Justice

Salocin · Posted: Fri Feb 22, 2008 10:06 am Post subject: Justice

The Stormtroopers came for Jeal at dawn – or what he thought was dawn. His tiny cell had no windows, no access to the outside world. The soldiers grabbed him by the arms, dragging him out of the small square room, through several arched hallways, and finally throwing him into a much larger room. It was bare, save for a rectangular table, a chair on each end.

Jeal rose to his knees and looked around the room, confused by his transfer. He could see no other occupants, but the single dim light kept most of the room shadowed. He tried to stand, wobbled a bit, soon falling onto his face.

Quiet, bitter laughter cut through the silence as Jeal jumped up, surprised by the sudden sound, indignant that his weakness had been seen. A calm, almost soothing voice sung through the darkness. “Take a seat, friend”, the voice intoned, “we have much to discuss today.” As the final words were spoken, the figure stepped into the light, moving up behind a chair of his own. He was a tall man, wearing black, flowing robes. His features, those that could be made out, were sharp, his lips hinting at cruelty, his shadowed eyes darting with a mind of their own. There was something unnatural in the eyes, but Jeal could not quite make them out – there was just a sense of wrongness. Though most of his face was obscured by shadow, his movement did not suggest that he held any of the frailties of age. Seeing no alternative, Jeal took a seat. The man quickly followed.

“And who are you?” Jeal asked, his voice even and steady, masking any fear he might have felt.

The man watched Jeal for several moments before smiling. “I am High Inquisitor Nurmaens,” he answered matter-of-factly.

Jeal was quiet for a few minutes, waiting expectantly for the man to go on. However, he just sat there, the smile still on his lips, eyes still watching Jeal. Finally, Jeal asked, “What do you want of me?”

The Inquisitor’s smile dropped from his face as he spoke, “You interest me. Three weeks of torture, and you have told us nothing. A fascinating specimen.”

Jeal rolled his eyes, saying, “I have told you nothing because I know nothing. I’m just a man. And, like I told all the others that have asked me, I don’t know a thing about the force.”

At this moment, a bowed man in black robes entered the room, placing a tray with two drinks onto the table. The Inquisitor waited for him to leave before he spoke. “It does not matter. What you know or do not know will be nothing. You will confess. All eventually confess. You will then be executed.”

Jeal’s eyes went wide at the man’s bluntness. It was not that he did not expect to be killed, but he was surprised to hear his fate talked about so openly, and right in front of him. “Then why even bother talking to me?”

The Inquisitor smiled, radiating danger. “I answered that question already,” he spoke, “I find you interesting. Three weeks, and nothing. Not even false information. Really, quite incredible.”

Jeal shook his head, damning the drugs he had been fed in his meals. “Inquisitor, you seem like an intelligent man,” he spoke slowly, “why do you have me tortured, if you admit that it has nothing to do with what I know? If I am an innocent man? Where is the justice in that?”

The Inquisitor looked through the man for a moment, deep in thought. Finally he said, “I am going to tell you a story.”

“I do not see how that re-” Jeal began, before being cut off by a raised hand.

“I do not recall asking for your opinion,” the Inquisitor said, lifting a cup from the tray and taking a small sip from it. Eyeing the cup carefully, Jeal soon did the same, finding it to be spiced tea. “This story begins with our hero as a very young man – perhaps seventeen standard years. He was destined for a great career in the Empire, but at the time he was simply an ambitious young man adept with swords and daggers, fresh out of the training academy on Cardia. He held close to him all the foolish ideals of youth – to protect the innocent, destroy the guilty. And he was sure of his path.” The Inquisitor paused for a moment to take a sip of his tea.

“He seems like a good man,” Jeal stated during the pause, taking a large gulp from his own drink.

The Inquisitor seemed lost in thought, but Jeal dared not disturb him further. Finally, shaking his head as if to clear his vision, he replied, “Yes, he was a good man. And he did not only find truth in these ideals, but he acted on them. I recall several incidents – he killed three criminals attempting to rob a man and his daughter. Fought against six Black Sun agents intent on extracting payment from a small town. Each time, he held high his ideals of honor and rightness.” Again, the Inquisitor paused to drink his tea.

Jeal had now become interested in the story, and after taking another sip of the tea asked, “He did these things while he was in the Stormtrooper Corps?”

“While he was off duty, mostly. He was an…interesting man. He seemed utterly dedicated to eradicating all wrongdoers, the wretched fool.”

Jeal seemed to take offense to this, indignantly saying, “How does his attempt to help others make him a wretched fool?”

The Inquisitor again smiled the dangerous smile. “I have not told you the full story,” he replied, “it is not near over yet.” Jeal leaned back in the hard wooden chair, waiting. “You see, I have not told you the outcome of any of his attempted interventions. In the end, his noble ideals died – and he died with them.”

“So, he failed in killing the criminals and the Black Sun?” Jeal interjected, too curious to wait for a pause.

The Inquisitor smiled, but without any malice this time. “No, he succeeded. In each case, all the criminals were killed.” He held up a hand before Jeal could ask further questions. “I will explain the incident with the man and his daughter first. When our hero saw them being assaulted by thieves, he knew he could not stand idly by. He carried no blaster on him while off duty, but he did carry a knife. Removing it from the sheath on his belt, he charged the criminals, quickly dispatching them with deft and skillful cuts. He defeated them to help the man, the daughter. He wanted to drink in their admiration. But when he turned towards them,” the Inquisitor smiled grimly, “the man was running away. The daughter remained. She was a beautiful creature, nearly his age. But now, she was covered in the blood of her would be attackers. She began to scream, pointing at our hero. People began to pay attention him, holding his dagger, three bodies at his feet, a girl covered in blood. He may have been naive, but he had intelligence. He knew what would be thought. He ran. He should have learned his lesson as well. He did not.” Again, the Inquisitor paused to sip at his tea.

“But that is not the point!” Jeal almost shouted, “He saved those people. Even if they didn’t respect it, he saved them!”

“Did he?” The Inquisitor asked sardonically. “The father never returned. He, in his fear, ran outside the town, and was quickly attacked by beasts and killed. His daughter, with no one to support her and heavily scarred by her experience, killed herself two weeks later. However, our hero did not know this. He thought much the same as you did. He might not have their admiration, but he did save them. That is what led him to his second incident. The Black Sun men were discussing things amongst themselves in a cantina in another small settlement. Our hero happened to be close by. He overheard their plans. They were going to shoot up the town. It apparently had not paid protection money to their organization, and their Vigo felt that an example had to be made. They did not care who heard them – they intended to terrorize the citizens of the town. However, in that very cantina, our hero again attacked. He again killed. It was an easy fight. The Black Sun men were all sitting, confident that none of their marks would dare lash out at them. In moments, they were all dead. Screams of terror echoed through the cantina as the townsfolk stampeded out. Three of them were trampled to death. Once things settled down, they assumed that our hero was the villain of the whole affair, that the six men were innocent. He was run out of town.” The Inquisitor finished his tea, setting it down on the table. “Justice? You ask for justice? Justice is unattainable. The dead cannot be returned to life, and we all have blood on our hands. Even you.”

Jeal sat stunned, setting his empty cup down. “But I have never killed anyone!”

“Perhaps,” the Inquisitor answered, “perhaps you have not. So a mistake will be made.” The Inquisitor shrugged, continued, “It matters little. The result will be the same.”

For the first time, Jeal seemed afraid and confused, “But you have the power to stop this! You could tell them that I am innocent!”

The Inquisitor smiled before he answered. “I will do no such thing, even if I believe it. The idea of redemption is a despicable light, a beacon in the darkness. And so long as it stays lit, it is impossible to rest. Better to continue moving away from it. Besides, you are here for a reason. That reason may be only to amuse me. It does not matter. You will be executed, eventually.” Jeal’s mouth hung open as the Inquisitor stood and walked towards the door. It slid open noiselessly, and the Inquisitor spoke to another black robed man outside. “Take him back to his cell. Elevate the torture.” The Inquisitor turned to take one last look at the man.

“Inquisitor…why must I die?” Jeal asked, despair creeping into his voice.

The Inquisitor stood silent for a time, considering his answer. Finally, he said with a smile, “Why not?”
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Were I in your shoes, I would spend my last earthly hours enjoying the world. Of course, if you wish you can spend them fighting for a lost cause. But I think that you know, you've already lost.