The Bloody Business of the Day

[NDak 0]

The cargo bay on deck thirty five sat mostly empty, its contents cleared to other decks. In the center of the room, a small platform had been hastily erected with a three meter pole rising out of it, with ropes hanging ominously from its top; to the left of the platform, two medical officers and a nurse stood anxiously by a hoverbed, checking their med kits, while a technician checked the pole and the ropes once more, running his hands along the pliable material.

 

From the far corner, Destorie N’Dak emerged from the side entrance. His normal confidence seemed missing and the usual rock-steady façade appeared to have softened. Whatever he confessed about delaying in execution to assure that justice was served had to be underscored by his reservations about performing the actual act itself.

 

It had been nearly six years since he’d been then one about to be tied to the post. That day still haunted him, and as he found himself face to face with the reality that he was about to carry out the same punishment on a disheren, he felt searing pain ripple across his back. And though t’Ksa had begun to restore the tissue, slowly but surely, that had formed on his back; he could not help but feel the scars.

 

He looked away and to the empty room, save for the technician and the medical staff. He swallowed hard and exhaled. When it had been his time, when he’d emerged from isolation and into the lighted room where his punishment awaited, he’d been greeted by the entire crew waiting to watch the bloody ordeal. Though he imagined that tr’Vatrix would have approved of such a spectacle, he refused to allow such a circus on his watch.

 

The technician approached. He was an older man, well into his first century. Destorie recognized him as a D’Heno who had once served him on an away mission. Erol tr’Nassal, he recalled. Nassal’s features were hard, not from spite or anger, but from a lifetime of service to the Galae.

 

“Everything is ready, rehhkai. We can begin whenever you’re ready.”

 

Destorie inwardly flinched. He was never going to be ready.

 

“Very well, the quicker we begin the quicker we can be done with this business.”

 

“Ie, rehhkai.”

 

“Bring in the prisoner.”

 

Sar'vek was brought in, flanked by two dheno and wearing a blank expression. She stared up at the pole for a long moment, a pit forming deep in her gut. She looked back to the floor, the reality of the event turning to a rush of panic. She stopped, only to be moved along by the guards without any particular concern. Stopping at the base of the whipping post, she kept her eyes locked to the floor

 

He glanced up to the woman, his eyes taking her in for a long moment, measuring her in totality. After what seemed an eternity, he cleared his throat. “Sar'vek Aljie t'Jhiin,” he said. “You have been charged with willful insubordination and conduct unbecoming of an officer of the Galae.

 

“After a formal review of the charges, as your commanding officer, I have found you be guilty of these acts. Your wanton disregard for protocol and the respect and honor of Daise’Enriov tr’Vatrix and Khre’Riov t’Rexan was unacceptable.”

 

He paused for a moment, clinching his jaw. “As punishment for your acts, you have been demoted to the rank of Erein, the salary for which you will forego for one year. You will be stripped of your title as Daise of science, and you will serve two shifts in addition to your normal shift in waste reclamation and custodial duties as to be determined by the respective daises of those departments. Additionally, you are to be sentenced to thirty-three lashes.”

 

Clearing his throat and tucking his hands behind his back he looked to her. “Do you wish a right of statement?”

 

"Yes," she said, a little surprised at how steady her words were. She kept her gaze lowered, more out of self-preservation than any sense of respect; she knew what story her eyes would tell.

 

"Very well," he said. "You may give your right of statement. Recorders, on."

 

"The accusations of insubordination, she started, quietly, "made against me are specious. I disobeyed no orders from commanding officers; I neglected no duty, nor have I throughout my service in the Galae, as my record shows." She took a deep breath before continuing, as steadily as she could. "The alleged 'insubordination' occurred at what was a private event, and its only relationship to my position as a Galae officer was that it was hosted by Galae personnel who masked their own, personal occasion as a briefing for the crew of the Talon. I also did not disobey orders to remain at this event when so ordered.

 

"As for the charge of misconduct, since it is far more open to interpretation, I will not contest it. However, I will protest the punishment for it. A reduction in rank to Erein," and then her voice tremored, audibly, "and a whipping, and... everything else... is a grave breach of justice for a Galae officer with my record."

 

A well of frustration halting her voice, she finally looked up at N'Dak, her eyes smoldering with hatred and rage. Mixed with that, though, there was something less violent -- something almost like hurt was there, too, beneath the storm of emotion. For a long moment she looked like she wanted to say something else, then she finally looked away, shaking her head slightly. "That's all."

 

He nodded, his expression remaining unchanged. The right of statement was simply that. If she was petitioning for mercy or clemency, he was neither in a position nor a disposition to grant her any further mercy than he'd already done; and though he knew she would never see it his way, and though he hated what he was about to do, he knew that any life she lived now would have been better than the slow death of the prison.

 

"If that is all, let us attend to the punishment. D'heno, prepare her."

 

The two D'heno lifted her by the arms and carried her forth, steadying her as Nassal secured her to the pole. With a heavy sigh, he finished and nodded to the D'heno to release her.

 

"The bonds will be tight, but believe me, you would rather them be."

 

Reaching to his belt, he unsheathed a small kaleh, placing it to the back of her tunic and begun slicing the back of it open, revealing her bare back. He sheathed it before producing a small leather strap. "It is my duty to offer you the bit so you do not bite your tongue off," he said soberly. "You would be wise to take it."

 

She stared at it for a moment, feeling tears welling up. Ashamed, she closed her eyes, hoping they would not fall. "Hanny'yo," she said quietly, then paused, glancing up at him again before he put it in place. "N'Dak?"

 

"Yes?"

 

"I'm sorry," she said, so softly that no one else could hear. "I'm so sorry."

 

His jar hardened and fought back his own emotions. "As am I," he said before pulling back. "Master at arms, let us get this buisness taken care of."

 

The master at arms approached, reverently with a long, slinder whip. Destorie took it in his hands, and it felt as if weighed more than densest stars. For a moment he was unsure if he could wield it. He took a deep breath.

 

"May the Elements have mercy on you you..."

 

--

 

As the last crack of the whip sounded and the thirty-third lash fell upon the back his mark, Destorie felt a great weight pressing down upon him. For the all the emotions he felt before, during the whole event he'd been almost mechanical in his precision; blocking out everything but the thought of completing the task.

 

"It is done," he finally said. "Let the record show that Sar'vek t'Jhiin has endured the proscribed thirty-three lashes. End recording."

 

He motioned to Nassal to cut her down and for the medical staff to attend to the wounds on her back, though he knew they would never be fully healed.

 

She had long before lost count; the stop was an unexpected, if welcome, shock. Teetering on the edge of conscious (a fact she distantly noted with both some pride and regret; not suffering through the entire ordeal might have been... preferable), she slumped to the ground. Consumed by the burning agony of the lash, she curled on her side.

 

"No more," she begged, bordering on incoherent (and unintelligible). "Please, no more."

 

Nassal quickly took her down and the medical staff swarmed her up and onto the biobed, discussing her treatment. Ahelen t'Laehen looked over to N'Dak, "How much medical attention are we to give her?"

 

Destorie blinked for a moment, a grimace crossing his face as his own vague memories of being cut down rushed through his mind. "She is to be given proper care, see to it that she receives proper treatment."

 

t'Laehen nodded. "Ie," she said, "as au wish."

 

That surprised Sar'vek; she lifted her head slightly from the grav-stretcher. Even that was unbearably painful. "Thank you," she whispered to Destorie, hoarsely, not recognizing her own voice.

[Crash Calestorm 0]

Karma and History Repeats Itself can sideswipe when least expected, causing damage to all parties involved. Just popped in for my Rihan fix and to say nice log guys!

[KhreRiovtRex 0]

Nice log...... see, we can be nice. Only 33! It had been 50....

[Chirakis 1]

Words cannot express the effect this log has had on me.

 

Anahos, Daise'Erei’Riov.

 

Rhuissa.

[KhreRiovtRex 0]

That's 3 of us now....who's next!?