10-18-2021, 03:47 AM
For everything bright, there is a corresponding darkness. The Golden Blade imagined itself to be the saviors of Xiomerans "trapped" in the "false state" of Huenya. Naturally, as such people do, they saw themselves as the light, and their enemies as the darkness.
The Huenyan Federation had been formed in the spirit of hope and the idealism of a new era. Its supporters, too, naturally saw themselves as the light.
But when the Golden Blade unleashed their reign of terror upon the nascent Huenyan state, those who supported the Federation soon had to make a choice. Texōccoatl, the new Great Speaker, had already made his. Huenya might, someday, be that beacon of light and hope that its most idealistic supporters envisioned and prayed it would be. But with the pragmatism of a soldier, and a man born and bred to rule, Texōccoatl knew what his gentler colleagues such as Vice-Speaker Tiacihitli did not.
The false shine of the Golden Blade was threatening to plunge all of Huenya into chaos, ethnic warfare, and collapse. Texōccoatl would not allow that. He could not allow it. Under his lead, Huenya would do whatever it took to defeat the insurgents and terrorists, ensure the elections in December succeeded, and that Huenya made it to the other side of its season of struggle in one successful piece. Even if that meant Huenya would have to create a force even darker than the terrorists themselves.
Under the Vice-Speaker, Huenya's truth and reconciliation commission, the Committee for National Reunification and Reconciliation, had taken a softer line. Rehabilitation, re-education and cooperation were its order of the day. Under Texōccoatl, the focus would shift. The TRC was, without fanfare, renamed as simply the Committee for National Reunification. Reconciliation was still a goal, to be sure. But those who would not be reconciled to the fact that times had changed in Huenya, and the Xiomeran Empire no longer ruled there, would be dealt with from a position of strength from now on.
The newly re-named CNR would find its powers greatly expanded. It was given its own force of special investigators and prosecutors - the Special Investigative and Prosecutorial Service. The SIPS answered only to the CNR, the Secretary of Justice, and the Great Speaker. The SIPS, on behalf of the CNR, was given full authority to investigate war crimes, and detain suspected war criminals. The SIPS also had the power to arrest anyone suspected of sympathizing with the Xiomeran Empire, or of being insurgents against the Huenyan state. The SIPS would be given its own courts, detention centers and facilities separate from those of the Federal Police or Federal Intelligence Service.
And, in keeping with their role, they had their own uniforms. Most Huenyan police and soldiers had uniforms of varying designs in blue, white and gold, reflecting the national colors. SIPS investigators, judges and prosecutors, however, would don uniforms as black as a raven's wing. The twin insignia of the Huenyan Federation and the CNR's four-pointed star on their collars were the only splash of golden color to break up the stark uniform.
The Blackrobes, as the members of the SIPS quickly came to be known, were as deadly serious about their mission as their uniforms made them appear. If a group of terrorists and insurgents wanted to dabble with darkness, the Blackrobes would be more than happy and eager to indulge them. To save Huenya, of course.
---
SIPS Regional Headquarters, Ixtenco
Tlehatzin smirked. He had been held by the SIPS for several hours now, on suspicion of being a terrorist cell leader for the Golden Blade. The SIPS, along with a contingent of Federal Police, had come storming into his home that morning, special CNR warrant in hand. A bevy of interrogators had come in so far to question him. He hadn't given them a thing.
The latest interrogator, a SIPS senior investigator named Imacan, was the latest to take a shot at it. Imacan had sat down on the other side of the table, and stared at Tlehatzin, unblinking, for several minutes. Tlehatzin refused to be the one to break the silence. Imacan finally sighed. "You are being very stubborn," he said as if disappointed. "We already know you're helping lead the Golden Blade in your neighborhood. I suggest you cooperate now. This has been pleasant, all things considered, up to now. It will not remain so pleasant if you insist on remaining intransigent."
Tlehatzin laughed in response. "I won't tell you anything. And you can't make me. After all, there's only so much you can do, isn't there?" Tlehatzin said smugly. "You're not allowed to torture people. You're not allowed to use drugs in interrogations. No sleep deprivation, no waterboarding - none of the tried and true methods I used when I worked for ASI. So, basically, all you can do is lecture me and imprison me. Your humane and kind Huenyan Federation doesn't let you do the rough stuff," Tlehatzin sneered. "So you've got nothing on me."
Imacan nodded calmly. "You're right. Huenya does not torture or mistreat suspects or prisoners, unlike the Empire. Those are banned practices. So I suppose there is not much I can do to you." He turned to walk out of the room, before looking over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "Of course, there is the question of others you are linked to. Your father Catleca and mother Panetzina. Your wife Ilalitl. Your brother Tochtlama. Oh, and your three children. I suppose we should begin investigating their possible ties to the Golden Blade now," Imacan said as he began to walk out of the room.
"No one in my family has anything to do with the Blade," Tlehatzin said, sitting upright in his chair with the sneer gone from his face.
"Oh, but a terrorist would say that, wouldn't he? You'd never admit that people close to you were involved with the Blade," Imacan said smugly. "Didn't you just say you wouldn't tell me anything? So I have no reason to believe you. Therefore, I really have no choice but to order them all to be arrested and detained while we investigate. In the interest of national security, of course." Imacan smiled. "But if they hate Huenya as much as you do, don't worry, they won't have to suffer being detained here. We just struck a deal with Milintica. They have a spare little island they're letting us use to keep people detained who pose a security risk. To keep them away from Huenya, you see. I'm told it's not even costing us much. The Milinticans are mainly in it for the chance to stick it to the Empire - and to the bad kind of Xiomerans, of course."
"Leave my family alone!" Tlehatzin shouted, trying to stand up.
Imacan laughed. "Tlehatzin, I promise you, your family will spend a very long time on some little island halfway to nowhere, unless you cooperate. I don't even know how long they'll be there - investigations do take frightfully long sometimes. But you're right, the Federation is kind and humane. They'll be well fed, well taken care of, never mistreated. And they won't see their homes ever again, or at least, not until we're both very old men. Unless you tell me every single thing I want to know. It's up to you," Imacan said, before putting his tape recorder back on the table and clicking the "record" button with a firm push of his finger.
Tlehatzin glared at Imacan, and then at the recorder. He sighed.
An hour later, Imacan walked out of the interrogation room, handing his case notes and tape recorder to an analyst. "Begin breaking down the information provided," he said. "I want it ready within an hour to begin using for further investigation."
Imacan turned and walked out of the office, taking the elevator down to the ground floor. He walked out the front entrance of the headquarters, pausing for a moment on the front steps. From this vantage point, he could see a great deal of Ixtenco. You just threatened to use extraordinary rendition on a man's entire family to break a terrorist. Can you live with that? he thought to himself.
As Imacan looked down at the bustling city below him, thinking of the many Huenyans who lived there, and in cities like it across the Federation, his eyes closed. Oh yes. I can live with it. If it keeps others from dying, I can live with almost anything.
---
Chacashu neighborhood, Tacuitapa
Xochihua was a newly minted Blackrobe assigned to the SIPS headquarters in the city of Tacuitapa. The Golden Blade had been especially active in certain neighborhoods of the city. As someone who had grown up in one of those neighborhoods, Xochihua was especially valued for his ability to break down the local situation for the rest of his colleagues. His inside knowledge of those neighborhoods had helped the SIPS make a decisive impact in Tacuitapa.
Xochihua had been pleased to help in that role. Until today.
The SIPS investigative team he was assigned to was going over their morning briefing. There was one raid scheduled for that morning. A local man in the Chacashu neighborhood was suspected of being a terrorist cell leader. As the team leader began the briefing, Xochihua opened the folder in front of him. He saw a face. A very familiar one.
No. Not you. Damnit, Xochihua thought. The face of Otemin was staring up at him from the folder. Otemin had been, almost as long as Xochihua could remember, one of his best friends. The two of them had grown up together in Chacashu, had gone to school together, and lived through the highs and lows of childhood and early adulthood together. Even after the two of them had gone their separate ways for college, they had stayed in touch. Like many people, they had lost touch during the war. He had run into Otemin again after the war, and the two of them had renewed their friendship. But something had seemed different about Otemin to Xochihua. Someone harder, more bitter, had emerged in the spirit of his longtime friend.
"Xochihua? Are you listening?" The voice of the team leader broke his thoughts. "You know Chacashu better than anyone here. Can you help us find this man and take him in?"
After a moment, Xochihua nodded. "Good. Everyone gear up and assemble in the staging area in twenty minutes," the team leader said. As everyone else got up to prepare for the raid, Xochihua looked at the folder again, as if he could change who was inside by sheer willpower.
---
An hour later, the team was arriving outside a house in Chacashu. Speed was of the essence in these raids; anything less would give a target time to either flee or prepare to fight. Without a word, the SIPS team burst out of their black vans. Breaking the front door of the house down, they moved with stunning speed into the building. They were quickly able to round up several people, but the man they were looking for was not among them.
"Target sighted! He escaped out a window. He's heading for the roof!" a voice shouted over the headsets of the SIPS team. "Keep these people detained!" the team leader shouted. Xochihua ran with him and two other SIPS members to give chase. The team leader ordered each of them to take a separate direction and search for Otemin.
Xochihua had a hunch where to look. He ran north, along the fenceline, towards a nearby park. In years past, the two of them had played there. Somehow, he knew his friend would go there.
When Xochihua arrived at the park, he heard a soft whistle. Otemin emerged from behind a statue, waving at him. "Hey Xochi.....nice uniform," he said in an attempt at friendly banter. Xochihua didn't smile or laugh. "Otemin.....what have you gotten into? Why does the SIPS want you? Are you working for the Golden Blade?"
"Why? You're not going to arrest me....you know that, and I know that. We're best friends. Always have been," Otemin laughed. "Remember that time, here in the park, when those older kids were picking on you and I helped you run them off?"
"Otemin.....you've been my friend for years. I love you. But if you've sided with the terrorists, I need to turn you in. Don't make this harder for me, please," Xochihua said, almost begging his friend.
Otemin laughed again. "Okay, man. Make it look good in case your bosses are watching. I get it. But we both know I'm gonna turn and walk out of here, and you'll let me. We'll have a laugh about this later, when I come back around." Otemin turned to begin walking away.
"Stop!" Xochihua shouted. When Otemin turned around, Xochihua was pointing his gun at him. "Don't make me do it. Please. Just sit down and wait for the others to get here." Xochihua had already pressed the panic button hidden inside his sleeve, and the other SIPS agents were just seconds away.
"Are you serious? You're pointing a gun at me? Me?" Otemin shouted. "I've always been there to have your back, man. Ever since we were six years old. And this is how you repay me? You claim to love me? And you're going to hand me over to these traitors calling themselves Huenyans? You're going to betray your best friend, one of your own people, for that joke of a uniform?" Otemin's face was rapidly shifting from disappointment into betrayal and rage. As he saw the other SIPS agents arriving, weapons drawn, Otemin's hand twitched as if to reach into his pocket. "Don't do it," Xochihua said softly. "Why? Are you going to really betray me and shoot me too?" Otemin demanded.
"I will do what I have to do." Xochihua's voice had a tone of sad finality. "Don't do something dumb."
As the other SIPS agents arrived and cuffed him, Otemin glared at Xochihua. "You're a backstabber, Xochi," he said bitterly. "You stabbed me and my family in the back today. Remember all those times you came over and hung out and ate with my family? My parents treated you like one of their own kids," he said. "You stabbed all of us in the back, you stabbed your own people in the back. And everyone in Chacashu is going to know it. Good luck walking these streets ever again," he added as he was marched off. As he was led away, Otemin looked over his shoulder and continued to shout. "You're a traitor. You're a servant of these usurping bastards. You're nothing. You hear me, Xochi? You're nothing," he shouted until he was shoved into a van.
As the door slammed shut and the van sped away, Xochihua looked around the park where he had once played with his friend, in happier times before war and change had shifted Huenya forever. He silently closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them again. The park was the same as it had been when he was a kid, but he knew better. The past was the past. He had a future to live for himself, and a future to help secure for Huenya. And while he had sadness, he had no regrets.
He walked out of the park, leaving it and his memories behind.
The Huenyan Federation had been formed in the spirit of hope and the idealism of a new era. Its supporters, too, naturally saw themselves as the light.
But when the Golden Blade unleashed their reign of terror upon the nascent Huenyan state, those who supported the Federation soon had to make a choice. Texōccoatl, the new Great Speaker, had already made his. Huenya might, someday, be that beacon of light and hope that its most idealistic supporters envisioned and prayed it would be. But with the pragmatism of a soldier, and a man born and bred to rule, Texōccoatl knew what his gentler colleagues such as Vice-Speaker Tiacihitli did not.
The false shine of the Golden Blade was threatening to plunge all of Huenya into chaos, ethnic warfare, and collapse. Texōccoatl would not allow that. He could not allow it. Under his lead, Huenya would do whatever it took to defeat the insurgents and terrorists, ensure the elections in December succeeded, and that Huenya made it to the other side of its season of struggle in one successful piece. Even if that meant Huenya would have to create a force even darker than the terrorists themselves.
Under the Vice-Speaker, Huenya's truth and reconciliation commission, the Committee for National Reunification and Reconciliation, had taken a softer line. Rehabilitation, re-education and cooperation were its order of the day. Under Texōccoatl, the focus would shift. The TRC was, without fanfare, renamed as simply the Committee for National Reunification. Reconciliation was still a goal, to be sure. But those who would not be reconciled to the fact that times had changed in Huenya, and the Xiomeran Empire no longer ruled there, would be dealt with from a position of strength from now on.
The newly re-named CNR would find its powers greatly expanded. It was given its own force of special investigators and prosecutors - the Special Investigative and Prosecutorial Service. The SIPS answered only to the CNR, the Secretary of Justice, and the Great Speaker. The SIPS, on behalf of the CNR, was given full authority to investigate war crimes, and detain suspected war criminals. The SIPS also had the power to arrest anyone suspected of sympathizing with the Xiomeran Empire, or of being insurgents against the Huenyan state. The SIPS would be given its own courts, detention centers and facilities separate from those of the Federal Police or Federal Intelligence Service.
And, in keeping with their role, they had their own uniforms. Most Huenyan police and soldiers had uniforms of varying designs in blue, white and gold, reflecting the national colors. SIPS investigators, judges and prosecutors, however, would don uniforms as black as a raven's wing. The twin insignia of the Huenyan Federation and the CNR's four-pointed star on their collars were the only splash of golden color to break up the stark uniform.
The Blackrobes, as the members of the SIPS quickly came to be known, were as deadly serious about their mission as their uniforms made them appear. If a group of terrorists and insurgents wanted to dabble with darkness, the Blackrobes would be more than happy and eager to indulge them. To save Huenya, of course.
---
SIPS Regional Headquarters, Ixtenco
Tlehatzin smirked. He had been held by the SIPS for several hours now, on suspicion of being a terrorist cell leader for the Golden Blade. The SIPS, along with a contingent of Federal Police, had come storming into his home that morning, special CNR warrant in hand. A bevy of interrogators had come in so far to question him. He hadn't given them a thing.
The latest interrogator, a SIPS senior investigator named Imacan, was the latest to take a shot at it. Imacan had sat down on the other side of the table, and stared at Tlehatzin, unblinking, for several minutes. Tlehatzin refused to be the one to break the silence. Imacan finally sighed. "You are being very stubborn," he said as if disappointed. "We already know you're helping lead the Golden Blade in your neighborhood. I suggest you cooperate now. This has been pleasant, all things considered, up to now. It will not remain so pleasant if you insist on remaining intransigent."
Tlehatzin laughed in response. "I won't tell you anything. And you can't make me. After all, there's only so much you can do, isn't there?" Tlehatzin said smugly. "You're not allowed to torture people. You're not allowed to use drugs in interrogations. No sleep deprivation, no waterboarding - none of the tried and true methods I used when I worked for ASI. So, basically, all you can do is lecture me and imprison me. Your humane and kind Huenyan Federation doesn't let you do the rough stuff," Tlehatzin sneered. "So you've got nothing on me."
Imacan nodded calmly. "You're right. Huenya does not torture or mistreat suspects or prisoners, unlike the Empire. Those are banned practices. So I suppose there is not much I can do to you." He turned to walk out of the room, before looking over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. "Of course, there is the question of others you are linked to. Your father Catleca and mother Panetzina. Your wife Ilalitl. Your brother Tochtlama. Oh, and your three children. I suppose we should begin investigating their possible ties to the Golden Blade now," Imacan said as he began to walk out of the room.
"No one in my family has anything to do with the Blade," Tlehatzin said, sitting upright in his chair with the sneer gone from his face.
"Oh, but a terrorist would say that, wouldn't he? You'd never admit that people close to you were involved with the Blade," Imacan said smugly. "Didn't you just say you wouldn't tell me anything? So I have no reason to believe you. Therefore, I really have no choice but to order them all to be arrested and detained while we investigate. In the interest of national security, of course." Imacan smiled. "But if they hate Huenya as much as you do, don't worry, they won't have to suffer being detained here. We just struck a deal with Milintica. They have a spare little island they're letting us use to keep people detained who pose a security risk. To keep them away from Huenya, you see. I'm told it's not even costing us much. The Milinticans are mainly in it for the chance to stick it to the Empire - and to the bad kind of Xiomerans, of course."
"Leave my family alone!" Tlehatzin shouted, trying to stand up.
Imacan laughed. "Tlehatzin, I promise you, your family will spend a very long time on some little island halfway to nowhere, unless you cooperate. I don't even know how long they'll be there - investigations do take frightfully long sometimes. But you're right, the Federation is kind and humane. They'll be well fed, well taken care of, never mistreated. And they won't see their homes ever again, or at least, not until we're both very old men. Unless you tell me every single thing I want to know. It's up to you," Imacan said, before putting his tape recorder back on the table and clicking the "record" button with a firm push of his finger.
Tlehatzin glared at Imacan, and then at the recorder. He sighed.
An hour later, Imacan walked out of the interrogation room, handing his case notes and tape recorder to an analyst. "Begin breaking down the information provided," he said. "I want it ready within an hour to begin using for further investigation."
Imacan turned and walked out of the office, taking the elevator down to the ground floor. He walked out the front entrance of the headquarters, pausing for a moment on the front steps. From this vantage point, he could see a great deal of Ixtenco. You just threatened to use extraordinary rendition on a man's entire family to break a terrorist. Can you live with that? he thought to himself.
As Imacan looked down at the bustling city below him, thinking of the many Huenyans who lived there, and in cities like it across the Federation, his eyes closed. Oh yes. I can live with it. If it keeps others from dying, I can live with almost anything.
---
Chacashu neighborhood, Tacuitapa
Xochihua was a newly minted Blackrobe assigned to the SIPS headquarters in the city of Tacuitapa. The Golden Blade had been especially active in certain neighborhoods of the city. As someone who had grown up in one of those neighborhoods, Xochihua was especially valued for his ability to break down the local situation for the rest of his colleagues. His inside knowledge of those neighborhoods had helped the SIPS make a decisive impact in Tacuitapa.
Xochihua had been pleased to help in that role. Until today.
The SIPS investigative team he was assigned to was going over their morning briefing. There was one raid scheduled for that morning. A local man in the Chacashu neighborhood was suspected of being a terrorist cell leader. As the team leader began the briefing, Xochihua opened the folder in front of him. He saw a face. A very familiar one.
No. Not you. Damnit, Xochihua thought. The face of Otemin was staring up at him from the folder. Otemin had been, almost as long as Xochihua could remember, one of his best friends. The two of them had grown up together in Chacashu, had gone to school together, and lived through the highs and lows of childhood and early adulthood together. Even after the two of them had gone their separate ways for college, they had stayed in touch. Like many people, they had lost touch during the war. He had run into Otemin again after the war, and the two of them had renewed their friendship. But something had seemed different about Otemin to Xochihua. Someone harder, more bitter, had emerged in the spirit of his longtime friend.
"Xochihua? Are you listening?" The voice of the team leader broke his thoughts. "You know Chacashu better than anyone here. Can you help us find this man and take him in?"
After a moment, Xochihua nodded. "Good. Everyone gear up and assemble in the staging area in twenty minutes," the team leader said. As everyone else got up to prepare for the raid, Xochihua looked at the folder again, as if he could change who was inside by sheer willpower.
---
An hour later, the team was arriving outside a house in Chacashu. Speed was of the essence in these raids; anything less would give a target time to either flee or prepare to fight. Without a word, the SIPS team burst out of their black vans. Breaking the front door of the house down, they moved with stunning speed into the building. They were quickly able to round up several people, but the man they were looking for was not among them.
"Target sighted! He escaped out a window. He's heading for the roof!" a voice shouted over the headsets of the SIPS team. "Keep these people detained!" the team leader shouted. Xochihua ran with him and two other SIPS members to give chase. The team leader ordered each of them to take a separate direction and search for Otemin.
Xochihua had a hunch where to look. He ran north, along the fenceline, towards a nearby park. In years past, the two of them had played there. Somehow, he knew his friend would go there.
When Xochihua arrived at the park, he heard a soft whistle. Otemin emerged from behind a statue, waving at him. "Hey Xochi.....nice uniform," he said in an attempt at friendly banter. Xochihua didn't smile or laugh. "Otemin.....what have you gotten into? Why does the SIPS want you? Are you working for the Golden Blade?"
"Why? You're not going to arrest me....you know that, and I know that. We're best friends. Always have been," Otemin laughed. "Remember that time, here in the park, when those older kids were picking on you and I helped you run them off?"
"Otemin.....you've been my friend for years. I love you. But if you've sided with the terrorists, I need to turn you in. Don't make this harder for me, please," Xochihua said, almost begging his friend.
Otemin laughed again. "Okay, man. Make it look good in case your bosses are watching. I get it. But we both know I'm gonna turn and walk out of here, and you'll let me. We'll have a laugh about this later, when I come back around." Otemin turned to begin walking away.
"Stop!" Xochihua shouted. When Otemin turned around, Xochihua was pointing his gun at him. "Don't make me do it. Please. Just sit down and wait for the others to get here." Xochihua had already pressed the panic button hidden inside his sleeve, and the other SIPS agents were just seconds away.
"Are you serious? You're pointing a gun at me? Me?" Otemin shouted. "I've always been there to have your back, man. Ever since we were six years old. And this is how you repay me? You claim to love me? And you're going to hand me over to these traitors calling themselves Huenyans? You're going to betray your best friend, one of your own people, for that joke of a uniform?" Otemin's face was rapidly shifting from disappointment into betrayal and rage. As he saw the other SIPS agents arriving, weapons drawn, Otemin's hand twitched as if to reach into his pocket. "Don't do it," Xochihua said softly. "Why? Are you going to really betray me and shoot me too?" Otemin demanded.
"I will do what I have to do." Xochihua's voice had a tone of sad finality. "Don't do something dumb."
As the other SIPS agents arrived and cuffed him, Otemin glared at Xochihua. "You're a backstabber, Xochi," he said bitterly. "You stabbed me and my family in the back today. Remember all those times you came over and hung out and ate with my family? My parents treated you like one of their own kids," he said. "You stabbed all of us in the back, you stabbed your own people in the back. And everyone in Chacashu is going to know it. Good luck walking these streets ever again," he added as he was marched off. As he was led away, Otemin looked over his shoulder and continued to shout. "You're a traitor. You're a servant of these usurping bastards. You're nothing. You hear me, Xochi? You're nothing," he shouted until he was shoved into a van.
As the door slammed shut and the van sped away, Xochihua looked around the park where he had once played with his friend, in happier times before war and change had shifted Huenya forever. He silently closed his eyes. After a moment, he opened them again. The park was the same as it had been when he was a kid, but he knew better. The past was the past. He had a future to live for himself, and a future to help secure for Huenya. And while he had sadness, he had no regrets.
He walked out of the park, leaving it and his memories behind.
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