Art thou a virgin? - First whisper of the Detainee, from ""The Honor and Agony of Saint Manuel" as perford by the Bongistan Cyberqueen's Royal Rigellian Ballet Company, Rigel-7, 3679 PG.
‘I saw Him, seated on his rolling throne casting ruin before him. The Little Sister wailed the scream of a million terrors and bent to his will. I saw the uncounted ranks marching, the oathkeepers and oathbreakers alike at his tread. Lo, there did I see my father. Lo, there did I see my mother, and my sisters, and my brothers. Lo, there do I see the line of humanity, Back to the glassing! Lo, he does call to . He bade take my place among them, Marching the halls of Hell where the brave may live forever! Trucker’s calling for in hell!' - Book of Armored Wrath, Saint Manuel, the Black-Hooded Rider Keeper of the Road to Cavalry, Tanker's Bible
Children shouldn't play with dead things - Ambassador Clurvist, Pubvian Diplomatic Corps
The Senior Assistant Over-Director's Senior Assistant of Intelligence Analysis waited until the others had either walked out or shut down their streams before waving Senior Dominion Intelligence Case Worker Hravek'al to take a seat. He waited until Hravek'al was comfortable before clearing his throat and tapping the top of his desk.
"The video footage of, what was his na? Shraku'ur? The video of him doing the urban warfare training course and the starship boarding training course, was, to be honest, fairly alarming," Director Nevarn said slowly. He turned around in his chair and looked out the window. "He mowed through his opposition like they weren't even there with what looked like long practiced tactics and training."
Hravek'al nodded.
"So, let sum everything up," the Director said, still facing out the window. "So this entity can infiltrate our territory, ans unknown, locate specific citizens, ans unknown, detain and exfiltrate those citizens, again ans unknown; modify them for heavy combat, ans unknown, train them to a standard beyond any currently achievable in our native forces, ans unknown, re-infiltrate our territory, ans unknown, reinsert our modified citizens, ans unknown, in the exact place and ti necessary to prevent a species-wide extinction level event which we almost caused with zero explanation of how it knew we were doing the thing we were doing that would kill us?"
The Director's voice was low and quiet.
Hravek'al nodded, then cleared his throat and made a correction. "She."
"Pardon?" The Director's voice was still quiet.
*"*The entity known as the Detainee refers to itself as female as well as presents itself in a physical body that is standard with Terror females," Hravek'al said.
The silence stretched out for a long mont before the Director broke it with a single word. "Noted."
Again, the office was silent for a long ti.
Hravek'al cleared his throat again. "None of that is the part that concerns , Director."
Hravek'al noted that snow was starting to fall outside the window. He checked his wrist-comp and saw that the weather control had decided to drop eight inches of snow on the city.
The single word from the Director pulled his attention back to the discussion. "Explain."
Hravek'al took a mont to gather his thoughts. "The critical issue from my view is that the entity not only knew we were doing the thing that would end our species, but knew it five years in advance."
There was another long silence. The Director used his desk-com to summon his secretary to pour both himself and Hravek'al a drink and then was excused with "leave the bottle" as the Director kept staring out at the snow.
"Are we considering the entity known as the Detainee to be capable of seeing the future?" The Director asked.
"Possibly."
"How?"
"ans unknown," Hravek'al said. He sipped the whiskey and it burned going down. He thought for a mont. "It is my considered judgnt that you and everyone else have missed the ssage for the presentation."
The Director turned around, setting his empty whiskey glass down and pouring another drink. Hravek'al noted that the Director looked older, sohow aged greatly since Hravek'al had walked into the room.
*"*Explain," the Director said. "Enlighten ."
Hravek'al sipped at the whiskey then set the glass down with a clink. "You're rightfully concerned about how the Detainee did the things she demonstrably did," he said.
"But," the Director prompted.
"I am concerned with why she did them. She's depicted in myth as being uncaring and cruel. She owes us nothing; what reason did she have to save us?" Hravek'al asked. He picked up the whiskey and sipped it before shaking his head and setting the whiskey down again.
"Do you have a theory?" the Director asked as Hravek'al got up and refilled his glass.
Stolen story; please report.
Hravek'al sat back down, holding the glass of whiskey with both hands as he sipped at it, staring at the Director silently for a mont. "You aren't going to like it."
"Elaborate anyway," the Director said.
Hravek'al nodded. "Yes, I do have a theory. It is two-fold. First, I believe she was attempting to send us instructions, specifically "quit fucking around." with Terror artifacts by highlighting just how dangerous they really are."
Hravek'al took another sip. "I went and spoke with not only the Confederate Embassy, but the Treana'ad, Mantid, Pubvian, and Telkan diplomatic teams," he took another sip, unable to hide the slight tremor in his hands. "That thing that ca out of the computer mainfra apparently depopulated 80% of the galactic spur thirty thousand years ago. The descriptions of its capabilities left shaken," he looked the Director in the eye. "Just one becos thousands, millions."
"You ntioned that they are Dead Terrors, were you able to confirm that?" the Director asked.
Hravek'al nodded. "From our two subjects as well as every diplomatic team. They're what happens when a Terror dies flush with rage and phasic energy," he laughed, a bitter, almost mad sound. "A Terror is bad enough, but when you kill one, sotis the body gets back up and keeps killing, sotis it generates a Shade, and sotis, according to the Mantid, you get both."
He sipped a bit longer, then got up and refilled his half-empty glass. "Apparently, they lurk inside of electronics, inside of electronic dia, and inside of communication wavelengths," he set the bottle of whiskey down. "It's why the Confederacy races restrict access to their superluminal communication network."
The Director nodded slowly. "And second?"
Hravek'al sat down, swirling his glass. "Second, I believe she did this as a peripheral function of stopping sothing else from happening. We have discovered too many Terror artifacts and sites within or bordering our territory for to believe this is coincidental; sothing we're doing is placing sothing at risk."
"Sothing at risk? What could that be?" the Director asked. He noted that Hravek'al was more agitated than the Director had ever seen him.
Hravek'al got up and walked slowly back and forth for a few monts. He moved over to the window and stopped to stare out of it.
Where other Directors insisted on having their offices at the tops of skyrakers, Director Nevarn had insisted on being on the third floor of the building, with a view overlooking the decorative lawns.
Hravek'al stood, one hand on the cool smartglass, for a long mont.
Finally, he spoke, his words hushed and quiet.
"Either she's keeping sothing imprisoned that she doesn't want awakened..." he said, staring at the snowflakes.
The silence stretched out.
Finally he turned from the window. "...or she's keeping us from ruining sothing precious to her or those who she values."
Hravek'al moved over and sat down, picking back up the whiskey and staring at the carpeted floor.
"Either way is bad for us," The Director said as he turned around in his chair, staring out the window. He kept swirling his half-full glass of whiskey, looking down at the amber liquid in the glass then out at the landscape which was slowly turning white.
"True. True. But, and this is a big butt, if it cos to a choice between accidentally freeing sothing awful that the Detainee is currently restraining, or destroying sothing she wants to protect... I'd choose the sothing awful," Hravek'al said.
"Why?" the Director watched the snowflakes dance as they settled down from out of the clouds.
"Do you want an entity with the demonstrated capabilities she clearly has, you know, the whole: ans unknown, to be angry at us?" Hravek'al's voice was quiet. "We don't know her full capabilities and what she's shown us so far might as well be magic. We need to think about that."
The Director's nodded.
"We also need to investigate and find out who's fucking around and what they're fucking around with," Hravek'al said.
"And then?" the Director turned back around to face Hravek'al.
"Stop them. Terminally if necessary, but imdiately. We cannot afford to offend an entity like the Detainee more than we already have. Next ti she is unlikely to be as... patient," Hravek'al explained.
The Director turned back around and stared at the snow that was settling over the Dominion capitol.
"Whatever resources you need. Find out what you can. She has already shown that she can do what she wants, when she wants, how she wants, to us. That we cannot stop her. That our most closely guarded secrets are known by her," the Director said. "I'll restrict access to our two subjects to only you. All of your data will be eyes only, with an extrely limited access list."
Hravek'al nodded.
"Military resources. Scientific resources. Intelligence resources. If you need it, or even think you need it, request it directly from . If you don't need it, hang on to it because you might need it later," the Director said.
There were so children building a snowman outside, surrounded by swirling flakes. Drones and care takers from the Intelligence Child Care Facility hovered nearby.
"We almost lost everything because we were ignorant of sothing the Forerunners take as objective fact, because we thought them superstitious and foolish," the Director said. "From here on out, we will consider every Fallen Confederacy myth, legend, and fable to hold a large grain of truth."
Hravek'al just nodded.
"Reinterview the subjects, get back to when you know sothing more."
-----
Hravek'al sat down at the table, staring at Taskapak. The only light was from a pair of incandescent bulbs that were using a low amperage battery. There was no technology in the room, even the cara and recording devices were on the other side of one-way macroplas or behind a sh screen.
The Mad Scientist giggled, staring at him.
"Hello, Agent," Taskapak said, then giggled. He held up his mittened hands and the cuffs, shaking them slightly and making them jingle. "Co to ask more questions?"
Hravek'al nodded.
"What do you want to know?" the scientist asked.
Hravek'al noted that his dictation, his word choice, were all slightly off.
"The Detainee," Hravek'al started.
"The Matron of the Damned, Lady Lord of Hell, and Mother of Dark Science," Taskapak tittered. He sniffed. "You made a mistake."
"What?" Hravek'al asked.
The scientist smiled. "Will be surprise," he said.
"I have questions about the Detainee," Hravek'al asked.
Taskapak smiled. "Do not even know questions should be asking."
Hravek'al sighed. "Which questions?"
"Why? Why send back? What is reason?" he tapped his own forehead with the mittens. "Think, agent, think. Why do science?"
"To get answers, to advance knowledge," Hravek'al said.
"Why do this science?" the scientist asked, tapping his own forehead again.
"I don't know, you tell ," Hravek'al said.
The scientist smiled. "I know a secret. A secret that only I possess. A secret that Shraku'ur must be present to unfold, to unlock, to do more than simple reveal."
"What secret?" Hravek'al asked.
"Secret Lady Lord of Hell whispered in my bloody ears," the scientist said.
"What is that?"
The scientist leaned forward and Hravek'al was aware of the lights dimming slightly.
He tensed as the scientist looked around for a mont.
Then Taskapak spoke.
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