I dug up this old role play that I wrote back in 2007...
"Only the dead have seen the end of war." - Plato
Ibraxis City, Tarsonis
Four Years Prior
As usual, the distinctly bulbous figure of Colonel Fred "Two-Tone" Wilkins was the first to enter the Council Chambers. After selecting what he thought to be the best seating for a man of his military prowess, nine other men, women and one mysterious old man in a grey tunic filed in around the oval table. One by one, they filled the remaining vacant seats, yet no one spoke. The usual humble greetings and polite small talk amongst them was now substituted with clenched jaws, red faces and crossed arms. Jonathon took a seat against the back wall as two Confederate Marines closed and sealed the large metallic double-doors of the Council Chambers. A few of the delegates had arranged themselves into small conglomerates and had begun to chat amongst themselves. Two tall, narrow windows situated at the far end of the room overlooked the busy Helioc Harbor as the sun began to set in the distance.
"Let's get down to business," the familiar voice of Colonel Wilkins interrupted. He immediately raised his chubby finger accusingly at the figure sitting across from him. "That woman is directly responsible for the death of three of my Marines. Three Confederate Marines!"
"That's a goddamn lie!" General William Carvel interrupted, slamming his fist against the cold metallic table.
Vlanna Sarin, the accused, folded her arms and pushed her tongue into the pocket of her cheek. Her eyes narrowed as she stared into the cold harsh gaze of the Colonel. "Perhaps you'd like to explain to us what your Marines were doing on Antiga Prime in the first place Colonel?" As the Colonel's red-faced answer started, it was quickly drowned out by the chaos of arguement amongst the delegates.
The cloaked figure in the back of the room spoke up abruptly, raising his voice above all others and the room fell silent. Colonel "Two-Tone" sat back in his seat and crossed his arms, resting them on his protruding stomach. "And just who the hell are you to demand the silence of this council?" the Colonel snapped.
"That," General William Carvel pointed with an old boney finger "is Jonathon Avery."
The Colonel raised his eyebrow slightly and allowed a devious grin to cross his lips as his eyes met with those of the recently introduced, Jonathon Avery. "So... This relic... this, dried up old bag is the great Jonathon Avery?" The Colonel chuckled. "I must say that I expected more from a war hero of your standing, Ole' Avery."
Jonathon nodded his head and smiled. "I could say the same about you, Colonel Wilkins." The Colonel's face one again grew red with fury as Jonathon continued. "The constant squabling over who is in the right and who is in the wrong is not getting us anywhere. Ladies and Gentlemen, Delegates of the Terran Confederacy, look at yourselves." Jonathon started to circle the table as he spoke. "You sit here as the leaders of the Terran people. You sit in the very seats that your great and powerful predecessors sat in to make the same decisions about war and peace that they made, yet you act like nothing more than common school children. Look at yourselves. Look at the disgraceful spectical you've made of yourselves here today. All of you," Avery shot a glance at the Colonel, and then at Vlanna "should be ashamed of yourselves. We all fight under the same banners, whether we are Colonials or Confederates. All of you would do well to remember that..."
Shortly after his last words, Jonathon exited the room through the large double doors.
Nearly an hour later, the double doors opened again. As the small crowd of delegates and representatives made there way out of the Council Chambers, Vlanna smiled and extended her tiny hand in Jonathon's direction. "Thank you for coming Sovereign General." Jonathon smiled and embraced the young woman's hand, shaking it firmly. "The pleasure is all mine Magistrate Sarin." The two began to walk sholder-to-sholder as they spoke.
"The delegates have decided to take no action against Colonel Wilkins for his transgressions on Antiga Prime." Vlanna's voice quivered with frusteration.
"I didn't think they would. They fear him."
Vlanna nodded her head. "He's up to something, Jonathon. I know he is."
"The question is," Jonathon glanced at the Colonel as they walked "what?"
"I don't know. But I intend to find out."
"Be careful, Magistrate. The Colonel is a powerful man, and he has powerful allies within the Confederacy."
Vlanna smiled. "That's why I have you."
Jonathon nodded his head, but did not speak. The incident on Mar Sara was no secret to anyone in the Confederacy, and neither was the humiliating defeat of the Confederacy's most prized General, Jonathon Avery. He'd been released from his duties as Sovereign General of the Confederacy over a quarter of a century ago pending an official investigation. The investigation was never conducted, and the screams of dieing Marines still haunted his dreams to this day.
"Don't rely too heavily on my sterling reputation," Jonathon remarked sarcasticly. "I'm afraid the Colonel is right. I am merely a relic of my former self."
Vlanna nodded her head but did not answer as the two continued down the long corridor and into a small turbolift at the end of the hallway. The Colonel watched curiously in the distance.
"General Jonathon Avery.... Curious that he should reappear on the political playing field after all these years." The Colonel looked at his second-in-command and most trusted officer, Major Tom Hillsdale.
"Yes," Hillsdale remarked with a distinctly Confederate accent. "That one's a wildcard, Colonel. But I wouldn't worry about him. He's just a dried up ole' fool."
The Colonel narrowed his eyes as Jonathon and Vlanna disappeared behind the metallic doors of the turbolift. "Perhaps he's more than just that..." he muttered.