All things considered, it could be worse. Not many people come back from Swanstone Holdings prison colonies, much less a place like Ankhet III. In fact, not many things could be worse than being ordered around by Mikey Moose for the rest of your life.
Here's what you remember.
Swanstone security handed you off to Monty F. Wike and his crew. He was apparently under contract with them, because the smug Mikeys watched and laughed as he berated and assaulted you and the other prisoners before loading them into the ship. You know his name because he announced it at the top of his lungs in the face of a prisoner he thought was not submissive enough. It is possible that Wike maintains his favorable relationship with Swanstone purely for the entertainment value he provides through his volatile personality.
His crew hooked you up to IVs and put you into a coffin-sized cell. Wike growled over the intercom that you would wake up on Ankhet III, "so sleep tight, nighty night!" The Long-term Narcotropic Drugs kicked in before the ship took off, and it goes dark from there. The coma felt like a nauseous fever dream without the benefit of restfulness.
After some undetermined period of time, you were taken out of the coma and your cell. You were walked out of the ship's airlock and out onto a platform on what felt like a habitable planet with a slightly sulfurous environment. You and the other prisoners were away from the airlock to the side of a building and told to wait. They left you all alone, apparently assured that you'd all be too sedated to run off. One by one, you sat down to rest. The blurry figures milled about on the platform for a few minutes. You felt your stubble - did it grow more slowly under sedation? You couldn't have been under for that long. As you tried to collect your thoughts for a bit longer, exhaustion swept over you. You laid down to rest, and fell into a narcotic stupor for what felt like days.
When you wake up, your mouth is dry and cracked. You look back at the airlock port, and your captors are nowhere to be seen. Turning your head gives you immediate motion sickness and you choke back vomit.
You take the chance of vertigo and look above you to confirm an instinct: you're not looking at a sky. You're looking at a gaping ArSol that feels like it could swallow you up.