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Mother Confessor:

I nod my assurance in his acceptance of my proposal. His procedure finished, he drops back to his feet and redresses his legs. The tech removes her gloves and disposes of them and the used sponges drenched in blood. Standing up from my own seat, I cross over to the senior officer as he finishes buckling his belt. Extending my hand to finalize our agreement, to the sound of the surgical tech packs up her things. Taking my slender hand in his calloused grip, the transaction is completed.

Getting back to the business at hand. I busy myself milling here and there throughout my new domicile. Gathering the various instruments and protective wear that I will require. As well as a digital recording unit, at the Ober-Commanders request. Possibly to use it in ruling against the Confederation and the Chairmen, if it proves to be damaging to their cause. Seeing the many Chairmen tried and sentenced in a court for the growing list of crimes. From instilling a domineering regime, that they themselves are the rulers of Terra in their fiefdoms. To breaking thus far at least two galactic treaties, and conspiracy to move beyond this small empirical grasp. Expanding as far as they could hope to achieve within their limited vision. I wonder how they managed to reach their internal goals. The thought roams for an answer, my practiced hands going through the motions they had many times before.

The soft sounds of plinking metal on metal, as I think of the quickest way to get this man to tell his side of the story. Daring a glance at the Ober-Commander, he had moved and set himself in my high backed chair as to observe the proceedings. He appeared to be somewhat interested in time, as he occasionally checks his watch. What could be going on that time would be a factor in the event that has yet to have taken place. I get the feeling that it has nothing to do with what is taking place here, but something that will occur shortly in the future. Whatever it is, I am sure it holds some relevancy as a stepping stone towards his own goals and ambitions. Still deep in thought I place the final articles on the large tray.

Now satisfied with my arrangement of the utensils, all set in an orderly fashion. Much like the armor depot that the senior officer had showed me about a week ago, orderly and functional nothing out of place. The final step before starting the questioning. I remove the prisoners dog tags from his neck. Examining the small stamped metal plates for a few moments. Taking in the relevant information and cataloguing it in my memory for the most effective use.

Riley, Phillip J.

81695-872-7525-09

AB Neg.

Relig: N/A

Such a strange name he was given. That is not to say that most names are odd, though it did flow off the tongue. What did Relig stand for? Perhaps I will get the meaning and purpose of that later in my own time.

Breaking the silence behind me, “Toss me those tags.” Turning away from the bound man to the observer, I pitch the identification tags. They sail awkwardly through the air, only to be snatched in their descent back to the ground. The sound of the metal plates rubbing together, as the Ober-Commander looks over the others identity. He chuckles to himself, finding the contents amusing.

Turning back to my work, I collect the manual from the smaller tray in front of the captive male. Skimming through the contents of the pages. Interesting of how creative the massive machines specs are. I hated in silently admitting that I was impressed by the Terran ingenuity put into the features.

“Where do you wish to start, sir” ,addressing the senior officer, still mulling over the contents in book. Waiting in the silence as the senior officer makes his decision. Making use of the time, I place the manual back on the tray, and retrieve my long flat meter stick. The flexible metal measuring device seemed an appropriate opener, since it is considered to be effective in disciplinary action in some Terran academies. Unbuttoning my high neck tunic, just below the neck four buttons. Thus exposing my ample cleavage, the cooler air of my makeshift dwelling felt pleasant on my soft flesh.

“I would like to see what Mr. Riley knows about the plans were for Pluto” , the senior officer picks his starting point. Walking over the restrained man, flexing the pliable meter stick imposingly.

“Would you like to tell me what your superiors had in regards to Pluto, and it’s strategic value to their intentions” , I politely start this apparent contemporary history lesson. Peering into the stone faced officers eyes, waiting for an answer. A simple enough request, though he just glares into the nothing. Raising the meter stick like a sword, bringing the end to rest underneath his chin.

“Well Mr. Riley, I am waiting” , putting a light bit of annoyance in my tone. A few more moments pass, his face starting to flush with anger. Retracting the meter stick from his chin, and flexing it in my slender grip.

“Not going to tell me, well then punishment is what you shall receive” , I assert my soft authority to the soldier. Drawing the meter stick back ready for its first strike. Letting the metal whisper through the air, impacting with the insolent soldier’s knuckles on his right hand. A loud slapping rings in the silence, the subdued mans jaw tightens. Letting the flat metal measuring stick fly again, this time slamming hard onto the opposite set of knuckles. Repeating this pattern twice more, leaving red marks on the uncooperative soldiers tightly clenched fists.

Letting the effect that I intend to continue sink in, a few heartbeats. Good he wants to play it the hard way, I cherish the thought. Adding five more strokes to each set of knuckles, each snapping out as if they were counting off the violent strikes. Seeing the thin skin starting to crack from the impact of the meter stick. Taking another brief pause, visually examining my handiwork. Changing up my assault on the now very deep welted knuckles of the resilient soldier. I place two very precise blows with the edge of the meter stick, each exposing the near solid bone of the joints. He growls through gritted teeth at the parting of skin from bone.

“Ah, did that hurt” , I mockingly say, an exaggerated expression of sympathy on my face.

Bitterly through clenched teeth he returns, “Fuck you, bitch!” Turning away from the now very angry soldier, looking at the Ober-Commader.

“Sir, is that anyway to address a female”, I ask the senior officer. He rises from the chair, cracking his knuckles as he approaches. Standing in front of the foul mouthed man, punching him in the side of his face throwing it the opposite direction. A small amount of mixed saliva and blood dribbles down the bound mans chin. The senior officer reclaims his seat after imposing his own brand of justice for the others use of vulgarity.

To say that I did not find the raw display of power from the Ober-Commander arousing would be a lie. Replaying the rippling muscles driving the heavy handed officer. The force of the blow to the other man looked most painful, but I think the overall effect was achieved. Placing the meter stick speckled with blood from my attack on the bound soldiers knuckles, back on the large tray filled with devious devices. Fetching the injection gun, loading a dose of serum in it. As much as I enjoy what I do, it is just not much fun talking to a wall of cursing and hollow threats. Striding up behind the disgraced officer, placing a slender hand on his swelling cheek. Turning his head with gentle force, I place the gun to his neck delivering the agent into his circulatory system. Placing the empty gun back on the tray. Giving the serum time to start working in the belligerent soldier.

Marckus:

Sitting in on this display of cruelty would be unbearable for most. A part of me does feel sympathetic towards Commander Riley. I remember those days at the academy, having my own knuckles wrapped on while learning how to strip down and put back together assault rifles and pistols. Needless to say I learned real well in that class, so well if it came down to it I could do it in my sleep. Rubbing my bony ridged hand at the memory. Though never were the instructors that liberal with a ruler. However I did take a small amount of pleasure in giving him a good right hook in the face minutes ago. It was more satisfying than our first encounter back on Ceres. Smiling to myself as I watch the attractive interrogator work her magic. Playing the part very well, even though it was only meant to be a joke. Letting the literal portrayal play out. I find it mildly amusing.