05-14-2008, 02:29 PM
My name is Julie Keller. I was born on a trash skiff, or so I was told by those who raised me. Not much is known about my birth parents except that they came to Sirius to escape persecution for being...human. I had heard some vague stories about 12 tribes and a war against machines, growing up on Leeds in Bretonia. My guardians had discouraged my investigating my parents or their orgins, stating that sometimes ignorance is indeed bliss. I had met other "colonial" survivors growing up, but they seemed distant and cautious to me, not unlike a dog that had become hand shy from as a result of having endured too much abuse at the hands of it's owner. I learned to keep quiet and to "know my place", growing up. Which basically meant, go to school, and for the most part "be seen but rarely heard"
Still there was a part of me that wanted more. I couldn't believe that my parents had travelled so far, endured so many hardships, that their progeny would be relegated to the industrial machine that is Leeds. I knew I didn't belong there, I knew this wasn't my home, only a beginning, to what end, I had no idea.
I never felt safe. I NEVER FELT SAFE. I found myself looking over my shoulder growing up. I was constantly the butt of someone else's joke. Last picked, if picked at all for team sports, I often ended up playing alone. It used to bother me, as did the names the children called me. "Outsider", "Castaway", "Leecher" (which was my least favorite) I don't think children, no matter what their origin should have to endure the abuse that I faced growing up on Leeds. Children there are dirty, foul mouthed and encouraged to be such. Dispite my following their rules and pretty much keeping to myself, I always found myself a target. I was chased and beaten by my peers on a regular basis and arrived bloodied and bruised in the afternoons, following school. My guardians, while concerned for me, never acted beyond their notions of sensiblility, advising me to avoid conflict whenever possible. I ran away a lot. I didn't always escape. After a time, I grew numb, I learned to control my fear and my pain, to turn it into something else, while I endured all manners of abuse. How could people be so cruel? All I ever wanted was a place to call home and perhaps a family. Instead, I was no better than a slave. Actually, indentured servants had more rights that I did growing up.
I became bitter, but accepted my lot, knowing someday I would be able to leave Leeds and Bretonia far behind. I never considered it home, not to me, at least, and I wondered what cruel twist of fate placed me in this polluted place. Perhaps I should have perished with my parents. Providence was not that kind. I didn't perish, but something inside of me did. Was it my humanity?
On the morning of my 19th birthday, I gathered my things, a canvas sack with my clothes, some money that I had saved, and my talismen, a silver torque that my mother wore around her neck, was now around mine.
I secured passage aboard a commercial transport bound for Liberty and arrived on Manhattan. I had been told that there were others there who would help me reunite with my people. My people, what a strange concept that was for me, having been excluded from just about everything and everyone, growing up. I was assigned a sponser. A viper pilot named Delmar Moore. He had spent his time fighting a war I had only read about, but under his guidence, I learned to fly starflyers and small transports. I loved his uniform, it was simple but fit the man well, and I loved to hear his stories. Much of what I have come to love about my people is in their story telling. The oral traditions did not die in the conflicts, but more crystalized. That was the icing on my freshly baked cake... the stories.
I busied myself learning and applying my lessons, hoping to earn a chance to follow in Demar's footsteps. I was going to be a viper pilot. Being a girl, I knew the odds against me were astronomical, but then I was no stranger to that. Somehow, I knew... I knew that failure was not a possibility if I kept my feet flat and my will tempered with the passion I had held onto. I did not seek to create conflict, but I learned quickly not to back down from those who would try to suppress my rights. All the lessons I had learned on Leeds became faint reminders of the past and a standard of how NOT to treat people. Still I fight with my bitterness toward them and the Bretonian cake eaters who bred them. I tried to forgive. I failed.
Delmar introduced me to his wing upon my graduation from flight school and college. I had earned the highest marks and my credentials reflected this. For all of my studies and my work, I got the break I was looking for. I was indoctrinated into the Colonials and assigned to the Battlestar Rubicon. I was given my name "Trinity" by Delmar who said I needed to balance 3 things; My Past , Present and Future. I believe he was right.
Still there was a part of me that wanted more. I couldn't believe that my parents had travelled so far, endured so many hardships, that their progeny would be relegated to the industrial machine that is Leeds. I knew I didn't belong there, I knew this wasn't my home, only a beginning, to what end, I had no idea.
I never felt safe. I NEVER FELT SAFE. I found myself looking over my shoulder growing up. I was constantly the butt of someone else's joke. Last picked, if picked at all for team sports, I often ended up playing alone. It used to bother me, as did the names the children called me. "Outsider", "Castaway", "Leecher" (which was my least favorite) I don't think children, no matter what their origin should have to endure the abuse that I faced growing up on Leeds. Children there are dirty, foul mouthed and encouraged to be such. Dispite my following their rules and pretty much keeping to myself, I always found myself a target. I was chased and beaten by my peers on a regular basis and arrived bloodied and bruised in the afternoons, following school. My guardians, while concerned for me, never acted beyond their notions of sensiblility, advising me to avoid conflict whenever possible. I ran away a lot. I didn't always escape. After a time, I grew numb, I learned to control my fear and my pain, to turn it into something else, while I endured all manners of abuse. How could people be so cruel? All I ever wanted was a place to call home and perhaps a family. Instead, I was no better than a slave. Actually, indentured servants had more rights that I did growing up.
I became bitter, but accepted my lot, knowing someday I would be able to leave Leeds and Bretonia far behind. I never considered it home, not to me, at least, and I wondered what cruel twist of fate placed me in this polluted place. Perhaps I should have perished with my parents. Providence was not that kind. I didn't perish, but something inside of me did. Was it my humanity?
On the morning of my 19th birthday, I gathered my things, a canvas sack with my clothes, some money that I had saved, and my talismen, a silver torque that my mother wore around her neck, was now around mine.
I secured passage aboard a commercial transport bound for Liberty and arrived on Manhattan. I had been told that there were others there who would help me reunite with my people. My people, what a strange concept that was for me, having been excluded from just about everything and everyone, growing up. I was assigned a sponser. A viper pilot named Delmar Moore. He had spent his time fighting a war I had only read about, but under his guidence, I learned to fly starflyers and small transports. I loved his uniform, it was simple but fit the man well, and I loved to hear his stories. Much of what I have come to love about my people is in their story telling. The oral traditions did not die in the conflicts, but more crystalized. That was the icing on my freshly baked cake... the stories.
I busied myself learning and applying my lessons, hoping to earn a chance to follow in Demar's footsteps. I was going to be a viper pilot. Being a girl, I knew the odds against me were astronomical, but then I was no stranger to that. Somehow, I knew... I knew that failure was not a possibility if I kept my feet flat and my will tempered with the passion I had held onto. I did not seek to create conflict, but I learned quickly not to back down from those who would try to suppress my rights. All the lessons I had learned on Leeds became faint reminders of the past and a standard of how NOT to treat people. Still I fight with my bitterness toward them and the Bretonian cake eaters who bred them. I tried to forgive. I failed.
Delmar introduced me to his wing upon my graduation from flight school and college. I had earned the highest marks and my credentials reflected this. For all of my studies and my work, I got the break I was looking for. I was indoctrinated into the Colonials and assigned to the Battlestar Rubicon. I was given my name "Trinity" by Delmar who said I needed to balance 3 things; My Past , Present and Future. I believe he was right.