Agent047
patreon
888 - Interrogation
🕑 Added 2025-04-16 21:00:27 +0000 UTCThree Months Later
From the silence of space, a single ship could be seen descending into the atmosphere of a large, grayish planet, aligning itself with the traffic heading toward the largest port on the surface. It joined one of the seven tightly regulated lanes, each filled with ships maintaining a few hundred meters of distance, moving in perfect coordination.
As the ship drew closer to the planet’s main port, a breathtaking scene unfolded: tens of thousands of vessels parked in a massive, truss-frame layered structure. Nearly a hundred thousand ships were arranged within an enormous open rectangular bay, organized in tiers to maximize space efficiency.
Unlike most interstellar ports, there was no immigration checkpoint for this vessel. It glided forward unhindered, heading straight for its assigned docking bay within the colossal truss-framed structure. The moment it entered, a web of scanners activated, sweeping across the hull. Every detail was instantly analyzed and cross-referenced with the central database for anything flagged or suspicious.
The ship continued on, unimpeded, until it reached its precise docking location. Its landing gears deployed smoothly, connecting with docking clamps that extended upward in anticipation. With a mechanical click, the gears and clamps interlocked, forming a secure seal that could only be released with deliberate disengagement.
Ten seconds passed.
Then, the ship’s hatch hissed open. A burst of chilled mist spilled into the air as the cabin's atmosphere met the port’s ambient environment. Through the fog stepped a tall figure, 6.5 feet in height, with smooth blue skin and eyes that shimmered with faint bioluminescence. Their hair, a cascade of fine metallic strands, was braided neatly, catching the light as they moved.
The moment he stepped out with a bag slung over his shoulder, even with a respiratory mask covering half his face, every passerby in the bustling port seemed to pause. Conversations faltered. Heads turned. Whispers spread like wildfire as the tall, blue-skinned figure moved with silent confidence across the platform.
“A free Virellan? I’ve never seen one in my life,” murmured a short, red-skinned individual, barely reaching 1.75 meters compared to the towering man.
“I didn’t think any of them escaped after the surrender,” his companion replied, not even bothering to lower his voice. “The Hurai made sure every last one was either enslaved or bound to lifetime servitude.”
“You think he’s one of those who ran and made it all the way here?”
“Doubt it. Look at his ship, it’s Elara-made, brand new. If he was on the run, we’d have heard about it. And the Hurai would have chased him to the edge of the galaxy.”
“Doesn’t look like a slave doing errands either. This place doesn’t have anything unique worth the trip…”
While they and others speculated, the buzz of conversation only grew louder until one of the armed port workers broke through the onlookers and approached the figure.
“Name and purpose of your visit?” the worker asked, eyeing him with thinly veiled suspicion.
“Dreznor,” he replied calmly, casting his gaze downward to meet the shorter man’s eyes. “I’m here for business.”
“What kind of business?” the worker pressed, skepticism clear in his tone.
“I don’t have to answer that,” Dreznor replied coolly, making it clear he knew the limits of what the law required him to disclose.
“You answer what I ask,” the man snapped. “Or would you rather be detained and deported before your so-called business even begins?”
As he stepped back, his hand tightened around his weapon, a silent warning written all over his body language.
Dreznor didn’t argue. Instead, he reached into the bag slung over his shoulder and slowly pulled out a small, sealed canister. He held it up without a word.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Eyes widened.
They recognized it instantly.
“GET DOWN!!!”
The shout echoed from all directions. Within seconds, heavily armed security personnel surged forward, weapons raised and aimed directly at Dreznor and his ship. No one hesitated. Their expressions made it clear: if he so much as twitched the wrong way, he’d be dead before his next breath.
Understanding the gravity of the situation, Dreznor gently placed the bag with the canister on the ground and slowly got down on his knees, hands where they could be seen.
The guards rushed in, tackled and restrained him with swift efficiency, then began escorting him toward the holding area. As they passed through the crowded port, onlookers stepped aside in silence. Not one person interfered.
Everyone knew better.
Half an hour later.
"You think you’re tough enough to stay silent if we really want to make you talk?" the interrogator growled, slamming the table hard enough to make it shake.
Dreznor didn’t flinch. “As I said, I’ll only speak when someone of relevant authority is present.”
The interrogator sneered. "Then maybe it’s time to show you we’re not just playing nice."
He drew a knife and held it threateningly near the chain linking Dreznor’s cuffs to the table, clearly telegraphing his next move.
“You’d be wise not to do something you’ll regret,” Dreznor warned, his voice calm, but his eyes told a different story. The faint bioluminescent glow intensified, nearly doubling in brightness. It was a silent promise of consequences.
The interrogator hesitated for a split second, visibly unnerved, but pressed on anyway. With a sharp motion, he stabbed the knife into the table between Dreznor’s restrained hands, narrowly missing the right thumb. Then, without a word, he slapped Dreznor hard across the face, splitting his lip.
Blood welled, but Dreznor didn’t react. He merely closed his eyes as if to dismiss the entire event.
———
Outside the interrogation room:
“Any word from the higher-ups?” the interrogator asked after shutting the door behind him.
“Nothing yet,” the officer replied with a scowl. “But you’re just going to let him disrespect you like that?”
“There’s no need to rush,” the interrogator said, his tone dark with anticipation. “Once we get clearance, I’ll have plenty of time to teach him some manners.”
“Count me in,” the officer muttered, both of them heading toward the break room, leaving Dreznor alone in the dimly lit chamber.
………………..
"Any progress?" Dreznor asked, currently in the VR space.
{Not yet. Breaking through their systems without tripping alarms takes time, we need to be delicate,} replied Little Protagonist, her tone calm. She projected live footage onto a hologram in front of him, showing officers combing through his ship. They were meticulously inspecting and collecting the stored mana canisters, scanning every inch of the interior, and had already connected to the mainframe to extract data logs for analysis.
"They're thorough," Dreznor commented, watching them work with professional precision.
{They have to be. This planet’s far from their central government, and shipments of mana stones from official channels are years away. Then you show up with a fresh supply, no declared source, no history of trade. Of course, they’re trying to trace your route. They're hoping your ship's logs will give them a lead.}
As she spoke, a new alert appeared, one that made her pause mid-sentence.
{We’re in,} she finally said.
The Trojan they had hidden in the collected ship data had successfully bypassed the internal firewall from within, cracking open access to the planetary government's central database. Streams of encrypted data began flowing toward them in real time.
{I’ve started pulling files. Let’s see what they’re hiding... and how we can use it.}
Thanks to the planet-wide communication netw ork being both highly advanced and constantly flooded with massive user traffic, the large-scale data transfer went unnoticed amidst the digital noise. Taking full advantage of this cover, Little Protagonist began immediately streaming the extracted data directly to Nyx’s off-world servers.
Storing the information on the ship wasn’t an option, not just because of limited storage capacity, but also due to the risk it posed. The data was too sensitive, and she lacked the processing power on board to categorize and analyze it quickly enough without putting strain on the ship’s systems or risking mental backlash to Dreznor.
Comments
Sol_Invictus(Hail the Terran Empire)
TYFTC!!
GripenSupremacy
TYFTC
