The Executioner

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. That’s what they told me when I was appointed High Executioner for the Galactic Empire. I soon found out that was a bold-faced lie. It will be easy, they said, and painless for the condemned. Those slated for execution were to be jettisoned from Ares X prison hold, one of the largest penitentiary satellites in the Ganymede Galaxy. As the appointed High Executioner for the Galactic Empire, I was expected not to just observe from the safety of the porthole in the hold, I had to don a flight suit and float out into that nothingness and serve as a witness.

How the prisoners died in space was truly horrific they perished by boiling first before freezing, their lungs unable to function, leading to paralysis and ultimately dying. But it took a while for that to take effect, leaving the victim screaming into the emptiness of space. Unfortunately, right into the speaker in my suit. It was less impersonal than being safe behind those doors, and every time I had to harden my heart to life being taken so brutally.

“Execution of prisoner number eight oh five oh to commence at five hundred hours,” came the tinny voice in my headset.”

“Execution approved,” I confirmed, “Clear to open hatch in five minutes.”

From inside I could hear the prisoner pleading for his life, begging my assistant not to open the hatch, that he was innocent, he didn’t do anything. My assistant remained impassively silent and I was glad they were one of the more stoic races found on the Ares X.

“Please, please,” he tried, “I don’t even know why I’m here! It was just a little theft. Nothing big.”

At that point I intervened.

“Prisoner eight oh five oh, you have been convicted of the theft of the Genji royal jewels. That has been deemed an inexcusable act, punishable by death. The High Council has passed their decree and it will be completed today,” I said firmly, “Please, assistant, open the hatch in three minutes.”

There was an answering grunt and I smiled to myself. Always dependable, those Qheni. They were an interesting race, standing an intimidating seven feet tall, their faces implacable, barely any expressions that I had ever seen. Short of words and certain in their actions, when asked who I wanted as my assistant executioner, I immediately said Jax. They were the best choice, having served years in the Galactic Empire army and saw whatever their job was through to the end.

I watched the time tick down on the screen in my helmet and gave the order to open the hatch, once I made sure Jax was clear of the room. The hatch flew open and the void of space sucked the man out into space. I listened to him scream as he flew into nothingness until his lungs paralyzed and he stilled, arms stopping their useless flailing.

“Time of death oh five hundred and five,” I recorded, “Jax, confirm.”

“Confirmed, High Executioner.”

I smiled wryly. Only a Qheni would insist on calling me by my title, even though we had known each other for years. I had long since given up insisting they call me by my given name. It was like talking to a tree.

“I’m coming in,” I announced and the hatch opened where my anchoring cord pulled me in.

As I was going through the decontamination station, after peeling off my suit and tossing it into the incinerator, I received a call. It was surprising to be summoned straight from decontamination, but I threw on my black robes and head cover as quickly as possible, donning the white mask of the executioner. Making my way through the labyrinth of hallways I moved easily, familiar with the complex layout of the station until I reached the chambers of the Council. I paused outside of the chamber, taking a deep breath to compose myself before knocking surely and loudly on the door, announcing my presence.

The door swung open and I entered, back straight, posture confident, even though I felt anything but. The five members of the Council sat a few meters away and I approached them, stopping within what would be deemed an acceptable distance.

The Council leader, a thin, regal Bhoengi, his normally placid feathers fluffed up, as though he had recently had an altercation with someone peered down at me from his high spot above the rest of the Council.

I bowed my head respectfully, addressing the Bhoengi.

“You summoned me, High Councilor Jaretti?” I said, keeping my eyes on the ground. From above, the Bhoengi sniffed.

“I did not, High Executioner, Farraday,” he said, voice disdainful, and I chanced looking up. The birdlike features were impassive, but his feathers told a different story.

“It was I,” came the high-pitched voice to his right and I winced, bowing my head in the direction of the Elleal, another elegant creature, this one tall and aquiline, her scales shifting in color, also giving away her emotions, “I wished to speak with you on the topic of the child.”

If not for the mask my own expression would have given away my feelings on this particular subject. I also kept my body language neutral.

“Yes, ma’am?” I hedged, trying to buy time and she huffed, her scales flashing dangerously.

“You know exactly what I am speaking of, High Executioner,” she snipped, “The child you let go. You realize how dangerous she was.”

“I apologize, High Councilor, Ustrala,” I kept my head bowed, “She was just a child. Not even ten years old.”

“Be that as it may, you acted in direct violation of a decree of the High Council of the Galactic Empire,” she continued, “You have no authority to make decisions. You are given an order and you follow it without question.”

“I’m sure High Executioner Farraday had her reasons for not executing the child,” Jaretti interrupted, “Even if they were based on emotions rather than reason.”

“I propose a vote,” Ustrala said, straightening in her chair and folding her hands on the desk primly, “I vote High Executioner Farraday be stripped of her command and title and exiled to Polaris III.”

My blood ran cold. I knew Polaris III all too well. Jaretti had found me there, acting as a paid assassin for those who could afford it. I remember being out on an assignment, dressed from head to toe in dark blue, about to strike, when a taloned hand grabbed me by the arm, forcefully pulling me away. It was then the Councilor offered me a job as an executioner. Back then, he had been a lowly Estate Councilor, but we had both raised ourselves to the positions we held today.

I wanted to protest, there were too many people on Polaris III who wanted my head. Judging by Ustrala’s pleased flashing of blue to green scales, she was well aware of that fact. I waited with my heart in my throat as the rest of the High Council cast their votes.

Two for exile, four for continued post. I could see Ustrala’s anger before she exploded, pointing furiously at Jaretti.

“You have turned the Council against me, Jaretti!” she accused and his feathers actually smoothed down. He had been expecting this outcome.

“I did nothing of the sort, Councilor Ustrala,” he said calmly, “It was your own idea to bring this matter before the High Council. The others and I did not speak about this beforehand. Perhaps it is because we prefer to deal with situations like these in a more civilized way.”

He folded his taloned hands over each other and looked at her with those unreadable black eyes.

“Perhaps you wanted to find a scapegoat for your own activities, Councilor,” his voice turned syrupy sweet and I recognized that tone. It was a tone that meant he had won. Whatever political power grab the Elleal had tried to make had been headed off before it could even start.

“My activities?” she spluttered, and by now I was looking up directly at the Council, each one of them enraptured by the practically Shakespearian scene unfolding in front of them.

“That is correct,” Jaretti continued, “I would like to bring forward to the Council evidence that High Councilor Ustrala contrived an excuse to accuse the child, heir to the Zuraxon throne, of plotting the assassination of her closest living relatives. Fortunately for myself and High Executioner Farraday,” he cut his gaze to me silently warning me not to say anything, knowing I had been in on the plan, “We realized the duplicity of your actions, Ustrala and were able to thwart it before the execution took place. If the Zuraxon child, the only heir to the throne were to be executed, the throne would stay empty for years before they would be able to fill it. And that, my dear Ustrala, is where you would swoop in and take control of the kingdom.”

Jaretti tutted, shaking his head in disappointment. Even though it wasn’t directed at me, it still felt as though I were the one being chastised.

The rest of the Council murmured amongst themselves, growing increasingly agitated.

“You said you had evidence, Jaretti,” Ustrala sniffed, looking at him disdainfully, “Where is this evidence?”

Jaretti rose from his chair regally and gestured to the door. It swung open revealing Jax who had to duck in order to get in the room. Even with the mask and robes I would recognize their height and gate anywhere.

“The assistant executioner?” Ustrala scoffed, “You don’t expect us to believe someone who works for our High Executioner do you?”

I stared at Jax in horror. How dare Jaretti bring Jax into this situation?

“Tell us, Assistant Executioner, what did High Councilor Ustrala say to you prior to the execution of the Zuraxon princess?” Jaretti asked, and Jax stood straight and proud. The Qheni did not lie and everyone in the chamber knew it.

He spoke in a clipped tone.

“High Councilor Ustrala instructed me to be the one to execute the Zuraxon princess without consent of High Executioner Farraday. High Councilor Ustrala told me to make it appear as though another prisoner killed the Zuraxon prisoner due to a jail break,” he stated, staring straight ahead, “I brought this to attention of High Executioner Farraday and together we made the decision to release the princess from our hold.”

They fell silent and the members of the High Council looked at each other.

“What do you mean you decided to release her?” Ustrala’s voice raised in pitch and Jax stared back at her, not cowed.

“I do not believe I have to explain our decision to you,” they said, turning their head towards Ustrala whose flashing red scales clearly displayed her anger. I never understood why they allowed someone with such a volatile temper to join the High Council, but I was starting to get an idea with how she was treating the death of a princess.

Following Jax’s lead, I straightened and looked directly at the Council members.

“As my Assistant said, we do not have to explain the decision as to why we spared the life of a ten year old child,” I said, pleased I was able to keep the trembling out of my voice. Jaretti would have been disappointed to witness that kind of weakness in his protege.

The other Council members murmured amongst themselves for a moment before Catain, a fellow human, stood from his seat.

“I would like to put forth another vote, colleagues,” he said, voice soft but firm. This was a man not to be trifled with and he was one of the few I respected on the High Council other than Jaretti.

“I say we vote on the punishment for high treason committed by High Council Member Ustrala,” he proposed, looking down the row at the angrily flashing Elleal, whose scales were rapidly turning every shade of the rainbow, “The same verdict the High Coucilor proposed for our esteemed High Executioner Farraday. Death or exile.”

“I concur,” Jaretti replied, tapping the table with a talon, “If High Councilor Ustrala would please leave the chambers while we take our vote.”

The Elleal stood, sharp teeth baring at the other members of the High Council.

“Whatever you vote, you will regret it,” she snarled before storming out of the High Council chambers, her normally gracefully controlled gait gone. I felt the threat was not made lightly and whatever backup plan she had for either decision would not end well for anyone here.