Junkyard

29/12/2020

Interrogation

"Commander, this is the civilian you requested."

   The commander nodded at the soldier, who saluted and promptly vacated the chamber. Between the dark grey, mighty walls of the interrogation room, the captive was a picture of plain. However, the commander did not feel a twinge of guilt, nor would he ever for these alien freaks.

   He turned to the other person in this room – a scruffy, lanky man in glasses. Although dressed immaculately in the required uniform of his station, the commander could not help but scowl at the faint evidence left behind by the official's "outdoor ventures". Indeed, the man was a negotiator and a sort of emissary assigned to study the culture and history of their enemies in this war. The commander had never pretended to be fond of such a mission, ordered by higher ups who had never directly faced the aliens. Why learn about their culture when they were here to plant their flags and build anew?

   The official slowly blinked in return to his scrutiny.

   "A question, official," the commander drawled. It was best to return to the more critical matter at hand. "Why did the captive not turn like the rest?"

   The captive in question was a middle-aged male humanoid. While the alien's species have been deemed a primeval class of humans, it always felt dirty to consider them as such. Humans were humans, a species without bestial powers that offered unfair racial superiority. Now the humanoid, while locked to his seat, was dressed as any human would for a day of casual strolling out at a park. What a mockery.

   The official glanced to the captive before clearing his throat. "From what I have observed in Rebban, only a small percentage of the population actually turns. That small percentage are akin to the royal army, who will turn when their Queen is in need. They are not... 'normal people' per se, so they do not make up the population." He seemed to pause as if fact-checking his words. "Therefore, I believe this man here would not have the ability to turn. He is just a normal citizen."

   The commander sighed. "Please keep it short next time. I have a war to run here." He took the seat next to the official, opposite the captive. "Does that mean he will give us the information we need with some stimulants?"

    "S-Stimulants?" The official stuttered in slow understanding. "Ah not necessarily, commander. Wait, actually––"

   His voice was interrupted by a barking command.

   "Release!"

   A whirring sound echoed throughout the chamber. The binders that enclosed the captive's head and throat slid open, revealing a gentle well-worn face, blue eyes and tawny hair.

   "Looks damn human you'd start to think he is!" The commander narrowed his eyes.

   It was as clear as airglass the commander's disdain for the inhabitants of this planet. Rebban, the world in the midst of being conquered. Populated by an advanced humanoid race but still so rich of minerals, wonders and peace despite eons of existence. It was the prime planet to "plant the flag", as they had the moon and Mars.

   The campaign had set out full of vitality and arrogance, believing the aliens to be easily conquerable due to their utopian civilisation. However, the first fleet were mercilessly crushed. The war subsequently dragged on, with humanity's side suffering heavy losses. The commander was overseer to the toughest moments, and it was right for him to be angered and filled with hate.

   In front of them, the captive visibly took a deep breath. His body was forcefully straightened as his metal seat flexed. A winged ribbon was pinned to his chest, the only adornment to the male's casual appearance. His face was void of any emotion, eyes lacking any amiability, though he did not seem fearful at all.