The Interview
19 Sep 2020RedivivusCrowd
Kamarov kept his head low and tried to gleam details from his surrondings as he was led down the hallways of what he presumed was a Federal Corvette towards what he imagined was the interrogation chamber which was usually located in the aft of Federal ships, however Kamarov was confused as the guards guided him towards an elevator which began ascending towards the upper section of the ship, where the command section would be housed. Kamarov took note of this odd development and also became aware of the fact that as they passed through the ships hallways, they had not crossed paths with any members of the crew and were proceeding at a brisk pace, the guards obviously having a specific destination in mind and instructions to not waste any time in getting there. "If they wanted to avoid me getting a proper look at the crew, why not just put a bag over my head and frog march me to the interrogation room?" Kamarov attempted to remember the layout of a Corvette from his time at the Brightlight Academy in Hors.
"At this point we're walking away from where the interrogation room should be, if we're ascending to the command section that can only mean..."
Just as Kamarov's thoughts were reaching their conclusion he noticed the guard in front suddenly stop and step to the side, silently gesturing at him to approach the door in front, a stateroom door judging from the wooden panelling. "The CO's office?" Kamarov mused. It was at this point that something about the door caught his eye, "I've seen this before..."
Kamarov's musings were interrupted by the guard behind him pulling back the charging handle on his rifle, the unspoken message quite clear to Kamarov who proceeded to stand in front of the door, which opened upon his approach, the two guards took up positions on either side of the door, staring at him as he made his way inside. Upon entering the room Kamarov eyed up his surrondings, it was a fairly sparse room with very litttle in the way of personal furnishings, which was atypical of a CO's quarters, their home away from home.
At the other end of the room, seated behind a desk fashioned from the same wood as the door, a man greeted the Commodre.
"Thank you for joining me Commodre, apologies for making you wait but we needed to make some adjustments in anticipation of your little trip through the ship, please have a seat" The man gestured to a seat on the other side of the table, which Kamarov slowly sat down in. Now that he was face to face with the man, Kamarov sized him up and tried to get a read on him.
He was surprisingly young for a Commander of a ship this size, he couldn't have been any older than 30, however with the abundance of progenitor cells on the market for those with the money to pay for them, it made gauging the age of people difficult at times, especially if they were wealthy and/or well connected. He had close cropped reddish hair and cold blue eyes, calmly weighing him up in turn from the other side of the table, crinkl;ed slightly in amusement at the little game taking place between the two of them,
He wore the uniform of an officer of the Federal Navy, the rank of a Post Commander on his shoulder, Kamarov's eyes narrowed slightly at this, and looked the man in the eye, holding his gaze. "I take it you are one of the irregulars who took part in the battle at Purusha?" Kamarov asked, narrowing his eyes.
The other man leaned back, keeping his eyes on Kamarov, "That was a pretty safe assumption, so far everything about your visit has been against protocol, most officers would have given you the customary spiel about desertion and treason and then hauled you back to Sol for summary execution and court martial..." The officer paused smiling , "Or was it the other way around? The pencil pushers at command can be slow but they can always find time in their schedules for traitors, what do you think Mr. Kamarov?
Kamarov breathed out through his nose, looking the man in the eye as he replied, "I'm not sure, it's been a long time since I sat through a lecture at Brightlight, you must not have graduated from the centre in Ross 128 judging from your age and rank. They teaching the new kids to bulldoze their friendly ships aside as they advance?"
The man's smile dissapeared as he leaned forward again, interlocking his hands and putting them on the table, "I think you'll find that my superiors are quite happy with my performance, and have every confidence in my ability to deal with assaults on our territory. The academy in Ross was nice and all, but simulations can only teach so much."
Kamarov smirked at the man's response and leaned forward, "Do you want me to go ahead and put an end to this little charade or do you want to keep this game going a little longer?"
The officer's eyes narrowed as he smiled, "What charade are you referring to Commodre?"
Kamarov smiled as he leaned back in his seat, "You aren't going to take me back to Sol, you aren't going to execute me and you aren't going to give me back to the Wanderer's either."
The man on the other side of the table had an unreadable expression on his face, "And why is that Commodre Kamarov?"
"Because this isn't a Federal ship and you aren't an officer of the Federal Navy." Kamarov held his breath, waiting for the man's reply.
The man was quiet for a moment and then casually put his feet up on the table, undoing the collar of his uniform with a sigh, "What gave it away? God knows we gave you enough clues but what tipped you off first?"
"The door and your table." Kamarov nudged the table with his own foot.
The man's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "The door and table? Please explain." The man's demeanour was a lot less intense now, as if they were just making idle conversation at this point.
"They should be made of Old Earth Oak, but they aren't. they're made of Lavian Spruce." Kamarov answered.
"How the hell did you recognise what wood the door was made of?" The man had furrowed eyebrows now.
"My father was a trader for many years before he retired and we lived on board his ship as he travelled, his favourite run was always Lave, for the brandy of course. Your desk is made of the same wood as the barrels the brandy's aged in."
The man smiled, "That's impressive but that can't have been all you noticed, I could have just had eccentric taste. That's not enough evidence to stake your life on."
Kamarov nodded in agreement, "True, that's why I had to confirm that your rank was fake."
"Hmm, how so?" The man gestured for Kamarov to continue.
"You're wearing a Post Commander insignia but you aren't also wearing the ribbon for attending Bright Light academy, which every Post Commader has to graduate from in order to recieve their promotion."
The man tilted his head, "Alright, but I could have just been feeling lazy and didn't put in on, or just plain forgot."
"True." Kamarov agreed. "But when I said the academy was in Ross 128, you didn't question it and went along with it."
The man paused and then smiled, realisation dawning on him. "The academy isn't in Ross 128, is it?"
"No, it's in Hors." Kamarov had a small smirk on his face.
The man held his hands up and sighed, "You got me.", the man smiled and reached down into a drawer under his desk as he continued, "Well, you've succesfully passed the first half of your interview..."
Kamarov's smile vanished as the man produced a sidearm from the desk and casually aimed it square at Kamarov's chest, resting it on the desk as he did so."
"Now, answer me this you clever little cunt. Who do I work for? You have ten minutes to give me an answer I'll be satified with or I'll blow your brains out all over this nice Lavian Spruce desk." The smile never left the man's face as he uttered the ultimatum but they didn't reach his eyes and Kamarov had no doubt that he would make good on his threat.
Kamarov took a deep breath and sat up straight.
"Well..."
End of Part 2. To be continued.