Personal Memory Log: 00365
04/07/2463.3
Lewis Lawrence, Orator,
Ministry of Remembrance, 1st Division.

There he sat on the opposite end of the interrogation cell. Walls of reinforced concrete, hidden in darkness, encased our surroundings. A single steel table stood in the centre, illuminated by the concentrated light of a single lit bulb.

I took my seat at the table and dumped a pile of folders on the table, sparking the holographic displays. Images displayed in a rotating slideshow. Each one told a terrible story of horror, death and destruction in the name of justice.

These were his atrocities, his crimes. A single eye glowed red in the dark as he looked up at me. Somehow, I could make out a frown on the man's face. If anything, he just seemed more disappointed. By what madness he found this reaction fitting I could only guess.

"Garros De Culver... Dictator... found guilty of the crimes of betrayal, genocide, violation of interstellar law, the destruction of One hundred and thirty-seven worlds and the extinction of two non-human species. What say you of your crimes?" I began.

From what I could see in the darkness I could barely make out him shrugging.

"Twenty years... it took you that long to achieve victory?"

He leaned forward, revealing his heavy hands and the cuffs that bound them together

"To bring me here bound by chains?"

He sat back, relaxing in his cold steel chair.

"Hmph, honestly I expected it to take ten."

His voice rang heavy and deep in the confines of the cell. It was the nerve-racking voice of a powerful man who excelled at everything he attempted. He even seemed to be amused by his situation.

"What?" I ask.

"You heard me... I foresaw this eventuality. There was no way my Republic could ever win a war against the Coalition. But then victory in battle was not what I needed."

"Then, why do it? A third of humanity's cities lay in ruin. Over seventy-six trillion lives lost. For what purpose was this war waged?" I asked.

The villain before me leaned forward. His face moved out of the shadows. Its pale skin, wrinkled, sharp features and bare scalp seemed almost grey in the glaring light. He smiled grimly, making my skin crawl and gut churn with dread.

"To prove a point." He answered bluntly then withdrew back into his seat and back into the murky depths of his corner.

"A point?"

"Indeed... A point... Namely, morality and by extension justice is a bad joke."

I flinched, this was madness. The insanity seeping from the monster's mouth was repulsive, yet a morbid curiosity sparked with my mind. I shook my head.

"Well, you're a fool. You betrayed your allies and united a galaxy against you. Now only Justice awaits you."

"Oh-ho, heavens no. My friend... my point has already been made."

"I am no friend of yours, you madman. The Coalition stands victorious, the republic has fallen, your people lay dead on a thousand worlds, and all you have left is the executioner's tally. You have lost, Garros. It is time to face the facts."

"Any man who can sit at the table with his enemy and truly listen is a friend of mine."

I sensed almost nothing. The man seemed practically unconcerned about the situation he was in. It was irritating, revolting almost. Here he sat before me, a criminal, a murderer, a warlord and here he is calling me friend? This is madness, the madness of a man so lost in his dreams who refuses to face reality.

Nevertheless, I must see this through to its end. I must know this story. I swallowed a ball of my spit and grounded myself. I look at him, taking in all I can, preparing my next question and the fresh madness its answer will bring.

Then his single red eye stared at me once again piercing to my very soul with a predatory curiosity. For several long, arduous moments his eye stared into my own. I stared back, frozen, fixated on that daft red eye. Then his eye finally moved on.

"Tell me... You think me a monster?"

"After what you've done? Of course!"

"You would refuse me this testimony?"

"I would not."

"Very well... Begin."

I sifted through my files. Ever the gruesome record of crimes and atrocities committed over the twenty-year course of the war. I frowned as I considered the prospect of going over every single bloody one of the hundreds of thousands in detail with the creature I now face.

This is an arduous and gruelling duty to be sure, but someone must do it. No, I must do it. For far too long the annals of history have been written by the victors. For the first time in history, the words of the vanquished shall not fall on deaf ears.

Those who do not learn history are doomed to repeat it. I shall record this and give a truthful account of this monster. With luck and a little wisdom, this knowledge I collect might prevent another from ever rising up in Garros' image.

Eventually, I find my way to the earliest account of his crimes and begin the good work.

"The Battle of Yanshi. 12/02/2443.4... The spark of the war. Why target the Universal Rights Convention?"

"Hmph, the Universal Rights Convention like many of its kind throughout mankind's history was a facade... Another treaty or worthless paper to placate the masses while the few quietly stole from the many? No! To answer your question... it was convenient."

"How could you be sure of any of this? Where's your evidence?"

"My agents were resoundingly successful that day. I was one button press away from showing the truth on every holo-display from Earth to Corvus Reach. Then something dawned upon me in that one moment as I saw my enemies whither away before me."

His red eye looked away in apprehension as he paused.

"Nothing would ever be that simple."

"Perhaps if one could realise that the pen is mightier than the sword they might never take up arms."

"Ha! Well said my friend but no."

Again, as he fell silent, his inhuman red eye stared into my soul.

"I have held onto that conviction for far too long. The pen may be mightier than the sword, but that is only so long as one has ink."

I leaned back in my chair, sighing with frustration. I folded my arms, and I pinched the bridge of my nose as I closed my eyes, trying to remember what I wanted to know. Then it struck me. I confronted him, levelling my face with his.

"What drove you to do this? What forced your hand?"

At that moment that red-eye twitched. Some manner of wonder or bewilderment now showed in its soulless glow.

"Morality tied my hands. The values I was once addicted to inevitably held me back while the supposed masters of morality surged ahead to usurp all that we all held dear. I had to show them; I had to show everyone the truth."

"What truth?"

"The leaders of the Interstellar Community, these supposed masters of planets, nations and federations. They could wipe out a planet with barely a hint of personal repercussion... How do you think they achieved that power? Hearts and Minds? Gifts of grain for the poor? Of course not!"

"Why didn't you just show us? The data was in your hands. You could have exposed everything to the galaxy and be hailed a hero. Why the war?"

"Hmph, it was never that simple."

"You had to prove once and for all, to the entire galaxy that these people were the monsters you saw them as."

I would sense a smile growing on Garros' face.

"And a cornered beast always reveals its true colours."

"So you destroyed most of the galaxy to force your enemies to show their true selves to it?"

The madman let out a small chuckle.

"Indeed... and it is working perfectly. Far beyond my lowly expectations."

I raised an eyebrow.

"Working perfectly?"

"All the pieces are in place. From the enslaved denizens of Pittram V to the suppressed masses of Colonia Tarentina, even the super soldiers of the Praetorian Project... in your masters' hour of desperation, the truth has shown itself a dozen times over. Tell your masters this."

He leaned in closer, smiling with grim satisfaction.

"Prepare your lies; the real war starts now."

-//-

Absolute Memory Log: 00366
04/07/2463.3
Lewis Lawrence, Orator,
Ministry of Remembrance, 1st Division.

Later I found myself in the next room, staring at a screen as it showed a video feed from Garros' cell. It was not long before I opened a small fridge built into the wall next to me. Inside it was row upon row of water bottles — each one, freshly sealed and appetising. I took one and opened it.

Exhaustion ate at me as I closed the fridge, not moving my eye from the screen before me. I took my first sip of the water. It flowed into me; cold and refreshing. With a gasp of relief, I removed the bottle from my mouth. Screwing the cap back on I held onto the bottle

Still, I stared at him — my subject of curiosity. There he sat, in the dark. Ever waiting, seemingly eternally patient. Though the enhanced vision of the cameras I could see him. A bald, scared man of bulging muscle, withered by years of aging. Barely moving, always waiting.

Whether he heralded the end of my universe, it didn't matter. He has become one of the most influential people in history. I must record as much as I can before his execution is enacted.

"You ought to examine his corpse if you're so damned curious." croaked unwelcomed company.

I turned about to find a familiar little man standing out in the sterile stone of the room. I looked down and bowed my head politely with a thin smile.

"Many thanks for the offer, General Hudson. However, when I'm through with him, I think I'll be sick of his face."

He tapped his cane on the stone floor.

"Ha! Well said dear boy, well said." He said with a smile.

I bowed my head showing appreciation of his words with that smile of mine.

He held his cane behind his back with both hands and walked past me, staring at the screen. He stopped, and I took in his whole person with a single glance — old, small, grey-bearded, broad, hunched over and no more than five feet tall. He was dressed in his uniform with a beige tunic, white, beaked cap, shirt and trousers.

He pointed his cane up at the screen.

"Serves you right you damned monster! Bet you didn't see this coming you ill-gotten parasite!" He cried out triumphantly.

He sighed, put his cane against the floor and leaned on it like the old man he was.

"You're all that keeps that thing out of hell. Practically lobbied for your chance to meet the bastard... Er, tell me, my young, foolish child... is it worth it?"

A well of pride sprung in my gut as I answered perhaps too eagerly.

"Yes, it is."

He turned to face me, his eyes staring up into mine. His testing attitude changed into one sad and solemn. It was as if the man was mourning. I had never seen this from the strange aging general before. It was both discerning and refreshing.

"Whatever you do... make sure it's one for the history books. Lost a lot of good men to that creature."

I nodded. He touched his cap close to his temple with the top of his cane and then pushed the cane forward in a casual salute. He turned about and was about to walk but paused.

"Did it even give a reason for its war?"

"All he said was that he had a point to make," I remarked.

"A 'point to make' eh?"

The General then broke out into a disturbing fit of laughter and carried on. He waved his cane in the air.

"Remember, Lawrence! One for the history books!" He yelled as he walked.

I waved my goodbye to him while I watched him disappear around the corner.

I was a little surprised he remembered my name — a general such as he was in command of thousands. If ever there was a standard unit in the coalition it would be the Army or Fleet with its General or Admiral. Such individuals have little time to think of the small details such as a mere Orator's name.

-//-

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