by Trevor Wyatt
“Screaming is not going to help your case woman,” says the interrogator to my ears. “So, if I were you, I’d start talking.”
I look up. I’m in a small interrogation room in the TAIOC section of the building. The room has a table in the center, with chairs on both sides. I sit in the prisoner’s side, while my interrogator is standing in the corner, classic interrogator style.
The interrogator works for Armada security—not a contract staffer, but an actual officer. As early as when he started questioning, I knew that he didn’t have the necessary clearance to know about my work. Hence, I had to maintain my cover. It sucks to be held prisoner by the very organization that you’re working for.
As what his name pin says, his name is Chuck. His shoulder patch tells me he’s a lieutenant. Definitely not cleared high enough.
“Look, Chuck, I’ve told you that I’m not saying anything until my lawyer shows up,” I say. “Because all I’ve done is protect your officers from being butchered by Separatists. That bomb would have killed you if I hadn’t been here.”
The man is tall and handsome. He has saltpeter hair that gives him that rebellious look that charms a lot of women. If I weren’t already in love, I may have been charmed.
There’s an overhead light bulb that barely lights up the room. The edges of the room are in partial darkness. The door is black and is on the right corner of the room. There’s a window ahead of me where I can see armed Marines standing guard.
If I didn’t know Terran Armada security protocols in cases such as this, I might have been scared as shit. Everything I can see, feel and touch and hear in this room is designed to get me to break.
I know that the rules prevent anyone from harming me. Torture is an illegal means of interrogation, so I know I’m not going to be broken.
I’m not afraid of being tortured—heck, I’ve been tortured a few times. Once, deep in the Outer Colonies. Another time by the Sonali, during the Earth-Sonali war, though that was in a Sonali occupied Terran base. I had been sent in to spy on troop’s movement on the base. The only way I could get the information we needed to mount a take back mission was if I got inside.
Ergo, I had to get caught.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t get out soon enough to not be interrogated. But fortunately, I was able to get the information the Armada needed to invade. Long story short, we took the base, I was set free, and got yet another award for bravery as well as another sharp rebuke from Shane for recklessly putting my life in danger.
I wonder what he’d think now if he found out that the mission he sent me on had landed me in Armada custody as a criminal. This mission sure is full of ironies.
So, no, I’m not fazed by the black door, or the darkness designed to disorient, or the cool air designed to accentuate feelings of depression, and hopelessness or the claustrophobic space partnered with the marines on sight deigned to convey the sense of imprisonment. It’s meant to tell you, “Hey, you are our prisoner and you can’t escape; get ready for prison time if you don’t talk.”
And the tall, handsome officer offers you a way out if you’d just talk. Well, he’s been at it for quite some time. I’m not going to give him even a sliver of information.
The man sits on the chair. “Look, we have you on assaulting a Terran officer. We have you on murder. We have you on treason. And I’m pretty sure we can tie you to the Separatists. That’s more than a hundred years imprisonment, and trust me with the latest advances in correctional facilities, you will serve your time to the full.”
I keep my face straight.
“So, help me help you,” he says in an entreating tone.
“I am not after you. I am after the murderers that killed the Marines and other security operatives in the hallway and all those aliens. For whoever is responsible for that blast.
I’m looking for someone to hang for this.”
He speaks as though he’s talking to a co-conspirator.
“The Terran Union needs someone to hang for this. I wouldn’t want for a pretty girl like you to be it.”
He pauses to see if I’m following. I nod my head innocently as though I’m honestly following his drivel.
“I can get maybe sixty or seventy years shoved off your probable sentence,” he says in a low tone. “And if you’re well behaved, you can get out after maybe fifteen, twenty years. What do you say?”
“What do I say?” I ask.
He nods expectantly.
“What do you say?” he says.
I sigh and shake my head in pity.
“I say you’re a dumb fuck for thinking I’ll eat that shit you’re selling.”
I watch as his face turns a deep shade of red with anger. He gently gets up to his feet and comes over to my side of the table. He sits down on the table, facing me.
“You think this is funny?” he says.
“I think I want to speak to my lawyer,” I hiss.
He leans into my face and says, “You fucking cunt, I’ll—“
I blink twice, then slam my forehead into his face and then onto his chest, sending him flying across the room and smashing into the glass ahead.
I slide the pin I’ve just sneakily snagged off his shirt into my mouth, even as the marines burst into the room and head butt me with their weapon. They don’t stop. The kick me and punch me and smack their weapons onto my body, until I’m sputtering blood.
“Enough!” Chuck says.
I’m convulsing on the ground, doing all I can to keep the pin in my mouth.
“I said enough!” Chuck roars.
They stop.
“Get out of here!” he shouts.
They snap to attention and march out of the room, banging the door behind them.
Chuck helps me back to my seat. I avoid his gaze, feeling my nanites get to work on fixing my body. I begin to feel an analgesic agent pooling in my blood, dulling the throbs of pain.
Chuck says, “Allow me to apologize for my colleagues. They lost a lot of good men today, trying to quell the terrorists’ attack. You will forgive them.”
I turn to flash him one of my deadliest glares.
“Your team just assaulted an innocent woman on Terran Union soil. I’ll have your asses!”
Then, I spit in his face.
He doubles back, anger fleeting across his face. I can see that he wants to clap back at me, but he hesitates and pulls out a handkerchief and wipes his face instead.
“You’re many things, woman,” the man says, “but you and I know that innocent isn’t one of those things.”
The moment he walks out, I relax with a soft exhalation.
The effects of the narcotic agent working in my blood begin to lull me to sleep. I doze off a couple of times until another man enters the interrogation room.
This man is a smartly dressed officer of the Terran Armada, wearing a clean white ceremonial garbs.
I look at his face and my heart skips a beat.
He smiles warmly at me, the very air of his presence causing the hairs on my nape to stand on end.
“Captain,” I say, reverence filling my voice end to end.
“Commander,” the man replies with a curt nod. He looks from me to the glass window to the splutter of blood trailing the ground.
“Rest assured, I will have those marines court-martialed.” he says.
“That won’t be necessary, sir,” I reply. “They were only doing their job.”
“Like you, I guess,” he says.
I’m about to reply in the affirmative, before I catch my tongue.
I smile.
He smiles back. He’s as handsome as the stories go. His soft features are nothing to match his nerve-of-steel reputation.
He sits on the chair.
“In case you’re wondering, I’m here for the summit, but then I was called due to a security breach. Then the bomb that just went off in the south tunnels. Right as soon as Armada Intelligence informed me they had a high value defector heading to The Seeker for immediate shu
ttle to Earth. Imagine my surprise when I’m informed immediately after that by the Terran Armada that one of the leaders of the terrorists responsible is a highly-decorated intelligence officer.”
I don’t reply. I merely keep my gaze straight. I know my mission is off the books. This means I can actually go to jail.
And the bomb went off, so I probably am really going to jail. After all, I did help terrorists gain access to the Terran Armada Administrative Building.
“So,” Captain Montgomery says. “Are you ready to talk?”
Chapter 17
Jeryl
As I walk to the holding cell of Anika Grayson, I realize that I'm pissed.
Pissed and puzzled.
When I got the message that my presence was requested I took the liberty of perusing the prisoner's service record—well, the few sections that weren’t confidential anyway.
And I'm puzzled. Ms. Grayson has clearly been an asset to Terran Armada for years.
In fact, the oddest part is that apparently six months ago, she uncovered a plot by Pro-Ascension Sonali to frame Terrans for an assassination of one of their leaders. It sounds like that was one class-A cluster fuck.
I see a few notations about disciplinary action taken due to "overzealous" conduct. To some, that might raise a red flag or two but not to me.
The war may be over, but now I find myself navigating the equally dangerous waters of diplomacy.
And in both circumstances I've found that making "the right" decision is not as black and white as most people would like to believe.
No, I've been through too much, made too many bad calls myself to judge someone else for making poor decisions.
Besides, something doesn't smell right about this. How do you go from a dedicated Terran agent to a traitor in a few short months?
No, I'm not buying it; I call bullshit.
The deadly attack in the lobby and the bomb blast in the tunnels is now being treated like an act of war.
But something else is going on here, something just under the surface. Call it a hunch, but I have a feeling there is going to be more than meets the eye and Ms. Grayson is involved.
I'm two steps away from entering the prison block when my irritation flares again. I'm here for the Summit but I'm getting called over to look into today’s attack. I'm not sure what they expect by sending me here, but as the "Avenger of the Mariner," I'm the new mascot of the Terran Armada.
I heave a sigh.
So, my "job" is likely to make an appearance so that security can say they were visited by the Great Captain Jeryl Montgomery. Well, let's show them what this figurehead can do.
I take the last two steps bringing me inside the security room where the prisoner is being held.
There was a headshot of Ms. Anika Grayson in her file; however, seeing her in the flesh takes me off guard. She's beautiful, but that's not what gets me. It's her eyes.
They watch me with predatory calculation.
She's not scared. Not even a bit nervous.
Most people in interrogation would be fidgeting, worried, stressed. She's not even breaking a sweat.
What I'm seeing tells me there’s a lot more to Ms. Grayson and the reason why she's here.
I approach the cell.
“Captain,” she says as she sees me walk in.
“Commander,” I reply, looking around the room and cocking one eyebrow at the trail of blood I see on the floor. “Rest assured, I will have those marines court-martialed.”
“That won’t be necessary, sir. They were only doing their job.”
“Like you, I guess.” I let my words sink in before I continue. “In case you’re wondering, I’m here for the summit, but then I was called due to a security breach. Then the bomb that just went off in the south tunnels. Right as soon as Armada Intelligence informed me they had a high value defector heading to The Seeker for immediate shuttle to Earth. Imagine my surprise when I’m informed immediately after that by the Terran Armada that one of the leaders of the terrorists responsible is a highly-decorated intelligence officer. So…are you ready to talk?”
Silence.
"Ms. Grayson," I continue after a long silence, "As much as I'd love to crack a joke about a girl like you in a place like this, I think I should skip the banter and just get straight to it, don’t you agree? It’ll be easier for both of us."
She nods.
"Good, so may I ask why a decorated Terran officer—one who was a hero on Sonali Prime a mere six months ago—suddenly turns into a traitor?"
"Money," she says like it's a punchline to a joke. But I'm not laughing.
"Money?" I ask, arching a bow.
"Yeah," she says in a disinterested drawl, "is there a better reason?"
"Armada not paying you enough?"
"No, not really."
She puts her knees up, circling them with her arms. As I watch, she lays her head sideways on the crook of her arms. She closes her eyes.
I can't believe it!
Except that I think this is all part of her act. Her cover. She needs to play the role of the disinterested traitor, too mixed up in her own avarice to care what anyone thinks.
"So, what are the Tyressians paying you?"
She opens her eyes and sits up.
"Enough," she says, smirking. "Plus a bonus if I finish early, but looks like that part isn't going to happen."
She puffs, blowing a bit of hair from her face. Then, she resumes her position with her head on her hands. Her eyes close.
"Thirty," I say without preamble, my tone grim.
"What?"
"Ten Sonali. Seven Kurta. Three Drupadi. Ten Humans. All dead. All shot by your Separatist friend." I say, letting the moment hang.
"Is that supposed to mean something to me? Am I supposed to be sad?" She mocks.
But underneath her facade I see something that doesn't match her words.
Regret. Remorse.
She's a killer, I think, but then so am I. And even a seasoned killer can have regrets. I know this too well.
"No," I say, "Not sad—responsible."
I put on my best "dad's mad" disappointed face—and it works. She looks uncomfortable.
"I didn't pull the trigger, that wasn't part of the plan," she says, "It's not my fault that my associates got overzealous."
"Causalities of war?" I ask, brows up.
"More like the cost of doing business."
She smiles a cruel smile.
"And it's always nice when someone else pays."
My anger goes nuclear. Time to play dirty.
"I don't have children," I say, "Even if Ashley and I wanted kids, I don't know that we have time. We barely see each other as it is..."
"That's a beautiful story," she says to me and made fake snoring noises.
I take my personal tablet, which what I sometimes refer to as my "leash," given how it mostly seems like it’s used by Terran Armada to keep tabs on me. I tap on the screen until I'm satisfied. Then I hold it up so Anika can see it.
"Do you know who this is?' I hold the tablet eye level with her. The image on the screen is a young Sonali girl.
"Should I?" says Anika.
"No," I say lowering the tablet, "I don't think there's any reason for you to know her, but I thought you should. She's an orphan. Her mother died in the war and her father died—today."
Her eyes are wary, guarded, but there's a flicker she can't conceal.
"I thought you might relate to a young woman losing both of her parents, tragically and unnecessarily, at a young age," I comment casually.
Her gaze turns inward, contemplating the little girl's loss as she remembers her own. As I watch, she notices me and shrugs off this sorrow to transform back into character.
"Thanks for sharing," she smiles, baring teeth.
"But I think the real question is why is a big-time planetary hero here, dealing with me? I don't think security is short of personnel. So how exactly did you get this shit detail?"
"You
must have a low regard for your self-worth," I quip.
"No," she smiles, "I just know that there has to be more pressing duties for Captain Montgomery—the war hero."
I do my best not to flinch when she says that. I'm not sure I'll ever been 100% comfortable with the idea of being a "hero" especially of the war. But here I am.
"You're right, I'm not sure why my expertise is needed. But I'm here, and regardless of what brought me here, I have a job. I wish you would trust me, Anika.”
I say, letting the weight of my sincerity shade my tone.
"Why don't you tell me what's really going on? I can protect you."
My eyes plead with her.
"Do I look like I need protection?" she scoffs.
"No," I say seriously. "But that doesn't mean you’re impervious to getting stuck in a shitty situation. We both know you're not a traitor."
My eyes hold hers. Neither of us blinks.
My tablet pings interrupting our face-off. I'm notified that the interrogator is on his way.
Shit, I'm out of time.
Anika looks like she's shaken off anything I was starting to tap into emotionally. Back in place is her cold, surly traitor persona. I don't think I could convince anyone else, even with my clout that she's legit, but I know I'm right.
The interrogator returns. He stops and salutes. "Captain Montgomery, sir."
I salute back. "At ease."
"I hope the prisoner has not troubled you, sir."
"No," I answer truthfully, "Though unfortunately, she refused to cooperate."
He nods like that doesn't surprise him.
"Well, we'll see how long she stays that way," he says smugly. For the first time, I notice the silver and black case he's carrying in his left hand. This isn’t going to be pretty.
As though reading my mind, he says, "Are you staying, sir?"
I nod.
I have a feeling this makes him a bit uncomfortable, but if it does, he covers it well. I watch as he instructs Anika to stand away from the force field as he deactivates it.
She turns around, face pressed against the wall as he puts the force field back on. He turns her around, yanking her down to a sitting position. He secures the cuffs on her wrists with magnetic locks. He locks her legs down too.