Forge by A.G. Claymore & Andrew Claymore

Author:A.G. Claymore & Andrew Claymore [Claymore, A.G. & Claymore, A.G. & Claymore, Andrew]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-05-24T04:00:00+00:00

3rd Degree

Babilim Station, Aboard a Heli-Carrier

She followed the guard, her hands bound, as he led her down the corridor to the same interrogation room as yesterday. They’d at least let her wear the long cuffs this time, so she could do a better job of crouch-walking in the cramped confines of a ship built for shorter beings.

She entered the room and they left her to sit on a mattress against the wall. Their chairs were ridiculously small and she had the distinct feeling that the intelligence officer she’d met yesterday had felt like a small child sitting across from her.

The door opened again and Melchior was ushered in. He noted the empty spot where their chairs had sat yesterday and came over to sit with her, a wry grin on his face.

They’re making accommodations, he said in her mind. That’s a good step.

I don’t think I like communicating like this, she told him.

They’ll be listening to anything we say to each other. He looked over at her. It’s probably why they put us in the same room today. What sort of things did you talk to them about yesterday?

She sighed. He was right, for the moment, anyway. She’d have to get used to being in each other’s heads. He wants to know where we come from, why we’re traveling through their territory, why we’re masquerading as Ancients…

The door opened and the intelligence officer walked in, a tablet in his hand. His rank was lokhagos, a relatively junior officer but he didn’t seem to have any trouble getting cooperation from the far more senior tagmatarches in command of the detention block.

He sat on the edge of the desk this time, facing his two prisoners. “We’ve had some interesting conversations yesterday,” he said casually. “Though it might make for a diverting retinal-drama, I don’t buy into it as anything more than an exercise in creative fiction.”

Caution, Melchior warned. This is the awkward pause that he wants us to fill with indignant bluster.

The silence drew out until it became almost comfortable. The officer grunted. “You both stuck to your story, at least,” he allowed, “but if you’re Ancients, then I’m the polemarch of the 604th.”

“You are free to believe as you will,” Melchior said agreeably, “but we have taken no hostile actions against either you or your enemy. Why hold us?”

“Masquerading as some sort of messianic figure can very easily turn into leading the people against their own government,” the lokhagos retorted.

He held up the tablet. “You had several of our citizens with you after the crash. Our search and rescue techs brought them here along with you. Every one of them told me that you performed a miracle.”

“A miracle?” she asked, knowing already what form that miracle had taken or, rather, mis-taken.

“They said that you commanded them to cross their arms in imitation of you and those who showed their faith in this manner were spared from destruction. Those who didn’t …” He curled his lip in distaste. “… The doubters were punished with annihilation.

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