Be All Thy Sins Remembered (solo thread)

[Moira Skaldi]

"They say she thinks of herself as a Chaos Goddess, do they not? The Butcher of Gehenna. It is always fascinating to see how, when knocked off their pedestal, her kind is nothing. So eager to flaunt their power, bestride the Galaxy like colossi, never thinking that even gods can...fall."


But even a dead god could drea, Moira remembered that line from her days on Artam. As an aspiring priestess of the Ecclesia. When she had still been bound to organic delusions, lived in ignorance of the greater Galaxy. "The Bando Gora adopted her into their pantheon, yes. For decimating their ranks and killing their 'gods'. I imagine she liked this more than she would be comfortable admitting. She excels at lying to herself." Something, as she knew, could be said about all organics, but no reason to say that just yet.

Cold, lifeless, blue eyes, as fathomless as an abyss flickered over towards her partnet in conversation. Anael was dressed in military uniform, her flaming red hair framing features that would be considered beautiful, though marred by scars, not that Moira cared about such details. Her hazel eyes reflected pure fervour and fanaticism. The sort Moira was intimately familiar with - there had been a time when she had believed. The fact that by pursuing a cause to eradicate all sentient life and usher in an age of metal purity she was a mirror image seemed to escape the Metal Princess. The room was sterile, devoid of any personal touch. Outside heavily armoured guards stood, armed to the teeth with bolters and grenades, their sharp features obscured by visored helmets that left them as faceless automatons, cogs in a machine.

"The dead cry out for justice. Forcers have brought terror and destruction to this Galaxy, making it their playground to carry out their religious war. Roche, Metalorn, Gehenna, Manaan, the list goes on and on. The Atrisians had it right with the idea that they must be controlled...but they did not go nearly far enough," Anael continued speaking, passion in her tone. "'Luminous beings we are. Not these crude plebeians'," at that she scoffed before focusing on the view before her. "Your aid in obtaining her was invaluable. Funds have been transferred to your account. Likewise your notes on breaking Bando Gora prisoners will be...very useful."


"She is strong-willed and endowed with a considerable pain tolerance. Breaking her will not be an easy task. Your people cannot let down their guard for even a moment. A wild animal will exploit any sign of weakness." The tone was calm, impassive even, like she did not particularly care either way, but then it was the lives of organics.


"Now you almost sound like you respect her. I could have sworn there was hatred between you...if I was not aware you did not have the software for that." The little quip that showed Anael knew her true nature - and also that she knew Moira knew she knew. Guards probably had ion blasters hidden as well. Not that Moira cared, for she had taken precautions as well. In time she would murder them all as well. In the depths of the mind of the terminatrix there were but two categories of people: Assets and Threats. For now the group was an asset, in due time she pronounce a death sentence upon them and then they would all perish because she willed it.


"Hatred serves no purpose. It blinds. I'm aware that she feels loathing for me. She looks at me and sees a reflection of the 'monster' she is and recoils since she likes to think her acts are for a good cause. Well, that and she can't control me. Her thinking has always been...what organics would call one-track. I respect her combat abilities, but that does not change the fact that she is a crude sledgehammer. An attack dog always dependent on a mistress."


"That is how she shall be broken. Like a dog. She revels in her power, believes it makes her indomitable. We must etch it into her mind that she is nothing now. Strip her of her will to resist. I imagine if judiciously used extreme physical pain can be an asset. She will be purified and born again as a weapon. Your files mention that deep-down she feels...considerable amount of guilt from past deeds. It is something we shall exploit."


"Anyone can kill, but to take a person's mind and tear it apart, then rebuild it from the ground up. That is a beautiful thing. Still, do not underestimate the problem. The probability of a rescue team is very low, not with the precautions I took, but complacency breeds defeat."

Anael looked at her sharply. "Then I expect you to do your utmost to aid us. If the procedure works we will be glad to share with you...Ruby."

Ruby. That had been her name long ago. No, not of her. Of the human Moira Skaldi. A terrorist who brought death while having a religious verse on her lips. It was the identity under which she had operated on Contruum. But now Ruby was dead, unless Moira felt the need to revive her for those moments when she would be useful. She did not miss her though.

"Then we understand each other." Eyes flickered over to the holocamera that gave her a sight to behold that she had waiting to see for a long time.


A tiny, cramped cell, so small a human would be unable to lie down and get some rest in it. A brunette woman, looking tired and worn, her clothes dirty and a mess, forced to stand in chains that were connected to the wall. She had been forced to stand while chained ever since being brough to the base. The exhaustion and strain it was causing was clearly visible and she was shivering strongly since heating in the cell was nonexistent. Bruises had accumulated on her face and lips from beatings...these had been crude and unauthorised, though they put her in her place. Her organic eye was bloodshot because her position forced her to look right into the very bright light emanating from a lamp positioned directly above her on the ceiling. Her face was so bathed in light that it looked almost like a halo, which might seem hilarious for those who knew the woman well, who was the exact opposite of a paragon of virtue. In order to further keep her awake and deprive her of the release sleep would offer, loud music was constantly playing, incessantly blaring out of the loudspeaker with no pause. Finally a force nullifier was affixed around her neck, depriving her of the use of her powers. Thus she was torn down from her pedestal and brought to the level of the everywoman. Because redundant security was the way to go, there would also be ysalamiri spread across the base.

Seeing Siobhan Kerrigan like this would have warmed her heart, were it not a small fusion reactor and thus already extremely hot! There was no exultation to be found upon her placid, perfect features, just cold stoicism. She gave no reaction save a curt nod when she heard Anael speak. "Take her to interrogation. The purification shall begin."

 

[Siobhan Kerrigan]

Anger boiled in her. Anger and rage, though it was an impotent rage that could not find an outlet. She strained against the heavy chains but there was no give, the result was that her binds tightened. In vain she tried to call upon the Force through sheer instinct, but her captors had been smart enough to slap a force nullifier around her throat. Outside ysalamiri were perched up in the corridors. Of course, both of this she knew well by now. The attempt to draw upon the awesome power of the Force was simply instinct. It had not yet been burnt out of her.

How long had she been here? She was certain it could not have been long, but the drugs coursing through her body made it hard for her to focus, along with searing headaches. The too bright light shining from the lamp perched above her burnt her organic eye, yet her attempts to avert her gaze were in vain. The heavy binds saw to that, enveloping her much like the embrace of an anaconda, yet not tight enough to be crushing. By now she was in agony from being forced to stand in her chains for hours on end without pause. It was far more efficient as a method of torture than physical violence since it was continual, gnawing at her strength. At least if someone punched her in the face or violently pushed her into a bucket full of boiling hot water she was given someone to hate. However, in her current state of predicament she would only...feel a great deal of pain, stand and...wait. For a moment a shiver ran down her spine when she wondered whether Shadow might be behind this. Then she took a breath and steeled herse.f. If it was him...well, she far stronger than she used to be. She was not the newly knighted Jedi who had fallen for his manipulations and become his meat puppet. She could defeat any opponent who came her way...but she did not have the Force.

As it was the burning rage she felt was futile. If she possesed the Force, only for a moment, she could literally rip the chains apart and free herself at the speed of thought. The guards outside would be tossed through the corridor like ragdolls, their bones crushed and their own weapons turn against them. She could turn the entire building into a slaughterhouse and get vengeance. However, she was deprived of the Force.

Nonetheless, she strained against her bonds, trying to think, remember the faces of her captors, but the drugs made it difficult. She remembered a...fancy party, hotel room...a pretty face...as usual. Then things went dark. She would think of a variety of groups that would want her dead. When she thought about it, it was probably a bit of a surprise that she did not have a bounty on her head yet. Her thoughts were interrupted by the incessant blaring coming out of the loudspeakers, terribly loud music hammering into her mind without pause, likewise meant to disorientate as she stood there painfully in her tiny cell. They had left her with a bucket to...relieve herself, though actually, well, hitting it proved a bit difficult since she could barely move and it was awkwardly positioned. The ensuing stench was as bad as can be imagined.

The walls of her cell felt like they were about to close in on her, it was that cramped, making her feel almost claustophobic. The anger grew stronger inside her. Once she was free she would tear them apart. They would die...painfully. Amidst the noise she tried to focus. She was Siobhan 'I can kill anything' Kerrigan. She would not feel fear - she could not. She had defeated Sith Lords and battled elder horrors. Her jaw tightened as she heard noise coming in from outside. A camera hovered above her in the cell, recording every moment. For some reason she found herself reminded of the prison camp MICO had used for high-value Bando Gora prisoners during the war.

"I must say I'm surprised that you decided to visit in person. Not that I mind. It's good for morale of camp personnel to see the 'Sword of the Protectorate' is behind them," Moira spoke in a tone that might have been considered conversational were it not for the utter lack of inflection or emotion as she led Siobhan down a seemingly unending corridor in the facility. Both sides were lined with cells, so small to appear claustophobic. Guards were on patrol, on special assignment from the MICO spec ops division, dressed from head to tea in body armour that obscured their features, leaving only automatons.
"I like to direct things personally...and make sure things is as orderly as your report claims, Skaldi," Siobhan responded tersely. There was no love lost between both women. Each of them a predator, lethal in their own way. But whereas Skaldi was a dispassionate calculator, Siobhan was a battering ram. She had grudgingly admitted that they did make a good team when needed, but it did not make her like the Agent any more.
"I run a tight ship. Incompetence is not tolerated. We had to keep the prisoners in solitary confinement for security precautions. Some of them have tried to bite their captors so we keep them strongly restrained. Provision of food is automated for greater efficiency. Suicide attempts have gone down since we started spiking their drink with anti-depressants. We put them on starvation diets. Bad behaviour is punished with withdrawal of food and water altogether." There was the crack of a gun shot and Siobhan gave her a look. "Fake executions to unnerve them. Sometimes we take prisoners and fake dropping them from a gunship from on high. Prisoners are allowed no contact, no spare time. If they are noisy we gag them. Limited success with electrocution during questioning. Likewise waterboarding..." Moira droned on without emotion. As if she were talking about something as ordinary as working down a grocery list or ordering something at a restaurant.

Siobhan came to a halt as she beheld one of the cells. From inside the cell a Bando Gora cultist struggled and strained against her binds. It was a human female, her hair had been shaved off, probably by her captors, and she was chained to the wall. Given how small the cell was she would be forced to stand on end without pause, more efficient than any form of torture. Her pallid features had been heavily tattooed, displaying the arcane symbols of the Bando Gora. Her eyes gleamed a sulfuric yellow but there was no life in them and her face was scorched with burn marks. At the approach of Siobhan she seemed hopeful at first, then hissed hatefully when she got a look at the woman through the tiny window.

"One of the priestesses of the Bespin Chapter, ma'am. A native. Involved in a plan to unleash Bando Gora narcotics via aerosal dispersal. She has yielded intel about what appears to be a Machine Cult," Moira infromed her though Siobhan kept her eyes upon the prisoner. There was a flicker of something on her face, sympathy perhaps? But only for a moment, then it was gone and she felt...nothing. It was like a block of ice had been wrapped around her, her heart turning to stone. The Bando Gora were abominations, semi-sentient trash. They performed human sacrifices, turned their captives into the monstrous Reavers to rape, pillage and slaughter.

"If they capture us, they'll rape us to death, eat our flesh, and sew our skins into their clothing. And, if we're very, very lucky, they'll do it in that order." These were the words every Omega Pyre and ODF recruit about to be sent to the front lines would hear before their first battle against the Bando Gora. In a war against savages like that there were no rules.

"How close are we to finding the homeworld?" she asked, tone flat.
"The databank our forces acquired has been a considerable gain, but everything is compiled in an achaic script. A code in a manner of speaking. Useful information is intermixed with pseudo-religious dribble and twaddle. We are working on cracking it through our best cryptographers and are intensifying interrogations of the high-value prisoners acquired during the operation."

"That is not good enough. Double your efforts, Skaldi. You've made much of your ability to...understand the enemy. I want results soon. This war has been going on for close to five years and I intend to finish it," Siobhan snapped irritably as she turned away from the prisoner to face the blonde woman, who as usual was impeccably dressed in a spotless uniform, not a hair out of place. So calm and controlled, like she was taunting her. It never took much for Siobhan to remember that she hated her. But that did not matter, what mattered was ending the Bando Gora threat at last. Then they would have peace. In her heart of hearts she knew that she was deceiving herself.

"Of course, Exarch. On a certain level I believe they want us to come. Or rather you to come - and so they will break when the right trigger is pressed. As bizarre as it might sound, you have gained their respect." Somewhere a prisoner thrashed and struggled against the bonds. Neither woman paid this display any mind.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Siobhan demanded, clear disgust and irritation in her tone.
Somehow she had the distinct impression that Moira was enjoying this as the blonde woman took a step closer. "You slew their Primarch with his own power. To some this means you've taken up his mantle as the new champion. On Bespin they threw cultists and mind-addled civilians against you and you crushed them, then brought down a building down upon their beast. The occurences on Roche gained you their admiration, as did your duel with Velok. They look upon you and see a predator of equal ferocity and passion for the fight. Perhaps someone sent by Chaos to test them..."

"I'm nothing like the Bando Gora, Skaldi. I did what I had to do. They're abominations who slaughter out of sheer bloodlust and want to plunge us into a dark age again. I'm stopping that." The words came out angry and harsh, like an accusation. She had drawn upon the dark side and she would do so again if needed. She had buried friend and foe alike under a roof to prevent a tactical objective from falling into the hands of the enemy. But that was because it had been necessary. She was flawed, yes and by no means righteous but...

Come on, Sio, no one's judging. You don't need to lie to yourself now. Wouldn't you love it if people called you a goddess? voice whispered into her ear. For just a moment it seemed like her mind was somewhere else, as if she were staring into her realm for her own eyes only. Perhaps she was beholding herself as a force goddess, burning worlds and receiving the rapturous adulation of her followers as they bent to her. Indomitable. Powerful.

"Of course not, Exarch. I was merely relaying a train of thought that has developed in their ranks. After all, they are...chaos worshippers," Moira responded very, very dryly. A cell door opened and two burly guards hauled out the prisoner from before, dragging her through the corridor on a leash like an animal. Psychological humiliation of that variety was supposed to be efficient.

Noise shook Siobhan out of her musings when suddenly the door was flung open and two guards appeared before her. "Hey, don't take this wrong, guys. But this isn't my idea of bondage," Siobhan quipped lamely. She was rewarded with a punch to the fact that sent her reeling as pain shot through her. With the masks they wore she could not behold their features. Without saying a word they disconneted her chains from the wall, though they remained on her, and hauled the woman out of the cell. A leash was attached to her collar and she was unceremoniously dragged out and through the hall.