News

Posted on Tue Oct 23rd, 2018 @ 6:17am by
Edited on on Sat Feb 2nd, 2019 @ 3:57pm

Mission: Season 2: Mission 2.A: R&R
Location: Estelle's cabin
Timeline: breakfast time
1030 words - 2.1 OF Standard Post Measure

For breakfast, Estelle always had three things: a mug of Assam tea to give her a kick-start of caffeine for the day, as she wasn't a fan of coffee on an empty stomach, two slices of good German bread and the daily selection of news stories from the Federation News Broadcast, as filtered by her interests. She had recently added breaking news stories with a medical or civil emergency connection so she would not get calls like that from her friend Disa, not knowing that something was going on to begin with. One report in particular caught Estelle's attention.

"In what officials call their biggest embarrassment, another story came to light yesterday which forces us to re-evaluate our attitude towards failed governments. Following up on yesterday's report of a Turkana IV native offered for sale by a Ferengi Dai'Mon, authorities on Bajor now say they have paid an undisclosed amount and seek to reclaim the sum from the Federation, who they blame for the affair.

We at the FNB are giving the victim a chance to have her say. This is what she wants you to know." The video feed cut from the reporter to the face of an emaciated woman in her mid-thirties with short black hair, only one ear and big brown eyes still red from recent tears.

"Hello", she said and had to clear her throat. "My name is Jessica Clarke and I am from Turkana IV. I am told you have all heard of that place but you do not know what it is like there. It is the most horrific place I can imagine. There is no government, rule is in the hands of a few criminal families and ordinary, decent people fear for their lives and their loved ones every day.

I was pretty once, some say beautiful, and I hardly ever left the house to not run into the rape gangs. We were a simple family of farmers, trying to feed the community and maintain what little infrastructure was left. And we also built a subspace antenna, in secret. I called out into space for help but the signal was weak, or perhaps it was ignored. For months, nobody came. Then someone heard it and thugs came for us, enforcers for the crime families.

My brothers died trying to protect me, I do knot know what happened to my parents, only that they are dead also. They took me, they raped me and they threatened to kill me every day, for weeks. An Orion Syndicate trader took an interest in me and persuaded them to hand me over to him. That was seven years ago. Seven years I was a slave on that freighter, good enough for the dirtiest and most dangerous jobs, soon too weak or ugly to be of any other interest. I looked for ways to escape but they are really good at making sure you can't, and punishing those who try." She pointed at the scar where her ear used to be.

"A month ago there was a skirmish between the syndicate and Gleg's D'Kora. Dai'Mon Gleg won and he found me. He is not a slaver. He took me here so I could get help. He asked for money as a reward for saving me. That is Ferengi custom. He has my eternal gratitude and the outrage at his request for money is doing him an injustice. If you have been angered by yesterday's report of me being offered for sale, if you cared even a little, then please help me now. I have nothing. I have no ship, no credits. I eat because the replimat on Deep Space Nine is free.

I'm not asking for me. I am free now and I will find my way in this community. I'm asking for millions of people living on Turkana IV who cannot get away, who deserve a chance to prosper just like you have in the Federation, like I will thanks to Gleg.

Turkana IV needs a functional government. We need the Federation to step up and address the failures of fifty years ago. My first message out was a formal request to the Federation Council for assistance. They have not acknowledged it. I am left with no option but to ask all of you, the public, for help. Give Turkana IV a chance, help us fight crime and establish a stable government. Raise your voices to the Federation Council and make them act!"

The woman's soft voice had gained strength during her appeal and her eyes were burning with the impotent rage of facing great injustice without a means of addressing it. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard before ending her statement with, "If you're unwilling to assist in affecting regime change, at least allow refugees to be evacuated into Federation space. Help those whose lives, whose potential, whose capacity to benefit the galactic community has been sabotaged by some of their ancestors, who either wanted primitive and savage power for themselves, or were unable to prevent others from taking it. Don't condemn us for their sins, or the brutality of the warlords and crime families today. We were born under these conditions, and we are dying here by the thousands. We are dying of injuries and diseases we have the knowledge but not the resources to cure. We are dying from the violence we have the courage but not the arms to oppose. We are dying as a community because the best of us are killed by the worst of us, and despair drives many to suicide. Help us now, send ships to take us away. We can learn, we will work hard to repay you many times over for the aid you're willing to give. Don't abandon us!"

The picture cut away and returned to the reporter. "If you wish to co-sign Ms Clarke's appeal to the Federation Council, send a message to the FNB or the Council directly. Turkanans deserve life and it is the opinion of the Federation News Broadcast team that too much time has already passed doing nothing."

The screen faded to black, the last of Estelle's daily feed.