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View Full Version : Interrogation (short piece of fiction)



malika
08-11-2010, 12:55
This is a little something I wrote for Redemption Sector (http://www.redemptionsector.com/), a setting based for Troll Forged Miniatures (http://trollforged.com/). Let me know what you guys think!




Interrogation

The Crowmantine prisoner was thrown into a dark room. As soon as the man hit the iron floor the lights turned on. The floor, walls and ceiling were made of dark iron, almost black. Two men in white robes grabbed the man and strapped him and placed him on the gurney in the back of the room. With a push of the button the gurney turned vertically. Cogitators and other machinery in the room were making hissing sounds.

“You soul will be pure again once we are done with you, nonbeliever”, the Hierophant yelled at the prisoner. The Hierophant had served the Church of the Tzar God for many years, his zealousness and inquisitive nature had this once lowly priest promoted to the rank of hierophant. To carry the title of Hierophant was to be feared; the Hierophant’s single-mindedness was taken to such an extreme that no matter what the desired result would come. Like the ancient definition of the word, the Hierophant interprets the sacred mysteries, but in the Tzarist regime this meant uncovering the secrets of the nonbelievers through the inflicting of pain and suffering.

“I will not talk to you, pidash!” The prisoner still had some spirit of resistance in him. The Crowmantine infiltrator was caught amongst a group of refugees who tried to escape the advance of the Black Praetorian forces. No longer in his filthy and torn up robes, the man was naked and tied up to a gurney that was connected to several devices.

You may still talk our battle-tongue, but you are no longer one of us, traitor! The Hierophant thought as he spoke to his assistants in a language the prisoner did not understand. Small metal needles connected to wires were placed inside the man’s testicles. The prisoner screamed in pain as the needles entered his body. “We want to save you, nonbeliever”, the Hierophant calmly spoke, “but how could we do that if you refuse to cooperate?” Trying to ignore his pain, the Crowmantine looked down upon his torturers and spat into the Hierophant’s face. Wiping the bloody saliva off his face, the Hierophant made a quick hand gesture to one of the assistants. A shock entered through the prisoner’s body, his whole body was making spasm movements. “Nonbeliever, we need answers, provide us with the information we need in order to save you.”

Another shock flowed through the traitor’s body. “My masters will soon come and burn this whole place down! Blaet pidash!” “How dare speak our language!” Another figure approached the prisoner from the shadows. His uniform was all black expect from the iron colored markings on his shoulder, indicating that he was an Interlocutor. Like the Hierophant the Interlocutor’s purpose was information retrieval, the main difference being that the Interlocutor was a political officer rather than a religious one. “You shall not speak in our tongue again. Do I make myself clear…traitor?” The prisoner’s face turned white as the Interlocutor approached him. “Leave us now”, the officer ordered. The Hierophant’s choler rose. “I want to question the prisoner alone. After I’m done with him you may continue trying to save him!” Don’t forget your place Hierophant! The Hierophant made some hand gestures after which the assistants left the room, followed by the Hierophant himself. It was clear that he was restraining his anger as best as he could, but it was still very visible.

“So, here we are. You probably have some idea of what we are doing here. They must have prepared you for this routine. My colleague inflicts pain on you while I pretend to be your friend so that we can extract the information from you. But because you already know this, the charade becomes useless. Why don’t you simply tell me what I want to know? What is your mission?” The Crowmantine was shocked and amused by the Interlocutor’s words. Does the pidash truly think that I will tell him everything I know now? “As I said before, don’t use our tongue, not even in your mind. It does not belong to you”, the Interlocutor said. “You…you…have the gift as well”, the prisoner asked in shock. “Hmm, no, I am not like your masters. We don’t need to corrupt our bodies to enter your minds. How well do you know your history, traitor?” This had to be a trick! Why does that fool begin about history? Is he trying to distract me? “You must remember the past, right traitor?” The prisoner could not understand why his interrogator had changed the subject. “Our ancestors were all imprisoned by the machines! Locked up in prisons that covered entire continents! The masters set us free”, the traitor spat. Interesting, the traitor actually believes that these creatures have saved us. They nearly wiped out our entire species, the Interlocutor thought. “Liberation? This freedom you speak off had decimated humanity to near extinction. Only those worlds that were able to sustain human life without the subterranean cities survived. Of the rest of the worlds only a tiny fraction still contained survivors. Our explorer forces had only found a handful of these worlds. Your so-called saviors have caused this destruction and seek to repeat it.”

As the Interlocutor spoke to his prisoner, one of the devices in the background seemed to turn on its own. “Ah, it is ready. Traitor, what you see here is one of the few working remnants from those olden days. You must be wondering why you have no idea what this machine is, yes?” A smile emerged on the Interlocutor’s face; the Crowmantine stared back coldly. So the Tzarists have kept this technology hidden from the Technocratic Communion. Did they count on their allies betraying them? Of course not! They were in total shock and disbelief when they witnessed our technology, clearly knowing that Technocratic factions loyal to us manufactured it. Several cables emerged from the device; as if the machine itself was alive, the cables moved towards the prisoner’s head. “As you might know, the Ancients had many technological marvels. One such wonder was military in nature. Our ancestors had warrior brains connected into armored chassis. You might know some of that technology; we speculate that those who supply you traitors with technological knowledge have used some of this ancient technology to create the Black Praetorians. A programming device was used to implant artificial memories and interpretations of the perceived environment into the soldier’s brain. The device could also extract memories, thereby making backups of information, but also removing memories that would have been traumatic for the soldiers.”
As the Interlocutor spoke these words everything became brighter and brighter for the prisoner. This brightness did not originate from the cell’s lights though, it was as if everything inside the room was radiating. Everything turned white, the traitor could no longer distinguish the different objects in the room, all turned white. He wanted to scream, but was unable to, it was as if he became deaf, no more sound. The man closed his eyes, hoping that everything would be normal once he opened them.

“Awaken mortals!” The Crowmantine traitor opened his eyes. This wasn’t the interrogation room he was locked in. He was back at Ark; this was a nurturing pod at the awakening chamber. The operative was trapped inside his pod that was filled with a thick liquid; several cables were plugged into his head. This is strange, he thought, the cables and implants shouldn’t be there. As the pod opened he fell on the stone floor of the awakening chamber; the tiles were made of dark red marble, the walls were dark grey. All around him were other pods, similar to the one he was in, black iron constructs filled with that same thick yellow liquid.
He could hear heavy footsteps, armored metal boots walking on the red marble floor. The master entered the awakening chamber, a tall and frightening creature. He wore an uniform similar to that of the Black Praetorian infantry but slightly modified; his boots had iron parts, especially on the bottom and the nose of the boot, the usual iron spikes in the soldier’s right shoulder was replaced for an iron pad which covered the entire shoulder. The pad’s design was strange, it was shaped like a skull, but unlike the skull of a creature the operative had ever seen, it seemed as if the skull did no have two eye sockets, like that of a normal human, but had many small holes. Small horns grew out of the skull’s forehead and the creature’s mouth, or what was supposed to be its mouth, was vertical.
As if the master wasn’t intimidating enough, two of his pets approached the awakened operatives. These machinations were a gift of the Technocratic Communion. Mostly made of iron, these creatures were a foul parody of hounds. Their eyes were red on the outer edges but grew to burning yellow in the centre, it seemed as if there was an actual fire burning inside that monster’s head. Patches of bleeding flesh and black fur covered several parts of the body, making the hound look wounded. As the hounds approached the operatives they opened their mouths, demonstrating their teeth. Each tooth was like a blade; fully capable of cutting through flesh and even light armor. Without warning the hounds leaped towards one of the operatives. Before the Crowmantine could scream the creatures were already upon him, ripping the man into pieces with their teeth.
“It seems like this mortal was unworthy” the master quietly spoke, the operatives couldn’t help but notice the satisfied expression on his face as he stared at the bloody corps of their comrade. “You all remember the mission: after your drop you will mingle amongst the refugees. Once in the city you will find their electro magnetic artillery and destroy them. Our advance has been delayed long enough.” He tried to make this as quickly as possible; the master despised this primitive form of communication. Every word seemed like another instant wasted, energies that could have been used more effectively elsewhere.

As the operatives left the awakening chamber to the deployment hall where their transports awaited them, cultists approached them, offering the operatives their last prayers and praising them for their sacrifice. Useless muck! After we leave Ark the master will probably have them all burnt on a pyre. The operative looked down to the deployment hall; entire hosts of Black Praetorians were ready to be deployed throughout the warzone. Infantry formed coteries; coteries with support formed cabals; cabals formed hosts. He noticed something strange down below, somebody was walking between the coteries, and he was wearing a loyalist uniform. The interrogator! I am dreaming this? “You are not dreaming, traitor”, the operative could hear a voice in the distance calling for him. All of a sudden his vision turned strange, everything turned bright again, he tried to scream…

“Welcome back, traitor”, it was the Interlocutor. They were no longer at Ark, but in the interrogation room. “It is ironic you know? Truth is that we had no real interest in the information you might have to offer us. We know all we need to know to deal with your ilk!” Then why drag me into this dream? Why? The Interlocutor seemed to be communicating with somebody outside the room by the way he moved his fingers in front of the camera. “The Hierophant will return shortly. He was right you know? He really will try to save your soul. You will find redemption only if you are worthy enough!” I have no interest in your salvation! It was as if the Interlocutor was able to read the prisoner’s mind, responding to his thoughts, “it will be a painful process, what we basically have to do is break you in every way possible before we can reconstruct you for your mission.” “What mission?” the traitor asked. “It is very simple, nonbeliever…” He called me a nonbeliever! Have the Commissars also become religious fanatics? “…you will become our eyes and ears in Ark…”
The operative desperately tried to wrestle out of the gurney, “I will not betray my masters!” he screamed hysterically. “Torture me all you want! Kill me! Please kill me!” The door opened and the Hierophant came back into the room, behind him were his assistants and a drone. The drone’s fingers had been replaced for bionic components, each fingertip split up in two smaller components, which again split up in two other ones containing small blades. “I bring you salvation and redemption, nonbeliever…”

This is the element of punishment. We will try to save you, traitor, but in the process you must be punished for your sins. Punishments can be so satisfying, at the end you know that you have been saved, maybe that is why the Hierophant takes so much pleasure at doing what he does…

Exitas-Acta-Probat
08-11-2010, 15:41
man thats creepy, good though :D

malika
18-11-2010, 10:39
Thanks for the kind words! I'm not too happy about the end anymore, it seems to go a bit too fast. Might work on that when I write my next piece.