The Inquisition, A Dancer Companion Tale

[GrimJack]

The following is BDV Canon and directly effects the events of The Dancer Season 2

[Pilate]

Eighteen Months Ago…

Shadows and light…his world was nothing but shadows and light.

Pilate stood naked within a column of harsh halogen illumination, while the Chamber of the Inquisition surrounded him in the darkness beyond.

Judgment.

The hypocrisy of the thought nearly drug a chuckle from his throat.

A voice emerged from the dark cloaked in the pompousness of absolute power,
“Simon Peter, you stand before this gathering charged with withholding information and acting outside your authority. You have been made aware of the sentence should you be found guilty?”

Pilate’s chin rose in defiance,
”I have.”

“And do you have anything to add beyond the statement you have provided this court?”, a different voice questioned.

”I do not.”

Silence settled in the darkness as the faceless voices conferred. Finally a third unknown speaker continued,
“You claim that you know nothing of the death of Mary Theresa, the Operative known as Damascus. You claim that the Allied criminal and wanted fugitive Jonathon Mason Bailey, also known as Round Jack Brannigan, died aboard the spacestation Route 66. You claim to have killed this individual yourself. Are these statements accurate?”

His respiration remained constant and not one neuron misfired causing a facial twitch or start along his scarred body.

His lie was perfect,
”With the Almighty as my witness…they are.”

“In reference to witnesses…”

Another column of light roared into existence ten feet to Pilate’s left. The Operative didn’t need to glance over to know that the nude form of Saul…of Barabbas inhabited the pool of illumination.

“Saul, you too are charged with withholding information and acting outside your authority, and you have been made aware of the consequences of a guilty verdict?”

Barabbas’s thickly accented voice dripped with sarcasm,
“For what it is worth, I have.”

“And do you agree with the statements made by your fellow Operative?”

Pilate looked over and met the hate filled gaze of Barabbas. For many seconds the two stared at one another…the muscles of both of their bodies rippling at the thought of the other’s destruction.

“Operative Barabbas, do you agree with the statements of Operative Pilate?”, the voice repeated.

Barabbas turned back to the shadows and voiced his own perfect lie,
“With the Almighty as my witness…I do.”

With a sigh, the voice in the shadows continued,
“Then this trial begins.”


To be continued…

[Pilate]

He imagined that the Archangel Michael beheld a similar view when he reached the lip of Lucifer’s inferno; utter darkness composed the whole world beyond the column of light in which he stood. He was alone, weaponless, and naked against men and women capable of ordering his death.

Beset from all sides, Pilate found strength in his Christ and knew that his course found the Almighty’s approval...for his was a faith incapable of compromise.

Barabbas was somewhere to his left, but the other Operative’s light had been extinguished, while the questioning of the Inquisition focused on Pilate.

“Simon Peter,” a voice slinked from the blackness, “Let us backtrack a bit and see if we can’t display a…a pattern in your approach to your duties.”

Pilate remained motionless, while his interrogator readied his questions.

Finally, the same voice continued, “On a prior occasion, you displayed suspect judgment, when you entered into a colloquial dispute on the moon of Alleluia. The region is closed to Allied law, nullifying your jurisdiction, and a man of high regard in the interplanetary community, Don Amerigo Tenor was murdered during this ev…”

”Self-defense,” interrupted Pilate.

Irritation born from pampered authority bled from the darkness, “According to our reports, your life wa…”

”No my life was never in danger, but those under my care, Allied law officers I might add, fought against an evil, evil man. The challenge for blood came from Don Tenor’s own lips…”

Pilate hesitated for the briefest of moments before continuing, ”Given the amount of fat men dueling on the steps of Parliament, this event shouldn’t sound foreign to the ears in this chamber.”

From the shadows to his left, Barabbas produced a deep-throated chuckle.

A second voice flared into existence in front of Pilate, “Watch your tongue, Simon Peter; you overstep your station!”

”And you overstep yours!”, Pilate retorted.

A few muffled gasps of outrage could be heard until the original voice resumed, “Explain your words, Operative, or this trial is over.”

Pulling himself ramrod straight in the face of his accusers, he spoke from a place of pulpits and prayer, ”A man of God was laid low by Tenor’s own hand…my path was clear. The Lord calls us all to aid our brothers and sisters; He cares not for laws of state or public perception…His is the Word we should all follow. You overstep your station by questioning His design for me.”

“What are you saying, Simon Peter? Are you claiming to be in communion with the Christ?”

”If you are asking whether or not he speaks to me than the answer is ‘yes’.”

Again the voices in the dark devolved into sharp whispers and barely bottled rage.

”He speaks to us all,” Pilate clarified, after a few beats, ”Matthew, Mark, Luke and John saw to that.”

“But you have duties to Parliament,” yet another voice joined the fray, “Economically, the cost of losing you on Alleluia should have been deterrent enough against the course you charted.”

If he had possessed the ability to see through the gloom, Pilate would have seized the speaker’s gaze with his own, ”True…but I am no coward.”

Again Barabbas’s laugh mixed with the outrage from his judges.

Pilate realized that their patience was eroding quickly, so he pressed on, ”What so ever you do for the least of my people…that you do unto me.”

The second angry voice returned with a shout, “Do not presume to preach the Word to us!”

Pilate bowed from the neck, ”Apologies, but by your words, I feared that you had forgotten it.”

This time, Pilate couldn’t help but smile as Barabbas’s booming laughter eclipsed the shouts from the Inquisition.



...to be continued.

[Barabbas]

Moments later, Pilate's light was dark and the Inquisition had turned to the other Operative on the floor of the court.

”And what was your reason for being on the spacestation, Route 66,” one of the voices from the black questioned.

Chiseled from the ebony of false idols, Barabbas’s muscles flexed and bristled in irritation beneath flesh thinner than Shinon parchment, and when he replied the promise of violence rode his words into the chamber, ”I was under orders to investigate the murder of Damascus.”

”Mary Theresa,” the voice corrected.

With a snort, Barabbas rolled his tongue over his white teeth, as if readying them for a meal or a hunt.

”Damascus,” he countered.

Several beats passed as the invisible quorum digested his words, but before they could continue their interrogation, the Operative began his own.

”When do you stand naked on this floor? You create us to uphold the peace of the Alliance, yet when we fall, you do nothing. Nothing to honor us…nothing to revenge,” the honesty of his anger was not lost on anyone in the room, Pilate included.

”Watch your words, Saul or face further charges,” replied a surprisingly sympathetic voice from the shadows.

”Damascus’s murderer is still at large! What are you doing to avenge her!?!,” Barabbas’s hold was slipping, and he was starting down a path paved with chaos and self-destruction…or at least that is how it appeared.

”We will find the person or persons responsible, of that have no doubt.”

”Lies! If your beloved Herod had fallen, the entire fleet would be acting like bloodhounds and there would be no ground safe for the killers!”

”Why did you interfere with Simon Peter’s investigation? You know that Operatives work in separate theaters and sometimes under separate parameters,” one of the more aggressive voices snapped from the darkness.

”I believe you mean separate rules,” Barabbas’s thickly accented voice spat in the direction of the judges.

”Why?”, the voice repeated.

Barabbas crossed his arms in front of his massive chest and remained silent.

”WHY!?!”, the voice repeated.

But the Operative remained silent and his chin rose in defiance, further accentuating his refusal.

”I was outnumbered,” Pilate’s voice emerged from the darkness, and instantly his column of light roared to life.

”Enough!” roared Barabbas.

”It is my belief that he intervened , so he would not have to bury another one of us.”

”Is this true, Saul?”

Lowering his arms to his side, the mighty Operative seemed no less intimidating when he responded, ”Pilate’s logic…is sound.”


...to be continued.

[Pilate]

Naked as babes before the application of swaddling, Barabbas and Pilate awaited their destinies. The Inquisition had taken little time to reach a verdict and apparently they meant to sentence the two Operatives together…perhaps with one being the example needed to right the other.

In his periphery, Pilate could see Barabbas’s head turn to regard him, but his own blue eyes remained keyed on the darkness in front of him, a darkness filled with whispering.

However his own mortality did not occupy his mind; instead he thought of The Dancer, and the people that called the old freighter home. His life, however long it stretched, had been altered by his encounter with Gwyneth Paul’s boat. Before he had blindly followed the orders of his superiors, some of who whispered in the darkness around him, but since his last dance, he had begun to see things with different eyes. The Almighty had a plan for him, and like the guiding angels of old, He had sent The Dancer to Pilate.

The Whisperers of the Inquisition knew not what made the worlds better; they only knew what made them better for them.

But Pilate knew.

It was the souls spinning on them…or dancing above them.

The Whisperers would look for Round Jack despite the testimony of two of their Operatives. Gwen knew to run, to hide, but the ‘Verse was growing smaller by the second…and The Black was having trouble keeping its secrets.

The whispers stopped and The Inquisition settled into silence before his sentence.

Drawing up to his full height, Pilate stood before his judges as a man resurrected, and the last thought to pass through his mind was a simple prayer to his Lord…

‘If it is Your will, let me get back to The Dancer…for they will need me, as much as I need them. Amen.’