<span style="font-size:24pt;line-height:100%]Justice is for everyone
The observatory room of every space station was a marvel by itself. The reinforced glass windows were staring upon the empty void of space and its wonders, creating mixed emotions within the guests occupying the room. The spark to explore, passion for discovery or the fear of the unknown, even paranoia crossed the mind of each observer as they stared into infinity from their artificial shelter.
A woman in her twilight years was standing in such an establishment, under her graying hair, her hazel eyes were fixed upon the dark shade of the Walker nebula. She was aging, yet her stance was glorious, proud and determined. Her life-long experience was very well reflected by not only the wrinkles covering her face, but also several scars, permanent marks left by the dangers of space.
She was not alone. A younger, more relaxed, more optimistic companion of hers was also in the room, another woman of the militaristic kind. She placed herself on a bench, smoking a luxurious import cigarette, the spark of life reflecting from her green eyes betrayed that she was yet to experience the meaning of true disappointment. She leaned back and crossed her legs, the boots and green uniform she was wearing made the woman's red hair appear as exotic.
The young lady exhaled the smoke created by her exquisite tobacco, then shook her head.
[color=#33CC00]"Why are you doing this, Lia?"
Untouched by the pause in the silence one could formerly experience, the aging woman replied while maintaining her look at the emptiness.
"A famous leader of yours once said; "every man has a character, and that character is his destiny."
Shocked by the apparently unrelated reply, the uniformed lady narrowed her eyebrows and let off a small, sarcastic grin.
"What are you on about now? What does that have to do with anything?"
The elderly woman now folded her arms and took a deep breath.
"Ilsa... humanity is diverse. Diverse to a degree that is as infinite as the universe we're staring at. Our diversity lies in everyone having both good and bad traits of character yet... the definition of good or bad depends on context as well..."
"No, it doesn't... a good character is what makes one strong. Able to survive in this world. A good character is what's acceptable in the eyes of the major society."
The young woman took a puff from her cigarette.
"There is a balance, Ilsa. Those who are less able to survive, the weak, the slow, the mentally challenged, they too make up for their incompetence in other areas of life. They are all gifted with talents that are only not exploited because society or this world makes them unable to do so."
Again, the soldier responded with a sarcastic grin, now leaning forward.
"Alleged 'values' that don't assist you in survival are no values in this world."
"Think on the larger scale, Ilsa. How can you invent something if no one thinks it would work and thus give you no assistance? How can you grow crops if no one will supply you with water? How can humanity advance if we don't work together? If you're lacking some quality, another person can add to it and in consensus you can achieve twice as much. People are not meant to stand alone! We are meant to work together and compensate our individual drawbacks with working with each other!"
"Lia, how can you say that? You spent most of your life fighting crime already in a police force. You know how humanity works well enough. How can we work together if we're unwilling to do so because of our bad traits, jealousy, xenophobia and emotions overpowering our good ones? What do we achieve by inventing something if each inventor will try to ride off with the invention as his success? Why would humanity work together if it cannot?"
Lia, the graying woman stepped away from the window, slowly starting to walk towards Ilsa, the younger soldier, with fixing her sights on her path.
"You're right. We cannot work together because our negative emotions and talents overpower our positive ones. People form clans, organizations and rings based on that. But that's not the right way... some people are never given a chance to exploit their talents simply because they are not able to survive... not because of the natural dangers, but the greed and aggression of other humans."
"Where's the part about our negative talents being compensated by the positive ones now?"
"I still consider that point valid, Ilsa. However, it's also true that the right people in the right place at the right time can make more progress than one person, or even hundreds could. In many cases, these events are prevented by people who don't see the big picture or don't even bother to do so because they have totally given in to their temptations."
"The strong rule the weak. That's the way of life."
"It shouldn't be so. People with strong brain capabilities but weak physical appearance should be given someone with the opposite qualities to compensate each other as a companion at say, work. A farming space station should be given sufficient protection in the form of fighters, since the farm is the one to produce the nourishment to the fighter pilots as well, in turn protection should be given."
"Such things already exist, Lia... it's called capitalism and the corporate world."
"Which is the source of abuse. Evil. Not everyone can afford the adequate measure to compensate his or her individual characteristic drawback and it doesn't depend on effort or qualifications but mere luck most of the time. But it's capitalism, a system everyone accepts as it has been incorporated into the minds of people for thousands of years. A tool of the said system is the Police force or the Military, who only protect taxpayers."
Ilsa rewarded the line of thought with yet another sarcastic grin. She put her cigarette into the ash tray and quickly lit another.
"But millions of other people are living out there in the colonies. Poor people when it comes to possessions, yet rich when it comes to personality traits. Weak when it comes to equipment, yet strong people when it comes to will and determination. Ironing out these differences, exploiting the full potential these people have but cannot do themselves should not be a matter of tax paying."
The aging woman stood before Ilsa, assuming a dramatic pose.
"Justice is for everyone. I will see to it that it's delivered properly."
Weeks have passed. Freeport 2 did not change. The same empty corridors, the same dirty pubs filled with cutthroats, rebels and marauders, the same bunch of mean-looking security personnel, who were daring enough to remain on the station despite the inferno that evolved around it. The war took its toll on the whole Bering system, not only the said base, the transports that were let through by the military checkpoints on both sides commonly fell victim to the swarm of outlaws and war profiteers infesting the region.
These hellish circumstances made Freeport 2 an excellent vantage point for all who wished to conduct business away from they eyes of the authorities, yet preserve the illusion of positive intent. Such an intent brought Lia Wittmann to the ragged space station, where her former subordinate, Ilsa Kissling was awaiting her arrival.
[font=Comic Sans Ms][color=#33CC00]"Been busy, meine Dame?"
Lia looked around slowly, her face shifted into a frown caused by the disturbing outlook of the bar Ilsa picked as a meeting point. The tables haven't been cleaned for weeks, dirt and empty cans were littered around the area. The bartender has long been replaced by an aging battle robot, one that served the function of service and security at the same time. The flickering lights made the militants sitting near the ladies look exquisitely cruel, it was an unusual surprise that they expressed little interest in Ilsa despite her admittedly attractive looks.
[color=#C0C0C0]"This is but a den of sin. Why couldn't we meet on Hamburg?"
"We can return to that later. For now, please sit down. I'm interested in hearing if this investment was worth the cost."
Lia, the aging vigilante sat down as Ilsa sat back on the considerably uncomfortable chair and lit one of her luxurious cigarettes. This time it was of Gallic origin.
"Yes... yes, I have made some progress. Shot down a few pirate bombers, even got a transport. Liberty is much less secure internally than I had thought... I even ran into a nut I couldn't crack, neither could the authorities as I heard."
"Interesting... name of the nut?"
"She goes by the name of Prentice... Anna Prentice. Though I'm sure it's just a cover or nickname. The authorities prefer to deny it but she's been causing a lot of trouble."
Ilsa exhaled the smoke and placed her cigarette into the ash tray. The men sitting at the nearby table laughed out simultaneously.
"I trust you'll be making the necessary steps to keep her out of Rheinland."
"Your trust is not misplaced, yet your tone is unnecessarily demanding. I will catch her the next time we clash..."
She wiped off some dirt from the table then folded her arms and placed them there, staring at the young officer with her hazel eyes.
"... Same way I will smite down on anyone who dares to bring forth injustice. Today has been the last day when I allowed criminals to live and seek redemption, once someone whom you offered mercy crosses you and abuses it, you make sure you never commit such a mistake again. "
Ilsa responded with a somewhat cruel grin.
"One would think you know that at this age already. You've always been too forgiving, too optimistic for this world, Lia."
"The years at the force taught me a lot. Fighting fire with fire is not the right way, it only sparks new flames."
"But if they come at you with more fire than what water you have, because you told them the quantity of your water... "
"Indeed. You can never trust criminals, once you begin walking down the dark path there's no turning back. And those who show no mercy deserve no mercy. My enemies are the enemies of the world. I will bring back their last words as tokens of their demise. I will show no mercy."
The young woman nodded in approval, lighting another cigarette shortly afterwards.