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Avalon, Part two; Chapter five
Posted By: Triad<m.eelkema@student.tudelft.nl>
Date: 13 September 2005, 10:16 am
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Avalon; Part Two: Qua Patet Universum
Chapter five: The interrogation
0400 hours, September 18 2502 (military calendar), pirate ship Redbeard, Delta Cygni system
"ETA in twenty seconds, Commander," notified the pilot of the Pelican, a Warrant officer named Jimmy "the frog" Bantini.
"Understood," Steven replied without taking his eyes of the data-pad with Major Morris' preliminary report of the boarding-action. Looking at the time the Marines had needed to secure the pirate ship, he concluded the Marines had been very keen on victory and had probably stormed over the enemy like an antique steamroller. It was either that, or the pirates hadn't been that good at fighting in ships, in which case becoming a corsair was a strange career choice.
The Pelican equalised its speed with the spinning section of the ship and docked at an undamaged hatch. When the hatch of the Pelican opened, he and his XO stepped aboard a ravaged hallway where they were greeted by a boasting Major Morris: "Welcome aboard the Redbeard, Steve! Good to see you too, Christine. Always nice to have some female company to show the spoils to." While this kind of familiarity would not be tolerated closer to Earth, Steven and Christine didn't care too much about protocol so far from home.
"Frank, did you say 'Redbeard'?" the Commander asked as they walked towards the bridge. Some of the walls were riddled with bullet marks, occasionally interrupted by bloody smears or the dent of a grenade explosion. The warm and thick air still reeked of cordite. Like a contemporary Hans und Gretel Steven and his XO could easily follow a trail of bullet casings all the way to the bridge.
"According to their logs 'Redbeard' is their ship's name, Commander." The Major shrugged as if to apologize: "I've already sneaked a peek into their computer."
"Ah-huh. What about the raid? How did it proceed, Major?"
"Pretty good. We managed to wup their asses quite fast, even for our standards. But I did have to pull out some tricks to save one of my lazy-ass Lieutenants from getting killed."
"I heard that, Major Dwarfis," Lieutenant Simmons muttered through his teeth as he passed his commanding officers in opposite direction.
Steven continued the debriefing: "What about casualties?"
"They have plenty of them, including a bunch of fatalities, I'm proud to say," Morris joked.
"I mean on our side, numbnuts!"
The major could barely hold himself from laughing. "Sorry, sir. We've got a couple of wounded, seven in total. Most of them took a round in their armour and broke some ribs. Two of them have flesh wounds in arms or legs. One got caught by a grenade and was in pretty bad shape. The medic saved his life, but he won't be joining us for the rest of the mission, sir."
Steven knew good boarding action when he saw it. "Very neat, Major. And no fatalities on our side, just like you said. Well done."
The bridge of the Redbeard was a mess. It wasn't situated at the front end of the ship, but more towards the stern, on top of the main fuselage. When the Flying Dutchman had taken out her engines with a through-and-through MAC-shot, the bridge had gotten shaken apart like a magic eight ball. There were plating from the walls and ceiling lying everywhere, and some of the chairs had been ripped from the floor like trees during a hurricane. When the Marines had entered led by Frank, the Captain's chair in the middle of the bridge had gotten shot to bits along with some of the workstations. Through all the rubble and signs of carnage Steven could barley make out the layout of the original bridge, and was surprised to see it wasn't all that different from his own command center.
The pirate Captain was sitting on a chair with his hands tied behind his back. Two Marines were guarding him, holding their assault-rifles tight to their chest ready to use them within a moment's notice. As the Captain lifted his head, Steven saw one of his eyes was swollen shut from a blow to his head.
"Pleased to meet you, Captain. I'm Steven Fisher, Commander of the Flying Dutchman." Steven stood in front of the Captain with his arms crossed and his chest held high, a triumphant smile lurking on his face. "By the looks of it you've already met Major Morris here. It's a pleasure for us both to be aboard your beautiful vessel, Captain."
"Cut the bullshit, jackass. I'm not in a laughing mood, as you can see," the Captain sneered. "My name is Boris Boskowski, Captain of the Redbeard." His accent was a peculiar mixture of Russian and Australian English with a dash of Japanese, a dialect only found in the darker parts of the outer colonies. Boris leaned back and tried to look relaxed in spite of his battered face and tied hands. "Now that's all you're ever getting out of me. If you're ready, you can escort me to my cell."
"Ha! You're not getting off the hook that easy," Steven laughed, amused by the Captain's futile attempt to be in charge of the situation. "I would like to know what you're doing way out here beyond Delta Cygni. I also would like to know why you attacked us. But most of all I want you to tell me whether you've seen any other ships in this sector."
The Captain gestured with his head where Steven could put his questions. "Eat it, Commander! I don't feel like talking, and so I won't."
"So I see." Steven turned towards Lieutenant-Commander Smith, who had been going through the ship's logs on an undamaged workstation in search of valuable information for the past few minutes. "Found anything useful, Smith?"
"Yes, Commander. Apparently they've been following the Halcyon from the moment she departed from Mars. Obviously their ship didn't have this beautiful appearance back then. It looks like they extrapolated the Halcyon's destination when she entered slipspace. Then they jumped to the Delta Cygni system themselves and repainted their ship." Smith lifted her eyes from the computer screen to face Steven: "When they arrived here seven months ago, the Halcyon was nowhere to be found, just like we encountered. They've been patrolling the system ever since, sir."
"Hmm. Anything on who they're working for? Or why they attacked us?"
Christine's fingers danced over the computer terminal with amazing agility, faster than anyone Steven knew. "Apparently they've been tracking us for the last few days, doing just about anything to stay undetected by the sensor-net, sir. Unfortunately there is nothing in here on who send them."
Steven squatted in front of the Captain to look him straight in the eyes. "I knew you were stupid when you attacked me, but are you really that dumb to think that you could capture a UNSC-cruiser?"
Boris turned his annoyed look away from him.
Steven tried to sound as kind and gentle as he could. "Please, Captain Boskowski, let's be reasonable about this. There is nothing to gain for you by keeping silent. I happen to know your type, and you aren't driven by idealism, but by money. And now you can kiss your spoils and rewards goodbye, you've got no interest to defend."
"Don't pretend to know me like some kind of shrink. Give me one good reason to talk, Commánder," the Captain said condescendingly.
"Well, if you don't, my good Major here will take over the interrogation. And he is not as patient or as civil as I am."
Boskowski glanced between Steven and the Major with a suspicious look, but then regained a confident smile. "I'm calling your bluff, Commander. You're not going to torture me. That's not the UNSC-style."
Steven shrugged. "Closer to earth, sure. But way out here, who cares?" Steven's face turned serious again. "I've seen the Major at work, Captain. I strongly advise you to start spilling the beans."
"I work for no one. This whole operation is all my idea."
Steven frowned and turned his head away, annoyed by Boskowski trying to blow smoke. "Come on, Captain. We both know perfectly well every pirate's aware that there is nothing to get here, and no one ever comes in this system unless they are sent. Now, who sent you?"
Boskowski pressed his lips together, smiled, and crossed his legs slowly and stagy.
Steven stood up, shaking his head. "Suits yourself, Boskowski. Major Morris, he's all yours."
"Excellent! Let's get busy on this dumb-ass," the Major said while rubbing his hands together. He saw the Captain already looking at him with a hint of fear in his eyes. "Looks like my reputation in questioning has preceded me." He bowed to put his face close to that of Boris. "So, you're mister Tight-lips, aye? I've got just the thing to fix that. Sergeant Lowery?" Frank shouted, while he saw Boris start to break sweat.
"Sir, yes, sir?"
"Get me my toolbox, my power drill, my blowtorch and some Jalapeno-peppers from the kitchen, please. And make it snappy," Frank ordered grinning.
While they were waiting, Captain Boskowski tensed up, his respiration intensifying and his transpiration solidifying into a steady trickle down his back. He had heard numerous times of stories depicting Marines having their way with prisoners for the purpose of getting information, or just for the fun of it. What he didn't know, was that these stories were brought into this universe by ONI's section two, to give the Marines an even more menacing reputation than they already had. In reality Marines had general orders to treat every prisoner of war with respect. "You're not going to...ehhh, use those tools, right?" he asked with a breaking voice.
Frank laughed as vilely as humanly possible. "You bet your soon to be skinned ass, I'm going to use them!" After fifteen minutes Sergeant Lowery returned with the requested items. Major Morris placed the items in front of the Captain and went over them to see whether everything was there and working. First of all, he opened his toolkit: "Toolbox with contents, check!" Then he lifted the drill and pulled its trigger, drilling the air. "Power drill, check!" After that, he took the blowtorch and snapped it on, creating a bright blue flame half a foot long: "Blowtorch, check!" Last of all, he took a pepper and ate it whole without even blinking: "Jalapeno-peppers, check!" Frank swept across his forehead: "Ooff! They're nice and hot, excellent for today's purposes!"
With the testing of every item, Boris' unease grew larger and larger, until the expression on his face was one of pure shock and awe, his lower lip trembling in terror.
Steven, who had been standing nearby the whole time, tried to reason with the Captain one more time: "This is your last chance, Boris. Tell us what we want to know." The Captain remained frozen like a surreal statue, his gaze locked on the Major. Steven again shook his head. "Fine. Frank, do your worst."
"Yes, sir. Let's get to work!" Frank rejoiced. He grabbed the blowtorch and got one of the Captain's shoes of, which was difficult because Boris frantically tried to move his feet away. When Frank was about to burn a hole through his instep, Steven intervened: "Hold it, Major. I think it's better to start with applying some electrics on this guy."
The Major thought for a moment, then smiled. "Good idea! Sergeant Lowery, go to engineering and get some jumper cables."
While the Sergeant went back to get them, Major Morris used his tools to gain access to a power conduit. When Lowery returned with the cables, Frank attached one end to the conduit with the power turned off. The clamps on the other end were gently attached to the Captain's testicles.
Frank turned towards Steven and Lowery, ready to put the power back on: "Right, who's in for popcorn?"
"NO, NO, PLEASE DON'T!" Boris screamed, tears of fear running down his face, another liquid running down his pants. "To hell with this! I'll tell you anything, anything you want! Just don't hurt me, please!"
Steven stepped closer. "Then tell us who send you."
"Robert Watts!" Boris yelled.
Steven frowned. "Colonel Robert Watts?"
"Yes, yes! He is secretly gathering rebels to mount another insurrection. He wanted to capture the Halcyon to strengthen his fleet and to embarrass the UNSC. He figured a modified Phoenix-class ship could pull it of," he sobbed.
"So you were really going to capture the Halcyon?" Steven's voice was filled with scepticism.
"Yes! We trailed her from Mars and managed to catch her slipspace-vector. We followed her into this system, but when we emerged from slipspace, she was nowhere to be found. It was as if she had gone up in hydrogen," the broken Captain snivelled.
"I see. But why did you attack my ship, then?"
"If I would return without even one captured ship, Watts would have my head. So, when the Halcyon proved to be unfindable, I decided to try and take your ship instead."
Steven thought for a moment, grooming his short mustache. "Did you find anything that could have been a sign of the Halcyon? Exhaust-particles, debris, anything?"
"Ehm, we did find a faint particle trail the first day after we had entered the system, but it came to a dead end near a nebula."
Lieutenant-Commander Smith, who had been looking at the interrogation with growing discomfort, took cue and quickly entered the computer's sensor log. It didn't take long for her to find the relevant information. "I've got the trail here, Commander. It lies on the very edge of the system. It was very decayed, but the signature looks reminiscent to that of the Halcyon, sir."
"Then we'll go and check it out. Thanks, Captain Boskowski. You've been really helpful. Major Morris will escort you to your cell now."
When the Captain was out of sight, Christine turned towards her Commander with a troubled look on her face. "Excuse me, sir, but I've never witnessed interrogation like that. Were you really going to inflict that kind of torture on him?"
Steven smiled. "What do you think? He was right when he called my bluff. But luckily Frank and I have rehearsed this little play many times over."
To be continued
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