Chosen by the Governor Read Free

Whenever they colonized a planet, they recovered barren lands using the secrets of terraforming. Australia, once largely desert and sparsely populated outside of the coastal areas, was now a fertile land with many cities in the interior. The Vendu had thrived next to Ayers Rock in their green cities, beyond the protective shield that encompassed the continent and kept the native humans out. The rise in population had put pressure on the shrinking resources. Without the terraforming technology, which Earth’s leaders hoped would transform the Sahara, people would starve. Freya’s mission to take images of the terraforming plants had been short-lived.
    “That is the prison?” She pointed at the dome.
    He guffawed. “Oh, no. That is where I shall be living. That is the city of Tagra where we Vendu live. While you, the prisoners, are in the canyon.”
    “But there are no fences. Barriers?”
    He leaned over her shoulder. “See the desert. There is nowhere to go. That is why this planet is ideal. You have no place to escape to. The dome is to keep us in and safe. You will live freely amongst the others. You’ll work, be paid in food vouchers, and go to bed in a room, not a locked cell.”
    “Then why the guards?” She gestured toward the soldiers.
    “Why indeed? Traditionally the governors have allowed the prisoners to police themselves. Petty crimes and misdemeanors are for the jurisdiction of the colony police force. However, major crimes, uprising and insurrection, those are for us to deal with. And we do so, harshly. That is what makes Tagra appealing for a young soldier. They come for a few years, need only watch and listen from afar as the prisoners squabble amongst themselves. A remote location it might be, but there are many pleasures for a young Vendu soldier to have in Tagra city. You might remember that, Freya.”
    What did he mean by that? She opened her mouth to ask, but he tapped his earpiece. “I’m on my way,” he barked into the mouthpiece clipped to his lapel. Without another word he left the cabin.
    The transporter circled the colony, descending lower until ready to make its entry into the dock. By then Freya was nauseous and despondent. Her future was bleak and unknown.
    No shackles or restraints were used on her, but the guard’s grip on her elbow as he escorted her off the ship was vise-like. He weaved her through the cheerful faces of the soldiers and into the building that housed the reception center for new prisoners.
    Brought before a counter, being the sole arrival for that day, Freya eyed the long-faced man behind the desk. Initially, he merely glanced at her, then lifting his chin again, he peered down his nose and inspected her as if she was an exhibit in a zoo. “So, this is the Earthling. Prisoner number sixty-two, one.”
    “Freya,” she snapped. “My name is Freya Caspari.”
    “Planet sixty-two, prisoner number one. Although, I gather Earthlings were sent to other penal colonies during the conquest of planet sixty-two—”
    She seethed at his reference to the so-called conquest. “Earth, it’s called Earth. We made a peace treaty. There was no defeat.”
    He glared at her and the guard, whose hand remained firmly grasped around her upper arm, pinched it harder, drawing her back and away from the counter.
    The man jabbed his finger in the air and stabbed at an imaginary point in front of him. “Do not interrupt me.” He lowered his hand. “As I was saying. Some of the prisoners of war, those who resisted, were sent here until Earth sensibly accepted the terms of defeat. There hasn’t been an Earthling on Tagra for a long time and you are the first female Earthling to be incarcerated on this colony. Ever.” He smiled with the last word. “You’ve much to learn.”
    “I was aware of the soldiers sent here, but there would have been women soldiers captured too. Surely they were the first human females held captive?” The history of that era remained cast in shadows.