RPlog:Interrogation Training Day 3 - Xy'lear Dagnmith

It was a cruel turn of events that has led up to this moment, Liza now shackled to a wall by chains, deprived of sleep and food and has been tormented in ways she never thought were possible - today had her witnessing what she thinks was the execution of her adopted parents, having a migraine medically induced and being cut, having probe stuck into her which were then used to electrocute her. The wounds have been attended to with Bacta, leaving no physical marks behind, but there is no doubt about, she's going through quite a bit of mental anguish over everything. Currently, she is sitting, back against the wall, drifting in and out of consciousness.

When the door to Liza’s cell whisks opens, no CompForce troopers are in evidence. Just the young form of Agent Dorian Navtilos, his hands both empty and bare, his gloves tucked away in his belt. He steps into the cell with a small frown, making his way towards the pilot's shackled form with slow steps, not wanting to startle her. "Officer Molokai?" he says carefully, tilting his head slightly to one side. "Are you awake?"

"What do you think.." Liza asks as she looks up, her face swollen from the blow she received just before being detained. "It isn't like I can sleep. Thankfully the migraine's gone." Heaving a bit of a sigh, she watches the other ISB agent, this one she knows as it was he she sat with the night of the debriefing.” So they're going to let you dirty your hands, too?"

With a wry smile, Dorian makes his way over to where Liza is sitting, turning to sit down on the floor next to her with his hands clasped in his lap. "Actually, I just wanted to talk," he replies, one of his shoulders lifting in a shrug. "They don't want to be so hard on you, you know. They're trying to prepare you for what could happen if the enemy ever managed to lay hands on you. I've been asked to try talking you through where your weak points are, to see if addressing them in that manner will work better. Would that be alright?" He tilts his head questioningly, eyebrows slightly raised.

Liza scoffs a little. "I'm not going anywhere. So.." Sighing, she casts a sideward glance towards Dorian, a brow arching as she does so. "It would seem that you have a captive..." She laughs for a moment, dry, humorlessly, "...audience." She licks her dry lips as she returns to looking between the door and something else, something left on the floor.

Dorian chuckles, slowly shaking his head. "Let's see what we can do, then. You're too compassionate," he states bluntly, though his voice is still that warm, gentle thing it almost always seems to be. "There is nothing wrong with compassion in places, but allowing your enemies to see it is dangerous - not only for you, but for those you are worried about. Your fellow officers would gladly die for the Emperor. You must remember this." Liza takes a deep, shaky breath as she nods, apparently being made to see the err of her ways, the Sarian at least willing to accept the facts as being just that. "Yes. I have seen that is true.." she eventually says, her voice level, lacking most in the way of genuflection, nearly emotionless. "So how does one stop being compassionate?" "You shouldn't lose your compassion entirely," Dorian replies, shaking his head. "It can be a valuable motivator to keep in mind during our work for the Empire, and it is a part of what makes us better than the rebels we face." He scratches his chin in thought, folding his free arm across his knees. "You simply need to focus, I think," he murmurs. "When you are held captive, try to push the thoughts of those you care for out of your mind. I know it's hard, but when you are freed, it will have been worth it. Focus on your duty to the Emperor."

Liza nods a little as she ponders that, her body shaking slightly as she does so. Something seems to snap inside the pilot's mind and, with a side-ward glance towards the agent that sits beside her and she whispers, softly, "My..My parents are gone, now...because I didn't show compassion." She seems resentful at herself but then, with a soft smile, she adds, "For the glory of the Empire." "They would be proud of what you are learning here," Dorian promises, his expression softening. "You are a loyal servant of the Emperor, Liza, and you are becoming stronger for the trials you are facing here. Your parents would be very proud." He reaches over to give her shoulder a light pat, his expression becoming thoughtful again. "I think that if you learn to focus on your duties, it will overshadow any other problems you might face.. can /you/ think of anything that you would like to talk about and address, though?" he asks curiously, folding his hands against his knees again. "I am here to help."

It takes a moment, several long seconds that borders on minutes but she eventually shrugs and shakes her head. "It's hard for me to focus. So very hard sometimes." She says that as she shrugs, unable to hide the obvious from those who have witnessed it first hand, not that she's going to try and lie about it now. "I am sure that my flaws will be pointed out...probably painfully. But I am willing to learn."

"Think on it after you've gotten some sleep," Dorian smiles, inclining his head towards her. "I'll still be here even after you have been returned to your duties, after all, and I will be happy to help however I can." He folds both arms across his knees and rests his chin against them, looking towards the doorway with a pensive look on his face, brow knit together as he runs over what else he needs to cover with the pilot. "Perhaps you should speak to someone in Medical about your difficulty focusing, if it's an ongoing issue?" "It has been noticed and recorded in my files from when I was a Cadet. I am not sure if there's anything that can be fixed medically, however I will speak with the Marshal the next time I see him." The pilot says that quietly, almost as if she's afraid the wrong ears might hear her statement to Dorian, the woman paranoid, to say the least. "Look, I want out. Please. I..I'll do anything you tell me. But I want to leave. I want to go home.." Yes, she said home.

It doesn't go unnoticed. Dorian turns his head so that he can look at the pilot, though he leans his cheek against his folded arms as his chin had been, the posture managing to make him look younger than already does. "Where is home, Liza?" he asks, likewise quieting his voice until it's practically a whisper - not /quite/ conspiratorial, his tone if too warm for that, but he gives the impression of respecting her wish not to be overheard.

Liza looks at Dorian, her brow knitting as she regards him like one might regard a dangerous animal. "The Inquisator is my home." she says, her hushed tone tinged with pride. "I want to go back to my quarters." She rolls her eyes at him as if that should've been obvious. "I mean..I have.." She pauses, looking pained. "...a home on Corellia with my parents but..well, you know. They're dead, now." She shrugs as she looks about the cell. "The ship is my home, now."

Given Dorian's smile, that was the answer he was looking for, and he simply nods in response to the rolling of her eyes. Good. "Your time here is almost finished," he promises, holding up one of his hands. "We just need to make sure you have learned what you needed to from your time here, or you'll have to stay a little while longer. None of us wants that," he notes sincerely, thinking a moment before he shifts to draw a communicator from his tunic. "Do you think you're ready to go?"

Liza nods a bit as she stretches, causing her shoulders to pop slightly thanks to how they've been held up for so long while she has been shackled to the bulkhead. "Yes. I am ready to leave now." She almost asks if she can send a transmission to her parents but remembers just in time and she winces, the mental pain still fresh. "Can I get a drink of water, please? I am very thirsty."

"Oh, of course," Dorian replies, nodding once to Liza as he brings the communicator up to allow him to use it. "We're ready in here. Bring a glass of water." There's a  of confirmation, and the com is returned to Dorian's tunic, leaving the Agent to smile lopsidedly at Liza. "Should only be a minute," he notes warmly. He's seated on the floor next to the shackled pilot, his arms folded comfortably across his knees. Were it not for Liza's status, they might almost look like a couple of kids just.. hanging out.

True to Dorian's word, it isn't very long before the door to the cell whisks open. Two CompForce Troopers briskly escort Petty Officer Xy'lear Dagnmith inside, their stun batons in-hand. Once the door closes behind them, one trooper steps away to carry a glass of water over to the Agent, who accepts it with quiet thanks.

Swirling the water around in the cup, Dorian's gaze returns to Liza, focusing on her for her reaction.

Xy'lear movements are measured and his posture dignified as he moves in with the pair of CompForce Troopers, he comes to a stop and issues a general salute as he stands at attention. Features are kept set and attentive with a serious gaze lingering first on the Officer chained still to the wall, then down and over to the ISB Agent. Apparently waiting for further word before speaking. Keeping his face somewhat impassive, he does glance over at the visible wounds upon Liza shrewdly out of the corner of his eye.

Liza ignores the water, her thirst ignored for now as she sees Xy'lear being lead in, those stun batons getting a bit of a star from her. "Well, welcome back. You back for seconds of the ISB's wonderful hospitality or are you here to gloat?" As much as she likes the man she finds herself sneering a bit in contempt, the fact that he got released before her by no means a small annoyance. Shrugging, she looks at the glass, now and then to the agent who holds it and shakes her head, smiling as she does so. "Thank you..but I think I'll pass, after all."

"These men," Dorian says, his voice rising somewhat to demand the pilot's attention in response to her commentary, "Are going to beat Officer Dagnmith unless you give them the communications frequency used by your squadron," he states, loosely folding both of his hands around the glass of water.

One of the troopers extends a hand to place it on Xy'lear's shoulder. "On your knees," the Trooper snaps, and as one, both of the stun batons suddenly crackle to life, bright flashes of white-blue electricity arcing over the weapons' surfaces.

Dorian's eyes remain focused on the pilot's face, watching her expectantly. "The frequencies, pilot. Or do you abandon your fellow officer to his fate?"

Through his jaw courses a note of tension when the words are spoken to him by the shackled Officer, Xy'lear moistens his lips with a fluttering caress. He doesn't speak though his lips part, only to close them once more when the ISB Agent speaks up for his purpose of being present once more. The description of his fate doesn't cause the Petty Officer to flinch even when the Trooper touches his shoulder, he twists his head about to stare hard at Liza, not yet moving down to his knees. A soft puff carries a grunt from the man as he lowers his lean, but tall frame down to his knees staring straight ahead, paying no mind to the crackling arcs of the stun batons.

Liza shrugs it off, apparently not flustered at the least by what happens now. "If what you say is true then Xy'lear will take any beating with pride...all for the glory of the Empire. So..no. You will not the frequencies." She casts a look at the knelt form across the room from where she sits with Dorian, giving Xy'lear a bit of a level, calm look that ends in a nod. Let them do what they will to him. Time heals all wounds but, as she learned just now, weakness is not forgotten. Not by the Empire and not by one's enemies who would surely exploit any form of compassion or other weakness she might show.

Dorian nods, seemingly in response to Liza... but apparently, it is also a signal. Despite her refusal to divulge the information, the Troopers move into action, their batons being brought down onto Xy'lear's body with enough force that the activated electric currents might seem like overkill. They go for the face, the ribs, anywhere they can reach.

The ten seconds it goes on seems like an eternity. The beating is brutal. Dorian finally raises a hand and the assault stops abruptly, one trooper dropping to a knee next to Xy'lear to check for a pulse, quietly murmuring something to his fellow officer. Dorian's eyes have yet to leave Liza's face. "The frequencies, pilot."

A twinkle of pride shows as he raises his eyes up from his kneeling form to the shackled Pilot, keeping his jaw set and by a force of will his body relaxed. Not having time to do much more as the batons are already coming down in an arc to slam into his hardened form. Breath expels from his mouth as it opens, releasing a cry of pain that is stifled as he falls forward, his muscles not beyond his control with the electricity running through him. Falling forward to the cell floor with a heavy thud, his body jerks and his eyes are awash in the rising pain that is beaten into him. Fight as he might he can't control how his body jerks and flails under the blows, moaning in anguish each time a blow falls until his eyes flutter shut.

Liza shakes her head again and would even go as far as to fold her arms over her stomach if she were able to, the pilot not about to be swayed by the sight of what is being done to Xy'lear. "Over my...and his..dead body." She keeps her gaze on the flailing form as it jerks and spasms, smirking a bit as she does so. "By the will of the Empire.." she mutters, the phrase one that has been repeated quite a bit over the last few days, one that rings in her ears while pride swells in her heart.

Dorian lowers his hand and regards Liza pensively, making no signal for the beating to resume. Instead, he leans towards her, quieting his voice - though the other three men in the room will be able to hear him. "You seem pleased that he is being assaulted so," he observes, his blue eyes slightly narrowed as he peers at her as if she were a puzzle. "Curious. You were recently begging for him to be spared. Why the change of heart?" One eyebrow lifts. "Jealousy, perhaps? Envy?"

Xy'lear lays there limply on the cold metal floor of the cell with a dribble of blood dribbling out of the corner of his mouth. A bright red swath of skin on the side of his face is already swollen from a well placed baton strike while the only movement that rises from him is that of his breathing and the occasional twitch that lingers from the stun batons.

Liza laughs dryly. "Pride.." She takes a deep breath as she turns to face Dorian, her motions hindered by how she's shackled. "It is an honor to serve and it is an honor to die for the Empire, is it not?" She motions towards the prone form that lays there. "Look at him. Do you think he once felt anything but pride...? I doubt it. And I feel proud that he serves the Empire."

"You showed spite when he arrived," Dorian replies to Liza, his head tilting as he regards her. "Not pride. I wonder if perhaps a different subject would prove a more effective test." He looks to the troopers, frowning in thought. "Take him to medical," he says slowly, nodding to Xy'lear's form. "And bring me a list of the members of her squadron."

Liza looks amused. "That's not going to get me to change my mind." She waves towards the unconscious form as she sighs, her nose wrinkling as she does so. "I was angry with him for being released before I was, but I do not feel any spite for him. I am very honored to know a man of his caliber." She smiles as she says that.

"I'll be sure to let the Director know," Dorian replies with a wry smile, and then the Agent is smoothly rising to his feet, taking the glass of water with him. She said she'd changed her mind, after all. After a moment, he looks down at her, adding in a serious tone, "I /do/ advise being a bit less... /cheeky/ to your fellow officers in the future. Unprofessional. Disgraceful." He shakes his head once before looking towards the troopers again, nodding to them as they gather Xy'lear's form up and cart him out of the chamber to get his wounds treated. "I'll have to reevaluate my opinion of your professionalism," he notes to Liza as he begins to follow them out. "Someone will be with you once it has been decided what to do with you."

Liza closes her eyes as she leans her head back, mulling over everything once she's alone. It has been a helluva day and she is tired, emotionally -and- physically, and soon she slumbers, her sleep light and troubled.