Cael Duckett's Story

The Officer moved to cuff the man. "Your silence means consent, and your consent to this Xeno is Heresy!" He shouted, roughly pulling him from the wall and walking him to the van.

"The Xeno will go to special projects, the Heretic will go to the Confessor Cabal for Judgement." The Sergeant instructed, and the Officer nodded, before he stuffed Cael into the van with Qalia.

With the doors shut, the van started moving.

Qâlia lay unconscious on the floor of the van, blue blood pouring from a pair of cuts on her head and pooling underneath her.

The Pair were being transferred to a holding cell, but they would be separated from one another. Qalia would be transported to a simple large and white washed room with a metal table, two chairs and a single door.

The Collar remained on her, but had been chained to a metal loop in the center of the room, under the table.

Her four arms had been freed, the bindings removed but the psionic inhibition field remained.

With a clunk the door opened up and a single individual clad in a black suit and tie, along with dark sunglasses stepped into the room. In the crook of his arm was a thick file folder which was thrown on the table. Two more of these similarly dressed men stepped into the room, while the lead one sat down and observed the strange alien before them.

--

Cael was not so lucky, stripped of all his clothing, collared and chained to what could be described as a rack of sorts, he would be greeted by strange individuals with mesh covering their faces, and purple robes.

Individuals that could be described by the Isirians as completely ruthless, yet efficient.

Divine Confessors.

The Pair were being transferred to a holding cell, but they would be separated from one another. Qalia would be transported to a simple large and white washed room with a metal table, two chairs and a single door.

The Collar remained on her, but had been chained to a metal loop in the center of the room, under the table.

Her four arms had been freed, the bindings removed but the psionic inhibition field remained.

With a clunk the door opened up and a single individual clad in a black suit and tie, along with dark sunglasses stepped into the room. In the crook of his arm was a thick file folder which was thrown on the table. Two more of these similarly dressed men stepped into the room, while the lead one sat down and observed the strange alien before them.

--

Cael was not so lucky, stripped of all his clothing, save for a simple loincloth, collared and chained to what could be described as a rack of sorts, he would be greeted by strange individuals with mesh covering their faces, and purple robes.

Individuals that could be described by the Isirians as completely ruthless, yet efficient.

Divine Confessors.

Cael strained to sit up to look at his surroundings, but the restraints kept him prone on the rack and he finally lay his head back and stared up at the ceiling. His heart was racing in his chest and there was sweat beaded on his brow. He had heard the reputation of the confessors.

Looking to the side at one of the confessors he tried words.

"My name's Cael Duckett, I was born in Brillion on Arastel, and I'm a professor at the Marlton University. I have rights as a citizen. The right to a trial."

The Confessor grinned at Cael as he moved around the man.

"Look around, you will indeed get a triad, your charge is Heresy." He said, circling the man and preparing his instruments of torment.

"Heretics do not enjoy rights." The Confessor hissed. "Why did you help the Xeno."

"She wasn't from around here," Cael tried to explain. "She didn't know our laws."

He twisted his wrists against his bindings uncomfortably at the attention the confessor was showing to the torture implements. He was a professor, not a soldier. He wasn't trained for this.

The Confessor scowled some. "What were you told when we initially assumed control of your government." He said, pacing around the man.

"Report all Xenos, Heretics, and Mutants to your nearest Garrison."

He then stopped, touching the silver dagger to Cael's neck. "So tell me, what did you do that does not align with that simple command?"

Cael grit his teeth at the press of the cold blade against his throat.

"She is not of Isiria, and should not be subject to our laws," Cael reiterated. "If it is your desire to enslave free people, then I will have no part of it."

It took remarkable courage from the man to utter those words, and the beads of sweat ran down his face.

The Confessor shook his head, running the dagger down his chest. "So you think just because she's a Xeno that, she is absolved from the fury and hatred that befalls all Xenos? His Shadow has given these directives for your protection. How do you know she was not the vanguard for a species that wishes to exterminate the human race?"

Grasping a pair of alligator clamps, he sparked them in Cael's face.

"That Xeno is not human, and does not enjoy the same rights we do."

Cael's eyes watched the clamps as they neared his face and he licked his lips nervously. There was the faintest of tremors to his voice as the interrogation continued.

"No species is without rights," he replied. "They feel and mourn as we do, they bleed and suffer as we do. What gives you the right..."

He licked his lips again as his voice shook.

"What gives you the right."

It was a known fact that the Aschen Empire possessed more laws regarding the ethical treatment of animals than they had for xenos.

The Confessor pressed both clamps to Cael's chest, and the electric current would bounce back and fourth between the clamps, likely causing immense pain.

"Because we have a divine right to rule unchallenged in this galaxy." The Confessor said. "What you speak is blasphemy, madness."

The Second Confessor stepped forward.

"Nay, it is heresy!"

Cael jolted in his restraints and his body shook from the electrical current arcing from the clamps. He could not even shout as the muscles in his jaw went rigged, but grunts of pain made it past clenched teeth.

It wasn't until the current was broken and he lay panting that he was able to speak again.

"If believing in compassion is heresy, then I'm a heretic," Cael growled.

The penalty for heresy was death - a fact that Cael was well aware of - but a clean execution was a far more favorable option than what the confessors were known to subject people to.

"Is that what you want to hear? I'm a heretic."

The Confessor growled, and then he reached for his tray, grasping a hefty piece of rebar, swinging it once, twice, thrice against Cael to beat him, repeatedly striking him with the metal rebar.

"Xenos would not show us the same compassion, this is why we must protect ourselves! You will be made an example of!"

Cael grunted in pain as the rebar struck him, and he tried to roll onto his side to curl against the blows, but the restraints on the rack kept his abdominal muscles drawn taught and left his torso exposed to the abuse. The second blow caught him across the ribs, and the third across the abdomen.

He could do nothing to defend himself from the beating that left angry welts and a cracked rib in their wake, he could do nothing to stifle the sounds of pain that made it past clenched jaw.