I found this on my drive today...

[WillParkinson]

Every so often I clean out old directories and purge the files. Today I found this one dated 2/17/1998. At first I couldn't figure out where it came from and then I recognized some of the names in it. It was something I was writing wayyyy back when. It's awful, I know, and I apologize in advance for making you sit through it. (Sorry, should have said something I started writing. I never finished it.)

---

Star Rangers

We'd been in space nearly 6 months now. Although edgy, the "crew" (if you want to call us that) has adapted fairly well to our exile. It still seems so bizarre. I can't believe that they'd do this to us. What crime have we ever committed? I suppose it's better than the alternative. They used to put people like me to death. But is this really any better? To put us here, in space, with food enough to last us about a year, and then ship us out on the off chance we might get lucky enough to find a planet that's habitable? I can't believe that this is happening to me. I close my journal. Every time I write in it I get more depressed. I think back to how this whole thing started.

In 2022 there was a war. Another war, I should say. But this one was very quick and, according to the government, very minor. But a lot of my people died. The new government, run by the right-wing radicals had finally come to power and began instilling it's agenda. Originally they grouped people together in concentration camps. They put to death a large number of people that didn't fit the mold in their quest for an idyllic society. The homeless, women who would not accept their role of "housewife" willingly, black people with voices, atheists and people who did not believe in their God and, of course, homosexuals. Then, of course, they denied that ever happened. When proof came out the camps were shut down. Most of the others were "reconditioned" to fit into "normal" society. Gays, being unable to be changed were sent to penal colonies. The penal colonies, naturally, was just another name for the concentration camps, but it made people feel better. As the population grew, thanks to the ban on birth control devices, living space became quite a luxury. It was decided that people should be shipped out. Since there wasn't any room left on this world they came up with the plan to send them out to other worlds that would have them. They were few and far between. One world, Cygnus Minor, accepted the gays until it had an impact on their population. On Cygnus Minor it was the men who give birth and the institutions there were finding that their gene pool was being diluted since most Cygnusian's are bisexual they were fascinated by the gay males that were shipped there. In 2028 the government decided the best way to ease crowding in the penal colonies was to take a group of men, train them and set them out in a spacecraft. They were given enough food for 1 year and in that time it was up to them to find a habitable planet that would willingly accept them. Many died. Most were never heard from again. The government told the people they had found a new home and the people accepted it because, by and large, they just really didn't want to know. Then one day it was my turn. I was put on the ship, called The Ranger, and sent out to live my life of exile from the planet I called home.

For the first few months it was very hard. We knew very little about each other and some of the people weren't willing to open up. But as it became clear that we needed each other to survive they relaxed a bit. Our crew originally numbered 12 people. Two of us had already died. Ken Jaekel, our surveyor, was killed while checking a planet for possible colonization. The atmosphere of the planet was breathable during the day but at night it turned to a noxious soup that corroded the environmental containment suit he was wearing. His lungs were turned to jelly. It was a horrible way to die. His screams froze us all in terror. Our other lost comrade, Jeremiah Dennison, died under "peculiar" circumstances. We were told it was an accident but we all pretty much assumed that he had taken his own life.

I roll on my stomach and open my journal to the first page. On the inside cover is a picture of my family. My parents, good and hard-working people, died trying to keep the government people from taking me. They called it an accident. I call it murder. My brother, Seth, was scanned and found to be genetically "normal", meaning he wasn't gay and was allowed to be adopted by another couple. My sister, Tania, was only 3 when she was scanned. They found that she carried the gene that predisposed her to being a lesbian. She was only 3 years old and they killed her. A mercy killing because she could never lead a normal life, they said.

I flip through some of the pages I wrote while I was in the camp. I stop at the point where I first met my fellow "Rangers". I smile at the comments I have next to each of their names. Some of them were so right but others couldn't be further from the truth.

Willoughby Dunleavy - 68 years old. Lucky enough to escape death. He's too old for this kind of trip. I don't think he'll last too long.

I was wrong about him. He's hale and hearty. I only hope that when I get to be his age I have half the energy he has. Heck, I hope I get to be his age.

[gateley]

1. I enjoyed it! nt

[icymist]

2. Is this a stroy you wrote?

I'm just wondering.

[WillParkinson]

3. It's one I started in 1997...

Then abandoned.

[Chovexani]

4. interesting stuff!

Haha I know that embarrassment about old writing. But it's better than the crap I was doing in 1999. You should pick it up and see where it goes.