The deregger escaped their polity by fleeing onto an alliance ship. Their depression made them feel like cutting, but strangely? They couldn't find anything sharp. -- Anon Guest
I made it as far as an Alliance freighter. Hundreds did not. Every day, I heard about others who tried and died in the attempt. How many others' blood would be on my hands just because I made it? How many others would spend their value on a futile effort because less than one in one thousand successfully fled to the stars?
Would it have been better if I died as an example to others?
But I was here. Alive. Waiting to be discovered and spaced as a stowaway. Waiting to starve to death, or freeze because the freighters can't afford to heat their cargoes. Waiting to die for my sins.
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