Wormholes and Wanderlust

Chapter 4: Heartless

Calliope's Perspective...

Standing just outside the interrogation room, I took a deep breath to steady myself. Grant, the human inside, had presented us with demands, claiming he'd reveal the truth if we complied. It was absurd. I felt no inclination to fulfill his requests, yet his behavior was markedly different from typical human prisoners. Resolute, I re-entered the room, the door sealing shut behind us with a definitive click. Grant's eyes immediately locked onto mine, a mix of anticipation and defiance in his gaze.

"You're not getting out of the cell," I declared, my voice unwavering.

His reaction was immediate, eyes widening in what seemed like genuine shock. "Why not?" he demanded, his tone edged with frustration.

I let out a dismissive huff. "Because you can't be trusted. For all we know, you're plotting to infiltrate the base, a Trojan horse in human form," I countered.

Grant's face contorted into a scowl. "Fine. Then I'm not telling you a damn thing," he shot back. "What about food...and my shoulder?"

I remained firm. "No," I replied curtly.

He tugged at his cuffs, his annoyance palpable. "Come on! This hurts! I said I'd cooperate if you treated me!" he protested, his voice strained with anger.

I sighed, my patience thinning. "You're lucky to be alive," I reminded him coldly. "If it weren't for me, you'd be just another corpse in a bag." But as I spoke, a sharp crack echoed through the room. The mirror on the side of the room had fractured, spiderwebbing outwards. It wasn't the noise that gave me pause, but the sudden silence that enveloped us.

"Give me...my freedom," Grant said, his voice low and threatening. The air in the room shifted, an uncanny chill running down my spine. Despite his apparent weakness and small stature, an irrational fear of him bubbled up within me.

I hesitated, my resolve wavering. Deep down, I despised humans, their history with us a litany of conflict and pain. "You're not getting free," I stated, trying to sound as firm as I felt. "You can choose between food and medical treatment. This isn't a luxury resort," I growled, my glare unwavering.

Grant held my gaze, the fluorescent lights in the room flickering noticeably, their hum intensifying. Then, as if releasing some unseen tension, he relaxed his hands. The room felt normal again. "Then heal me. This bullet is unbearable," he said, his eyes dropping to his palms.

I nodded, albeit reluctantly. "You'll be treated after the interrogation," I conceded, seeing his frustration mount. "Now, tell us something," I pressed, eager to extract any information I could from him.

Grant lapsed into a moment of contemplation, his brow furrowed in thought. Then, with a resolve that seemed to harden his features, he spoke. "My multitool," he began, his voice steady. "It contains proof of everything I've told you. Pictures of my ship, detailed logs, sensor data... I'll give you the access code, the security cipher. With that, you should have all the proof you need."

My arms crossed over my chest, I regarded him skeptically. "Then let's hear it," I prompted.

He recited the code with precision, as if it were deeply ingrained in his memory. "It's nine over twenty-five, seventeen over three, thirteen over one-o-five. Enter that on the lock screen, and it'll unlock," he explained. His gaze then shifted to his shoulder, a mix of pain and annoyance etched on his face. "Now, can you please remove this bullet?"

Reluctantly, I agreed. "Fine," I muttered, casting a glance at the mirror, feeling the eyes of unseen observers on me. Approaching the human, I reached forward to release the cuffs. Leaning down to his level, our faces were mere inches apart. I could sense his tension, a palpable fear emanating from him as I neared.