About the author:
wdhenning joined Wattpad over two years ago as a reader. Soon he tried his own hand at writing fiction, typically in the Science Fiction or Fantasy genres. A retired chemical engineer, previous writing experience included technical and research reports, but not fiction.
Work Spotlight:💡 Medice Ceres is an epic fantasy tale of a young woman (Ceres), skilled in healing and life magic, who sets off to heal the Realm of a deadly Taint. Accompanied by her protector, they find a deeper Darkness, one that seeks her.
Justice: A Villain's Perspective
Justice was a subjective concept, hurled in self-righteous fervor by the weak. In reality, there was only power and consequence.
Gideon Diego leaned back in his leather chair within his private starship, a perk of his prominent position in the Consortium, and watched the performance on a wide video screen. He allowed himself a begrudging respect for Prime Minister Wyatt Wilkes. The man knew how to work a crowd. One Earth year ago to the day, the Sol Empress died in a terrorist attack. Staging the event with the Temple of the New Covenant ruins prominent in the background was a stroke of genius. They couldn't get too close, though, because of the residual radiation from the nuclear attack.
The Prime Minister's expensive formal attire, black with streaks of gold, was carefully selected to portray both bereavement and influence. He ambled about the stage with a limp, aided by a humble crooked wooden cane. The leg wound from a past war injury had long since fully healed, but he kept the limp and the cane since it generated sympathy from the populace.
He spoke eloquently, with glowing praise of Empress Iona and condemnation of the Red Dawn anarchists who assassinated her. His carefully timed pauses implied his own grief, but he felt no such thing. She, in her righteousness, was a thorn in his side, overriding legislation and overturning statues sponsored by the Trade Consortium. The Empress was immensely popular with the people and had spread a demand for justice across the Commonwealth.
That was why she had to die.
The Empress Pro-Tempore, Ali Zahara, stood solemnly and silently to the side wearing the traditional white robe and headgear of the office. The clothing contrasted with her dark brown eyes and olive skin. It was on Diego's insistence that she did not speak at the ceremony, having none of Wyatt's oratory skills. All she had to do was look sad. She played the part well.
Diego long ago learned a valuable lesson that facilitated his rise in the Consortium inner circle. Great power, like wealth, was leveraged from the masses. By careful framing of just the right information and appealing to base desires, the people would grant these to you.
Diego grinned, rubbing his artistically trimmed black beard and mustache. He specialized in one particular base emotion: fear. It was perhaps the most powerful of motivators.
He switched off the video as the speech ended before the memorial flame would be lit. Removing a hand-rolled cigar from a dark wooden box, he brought it to his nose and inhaled the aroma. An old style lighter, clad in pure gold and adorned with artistic etched swirls, provided the flame. He leaned back in the high-backed chair, placing his custom-made leather boots on the polished solid mahogany table, and blew smoke rings toward the ceiling.
He smiled. Only the best...
A woman in a tight red dress stepped into the room. "Sir, the Prime Minister and Empress Pro-Tempore are here to see you."
"Send them in, Claire."
He tilted his head, watching her long blonde hair flip and hips sway as she turned to walk out. These characteristics, and a willingness to provide services much more personal than those normally required of an administrative assistant, were the primary reason he hired her. Destitute and nearly starving, he had rescued her from a hopeless life. Desperation was also a powerful motivator. Though unspoken, the implied threat of being returned to her previous existence persuaded her to demonstrate an expected level of gratitude. He was not without his own gratitude, though. Loyalty was richly rewarded.
