The triple suns of Perurere F
Had ris’n as one in all their glorious light
This rare event but happened only once
In fifty-seven years and eighty days
Of local time, a painful reckoning
Of ninety-hour days of Earth, with years
About the same as Gaia’s solar year.
Colonial Marines, those virtuous guards,
Protectors and defenders of the law
And order, life, integrity, and more,
Arrivèd thus to quickly change the guard,
As per the regulations of their code.
The streets, which once were prosp’rous, now were flat,
And reeked of vice and lawlessness and crime
Such that would send a cushy man of Earth
In nauseated stupor to his bed.
And it is here, on Perurere F,
Amidst the dregs of mankind and their sins,
Now that the time and staging are all set,
That finally the story now begins.