Telah

Telah, otherwise known as: TOI 700 D. Located within the Boötes Constellation.

Telah is the home of the Jinn, Intelligent, Robotic, Omnipotent, Futuristic, Technological, Humanoids. Otherwise known as: Jiroft.

Jihad's ship landed within the capital city: The Burnt City.

The once proud champion dragged himself out of his ship.

" Help… "

The two guards beheld the sorry state of their once unbeatable champion.

Jihad was not taken to a doctor. The Jiroft are a proud people - a warrior race. They do not accept weakness - they remove weakness. But it was not up to the guards to pass judgment. That right was reserved for the queen.

As Jihad was being dragged towards the throne. The once cheering people - booed and cursed his name and existence.

" Just kill me… "

" In do time " said the grinning guard.

The broken champion was thrown before the queen.

And there she sat:

the Queen of the Jiroft - Ardat Lilî.

Jihad dared not look upon the queen's otherworldly beauty. A Face That Once Launched a Thousand Spaceships.

" Our champion " said Ardat Lilî, not trying to hide her disappointment.

Jihad was on all fours. He looked at the floor, as some of his wounds were still dripping blood.

" Look at you " said the queen, as the booing intensified; " you have fought our wars. Conquered our enemies. Made our race the most feared throughout all of creation… Now look at you. Weak. Beaten. Pathetic. "

Jihad had no words to utter.

" Look at me "

Jihad dared not.

" Look at me! "

Jihad slowly lifted his gaze.

There she was. A queen. A goddess. Both feared and desired. Her smooth raven hair. Skin like marble. Eyes bluer than the sky. And a voice which could put sirens to shame.

Ardat Lilî leaned closer, as Jihad feared what was about to happen.

The queen gently held the champion's face in her soft hand.

" You will suffer " said Ardat Lilî, calmly; " you have brought shame upon us and yourself. Death would not be enough. You shall rot in the dungeon. Bearing the mark of shame "

The guards held Jihad down, as the queen took hold of the hot iron.

The once champion cried out in pain, as the outlookers cheered on.

Jihad was thrown away. Bloody. Beaten. Branded.

Death would truly have been a mercy. But it was not so.

The queen sendt doctors to make sure that Jihad survived.

When Jihad refused food and drink: hoping to starve to death. The guards were simply ordered to shove the nutrients down his throat.

Days? Months? Years? Jihad had no idea how much time had past. Time seems to move slower and faster when one suffers.

Was this hell?

No.

Hell would be like paradise compared to this.

" You seem troubled, " said an elder Jiroft inmate.

Jihad paid the old man no mind.

Things went on. The guards constantly teasing and insulting Jihad, while the old man tried to make conversation.

There was also a third element.

There was a female guard. Who was actually kind to Jihad.

" I hear that she is a fangirl "

Jihad looked at the old man.

" Finally! Progress!! "

Jihad giggled.

" Even more progress! "

The female guard, Jasmine, always brought some food for Jihad to eat; when the other guards had had their fill of his.

She did not say much. Not that she had too. Jihad felt like they were communicating; when they locked eyes.

Jihad even opened up to the old man. They talked about philosophy, history, and redemption.

Well… it was more the old man who talked about redemption. Jihad talked about revenge.

He had served his people dutifully… and this was his reward? No. The brand still felt hot on Jihad's chest. The pain would not go away.

The sound of a bomb echoed.

" What in blazes…? " said the old man.

Jihad stood alert.

A rebel force had made their way into the prison. Like Jasmine, they were also fans of Jihad. And they could no longer stand to watch him rot in prison. That is not to say that the guards would make it easy. All hell broke loose. Blood, gunshots, and death was everywhere.

A guard broke into Jihad's cell.

" Early release " said the guard, as he pointed his gun at Jihad.

A shot went off, and the guard fell to the floor: dead.

Jihad smiled, as Jasmine was holding the smoking gun.

Another shot went off. Jihad looked on in horror, as Jasmine fell to the floor: dead.

" Damn filthy guard, " said the rebel.

Jihad held onto the one person: who had actually been kind to him.

" Sir " said the rebel, excitedly; " we have come to free you "

Jihad shot the rebel dead with Jasmine's gun.

He then freed the old man.

" Always the good ones… " said the old man, as he looked upon Jasmine. For she too had been kind to him.

Jihad, carrying Jasmine's gun, made his way to a spaceship: along with the old man.

A spaceship occurred, off they went.

The old man did not see it. But for the first time in his life - a single tear ran down Jihad's cheek.