Kerenski - A Prelude
22 Jun 2018Kari Kerenski
Hudson Penal Colony
Atroco System
Kari Kerenski stared balefully at her reflection in the one-way mirrored glass. The cramped confines of the interrogation room only added to her misery; she was exhausted, her body ached, her throat dry with thirst. The dazzling white neon tube above her buzzed and flickered, irritating her and compounding her headache.
She didn’t move when the door opened. Nor did she look up at the man who entered, dressed in the garb of an Imperial Inquisitor.
He settled down in the chair opposite, placing a data-slate on the table as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his uniform and folded up his sleeves. Whistling softly through his teeth, he ran a hand through his iron-grey hair, before scratching his salt-and-pepper beard. The data-pad flickered to life at his touch.
“Kari, Kari, Kari,” he repeated softly, a stream of text and images scrolling down the screen as he swiped his finger. “You’ve been busy!”
Her eyes remained locked on her reflection, devoid of emotion or expression.
“Arson. Smuggling. Kidnapping. Sedition,” the Inquisitor read out headlines from her criminal record, his voice carrying a mocking edge. He paused, pursing his lips at one particular mugshot, “Hey you don’t look half bad on this one!”
Kari exhaled gently, her fingers twitching imperceptibly.
“Who are these guys?” he laughed, spinning the pad around towards his captive, “Atroco Raiders!” he waved his hands in mock extravagance. “Who the fuck comes up with these names, eh? I hope whoever came up with that gem gets executed with the rest of ‘em, right?” he chuckled to himself.
Her jaw clenched. In her mind, she knew that her comrades were in similar cells, having similar conversations with equally repugnant Inquisitors; a final kick from the boot of Imperial authority before they were taken down to the basement and shot.
“You look tense, Kari,” he said, his voice still soft. Reaching into his uniform jacket, he produced an unopened packet of cigarettes and threw them down on the table before the young woman. “Help yourself,” he gestured with an open hand, “real ciggies, no vaporiser bullshit.”
Kari closed her eyes, her lips moving in a silent curse, before turning to face the Inquisitor directly and slamming her hand down on the packet. She tore open the cellophane and put a slender white tube to her lips, her weary amber eyes meeting those of the Inquisitor’s.
Leaning forward, he lit her cigarette with a small multi-tool from his belt, before retreating back from the billow of smoke exhaled by his relieved prisoner.
“Feeling more comfortable, now?” he smiled, taking the data-pad back and swiping a few pages. “Good!” he continued, without waiting for an answer. “Let’s look at you in more detail.”
“Alexey and Ekaterina,” he announced, swiping the datapad to cast a holo of a healthy looking, elderly couple, with full beaming smiles. “An architect and a data-entry clerk. Hard working. Impeccable records. Model subjects of the Empire.” He paused with a frown; “See, they don’t look like parents of a terrorist, do they?” he mused. “Do they know they’re the parents of a terrorist?” his deep brown eyes bored into hers.
Kari took a long drag of her cigarette. “They care nothing for me,” she said flatly through the smoke.
The Inquisitor raised his eyebrows. “Oh? That’s funny. They seemed very concerned about you when we paid them a visit eight hours ago.”
The woman’s poker-face slipped, her eyes betraying her fear. “What I’ve done has nothing to do with them,” her voice, a thick Neo-Slavic drawl, raised as she leaned forward, “your sordid business is with me and me alone!”
Leaning away and scratching the back of his head, the Inquisitor shrugged. “We need to understand what made you a terrorist, Kari. Did your parents radicalise you? Did they bring you up to despise the Empire that nurtured you, that educated you?”
Her eyes flickered; she immediately tried to hide her slip behind another plume of smoke. But the Inquisitor had recognised the tell.
“Education? Yes, you were very well schooled, weren’t you?” he swiped the datapad again, casting a holo of her graduation, her young face proud in her college regalia. “Buricasses University... Interstellar Politics and Government!” he blinked with a nod, “Hey that’s some heavy shit! Rather you than me!”
Kari’s tired eyes narrowed at his flippancy. She remained silent, taking another cigarette and lighting it from the end of the last.
“And then, all of a sudden,” the Inquisitor paused, spreading his fingers, “poof! You disappeared! You dropped out of a career at a prestigious university and went off the radar.”
The Inquisitor’s smile fell, his eyes hardening as he leaned forward across the table.
“Why, Kari?”
Exhausted, she let her head droop forwards, her unkempt blonde hair falling over her face. “Why do you insist on this charade? You already know, it’s all on that fucking data-slate.”
The man nodded, his grin returning, making finger-guns at his weary captive. “Atroco Raiders! For years, you subverted young impressionable minds to turn to their criminal agenda, before becoming a full-time terrorist yourself,” his grin twisted like a knife with each word, his scathing tone relentless.
“I mean, you guys actually took the traitor Loren seriously! You really do believe there's a conspiracy among an intergalactic clique to use us all as pawns against the xeno threat… you need to smoke a lot of onionhead to come up with this, but you believed and sold it!”
He shook his head, shoulders bobbing as he chuckled.
“And look here - you lead Action Brigades! What was yours called - the Night Witches?” his eyes widened as the woman sank her head into her hands. Pitching forward with a leering grin, he continued relentlessly; “You fucked the boss, right? You don’t go from university lecturer to Action Brigade Leader without a bit of…”
His crude hand gesture was cut short as Kari looked up and snarled; “Just sign my fucking execution warrant already! Let me die with the rest of them, as martyrs of our Lady!”
She flicked her cigarette away, her worn eyes rekindled with an inner fire as her voice rose; “Do you know who the real traitors are? They are those who condemned our Lady as an outlaw and a fugitive! They are those who stood by and did not heed her warnings! They are those who despite her example, chose to do nothing but prop up an aging, decrepit regime!”
The Inquisitor did not recoil, or fluster. Rather, he seemed to marvel at the woman’s passionate outburst.
“Are you calling the Emperor a traitor, Kari?” he challenged, his eyes sparkling.
She stood, placing her hands apart on the edges of the table and leaning forward, her lips drawing back into a feral snarl.
“Fuck the Emperor, and fuck you!”
She spat on the brushed metal surface defiantly, before slumping back down in her chair, her head held high despite her exhaustion.
Silence held the room for long moments, before the Inquisitor broke it. He swiped his pad again, and pushed it across the table.
“Then your fate is sealed. Please read and acknowledge.”
Kari gave a low laugh, picking up the pad and lazily scanning it. She blinked, frowning.
“This is… a pardon. Not an execution warrant…”
The man leaned forward, his smile now warmer, his voice a hushed whisper.
“And I am not an Inquisitor. I am Commander Phisto Sobanii of Loren’s Legion, and you are walking out of here with me.”