| abstract
| - Interrogation Chambers -- I2SD Inquisitor One of the pentagonal corridors houses the ship's Interrogation Wing. Here, the corridor is lined with windowless doorways that lead into dark, poorly lit, dismal rooms. There are larger rooms for group humiliation and confinement purposes, and smaller rooms for more intimate moments of terror. Every room seems dark and technologically primitive. Behind their walls and floors, however, are housed every terrifying instrument of torture one could imagine. Chains and machines, electrical and chemical devices. Medical equipment complete with not only life saving items, but drugs any civilized system would have outlawed. Only the interrogator knows fully what diabolical devices lie behind the walls, ceiling, and floor. The decks are sheet metal, with little drainage holes - the type that can be cleaned of any undesired substance by water hoses, making the interrogation clean up easier. For hours and a day, Lynae has been kept in solitude, away from Dareus, who had undergone his own initial interrogation. No longer strung up by chains, the woman has been left free to peruse the dank, hopeless solitude of her cell, where only twice a meager bit of bread and water (in a plastic cup) were brought in by Imperial Stormtroopers and dropped on the dirty floor for her to choose whether to consume or not. Unbound, the woman was free to explore the empty cell, except for every three hours, when an alarm would begin to sound any time she strayed away from her bed. The alarm, deafeningly loud and high enough in pitch to drive a human insane with its supersonic harmonics, was meant to 'train' her, like an animal, to remain at her bedside, until the hour was up. This type of treatment, for reasons left only to speculation, was not on any of the records. Kept secret and for COMPNOR eyes only, it is a method of unknown goal never once available to a Naval Officer's eyes. With the exception of the noisy hour, Lynae has taken to sitting in the middle of the cell on the floor, her legs crossed beneath her and arms loosely held at her sides. The condition, ie the cleanliness or lack thereof, of the cell does not appear to bother her in any way. Nor the confinement, solitude or the illumination. By and far she has the appearance of one who is calmly serene in the solitude. When the alarm would sound she would rise simply, return to the bunk where she would take up the same position and posture, waiting for the noise to cease before returning to her place on the floor. Whether she sleeps or no is difficult to discern. The food that is provided is consumed with the same lack of emotion or response, after all -- food is what we eat so that we don't die. At this precise moment, the alarm begins sounding again. Only this time, it doesn't stop when Lynae goes over to the bed. It continues roaring into the cell. Scientific studies have proven that, when supersonic (or even subsonic, to a much lesser effectiveness) noise is observed for long enough, it has a psychotic effect on the human brain. In many tests, after five minutes, the subject was cowering in a corner. After fifteen minutes, subjects would throw themselves mercilessly against a door or window, trying desperately to escape. In one study, a human subject actually tore his ears off with his bare hands, and began digging at his innards until blood loss killed him. Five minutes go past, and no matter what Lynae does, the alarm continues. Six minutes... seven... eight... As soon as the first vibrations of sound resonate through the room, Lynae rises easily to her feet and cross to the bed. Yet the sound does not stop. It resonates through the room, echoing off over and over around in a cacophony of senses that vibrate in her very bones, in the press of her teeth together. Covering her ears will not cause the sound to cease. She knows this and with effort refuses to give in to the impulse to cover her ears. As the minutes pass a fine sheen of perspiration covers her face, her close cut hair clinging damply to her temples and around her face. A fine tremor begins as her muscles twitch in response to the over whelming sound. With her back kept carefully away from the wall, on the vague premise that this would cause the sound to use her body and or her spine like a tuning fork and make the noise worse, she grits her teeth until her teeth ache with the force of the gesture. Observing with meticulous silence from the nearby ISB Control Center, Korynn Fleming begins to frown. "My, what resilience you show to this sort of treatment, Doctor," he muses under his breath. Turning, the ISB Director nods his head to one of the operatives at his side, standing over a control panel that operates all of the terror devices hiding in the walls of Lynae's cell. "Raise the frequency four-hundred kilohertz. Maintain current velocity." Inside the cell, the sound rises and rises in pitch until it has exceeded the human hearing range. Nevertheless, the effect on the human psyche persists, although now in quiet secrecy, as the minutes tick closer to the danger point. Ten... eleven... twelve... Lynae opens her eyes, which she had previously kept closed as it served no purpose to view the room for any reason. Simply knowing where she is, of course, has proven sufficient unto the day. Her eyes, open now, prove to be a brilliant shade of blue as her gaze flicks briefly around the room, a look of piercing resignation as she gives in to what she has judged to be the expected response. Knowing intuitively that this was the reaction sought, she covers her ears with her hands, then her forearms instead, she begins to rock back and forth on the bed, even though this will not make the sound stop, she does it anyway. "Interesting." After a few moments of silent deliberation, Korynn turns away from the observation monitor. "Silence the alarm in sixty seconds," he orders, then walks out of the ISB control center. Rounding a corner, he motions for two CompForce troopers, and then two Stormtroopers, to come with him. Down into the interrogation wing he goes. "You two stand guard outside," he says to the Stormtroopers. "You two?" He motions to the CompForce men. "Stun batons only." Turning, he waits until he counts the final seconds in his head. With meticulous timing, he presses the security panel that opens the door. Precisely when the alarm ceases its oscillating torment, the door to Lynae's cell swooshes into the ceiling, and Korynn walks in with the COMPNOR troopers at his side. Lynae does not so much as cease to hear the sound at long last, as cease to feel it resonating in her bones and teeth and in every fiber of her body. Her forearms remains pressed against the side of her head, her eyes closed again, jaw clenched, hunched in place until the sound finally, blessedly, stops. When it does she remains in position for another long minute, letting her mind return enough to take stock of her body, to probe her own thoughts for sense, and it is at this moment that her senses tell her that the door has opened. The breath of relatively fresher air is what alerts her more than anything else, and she speaks before straightening, before opening her eyes. "Welcome," she says simply, her arms dropping from position, her eyes blinking open and one hand scrubbing down her face as she studies Korynn and the troopers at his side. "Forgive me for my lack of hospitality. I seem to have misplaced my room service menu." A bitter sneer envelops Korynn's face, and he turns to motion toward the Stormtroopers outside, who close the door behind him. It latches, releases its hydraulic pressure with a hiss, and leaves Korynn to turn slowly again to face Lynae. The bitter sneer slowly collapses, turning into a legitimate frown, one that doesn't conceal hatred or anger, but rather, a sort of personal injury. "Your humor always appealed to me, Doctor," he notes quietly. Motioning to the CompForce troopers, they take a stance at either side of the door, stun batons held in their hands. Korynn walks toward Lynae's stiff, solid metal bed with slow steps. All the while, the look of disdain and betrayal remains solidly apparent in his face... most of all, his eyes. The same eyes he often uses to intimidate a prisoner or hide his true intentions. For now, they seem brutally and disgustingly honest, showing a sort of genuine heartache at what is transpiring in this very moment. "My sense of humor is obscure, at the best. Strange, at the norm, and bizarre at the worst, Director," Lynae replies simply, scrubbing at her face with one hand again before straightening away from the wall and keeping her expression as it has been. Which is to say, for someone who usually wears the expression of bland, neutral impartiality no matter the circumstance, she is allowing enough of her own emotions to sift to the surface. She meets Korynn's gaze with a look of weariness, a sense of loss that is too vast to express with words or gestures. His sense of betrayal is met and echoed in her gaze, yet she speaks not of it. The moment of silence between the two of them is enough to say what needs to be said. That he considers Lynae to be one of the few people in this galaxy he could have considered a true friend might be the last thing read from his eyes, before the demeanor of the room is shifted ever so slightly by Korynn's next words. The silent moment was enough for him to grapple with the fact that as of this very moment, the chance of their friendship growing is dead. Clasping his hands together behind his back, Korynn lets out a soft breath of air before he speaks. "Tell me how you came to know of Danik Kreldin's plot to steal the throne from Vadim." His words are icy and bland, with the mere shadow of authority. "I received a request to journey to the estate of the late Admiral," Lynae replies simply, a brief look in her own eyes recognizing and returning the acknowledgement that their friendship, professional and otherwise, is over. "It was at this meeting that I learned that the Grand Admiral is still alive," and there's just enough of a touch of shock and vague wonder at how this could be in her voice to convey the sentiment without speaking of that either. "From this meeting I learned of the Grand Admirals intentions in regards to Vadim." "What were Kreldin's intentions, exactly?" asks Korynn, no longer showing any emotion from his face or his eyes, aside from pure professionalism. The concept of Kreldin having somehow faked his death seems not to affect the ex-interrogator in the least. "To displace Vadim and install himself as god, king, Emperor, war leader and favorite flavor of the month," Lynae replies without pause. She arches one eyebrow, waiting for the next question. A harshness flashes through Fleming's eyes, and he stops in his pacing to turn and face the woman. "Details, Lynae. You know the standard procedure... I give you a chance to answer questions politely. The next phases are much more invasive. Do not test my patience. Give me details on how he planned to displace Vadim." For some reason Korynn's response makes Lynae smile, much as Jal'Dana's response did, but she does speak at this point, and it's in the same bare bones dictation style she'd use when summing up a case history. "From what he said, he believed that his position as the over all commander of the fleet, and his ties to COMPNOR and what not would put him in a position of being viewed favorably the military, the government, by all forces who were stunned by the sudden appearance of this Vadim from the shadows who usurped the throne so handily." She pauses, one eyebrow arching faintly, "His words, mind you, not mine. He suggested a handful of variations on how this might be accomplished, much to our general curiosity and some degree of astonishment. After all, one does not walk into the throne room and kindly ask the Emperor to stand down and retire to his summer home on Tatooine. Some mention was made of enlisting the aid of the Jedi, and he also make some note of how he thought that he had some claim to abilities of the Force. I can neither confirm nor deny these claims, mind you. I have no sense of this stuff myself, and only accept its existence through the avenue of no other choice. So, to sum up. He planned to dispose Vadim through one of various plans involving a small force of loyalists and take the throne himself under the belief that he would be accepted, fate accomplished, upon arrival." Korynn squints his eyes just slightly at Lynae's smile, but he disregards it for the moment, instead favoring his ears to listen. "Noted," he interjects, when Lynae defends that she was merely quoting Danik, not suggesting her own opinions of the Emperor. "What are your opinions on these plans Danik proposed?" he asks, now adopting a more genuine curiousity rather than a heated though subdued aggression. "I am, have been, will remain to be, a doctor a scientist and a surgeon. My advancement through the ranks to commodore of this fleet is nothing short of wildly unusual. To that end, I preface my reply with the fact that I do not view tactics and plans the same way that, for instance, Line Captain Rall would. His plan was foolhardy at best, insane at worst, and laughable to some extent. But it was the Grand Admiral speaking," Lynae emphasizes gently. "The is the man that I have served, faithfully, since joining this fleet. I have spent countless days patching up his broken bones and tissue, stitching him back together, ranting at him to stay in a bacta tank long enough to heal. The man that I hauled back from the abyss after his time with Joanna. This is Grand Admiral Kreldin," she repeats. "When I thought, when We thought, that he had died in combat, I tasked my people to combing the debris field for enough to bury with honor!" Her voice has taken on some heat, some level of frustration and betrayal that makes her take a deep breath, her composure settling back around her like a cloak. "You asked how I viewed the plans that Danik proposed. Many views. It is better to serve the Emperor that you know, that you trust, that you know values you and your people and your services, the lives under his command and those that have spent their blood to protect and serve this empire than to serve a man who casts despite upon the very memory of the Emperor that I have revered all of my life, all of my service. A known evil is better than a unknown evil, Korynn, such was my thinking. If this had been a mere matter of a handful of officers gathering to vent, to speak of things that should not - could not - be spoken, that would have been one thing. We left that meeting with the sense that it was a discussion, not something upon which there was a clear time table, a clear plan. It was talk. Treasonous talk, and since I am charged with treason I will not shy from using the word. Speaking of treason, even thinking of treason, is not allowed. Did I believe that the Admiral was planning to charge out, on the morrow, and lead a vanguard of loyalists to the throne room and demand a duel royale?" She makes a sound that is something like a snort of amusement, "Laughable." Though Korynn maintains his composure, his eyes glaze over with wrath as more words pour and pour from Lynae's lips. There's a moment where he must decide whether to let his fury unleash, but should it happen, he would undoubtedly throttle the woman until her esophagus was disgorging her stomach acids throughout her neck and torso. That simply wouldn't get him anywhere, and he decidedly turns away and stares at the wall for a silent moment to maintain his composure and bite down his rage until submission. "Let me tell you... Doctor... what I think." Korynn uses her medical title as if it were the one piece of honor she had left to her. "Every great and honorable effort made by Kreldin is now past tense. We are trained as servants of the Empire and, ultimately, servants of the Emperor. We are not, and never will be, trained to be servants of a Grand Admiral." He turns back toward Lynae, spite in his eyes. "Let me tell you what would have happened had we not been fortunate enough to discover Kreldin's pathetic plot before he managed to unravel it into reality." A hand comes out from behind him and points toward the woman. "He would have thrust this Empire into yet another civil war. We would have pitted our best, wisest, and most talented against each other. The rebels would have taken advantage of it. Bit by bit, they would have used our distractions and weakness to once again steal territory from the safety of the Empire. Countless millions of lives would have been lost, and for what? The selfish, disgusting wishes of an old fool!" His voice rises to a near climax, then falls as he takes another step toward Lynae, his glowering eyes making as if to bore into her soul and strike a note of fear in her gullet. "Palpatine, Valak, Osbourne, and every great Emperor who has come and gone has just that... they've gone. They were wonderful leaders who ultimately failed. Do you think for a moment that Kreldin could have been wiser or more tactful than Palpatine? Yet here, instead of bringing your concerns over Vadim to the table in an appropriate manner, you risk thrusting the entire galaxy into yet another decade of bloodshed." He draws in a deep, hissing breath through his nose, and watches her like a hawk, seeking her response like prey. "Why waste my time?" Lynae counters in a voice that is very calm compared to Korynn's, one eyebrow arching upwards again as he speaks. "Since when has speaking of the actions or the plans, or the purpose, or speaking at all about the will or the whim of the current emperor ever bought anyone anything other than a swift re-education, charges of treason, or a sort trip out of the nearest airlock. We do not question our orders, we OBEY THEM!" she spits out with some degree of vehemence before she lifts one hand to rub briefly against the right side of her jaw. "To what table, in what appropriate manner?" she asks in return, shaking her head then. "No. If I had thought that this would honestly turn into something where we would take up arms, I would have killed him myself." She rubs at the side of her jaw again, "I have signed enough death certificates in my time as the CM of the former fleet to wish open war again. We spoke, we discussed, we talked, we vented. Not a single time did we take up our own personal arms and march to the call of the Admirals banner with a clear strategy to over throw the Emperor. Aye, we serve the Emperor, who ever it happens to be this season. Yes, I find it to have been insulting, a slap in the face to hear the Emperors words speaking of Palpatine in such a manner. For I am old, Korynn, and I find it distasteful to have my years of service cast in such a light. But my sensibilities are of no account, not now, nor ever will be. I would have killed him myself before we took up arms against our own people, for I am sick of blood shed, of the lists of the names of the letters and the empty cabins. Of fighters scooped back into the hangar in pieces. Of body parts strewn on the floor in pools of blood so thick that my feet slip in them. Of the cries of the sounds of the faces of the soldiers that I couldn't save. Of the necessary decisions of triage which say that THIS man may live if I tend to him now, but if I tend to this one with all of my time and resources that five others will die. I am weary of serving the Empire in which the life of the common soldier is nothing more than cannon fodder, expendable, just another marker on the table!" She runs her hand through her hair, her eyes blazing a brilliant blue once again as she speaks. "I would have set my knife against his throat myself before seeing open war again. Is that the answer you were looking for?" His jaw thrusting forward in a most perplexed mixture of approval and disgust, Korynn takes another three steps toward Lynae, putting himself dangerously close to her. "Palpatine's very support of the Tarkin Doctrine is support of the bloodshed you talk about," he replies, his voice quieter but shaking ever so slightly with clipped down recession. "You contradict yourself with every breath. Do you know the intimate plans of Emperor Vadim? Do you understand why he said what he said? Do you presume that he is such a fool as to not have a plan or reason for every word spoken?" He takes a step back, his lower lip pressed up against the other in a gut-wrenching scowl. "Fortunately for you, Caiton, you won't be held to the same degree of justice as Kreldin. He is no longer a Grand Admiral, he is now nothing more than a fool. Do everything in your power to bottle his plot and the Emperor might spare you a type of torment I could scarely imagine." "I know nothing, Director Fleming," Lynae says quietly, a look of self directed mockery registering in her eyes for a brief moment. "I know nothing, and am certain that I would not have known the plans or the outline until such time as my forces were needed for a specific task. I am not, now nor then, necessary to the task at hand until this fleet was needed for some plan. I presume nothing, not then nor now. I know only what my sources, my intel, my knowledge and studies tell me, and my own observation. For, after all, it is our personal observation that colors out existence through a perspective based filter," she remarks in abstraction before she blinks once, then again, focusing on Fleming's face. "We came back, directly, for that express reason. You have not asked me why I did what I did, Korynn. You have not asked why I removed Dareus and the Caspian Diplomat from custody. " Korynn slowly folds his arms over each other, resting against his chest. His silence is preluded by a raising of his eyebrows, as if to suggest he's willing to listen. "The minute that Ms Quinn was arrested, the treaty was cast into dispute, it's very premise and agreements violated. Our word is our bond, or we are no better than the rebels," Lynae says with some degree of heat. "The treaty is vital, I believe, to establishing some degree of normalcy with the CDU and, conversely, in casting the New Republic into a light that will show their terrorist movement to be exact that: a rebel insurgency with no honor, no real goals, no means of carrying their objectives to fruition and a feasible end. We de-legitimize the actions of the NR by giving them the length of rope to hang themselves with. That treaty was VITAL," she says firmly, "and I swore that I would see it upheld. By word or deed, I swore that it would not be broken. And here we are, everything that has been done to enforce this peace between us and them is cast aside in mere hours. Such waste, such utter waste," she says with a slow shake of her head. "I did not remove them from custody out of fear, I did what I did so that there would be - could be - time for cooler heads to prevail on this matter." Listening quietly, Korynn turns aside and walks off toward another end of the cell. "Nevertheless, Caiton, you comitted a crime. Neither Dareus nor Quinn were arrested without due cause or suspect. That said... it was not the Empire who broke the treaty. It was Quinn and Dareus." He looks back toward Lynae, frowning. "Perspective, Caiton. You preach it... it applies to both ends." He turns his attention to the CompForce troopers standing guard at the door. "Gentlemen?" They already had their orders. The two troopers stride forward, bringing their stun batons into a more useful grasp, as they walk toward Lynae with cold expressions. Lynae makes no gestures nor gestures of defiance or any move to evade as she sees the troopers moving forward with their stun batons held at the ready, "Standard procedure, of course," she says simply without any mark of fear in her gaze. After all, it's not as though there's some escape hatch built into this one room of many. She bears enough scars from her years of service, what are a few more at this point? The strikes come, one after the other, in a ruthless dance of rudimentary precision, until the stun weapons have forced Lynae into a nearly unconscious submission. "That's enough," says Korynn from the doorway, watching without remorse as they drag Lynae onto her uncomfortable bed. Korynn turns and makes a gesture toward the door, triggering the Stormtroopers outside to open it and allow him to depart with the CompForce troopers in tow. A few moments later, Korynn strides into the ISB control center, his icy gaze commanding silence from the room. "Activate the alarm again." His instructions to the ISB agent operating Lynae's cell are carried out, and the oscillating supersonic frequencies are piped into Lynae's cell again. Only this time, they don't stop at fourteen minutes. They carry through to an entire twenty minute cycle. The process repeats every three hours for the next twelve, when another series of Stormtroopers will come in and escort Lynae to a larger cell, the one holding Dareus. There they are left, in whatever shape either of them end up in, until their next visit...
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