The Prisoner

A story about the Bureau's deprivations

Jonathan Morannon stepped out of the spaceship that had been his home for the past week. He had been in prison for decades. Before he went in, he was just a pressed crewer aboard a pirate Carrier, a cabinboy, no more than 12. Then came the battle, which ended with the disablement of his ship, and the Bounty Hunter capturing its crew. The pirate Carrier had targeted Federation ships because of the Bureau's crimes, it never attacked traders intentionally. The ship's crew had been sentenced to 50 years apiece by a special Bureau trial court.
So, he rotted on Outcast, in a special Bureau prison complex, even though he had been pressed. His limbs became like sticks, he was forced into an enormous cell that was made for ship crews. One quarter of the ship crew was placed there, as well as a crew from a pesky Pirate Argosy, who had inciddentally shot down one of the Bureau's special ships, allowing some prisoners to escape.
There he learned the life stories of all of the people. As the Bureau gave a limited amount of food, small gangs formed, that would try to preserve it for themselves. Jonathan was an outcast. He would look out on the orange Outcast Atmosphere, and see the occassional Federation ship fly by.
He starved for the most part, but remained strong and healthy by killing the many rats in the cell and eating their food raw. His immune system was boosted by the grungy atmosphere and the raw meat, and while the rest of the people deteriorated he was able to keep himself strong. He grew from a boy, to a man, to an old person.
More and more people died, more and more people caught disease. But his immune system was extremely strong. The Bureau agents noticed this, and decided to break the man after half the people in the cell had died in a year, and most of the rest were sick, but he was the only one who's body flourished. So, they would take him to the mines, with other people in the same position. He became strong, and learned to wrestle with the other prisoners. People could bet on the winner or loser with food, and the winner would get a quarter of all the food that was won on him.
The Bureau grew infuriated with his activities and the way he remained strong and healthy. They took him out to work in the hot sun and wheat fields. When he got cancer because of the sudden exposure to the sun on his white skin, they thought he was finished. Luckily, one of his fellow prisoners had been a surgeon on a ship, and was able to remove the tumor from his hand. With daily soaking in salt water, it healed fast. The cancer never returned.
Still angry, they threw him back in the first cell he was in. By then only five other people remained in it, so he got one sixth of the crew, which was meant to feed twice as many people. So, he rotted away the prime of his life in the dungeon. Once, he tried to escape, but they were painfully efficient in all ways. He was put in a new tiny cell.
There he rotted again. The cell was the size of a small box, and to go to sleep, he would have to slump on the floor. He was given exercise once a month, but in such a cramped space, he lost all livelihood...It was the year 1175 NC, approximately fifty years ago he had been a pressed boy. Now, he had wasted away his whole life as a prisoner.
But the date came, and he was quietly hustled into a small Bureau owned shuttle. It dropped him off on Earth after he had served out his sentence. He stepped out of the shuttle with a little shove. All that he had on him were some cheap Made by Helen ™ clothes. He blinked his eyes at the brightness of his surroundings. He walked to the bar and watched the holovid. Suddenly a scene came on the screen, "This just in, mastermind criminal Jonathan Morannon has just escaped from his prison on Outcast in the Aral system. He is still at large..."

Two weeks later:
Jonathan sat down in the same spacious cell he had been put in when he first went there, Alone. He sat down on the dirty floor and screamed...

I just came up with this story. Tell me what u think.

Not bad, not bad. Cool stuff. Poor oldie.