Inquisition into Dawn

[Krajin]

@Radiant Dawn @Krajin
Oathbreaker II Prison Transport - Hyperspace - Destination Classified
This is a no Kill/Capture Thread​

The Oathbreaker II Prison Transport rocketed through hyperspace on its way to a new and wonderful destination. Its cargo a small collection of prisoners all regarded as high risk inmates for a new prison facility that couldn't house them on Chandrilla. The cargo were many high priority, high danger inmates that any normal prison wont take. It was also for those who needed to remain on the move and unknown, following random, specialised patterns through the hyperlanes around the core of the Republic and Galaxy. Its most newest arrival Nathin Jynthos had been placed into Solitary Confinement until a suitable cell for one of his type was arranged. He'd been stripped of everything, thoroughly searched and scanned for any trackers, devices, suicide pills and hidden weapons. Then placed into orange prison garb. A neural dampener had been issued as well, hooked to his head to help keep him from mustering the will to use the Force against anyone here.

The ship was manned by droids, sported internal autoguns, gas venting systems for riot control, as well as storage for some whom had been frozen in Carbonite. There were some technicians onboard as well as flesh guards but they were far between. A Droid and a Human Guard came for the prisoner in question whom had been held in Solitary and escorted them to one of the many secure interview rooms onboard. Inside, was Micah, sitting at the table. Across from him, was another chair and on the table, a pair of powerful magnets used to secure the cuffs attached to the wrists to the table. Nathin would be forcibly sat down at the other end of the table where his cuffs would separate and be stuck to the table, tying him in place.

The commander smiled at the Hapan male, his pale form a frightening stark contrast to the orange suit he was in. "Welcome to what might be your new home." He set a Datapad down on the table infront of him and pressed a button "Micah Aldamar, Beginning interrogation of Prisoner Nine-Seven-Nine-Omega. Please state your name, Rank and titles for the record." He looks to the pale man. His eyes showing a very neutral demeanour, but one that was definitely in power here.

 

[Radiant Dawn]

Idiot. You always were pathetic.

About when the guards had noticed his penchant for clawing half-inch-deep gashes into his own skin did they put him in the arm restraints. Not that they cared about his obvious distress and desire for self-punishment, but the information he might have possessed was still too important for him to get any infections or bleed out just yet. Plus there were probably rules about ethics or something like that. Trappings of modern society and all. If there was one thing Dawn appreciated about how the Sith functioned, it was that those who deserved punishment received it. Quick, harsh, painful to the extreme. The unrighteous were taught lessons.

Failure.

Yet here in this magical land of democracy, you could nearly bomb an entire block and get away relatively easily. He had expected at the very least a punch to his defiantly immaculate features, or to be spat upon with the vitriol of those who despised him. A little schoolyard roughhousing. Yet he remained free from it. It was only natural to fill in the blanks of the lacking remedial system with a little of his own medicine.

Worthless.

Perhaps he should have put up more of a fight, tried to escape. This lack of retribution for his failure was gnawing at his mind, eating him from the inside out. And through it all he remained silent, trapped in the cage of his own battered psyche. The iron mask he had always worn.

Wretch.

The mask was well-fitted to his face on this day in particular, sitting down across from Micah, the dainty grin on his face belying his internal strife. His arms were outstretched and cuffed before him, bandaged tightly from the previous trauma he had inflicted, the white gauze almost gleaming under the harsh light beating down on him. His hair had still been kept long, the wavy locks brushing against his shoulders as he leaned backwards somewhat, composing himself. The neural dampener in his head made it somewhat hard to think and threatened to break his facade, but he knew his old habits would die hard.

Weakling.

The Commander rightfully wished to get down to business as soon as possible. "Graced with such hospitality again...I confess I wish I could have met you on friendlier terms......I am Nathin Jynthos, known also as the Radiant Dawn. Sith, Inquisitor of the Brotherhood, Moff of Lucazec, Bringer of Light."

Unworthy.

"But here I am, Prisoner 979O instead...I suppose it is easier to keep your enemies at name's length, mm?"

 

[Micah Aldamar]

"Nathin Jynthos. Considering that you tried bombing our capital building, you're a terrorist. A Prisoner of War and a Terrorist. Your Prisoner number is a simple formality of system so we know where you are, who you are and so others outside the system may not. Frankly it is easier to keep enemies at blade length. At least then you know who and what you are dealing with and just how deep you need to go." He replied rather curtly. The large farghul noted the bandages to his arms, placed on prominent display through the mag cuffs. "A little self harm going on there? Are you that weak of spirit you must punish yourself in some fashion in a ritualistic manner? Or is this some form of new Sith ritual?"

Micah's tail flicked slightly as he leaned forward "So, lets start. Right now you face charges of Terrorism. As do your soon to be caught friends whom, if they are Republic Citizenry, will face charges of treason. Now, your charges carry an execution penalty. However I would be willing to put that off the table on the conditions you help us with the Sith Empire. Namely, their new leadership, weaknesses, strengths.. Intel."

 

[Radiant Dawn]

He remained quiet, listening intently until his bandages were mentioned. "Oh, you insult me so harshly my friend...believe me, my so-called weakness of spirit is none of your rational concern...the concern of your, deflated ego, perhaps," he responded simply, raising his eyebrow as he ended the reply in a somewhat questioning, prodding tone of his own. Though his neural dampener attempted to hold his mind captive, his sense of wit still shone through as if unhindered. Still, somewhere deep within he knew he'd break if he kept such things up for too long. It was effort enough to hold a conversation through his perpetual state of drowsiness, he didn't need his..."weakness of spirit" on full display.

And so the interrogation truly began. Their first battle Dawn had lost. Their second, he was determined to win. "Keh...if I have already failed here in my ultimate purpose, then death is meaningless. And torture is retribution. Whatever cutesy waterboarding tactics you have are short change compared to what I have already done to myself... There is absolutely nothing you hold over me my friend. Nothing. Nothing that can ever force this information out of me. Unless..."

His lips upturned into a slightly wider smile. "You would be willing to discuss...a less dangerous...less dangerous to your Republic, anyway...alternative to what I have already proposed." He leaned back into the chair relaxed, his pearly whites on full display as he gave him one of those devilish salesman smiles. "I'm flexible, you know."

"Oh," he added, remembering something he had meant to mention when he was first captured. "Do know I never intended to bomb the Rotunda either. Well. If it had worked out the way I wanted it to, it would've most likely stood. Would have depended on how many of your Senators were stupid enough to let themselves die over a simple request...somehow knowing politicians like I do, I'd guess they probably wouldn't. The desire to remain alive long enough to extract as much as possible from their hapless citizens is indubitably universal! Gffheheha...ha....," he chuckled, sighing afterwards, the neural dampener still forcing some of his innermost emotions to the surface without him caring. His voice would become somewhat more vibrant, as if nothing more than his larynx were holding back a torrential hurricane. "At least you have some kriffing conviction. I would have loved to spar with you, blade to blade, like gentlemen, in another life...just the taste of your abilities back there...you're so rich in potential! Commander of the Grand Army sounds so underwhelming compared to what I see..."

 

[Micah Aldamar]

Micah smiled at the way the man spoke, his words so.. well one might consider them flirtatious and others considering them to be at the very least very complimentary. He stood up slowly, casually and began to slowly and quietly walk around the table a bit. Pausing at the end where his hand rested "Ultimate purpose is an interesting thing isn't it?" He asked. "You say you failed it and yet.. I wonder if you understand what that purpose actually is. For you see, the ultimate purpose of life in general is to live. Get down to the biological side of it and it is propagate and evolve. But.. what about yours? What would you define as your ultimate purpose? Have you ever sat down and really, truly thought about it? Stared into that mirror to try and find out what it might be?" He was easily casual about this and turned to slowly pace around to the other corner of the table. His fingers, claws gently running along the reflective surface.

"Death.. is never meaningless. Or at least it shouldn't be. For you to consider yours meaningless places significantly less meaning and value onto the life you have lived. Is that how you feel? I doubt it. Deep down I am willing to bet you have much more you'd hope to have done in life rather than terrorise a bunch of fat politicians in a building in the hopes of getting them to listen to you through fear." He said. This was an interesting battle of conviction, of ideologies and possible truths and Micah was taking some level of enjoyment out of it. "They'd listen, you'd have a few running around in defiance inevitably, but we both know how they are. As for torture? A meaningless gesture used by sadists to achieve an end that may on occasion yield information that is reliable but the rate for this is fairly rare. Often people would tell you what you want to hear, anything at all just to make it stop. It's.. not as useful as some may think." He mused a little before turning and heading back to his seat. "See, to really get to the crux of it all, you use a different method. Pleasure. Calmness, the positive sides of the mind." His expression twisted into something mirthful, if a human could register his features in such a manner as such. "It's why spies use pillow talk to get information out of their targets or other similar methods." He added.

"Us meeting? In a different time and place? Would be quite fascinating I would have to say. I doubt you see much of this in the Empire. Amongst the other Lords out there. Most of which I wager are to busy shooting lightning from their fingers or engaging in acts of brutality that would make most civilised people flinch and cringe. The only Lord I know of who has some shreds of Honour is one Geir Ambros. I bet you'd know of others though."

 

[Radiant Dawn]

It was strange to him, how Micah responded to his challenges and stalwart denials. It was peaceful. Jedi-like, almost, even though by all accounts of his own intel, the Commander didn't have an excessive amount of experience with them. But unlike the closed, weak minds of that organization, this man was challenging. Challenging to his mind. Challenging to his values. Even if the dampener hadn't been interfering with his concentration, he would've felt his foundations shift as dangerously as they were now.

His grey eyes had brightened, a famished look in their gaze. It was a primal hunger that he felt in these kinds of situations. It was as if he were some sort of psychic vampire in need of sustenance, an opiate and stimulant all at once to keep him going. This was truly his drug above all else: meeting a mind worth knowing, exploring.

But this excitement was tempered a few moments later as he realized something. The Commander had struck a raw nerve when he had questioned his ultimate purpose, and ended with speaking of Geir as some sort of honorable Lord. He wanted to say that he himself was one as well. He somewhat was, to an extent; he had done his best to rule his banana republic on Lucazec with finesse and subtlety, protecting his people from the ravages of the Sith regime and engendering enough loyalty to keep them in line without having to punish too much dissent. But his best wasn't good enough. Dawn hadn't ruled the way he had wished; he still rebuffed the few rebels there were, still enforced the mandatory conscription law without so much as a peep, still exacted tribute for the war effort, and still ultimately was nothing more than a tool of the Sith. And he had loved the power he had, the allure he held with his faithful. Lucazecians from every corner of the planet held him in the highest regard; if not for his constant reminder of who they were truly meant to worship, he would be the god on their pedestal. He was no better than any dictator with a personality cult, at the end of the day.

He was the Queen Mother he had once hated.


"...You speak...of ultimate purpose....If you were to know mine...which isn't, quite, to breed like a mindless animal...you would know why I am sitting before you, right now."

He coughed somewhat, rubbing his fingers against the stainless steel table.

Dawn felt the damnable machine lowering his walls, pushing down the facade he had kept up for so long. His heart ached; perhaps now in the clarity that came outside the miasma of darkness swarming around Sith Space, so came his true desires. He loved the game of politics. So much that he had forgotten what was real, in the haze of misdirection and deception that had become his very soul. "I wield immense clout in Sith Space. I am one of the chosen few. I rule an entire planet, and defend an entire sector from Republic incursion. Lucazec is my domain. Barring what Supreme Leader Thaun wishes of me and the Moff Council votes on, I can do whatever I please. I can rip children from the arms of mothers. I can rend fathers, workers, the men that toil beneath me limb from limb. I can steal from the rich and the poor alike. My power is unchecked. Compared to the raw abilities of a Senator in your Republic, I am a demigod."

He forced his eyes to look up even as Micah stood before him. He made eye contact, staring deeply into his. His heart trembled, yet his will to finish remained resolute. "As a Sith, I am no better. If this device were not attached to me, this entire ship would be in grave danger. Even on Chandrilla, should I have decided to move forward with my plan...I would have been killed, make no mistake. But the casualties I would have inflicted would have dampened any celebration in your heart. I mean this not as a threat, simply as a statement of fact. I have been gifted with so much. Too much, for any one man."

His nails, slight bits of dried blood still caked underneath, scratched at the hard surface beneath them. "Too much for me to keep in check...I am no Geir Ambros. And I suspect even he and his Dark Knights of Sin project have something more in mind than playing the roles of saints. Regardless, truthfully, even before I came here, I, with access to all the power I possess, had failed my purpose. That is why my life and death here are meaningless. I had hoped nothing more than to escape the cage of my own making by doing what I did. Sitting here is relief."

Dawn sighed and smiled somewhat, finally averting his stare after a few moments of pause. "Perhaps you are right about your methods...your pillow talk, as it were. I feel more at ease with you than any of my so-called allies. There is something genuine in you I cannot explain...despite your sodding neuroware in the way I can still sense it. I see none of your kind in the Brotherhood, beyond the citizens I have gotten to know on Lucazec."

"But as for me...well...I once wanted freedom to grace this galaxy from rim to core, but...I don't know, now. I don't know anymore. Forcing the Republic to sponsor my coup was not even my first choice, or the most rational one...but it was my only one, the only one I could bear. After years of pretending to be a monster...all I've accomplished was to become one."

"I am little more than a weakling, my friend. Despite all my powers, despite every bloody thing I've done to advance my ultimate goal, I can't even kriffing follow through. I'd say I should've gone through with what I wanted to do back there but then you'd probably tack on a few more years for my insolence...hmhm..."

 

[Micah Aldamar]

"You don't even understand your purpose. To say you have failed it, to say that life and death is meaningless is to deny the very basis and fundamentals of the world, the galaxy that you live in." He replied. This individual was sad, but there to Micah was so much more to him than what the Hapani was letting on. "If your life meant so little then you would of carried out your actions on Chandrilla and murdered that man and accepted the death that would of followed." He would add. His hands gently running across the top of the chair.

"Your belief in your idea of being the equivilant of a Demigod, in comparison to the Senators, to the various species around you seems to have blinded you from seeing the pieces of the puzzle and how each fits with one another. The teachings that you have followed blind you from the rest of the existence. On Chandrilla yes, you could of easily become a considerable threat if you landed and went about on a murder spree. Many would die at your hands but the inevitability is, is that you would of fallen at the hands of one perceived lesser than you." He would take his hands off the chair and start to walk around the small room, heading for a wall and leaning against it facing Radiant.

"Weakness and strength. You say here and now for all your power, all that you have done to advance your ultimate goal you cannot follow through with it. Why is that? Have you... ever looked into the why? The how? Truly examined it. Or.. is it true about the sith. That to have fallen so far, they have learned nothing in the end?" Introspection was a dangerous thing for many people, some couldn't handle what they saw inside and it could make them.. dangerous. To themselves or others.

 

[Radiant Dawn]

Why. Why. Why.

Why.

That one word. That one phrase. Have you ever looked into the why.

Dawn knew what he wanted. He knew the means he had to pursue to get it. He knew the sacrifices he had to make. He knew how he wanted it done, he had it planned out in his head. Every minute detail had played out in his head a thousand times over nearly since Day 1. From his time as an Acolyte to one of the most respected non-Darth Sith in the Brotherhood, he had always tried to remind himself of what he wanted.

Why hadn't he succeeded? What had the years taken away from him? Why was he sitting here, in the only escape, only refuge he knew?

...

"Why I told you I was so powerful...it wasn't to brag. Gnnn."

He doubled over somewhat, his head facing the table, hair blocking out most of the vision of his face as he held his knees up closer to his stomach. It was making him physically sick thinking about this. He had forced this reality out of his mind for so long that him feeling it right now was more than his own, internally frail body could bear. He sighed, catching a breath raggedly before continuing.

He had always known this. Only here and now, at his most vulnerable, when he had nothing to defend himself with, oddly enough, did he feel most comfortable being laid bare. It was as though now that he had no way to protect his inner self, he was able to give up in peace.

"I told you so. Because ultimately. No matter how much power I have amassed. I am weak."

The Hapan's hands were slightly shaking, now. "I am weak. The Sith had become my way to be stronger...but...even then I was still weak. Disgustingly useless...half the time I just, I just sit biding my time, waiting in vain for the right opening to make itself available. And even then it takes me weeks, months to take advantage of it! All the time the people of Lucazec look up at me like I can do something when I can't!"

His fingers scratched at the metal table once more, as if he were but a feral beast trying to escape a prison it alone had trapped itself in. "The day I became Supreme Leader was to be the day when this all ended...but it seemed so far away, so impossible to achieve...my body is not built for combat, the Rite of Arauk'kesh would end me. Finding allies who share my cause in this...that order of fanatical imbeciles is next to impossible, and an entire legion of disillusioned SBZ would perish before a mere squadron of experienced, loyal Sith! I couldn't bear the waiting game any longer, I've been playing it for years, years dammit, and all that's ever came of it were small steps forward, only to be followed by twice as many back!"

"I came here because I was tired of that...keh...tired of all the inaction. And speaking of inaction...you probably are already thinking to yourself, why, this guy could've have been a Jedi, am I not correct? Yes I'm sure you are. I'm sure you hold them in such high regard. I'm sure you've given up as much of your power to them as you could manage and then some...as they claim their misguided virtue like Mynocks flitting blindly through the endless vacuum of their empty ideology, leading their prey unto their own demise with reckless abandon...nnngh...the Jedi, what would I ever do with them...worthless wretches they are, they'd rebuke me upon the principle of their religion alone before even listening for a moment to my entreaties and pleas..."

He raised his head, revealing blank eyes devoid of color surrounded by blackened, sunken eyelids. He had spent all of his effort through the dampener attempting to keep his guise intact, only for it to fail as his elusive anger finally rose to the surface. "Bastards...can afford all the hatred in the world for the Sith and can't stop to realize what's going on in their own turf...can't even realize what their policy of inaction has done to this world...Hapes, the matriarchy, never once has it been contested, even your blasted Republic doesn't give a flying kriff, a kriff about ME, about the men slaving their lives away, unequal, unwanted, used as little more than glorified breeding devices, while these so-called guardians haven't done a damn thing about it! And the rest of the world, too! The Hutts, the Corporate Sectors, the Senators of this infernal galaxy continue to extort and lie and cheat you and everyone else in this ungodly system, and your saviors sit happily above it all, throwing around worthless platitudes in place of true change! They should burn just as we do, just as us Sith do, they deserve HELL!"

The Moff's teeth were bared, gritted tightly together with vice-like strength. His eyes, the orbs of milky white they were, were opened wide as if trying to seek out the objects of his hatred through the very walls of the ship he was on. Yet it would only take a few, long, drawn-out moments before he finally shut them, turning his head slightly down as his gaze softened, the ocean's roar of his voice reduced to a whisper. "....I'm...sorry, my friend. I'm sorry. But now. I believe you understand. More than I ever cared to."

"This is why my life is worthless, why I proclaim my death as meaningless. There is so much more left for me to fight. But I am already broken."

 

[Micah Aldamar]

Micah leaned against the wall and couldn't help but.. smile just a little. The little man threw his emotional fit and Micah waited for him to finish before speaking. "That is because you have made your life meaningless. Have you ever listened to yourself there? How you complain about the others, always someone elses fault. The Jedi and their non-interference in a Matriarchal society, the senate and its corruption, the Sith and their self destructive behaviour." He waves a hand about. "It's all about what they have done, what they haven't done, why they should all burn because you, whom have sat on your arse for several years in the vain hopes of an advantage that you would never truly seize upon to use to its fullest potential. Lets start from the top and break this down."

His smile spread just a bit more into something akin to that of a predator whom just cornered their prey. "You beat yourself up, whine because you have done nothing and admit to have done.. nothing. Excuses are meaningless." He begins. "The day you become Supreme Leader is the day your life becomes forfiet. Want to know why? Because within the Sith, you lack the strength of will to lead. The Charisma, the.. energy to lead, to control. You'd sit back and steeple your fingers and hope that you could make changes. You've made no changes here and now so what makes it a point that you'd make them then? You'd probably, most likely have your life taken by someone of superior power, strength, ambition or will. Respect is a powerful thing and I see nothing to respect here." He began to pace the room slowly, making his way around the table slowly.

"You're angry. Boohoo. I bet that anger's been stewing for a while. But you keep it suppressed and now I bet you don't even know how to employ it. Use it. To become a Jedi would of taught you strength of character, that much I believe is true. Their flawed overarching notions aside. You doubt the strength of the individual within their order and thus fail from the out start. The doctrine between the Sith and the Jedi, complete opposites and yet equally flawed. Neither side granting all the answers and yet leaving more questions. Do I hold them in high regard? No. I find them to be as flip-floppy as a hutt on pancake day. First they fired the first shots of this war, their leader buggered off and then another, more inactive one came in and dragged them into the floor. Following that comes another who is quite the unknown." His hand moved along the table, a claw running along the metal surface letting it squeal before the man walked behind Dawn.

"The irony here is that you, Sith also sit behind your ideologies and follow them to reckless abandon. Holding true to them just as the Jedi do. Would they rebuke you? Probably, Probably not. It is quite the... assumption to make that they'd turn you away if you were truly willing to give up the darkness, hate and all that other nonsense." He loomed behind Dawn, not to close to be potentially threatened by him but close enough to make that presence known and make it.. chilling. "Now it comes out with the Cluster. The Hapan cluster. A Matriarchal society where you are the down trodden, the slave, the little beast used as cattle and discarded as they please. Who cares about you? Why should anyone, ever, give a damn about you when you don't even give a damn about yourself? Your people? You want the Jedi, the Senate, anyone to try and change your home and yet you, yourself have done nothing. Has it ever crossed your mind that you may actually need to be the change you wish to see in the world? Be the being that would rise up and fight for what you believe in?" He began a slow walk around the other side, his heavy footfalls apparent to that.

"You blame everyone, the Galaxy, the nature of all self aware life for your petty world and its system and yet you have not even lifted a finger to change it. You've never considered taking a stand, going in there. Speaking your case or even standing to fight for it. I think you felt the Sith would be your path. But even they have done nought to get you there. You rely to much on everything being brought to you and when you finally, finally get off your backside to work. You find that it is to little, far to late. Your attempts at coming to the senate tower with your explosives, to make them listen. To beg for them to help you." He shook his head as he rounded near the front of the table again. "You have had a chance in life, many I bet. But instead of doing the hard work, you did nothing. Have done nothing and all you do is fixate your rage on everything around you and yourself. Rather than pausing, thinking about your life. Every step you've made and every choice that has come. Your goals are lofty, with no foundation. You've had nothing simple, small, nothing of your own to start on aside from your own angst."