Zippy
08-28-2008, 09:50 AM
A very short short for your consideration and comment.
Thanks,
Zippy. ;)
In Palestine
Terrorism will not be tolerated.
I want to make that very clear from the outset, because, even though I have been blessed (some might say cursed) with great responsibility, I still feel the need to justify myself.
It is a very human need, I suppose, one that a man in my position must by necessity conceal. Justification is a weakness to many, and weakness is not permitted in my line of work.
The other day I had no choice but to order the execution of one of them. They’re fanatics, of course, and this one was clearly a ringleader. One of our inside men – a very experienced and sympathetic agent – gave us all the evidence we needed. Still, I wasn’t happy about it. To a man like me, an army commander more at home in the city than the desert, these people are incomprehensible.
There’s constant infighting, sects, riots; new leaders and followers springing-up weekly until it makes your head spin. The fighting’s been going on for decades, centuries even, long before our peacekeepers arrived, and I don’t doubt they’ll be at it after we’re gone too. They won’t be happy until they’ve killed everyone, and we’re stuck in the middle. All we really are is a temporary focus for their animosity. The one thing they can agree on -- they hate us and want us gone.
What made me unhappy about this one though was that he seemed so reasonable. I realise it’s difficult for anyone whose never met a terrorist to understand, but some of these guys are quite likeable. You don’t become the leader of one of these groups without some degree of charm, or powers of persuasion. By all accounts this one was quite the orator. He’d gathered enough supporters to make the authorities nervous. Upsetting the applecart. Talking about revolution.
He was too clever to take part in any of the violence himself, of course. He was more of a figure-head, a puppet master, stirring up the insurgents with his promises of change. He went out of his way to seem like a peacemaker, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.
Unsurprisingly, his men put up a struggle when they arrested him. The informant led the police to their hideout just outside the city and there was a scuffle. One of them pulled a weapon and injured an officer. The others managed to escape, but the leader came quietly. He knew when the game was up, I’ll give him that much.
Anyway, as I said, he seemed so reasonable. I hate to admit it but the bastard even had me doubting myself for a moment. It just seemed like too much bother all of a sudden. The local authorities here are as bad as the terrorists. These bastard beaurecrats hate us as much as the insurgents do. Doesn’t stop them coming running when they want something, though. I told them to sort it out themselves. If they really thought the poor bugger was a terrorist and deserved to die then they could try the case. They could execute him.
The sly buggers didn’t like that. Didn’t want to lose favour with the plebs. These terrorists are popular among the lower classes. When you haven’t got a pot to piss in revolution starts to look good.
In the end I saw that there was no getting out of it. Still, I couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about the whole thing, as though the sorry episode would come back to haunt me. I won’t be happy if it does, I’ll tell you that much.
The execution went ahead anyway. But to be perfectly honest, I washed my hands of the whole thing.
***
The dust blew down the alleyway, gathering in the rubbish choked gutter. Peter rapped on the door and slunk quickly into the room before anyone noticed him.
“They’re saying that the tomb is empty,” he said breathlessly. “Pilate is going berserk.”
The End.
Thanks,
Zippy. ;)
In Palestine
Terrorism will not be tolerated.
I want to make that very clear from the outset, because, even though I have been blessed (some might say cursed) with great responsibility, I still feel the need to justify myself.
It is a very human need, I suppose, one that a man in my position must by necessity conceal. Justification is a weakness to many, and weakness is not permitted in my line of work.
The other day I had no choice but to order the execution of one of them. They’re fanatics, of course, and this one was clearly a ringleader. One of our inside men – a very experienced and sympathetic agent – gave us all the evidence we needed. Still, I wasn’t happy about it. To a man like me, an army commander more at home in the city than the desert, these people are incomprehensible.
There’s constant infighting, sects, riots; new leaders and followers springing-up weekly until it makes your head spin. The fighting’s been going on for decades, centuries even, long before our peacekeepers arrived, and I don’t doubt they’ll be at it after we’re gone too. They won’t be happy until they’ve killed everyone, and we’re stuck in the middle. All we really are is a temporary focus for their animosity. The one thing they can agree on -- they hate us and want us gone.
What made me unhappy about this one though was that he seemed so reasonable. I realise it’s difficult for anyone whose never met a terrorist to understand, but some of these guys are quite likeable. You don’t become the leader of one of these groups without some degree of charm, or powers of persuasion. By all accounts this one was quite the orator. He’d gathered enough supporters to make the authorities nervous. Upsetting the applecart. Talking about revolution.
He was too clever to take part in any of the violence himself, of course. He was more of a figure-head, a puppet master, stirring up the insurgents with his promises of change. He went out of his way to seem like a peacemaker, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.
Unsurprisingly, his men put up a struggle when they arrested him. The informant led the police to their hideout just outside the city and there was a scuffle. One of them pulled a weapon and injured an officer. The others managed to escape, but the leader came quietly. He knew when the game was up, I’ll give him that much.
Anyway, as I said, he seemed so reasonable. I hate to admit it but the bastard even had me doubting myself for a moment. It just seemed like too much bother all of a sudden. The local authorities here are as bad as the terrorists. These bastard beaurecrats hate us as much as the insurgents do. Doesn’t stop them coming running when they want something, though. I told them to sort it out themselves. If they really thought the poor bugger was a terrorist and deserved to die then they could try the case. They could execute him.
The sly buggers didn’t like that. Didn’t want to lose favour with the plebs. These terrorists are popular among the lower classes. When you haven’t got a pot to piss in revolution starts to look good.
In the end I saw that there was no getting out of it. Still, I couldn’t help but have a bad feeling about the whole thing, as though the sorry episode would come back to haunt me. I won’t be happy if it does, I’ll tell you that much.
The execution went ahead anyway. But to be perfectly honest, I washed my hands of the whole thing.
***
The dust blew down the alleyway, gathering in the rubbish choked gutter. Peter rapped on the door and slunk quickly into the room before anyone noticed him.
“They’re saying that the tomb is empty,” he said breathlessly. “Pilate is going berserk.”
The End.