RPlog:Guest of the Empire, part 3

Security Deck - ISC Broadsword The detention block is the Imperial standard of a well-built facility. Capable of handling the most aberrant criminals in the galaxy, the detention block is designed to intimidate and invoke fear and hopelessness in the prisoners held within its cells. A large ring of computer terminals on a raised circular dais in the center of the room hinders any attempt to move directly toward the raised detention block from the direction of the Turbolift. Numerous types of surveillance equipment descend from the ceiling and extend from the walls to alert the bridge in the event that trouble arises. In addition to the two stormtroopers and the detention officer manning the security stations, several more armed stormtroopers line the walls at regular intervals. The block of cells itself extend down a pentagonal corridor. Steel grate floors with red lights underneath them traverse the black walled block. The doors to the cells are magna-locked to prevent blasters from opening them, and are recessed into the walls. Small view-ports allow observers to peek into the cells and an oblong tray door allows meals to be served, without opening the doors. => Kyrin => Lynae

Korynn has made sure that Kyrin has been treated with 'respect'. That is to say, she hasn't been tortured, she's been offered food, and has been left alone. He hopes she's sweating it out over what might come next, but at the same time, he wasn't entirely sure how to proceed. She was a tough shell to crack. Backing up to a timeless technique, he summons for one of the ship's black, spherical interrogation droids, complete with truth serum, laser scalpels and other manners of minor maiming devices. He stands outside the closed cell door, finishing the preparations on the droid.

The Chyleni have long been a very thoughtful people. Very deep into themselves. The rituals that Kyrin herself often ignores because they're stupid and they let people avoid thinking... they are what she has turned to. Occasionally, she turns to song. No words, or perhaps words in her native tongue, or maybe they're just beautiful sounds. A Rebel songbird. In a cage. Her tail flicking against the deck as she sits, keeping time with her latest tune. The pilot doesn't spend the entire day singing or staring at the walls. She does exercises that are basically dance moves. They're graceful, despite the tables tied to her wings. In fact, aside from faltering the first couple of hours, its seems she's getting used to those weights and incorporating them into her movements.

Standing impassively beside Fleming as he prepares the interrogation droid, Caiton has her hands clasped behind her back, her expression rendered down to its usual remote neutrality. Observing the alien prisoner on the security feed she observes the prisoner with a contemplative silence. "What we could do with a whole hall of them, Fleming," she muses in a soft voice.

"You would have to enlighten me," replies Korynn, his eyes fixed on the droid's hypodermic needle as he prepares a proper dosage of the serum. "I have a one track mind, Captain, and it involves breaking this prisoner." He glances toward Lynae, a vile grin on his face. "Once I'm finished with that, you can do with her as you please, I promise you that." He finishes with the droid, closing an access panel, and straightens his white tunic. "Shall we see how far the rebel's resistance can go?"

"Your one track mind is essential for the task at hand, it increases your efficiency rate," Caiton replies with a ghost of a smile. "What your work yields, my work finds uses for. The techniques used in this case will be studied and applied to other alien interactions, other cases," she explains. The security feed continues to hold her gaze, "What freak of genetics enables this species to grow wings and a tail yet retain humanoid features," she murmurs softly.

Fleming merely shakes his head from side to side in quiet musing, then turns toward the nearest CompForce trooper. "Alright, open it up." The door is released, and Korynn turns to walk into the prisoner's cell, his eyes turned now into a look of malice, not entirely falsified. Behind him comes the interrogation droid, whirring as it floats along on its repulsorfield. "Now, Lieutenant Sh'vani, we will see about your lack of answers."

Kyrin looks up as Korynn comes into the cell, her eyes blinking once. No fear is shown on her face as she settles into a posture of patient waiting. When Krieg had given her a couple of ration bars, she had squirreled them away and eaten them later, conserving her strength as best she can. There's a sort of weary resignation in her behavior. Even her songs of home haven't been of use to her. As much as she's wanted to remain strong, the Imperials are good at wearing people down, when not outright killing or maiming them.

Two CompForce troopers move in behind the interrogator, and make quickly for the prisoner. Their goal is to get her into submission, and ultimately draw her arms up at an uncomfortable posture, where they'll be bound and attached to a steel rope that descends from the ceiling. Korynn had studied the Chyleni's physique intently between his last visit and this one, and had a suspicion that such a treatment would make it so uncomfortable for her to move that she might not struggle. As the CompForce troopers move in, he begins speaking. "I will give you another chance to answer my questions before this gets decidedly more painful for you. What is your assignment with the New Republic, and give me the details of your current operations."

Kyrin allows herself to be drawn up, her arms bound and suspended without any sort of resistance. Her wings are drooping now, her wing spars weakened by having Lynae's tabletops tied to them for so long. When she's hung from the ceiling, her head lolls forward, the pain behind her eyes where she can't stop it from showing, hissing once as she's winched up, but making no other noise. Her exhaustion is such that her tail simply hangs down limply. She's almost as pliable as a dead piece of meat, nearly at the end of her considerable rope.

With a certain level of pleasure at seeing his prisoner so weakened, he strides forward and examines her more closely. "Alright then," he says, quietly, then turns toward the droid. "Trooper, free the wings." The CompForce troopers begin undoing the tabletops that were utilized to keep the woman's wings from spreading, and Korynn seems to be interacting with the interrogation droid. "20 CC's of trysumnoyac seven. Liquefy a vial of petrohydrocycloxide." The droid, whirring in a demented way, floats forward and stabs a vial into the Chyleni's neck, injecting a silvery substance into the alien's body. The substance can be felt instantly upon injection, spreading a tingling sensation throughout the body as it courses through the veins.

Kyrin shivers involuntarily as the silvery substance wanders through her circulatory system, the muscles twitching, and she can't stop the squirming. In fact, this is the most reaction Fleming's gotten out of her since she was incarcerated with them. Matching the droid's dementia is this jerky sorts of movements the Chyleni is doing.

And so it begins. Korynn hauls back as the Chyleni twitches, and thrusts his fist into her face. His other fist draws back and lands squarely in the side of her torso. "Tell me what I wish to know," he demands loudly. His strikes don't react off the drugs in her system... it must be for something else. After the punches are laid, the wings are finally freed, and the troopers step back as if worried they might be attacked by them.

Kyrin's head snaps around when she's struck in the face, and her breath exhales sharply when she's punched. Released from the weights on her wings, Kyrin tries to fold them to her back, an instinctive gesture. But it doesn't complete, as if she's simply too tired to hold them in place. Still, she doesn't speak, closing her eyes and waiting for the next blow, the twitching caused by the injection still continuing, but on autopilot. It's almost fascinating to watch, the progress of the fluid.

The next blow doesn't come. Instead, Korynn walks back over to the droid and removes a small hand-held device, attached to a cord that runs into the body of the droid. Back to Kyrin he goes, and he jams the device into her chest. With the push of a button, electrical current is shot into her body, but it reacts powerfully with the trysumnoyac now inside of her. The drug ignites onto her nerve cells, causing pain to course through from top to bottom. He holds the device onto her for a good five seconds, before removing it. "The charge will increase every time I use it," he explains calmly. "What is your assignment?"

Kyrin's entire body arches with the agony inflicted upon her. She shakes her head back and forth, her lips peeled back with the sheer pain. Unbidden, her wings flick out and backwing twice, trying to get her away from the interrogator, her feet rising to try and kick at her tormentor. It's an involuntary reaction, her body fighting to survive.

"Spast," one of the CompForce troopers hisses in disgust and shock as the creature's wings come up. Korynn manages to back off just far enough to keep the Chyleni's feet from striking him. He gives her a moment to answer, but when she doesn't, he moves forward quickly and jabs the device into her upper ribcage. The charge is doubled, and he holds it there for another five seconds, careful to watch for flying objects coming his way.

Kyrin struggles to free herself in earnest now, a scream torn from her when the pain device is applied once more. Her wings stir up the air in the room, and Kyrin decides to simply do her best to be freed. Wrenching herself around, she grabs hold of the steel rope holding her to the ceiling and pulls herself up, planting her feet on the ceiling and pulling on the steel cord for all she's worth, doing her level best to try and pull it out of its mooring. Her teeth and muscles are both straining, the cords standing out on her neck.

Fleming backs away from Kyrin as she summersaults into the air, and calmly takes a few steps further into the room. He glances toward the troopers, who ready their stun weapons, but refrain from firing. They know the drill. Let her struggle, stun her if she gets free. And so, Korynn merely watches, unentertained.

The Imperials won't need to do much. She's not at her full strength as it is... worse, they build stuff to be strong. Unlike other races, they probably don't sell military contracts to the lowest bidder. Thus, when her muscles give out, she flops back down, once more dangling from the ceiling like a piece of meat. Two steps closer to the defeat that seems inevitable.

Relentlessly, Korynn strides forward and jabs the device into the alien's ribcage, a bit lower this time. Once again, the perceived pain has doubled, and he holds it for a bit longer. "TELL ME WHAT I WANT TO KNOW!" he shouts, rage boiling in his eyes, the veins in his neck bulging.

A scream is ripped from the Chyleni's throat and she tries to twist around to get away from that pain, from that torment. Tears run down her cheeks unbidden, but she can't do much. She used up what little reserves she had with that somersault thing. Her wings hang limply from her back, the leathery sails rustling as her body involuntarily shivers.

Fleming draws back and replaces the device back inside the spherical droid's chassis. He looks toward the two CompForce troopers, who are slowly recovering from their shock at seeing the alien perform such a feat of acrobatic skill. He nods his head to them, then makes a hand-motion that looks like a sideswipe followed by a clenched fist. Dutifully, the troopers approach and stand behind Kyrin, ready to hold her back should she try any more stunts. Korynn waits then, letting some space fill the air as he watches his prisoner's shivering. When he finally speaks, it is with slow, quiet words. "I have been researching your home planet, Lieutenant Sh'vani." He straightens his tunic. "In fact, it has intrigued me so much that I have arranged for a pair of stardestroyers to give it a little... visit." He pauses, his eyes searching for Kyrin's, biting back all signs of dishonesty and instead replacing it with a critical look.

Kyrin's reddened eyes squint warily up at her tormentor, the confusion behind them, even as she tries to remain otherwise silent. Star Destroyers. She shakes her head, back and forth. "No..." she hisses sibilantly. It's not the defiant and matter-of-fact tone she used the last time she spoke to him, that same word. Just that. No... you're lying? Or no... my people are peaceful a la the Chief of State many years ago.

"Oh yes." Fleming doesn't budge, and his cold, calculating eyes don't shift. "If you don't begin talking to me, you will leave me no choice but to order them to take action." He waits for a moment, then smirks. "Mull it over." Then, he turns and starts to walk out. "Release her." The troopers do as told, then depart.