir, all I know is small pockets of slave camps have conducted planned rebellions in conjunction with the Gallente Federation, you were in one of those camps, you are free”, the soldier says with a stern face yet just a slight smile.

None of us know what has happened, rebellion makes no sense, we heard nothing of it.

My only thoughts as we lift away and enter space are of my family, the only family I’ve ever known; I pondered what it would be like to not have them, to not have this rock which is my home.  A small piece of me wishes I had died with them, for I don’t think I will survive without them.

As the shuttle leaves the cavernous confines of my small red home, I see space for the first time.  The sun of my solar system shines through the shuttle window, causing the transparent glass to change to a darker translucent, shielding me from the bright blinding sun.  Just enough of the suns rays come through the glass and bath me in a warmth.  Moons and planets are seen, as well the indigo ink color of a void broken up by small bright lights that I think are stars.

This is only the beginning…

As my vision cleared, I saw the charred remains of my village and family, inhaling the smoke from their ashes, choking and sputtering.  My ears rung with a high pitched sound, barely making it able for me to hear the soldier coming for me.

“Serious kid, get on that transport now”, the shuttle pilot yelled again as he grabbed for my arm and tried to help me up.

“What is going on, my Mother, my Father, where are they”, I questioned as I was pulled to the shuttle and looked over my shoulder.

The red dust swirled and mixed with the gray smoke of the ritual hall I had just completed my ritual Ray of Matar.  Some were running for cover and some didn’t make it, their bodies lying in contorted positions.

“This is your chance, get on that shuttle and you are free, stay and you will die”, the pilot informed me.

____________

For a slave, family is where you end up, the Tribe that takes you in because they have to and because you are Minmatar.  The Amarr have tried to squash our education of who we are but the Tribal oral tradition is hard to quell.  Outside the yoke of the Amarr, our brother’s and sister’s live their lives as a free people, inside we live our lives to just survive.

A shift in the mines is hard work, as soon as you are old enough to hold a plasma cutter you are old enough to cut ore and haul large bins to the central processing plant close to the surface of the Moon.  Red dust gets everywhere, you learn to live with a gritty crunch in your mouth your whole life.  Ore after ore load is cut with large machinery then cut smaller by us and our small plasma tools, then loaded into levitating bins that we push to their final destination as far as we know.  There is a world outside this Moon, we will just never see it.

A normal shift is a 12 hour period, with few breaks and little food, the Tribe takes care of you after your shift but in this 12 hours you give everything to the Slavers.  For this shift I can think of nothing but of the coming ceremony tonight, will I feel more a part of my brethren after or will nothing change.  What symbols will I get and what will it mean, there is so much to worry about.

After my shift I quickly walk from the mine shafts to our Tribal village area, the Amarr allow us to keep our own camps, keeping a small resemblance to what we feel is a home.  On a moon such as this the Amarr are few but they have the power to kill us all at their whim.  Just shutting off ventilation will kill hundreds of slaves in a few minutes, leaving them to wait for a new shipment of slaves from a surplus somewhere.  Knowing this we wouldn’t dare attempt anything to bring that much death upon us.  

Our villages are arranged in circles, with a central circle that houses our Tribal center, each village circle radiating out from the central hub houses anywhere from 50 to 100 of us in multilayered red mud huts held together by a matrix of fabric.  Metallic vents suck smoke from cooking fires away from the cavern and off to who knows where.  We are left to our own so long as we comply with not causing problems, children play and run around the huts, playing games; people bustle from one hub to the next just doing what needs to be done to survive.

My shift is over and I have to quickly get to my home, wash and gather my clothing for the ceremony, my stomach is flipping and my heart pounds with nervousness.

Our Tribal center is made of metal beams coming out of the ground, resembling a big metal flower awakening to the cavern ceiling.  Between the metal beams the red mud that makes up all our structures, is smooth and glazed, the top of the center is simply a fabric tent tied to each beam and then raised in the middle by one central metal post.  We are told that this structure resembles the ceremonial tents of our forefathers.

Five of us are to take the ceremony today, it happens on a yearly basis, and I’ve had 6 months to think about it.  Wearing our ceremonial robes, made by our adoptive mothers, we stand in a row and listen to the chanting and drumming as the ceremony begins.  The Tribal leader is dressed in a robe such as ours yet his notes his prominence with symbols of his leadership, matched by his headdress showing the same symbols.  The Amarr used to try to stop us from conducting such events, eventually they saw it just made us a stronger unit, resulting in greater pride and harder work.  They left us be.

What the Amarr thought was that we actually tatooed or drew on ourselves, they had no idea what equipment was smuggled into our little moon for this ceremony.  

When the drumming and chanting ended, the leader stood before me.

________

“……………click………click…..ssss…click….Captain, all survirors are on board the evacuation shuttles, we are leaving the moon”, reported the Squad Commander.

“You are clear for approach, space is clear but getting cloudy, multiple targets inbound, make it fast, we warp as soon as all shuttles have docked”, the lead Battle Ship Captain and Fleet Commander ordered.

To Be Continued….

The explosion threw me across the cavern, enveloping me in smoke and projectiles of ore that abraded my skin.  The smoke from my now burning village and family filled my lungs and I fought for oxygen as I gasped.

“Come on kid, get in the transport, let’s go!”, the shuttle pilot yelled at me.  

Everything was a blur, my ears could hear the words but I didn’t know what they meant, my lungs stung with smoke, my skin burned with scratches, blood trickled down my forehead and into my left eye.

________

My birth was noted by a number and a cold clamp of opression and servitude, as were the births of my peers.  As common practice of the Amarr, we are born then removed from our parents, entangled in cybernetic connections and shipped to many locations in the Amarr Empire, my journey I am told was three weeks in an incubator.  My destination was the system of Ahteer in the Tash-Murkon Region, my origination is not known, my only family I’ve ever known is my adoptive family and tribe on a red moon where we mine ore for the Empire.

860 years ago, my people the Minmatar, were ruthlessly invaded and made slaves for the Amarr Empire.  125 years ago, with the help of many, my people rebelled against the Amarr, throwing the animals back to their home space.  Nearly a third of my people are still slaves to the Amarr, having been relocated to serve and populate sparse areas of space; I am of Minmatar blood, member of the Brutor Tribe and a slave child.

“Venom, get up, you will be late for your shift and you haven’t much time after to get to your ceremony”, my adoptive mother Magani said as she tried to tickle me awake.

Magani and Tristoric were my parents for all I knew, they took me when the newborn transport arrived, loving me, and showing me what it meant to be a Minmatar; our version of being a Minmatar slave.

“I’m up, I’m up”, I smiled and greeted her with a hug, “I’m nervous Magani, what if it hurts and what if my tatoo’s don’t show up, will I still be Minmatar, will I still have a Tribe?”

Magani has always been a loving support, the whole Tribe here on this red dust caked rock has always been my support, I only want to do well by them, they are my life.

“Child, today is your day, it is the day you become marked with the sign of the Minmatar, any amount of pain, fear, or doubt will wash away”, Magani smiles, “You are of pure heart and intention, you will be marked by the Gods”

At 14 all Minmatar children take part in a special ritual, the Ray of Matar, where we are injected with a mixture of pigments and chemicals in the heart and base of the spine.  For as long as we can remember we have gone through this ritual as a people, feeling the chemicals mix with our energy to present the most important tatoos of our existence, tatoo’s marking our Tribal heritage and one special tatoo that reveals who we really are on the inside and give us a vision of our destiny.

Today will be the most remarkable day of my life.

To be continued…