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"Lower the hatch!" screamed Eadgar Leofscyld, captain of the starcraft, 'Fyrearn 47.2'.
The craft had spent the last two hundred years - and five generations of Monninga, travelling from Hastelc, the launch base planet in the Scytel system, to Mōrlond in Fyrearn, 61 light years away.
"On a hunch. On nothing more than a bloody hunch. My great great grandparents made a stupid decision based on the ramblings of a mad man." Exclaimed Stanric as he fumbled with the strap to his provision pack. Ealdraed cast a discerning glance his way.
"Get a grip Stan. Langsight was not a 'mad man'. He was a renowned seer, venerated by all in his day - and obviously so by your ancestors. Don't disrespect him or them".
An uneasy tense atmosphere hung in the air, as the Monninga troops assembled in front of the lower hatch, that would lead them for the first time onto the marshy ground outside Fyrstwudu on the planet Mōrlond. They were battle ready.
This is what they had trained for.
What they had been born for.
It was over two hundred years earlier, in the year 2270 back on Hastelc, that Wiglaf Langsight, a great seer - one who can see far into the future - saw a coming war between the Monninga and the natives of Mōrlond, the Baldén. So known and trusted was Langsight, that a fleet was prepared and launched from Hastelc based on his prediction. Thousands of Monninga were recruited - in the full knowledge that several generations of their future family would be born, live and die on board the craft. But it was worth it for the majority, as being part of a battle fleet, even in the knowledge that you would be no more than an ancestor to your battle-kin, was a source of huge honour. And each generation of Monninga on board would grow to hold their ancestors in high esteem. Though there was always one like Stanric, who felt an innate pull back to the homeworld - and in moments of anxiety, laid the blame for any troubles on the actions of ancestors.
Ealdraed was quick to put Stanric back on track.
"Your thinking is not the Monninga way. Your ancestors acted out of honour - if they could have been here themselves, with the chance of a glorious death in battle, they would have been. Instead, they knew that their ancestor - you Stanric, would uphold the family honour on the field of battle".
"Listen!" called Eadgar over the low rumble of the hatch lowering, as a band of light poured through and illuminated the faces of the troops.
"Our kin have lived on this planet for many centuries. They have always lived here under the law of the Baldén. But this law is no longer fit for our folk. It goes against the very nature of our culture, our family and tribal ties.
We cannot keep our population down to just two birthers for each family. You all know well enough, the teachings of Hammac. Our families should consist of five birthers. You have read the 1098 truce on our kin's settlement here. The Baldén refuse to change it based on our folks needs. The Baldén refuse to grant our kin access to the Garstal in the ground. The very fibre of construction. Why should our kin have to live like Mevs in crude buildings, when the Baldén live like kings in their caves? Why should our kin be made second class citizens after sharing Monninga technology with the Baldén?
It is time to free our folk of the shackles placed on them by the first ones!"
A great cheer rose from the troops, echoing across the marshland as the morning light from Fyrearn cut through the low hanging mist now visible through the open hatch. Leofscyld's speech was having the right effect on his men.
"As we speak, and for the last fifty or so years, after the Baldén's so called retreat in year 2414, they have been massing in their underground settlements, becoming battle ready. They have built an army under the feet of our kin. We knew this would happen, thanks to study of the texts left to us by the great seer, Wiglaf Langsight".
Stanric muttered something under his breath, resulting in a sharp glance from Ealdraed.
"We've all trained for this", called Eadgar "let's leave for the Fyrstwudu, and reach the garrison of our cousins there".
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