Caelum Lex Chapter 43: Interrogation

Well, this was a familiar setting, thought Fiearius dully, glancing down at the binds digging into his wrists. This certainly wasn't the first time people who were less-than-fond of him had handcuffed him to chair in a dark room. This was, however, the first time those people had actually been legitimate law enforcement. While he'd ended up at the mercy of many a criminal bastard over the years, somehow he'd always managed to elude badges and uniforms and red tape. Until Paraven.

Well, this place did boast the strictest, strongest and most extensive police force in the span. It was practically part of the experience to get arrested here. He would have been rather disappointed if he'd missed out on it.

Nonetheless, as Fiearius sat alone on the stiff chair under the dim light, staring blankly at the cement walls, he had to wonder how, exactly, he was going to worm his way out of this one. More importantly, how to worm the rest of his crew out of it. When he'd been dragged into the station by four men, officers directed the others to separate cells, presumably to be questioned. Neither Leta nor Corra had gone quietly.

Now, Fiearius was just attempting to slip his hands out of their bonds when the door cracked open and a man in uniform stepped inside. Oh, here we go, Fiearius thought, barely resisting rolling his eyes at what he could only assume was to be his interrogator.

He certainly looked the part. Every inch of the man was polished and rigid, from his sharp uniform to his small name badge that read 'Officer Aster.' As he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, Fiearius smiled, like this was all some big misunderstanding. "So, what's this about, officer?"

Officer Aster furrowed his brow and dropped a folder atop the nearest table with an audible thwap. He eyed Fiearius for a moment, sizing him up it seemed. "Cut the act, Soliveré," he said at last. "You won't fool anyone here."

Feigning interest, Fiearius raised a brow and asked, sugary as ever, "Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean I've read your file," Aster said at once, jerking his head to the folder. "It's extensive, to say the least. Are you aware of how many planets have charges registered against you?"

Fiearius glanced to the side for a several seconds, pretending to count to a high number in his head.

"Two?" he suggested.

"Seventy-two," Aster replied coldly. "And not small charges either."

Dutifully, Aster raised the file he held in front of him and began to read. "Thirty-three counts of first-degree murder," he recited, his voice tight. "Fifty-six counts of second-degree murder. One-hundred-eighty four counts of property theft. Ninety-seven counts of embezzlement. One-hundred-sixty five counts of assault. Eighty seven counts of battery. Two hundred four counts of disruption. Sixty eight counts of improper vessel extraction. Seventy-six counts of damage negligence. Forty one counts of property damage. Nineteen counts of arson. Three counts of indecent exposure. One count of high treason against a sovereign cluster resulting in citizenship expulsion." Aster lifted his brows thoughtfully and lowered the papers again. "And now kidnapping. You may well be the most decorated lowlife we've had in here."

Fiearius unleashed a proud grin. "I'm honored."

Suddenly, a vein twitched in the man's neck and he slapped the papers down on the table in front of him. "It's nothing to be fucking proud of," he growled. "Do you realize what's going to happen when we turn you over to the authorities on Tarin? Or perhaps Iadua, heard you made quite a bloody mess there." A slow grin of epiphany spread across his face. "Better yet, we'll just hand you back to your good friends back home."

He rolled the papers in his hand and thwapped it against Fiearius' arm where the Society librera was engraved into his skin.

That, of course, was nonsense. Fiearius threw his head back and laughed. "Don't take me for a fool, mate. Paraven? Help the Society? I know as well as anybody else how well the two of you get along." He tilted his head thoughtfully. "Or should I say how well you don't."

Aster shrugged carelessly. "True. But all the more reason we could use a peace offering," he remarked, a bitter spike in his voice. "And what do you know, you brought us three." The man started slowly pacing the room, holding his hands behind his back and looking up at the ceiling as he strolled.

"Just think how thankful they'll be," he cooed. "Returning their most wanted traitor to them. And his prodigal brother. I'm sure they'll get a lot of use out of him. And the kidnapped Vescentian girl. They'll be so pleased to have her back. Could be just the change of relations we need."

Aster finally stopped pacing directly in front of him. Then he slid his hand into his pocket and withdrew a glinting silver gun, lifting it in the air for a moment before setting it gently on the table between them. "But maybe we won't have to do that," he said quietly after a short, sharp pause. "Maybe if you can give us something we want more."

With a mildly interested gaze, Fiearius stared at the weapon, then glanced up at the man hovering above him.

"Well, I can make a killer omelette," he suggested helpfully.

The vein twitched again. "Richelle Donovan," he snarled. "We know you took her. Tell me where she is."

Fiearius simply grinned, beaming with innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Dressed smartly in the Paraven Local Authority uniform, the officer pursed her lips tightly and arched a slender brow as she read from a slip of paper. "Leta, isn't it?" she murmured, breaking the silence at last. When she glanced up, her eyes were gray and cold. "Leta Ella Adler."

Feeling it would be foolish to argue already, Leta simply rested her chin in her hand and gazed across the cold metal table, purposely blank and expectant, as though the officer sent to question her was nothing more than a boring university professor taking attendance.

"That would be me," she confirmed.

The woman blinked slowly, then narrowed her eyes in harsh judgment, clearly trying to read her. Leta drummed her fingers against her cheek and kept her expression blank and devoid of any emotion in particular. Before the officer's arrival, Leta had spent nearly twenty minutes alone in this cell of a room, worrying herself into knots and pacing across the floor. Where were the others? Were Cyrus and Corra being interrogated, too? Did these people really think Fiearius had kidnapped that girl, would he be charged?

How long could they keep her here?

Questions had overwhelmed her. But now that this officer - Officer Tiya, according to her small, rectangular name badge - had arrived, Leta reeled in her nerves and sat down calmly at the table, addressing the officer like a pure image of innocence. Years ago, her father had explained to her once how business negotiations worked: first, you played dumb. Then you played smart. Surely, this was no different.

Officer Tiya's lips twitched unpleasantly, and then she read on: "Let's see. 24 years of age … only child, born on the planet Vescent in the Ellegian Cluster to Tritius and Ella Adler … graduated medical school. Declared missing five and a half months ago … and now marked with a living retrieval bounty from the Ellegian Branch of the Society. Last known presence aboard the unregistered vessel known as the Dionysian."

Leta squinted at the ceiling, as if trying to remember if this were true or not. Finally, she nodded. "Yes. Yes, that sounds about right."

Suddenly, Tiya slapped the paper down between them, confusion on her face. "Miss Adler, you lived on Vescent, you worked in an esteemed hospital before you were 'declared missing.' How in the name of the gods did you end up on that dirty pirate ship?"

Partially against her will, actually, but Leta shrugged one shoulder. "I just fancied a change of scenery."

"A drastic change." Tiya tapped two fingers on the piece of paper indicatively. "The last places this ship has been seen - backwater planets. Slums. You enjoy the slums, do you, Miss Adler?"

Leta pulled a bright smile over her face. "Oh, it's been a humbling experience."

Tiya's mouth flinched again. "I bet. But I think it's time we update this, yes?" She straightened her shoulders and lifted the paper again. "But what should it say, hm? Maybe something like...Last seen disturbing the peace on Paraven? Or maybe, stealing from a local hotel owner?"

This time, Leta lifted her eyebrows in admission. "Word travels fast around here."

"But that's nothing compared to this final charge," she went on, gazing at her seriously. "Nothing compared to kidnapping."

Leta stared avidly at the piece of paper. "Kidnapping?" She adopted a look of surprise. "Who's been kidnapping? That sounds serious."

"We certainly take it seriously. Stealing a nineteen-year-old girl from her home in the dead of the night is something we take very, very seriously."

"I'm truly glad to hear that," said Leta earnestly. Then she breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank gods that's not what happened last night."

"What, exactly, do you think happened?"

"I know what happened. The girl acted of her own free will when she came aboard and she can leave whenever she likes. I'm sure she'd tell you the same thing."

Tiya leaned back in her chair, surveying Leta through narrowed slits of her eyes. Quite abruptly, she said, "That captain of yours. Soliveré. You trust him, do you?"

For the first time, Leta was given reason to pause. Her mind flashed back to when, months ago now, Fiearius threw himself in that fighting ring with her. Or later, the look on his face when he'd spoken at Aiden's funeral. Or much more recently, the lopsided grin he'd cast her when he passed over a whiskey bottle and spilled his life story.

"Yes," she stated quietly, "I do."

Tiya arched her eyebrows high on her forehead. "You do, do you? Now that is touching. Foolish of you, but touching. You know, you don't strike me as sentimental."

"I'm not. But people can surprise you."

"Indeed." Tiya cocked her head to the side and abruptly slid the papers closer again. This time, her smile was eerie and broad. "And we know a few surprising things about you, Miss Adler, don't we?"

Before Leta could begin to guess where this was going, Tiya flipped over the paper and darted her eyes over it. "Tell me. Does that captain you like so much know about your employers?"

Leta's heart was beginning to flutter in her chest. But all she said was, her voice flat, "The hospital? Unity Healthcare Clinic? Sure."

"No, no, not those employers, my dear." She looked up, her smile glinting. "Does he know you work for the Society?"

Leta went very still, pressing her palms into the table. "I don't," she said, her first honest confession in the whole interrogation. "I don't work for them."

Tiya pressed her lips together and murmured, "No, hm? Says right here in their records that you do - "

"That's not true," said Leta at once, resisting the urge to snatch the paper out of her hands. "I'd never work for them again. Ever. I worked in their labs, but I left years ago - "

"And you think Soliveré will believe that?"

Her words sliced through the room and halted her in place. That was yet another thing Fiearius would probably never forgive her for, she thought, feeling a brush of hysteria.

"Of course he will," she said quietly. Tiya's eyes - it was infuriating - actually softened with pity.

"Listen," she said, leaning over and patting her hand, "Listen, Leta. You tell us where Richelle Donovan is, and Soliveré will never hear from us that you're working for the people who want him and his brother dead. How's that sound, Miss Adler? We won't tell him you're a Society spy."

Silence followed her words, and then Officer Tiya leaned over and carefully, painstakingly, unrolled Leta's sleeve for her - exposing her own Society mark, which somehow looked brighter, shining. It was the mark she kept hidden beneath her sleeve since her first day aboard the Dionysian.

Leta looked down her arm, then up at the officer.

"I'm not a spy. Richelle wasn't kidnapped, and you can tell him whatever you like," she breathed at last. "Tell him, go ahead. It doesn't matter - it doesn't even anymore."

"Oh no? It doesn't matter?" Tiya said, almost tauntingly. "Why - are you perhaps ready to confess? Or! Are you planning to leave that scum of a crew after all?"

Leta could have laughed. Or cried. All at once, she felt a wave of emotion so powerful that it exhausted her, and all she could do was mumble, "Yes, something like that."

"I didn't kidnap anyone," said Fiearius breezily, as if he and Aster were out to brunch and not two hours into this interrogation. Aster was seated across from him, practically tearing his hair out in frustration as Fiearius ignored his every question, kicking the edge of his foot against the floor cheerfully, "This is boring. Let's talk about something else. You seen any good films lately?"

His words were met with a raw growl of frustration as Aster slapped the middle of the table. The gun was still sitting pointedly between them, untouched for now, though Aster kept inching his hand toward it and then seeming to decide against it and dug his hands into his hair instead.

"There were witnesses," he insisted for what had to be the twentieth time. "They saw you put a gun to her head and heard you threaten to kill her and watched you drag her away."

"That sounds like a good one. I always like a good kidnapping drama. What's it called? I don't have much time for theaters anymore, but if I get a chance," said Fiearius through a laugh.

Aster's face was growing redder and redder. He tightened his fist. "Listen. I've got a team searching your ship right now, tearing it apart piece by piece. Any second now they'll return with enough evidence to put you to death. So - how about you make your confession now?"

"What confession?" Fiearius asked innocently.

"What confession?! How can you even-it's irrefutable!"

"No it's not."

"It is! We have at least eight confirmed testimonies that all line up. We have security feed of you entering the building. We have feed of you leaving the building. With her," he snapped.

"Not me," Fiearius remarked shortly.

"Of course, we made a mistake," Aster groaned sarcastically, leaning back in his chair so hard it nearly tipped over. "There are plenty of people who look just like you. You're incredibly commonplace." He gestured vaguely to Fiearius who just blinked back at him absently. "We just mistook you for someone else."

"Great. So can I go now?"

Aster's eyes scrunched, his fists clenched, his teeth bared and he shouted, "Just tell me where she is!"

Fiearius tilted his head curiously. "Where who is?"

"Richelle Donovan!"

"Who's that?"

With a snarl, Aster suddenly pushed himself to his feet and pulled his gun with him. Fiearius followed the trajectory of the weapon curiously, his head tilted in interest. The Paraven police force wasn't known for brutality, exactly, and there was simply no way this man had the authority to pull that trigger.

Still, it was quite a sight, watching this man struggle to release the safety mechanism of his gun (his hands were shaking with anger). He'd very nearly completed the gesture when the door behind him suddenly banged open, admitting another officer.

"Sir," greeted the younger man. "We've got something you need to see."

"Now, Shaw? Now?" cried Aster. "Can't you see I'm - "

"Discussing arts and culture?" suggested Fiearius.

" - busy?" finished Aster angrily. "Surely this can wait - "

"No. It can't." The young man lifted a slip of paper he held in his hand. "You'll like this."

Dropping the gun on the table, grumbling to himself, Aster joined the young man near the door. A few minutes passed in which they whispered back and forth, a murmured conversation. At last, Aster turned around, holding the paper in his hands.

"Rude," Fiearius scoffed, jerking his head toward the young officer. "Interrupting like that … So, about that title."

But Aster wasn't listening to him, nor taking the bait now. He was standing before Fiearius, an odd glint in his eye, a grin growing on his face. "Don't suppose you've seen this?" he prompted breathlessly, lifting the paper in his fist. "Or - can you even read?"

Aster was smiling so oddly that Fiearius, for the very first time, found himself quieting to let him talk, curious for this. Aster seemed to be in no hurry to explain; he was taking his sweet time. "We found this," he lifted the paper, "on your ship. In a dresser drawer. Belongs to a 'Leta Ella Adler.'"

Fiearius felt a rather territorial brush of disgust. "You make a habit of digging through people's delicates?"

"These are test results," he went on, ignoring him. "Printed from your very own infirmary." He seemed to be struggling to keep him smirking. "Twenty-four-year-old female with a rather grim outlook it seems. By the gods, don't you keep medication on that ship?"

Fiearius stared at the man blankly, feeling nothing but a growing level of alarm. Soon, he found his ears were ringing. He had no idea what Aster was getting at, because it simply wasn't possible that - that -

"She's dying, you stupid fuck," he clarified bluntly, before looking struck with false surprise as he shook the paper right in front of his face. "Of blood poisoning. What's the matter? Didn't you know? One of your own crew on your own ship dying of something simple antibiotics could fix and you don't even know?" Aster let out a sick laugh. "That must be embarrassing."

The ringing in his ears was deafening now. Aster was still rambling on, but it was like Fiearius was suddenly plunged underwater: he heard nothing, he saw nothing, except a mental image of Leta, laughing and smiling brightly and sharing a drink with him just a week before. She was sick? That wasn't possible. So she'd been lying?

Fucking lying the whole damn time.

" - looks like a very serious condition, she's got a funny little list here of medication, and oh!" Aster was babbling merrily. "And a timeline, looks like she's got just a few months left - "

"Enough," Fiearius snapped under his breath, feeling that familiar anger start to rush through his veins.

"-can't be a pleasant way to go though-sorry, what was that?" Aster asked, enjoying this far too much and making Fiearius want to shove a leg of his chair through his stupid cocky face. "Don't like the truth, Soliveré?"

"Shut. The fuck. Up," Fiearius growled, glaring up at the man with every ounce of fury he had in him.

"And it is true," Aster went on carelessly, sliding the paper closer to him and tapping a familiar scribble along the top. "That is her handwriting, is it not?"

Fiearius could barely look at it. He would have recognized that tidy handwriting anywhere - she was always leaving him lists of supplies, notes on what the ship was running low on, possible routes to the Baltimore ...

"It is," Fiearius confirmed, his voice cold as ice. "And I'll be more than happy to shove that whole thing down your throat if you'd be so kind as to untie me."

Aster let out a long, hearty laugh and shook his head. "Now now, no need to get violent Soliveré. It's a simple enough issue, blood poisoning. Nothing our medical teams can't fix." Aster grinned maliciously. "Just gotta say the magic words."

"Fuck you?" Fiearius guessed.

"The location, you piece of shit," Aster barked. "The location of Richelle Donovan."

For the first time, Fiearius felt a crack in his armor. He had no smartass remarks left. "I don't fucking know. Last I saw her, she was on my ship. So either your people are shit at searches or she left. And if she left, I can't fucking help you now, can I?"

Unfortunately, even his honesty wasn't what Aster was looking for. "Not fucking good enough," he growled. "I'll ask again. Where is she?"

"What about 'I don't know' don't you understand?" Fiearius snapped back.

"What about 'your little doctor's going to die if you don't give me a real answer' don't you understand?"

"I don't fucking know!" Fiearius insisted. "She's probably on another ship outta here by now with how bad she wanted to leave. I don't know! She could be anywh-"

Suddenly, the door swung open once again, and Aster started, "I said I'm bus-" But he stopped and stared dumbfounded when he realized it wasn't the officer who'd interrupted before. The person now standing in the doorway was a woman. A strangely familiar woman, thought Fiearius. A strangely familiar woman wearing a very familiar Satieran headscarf that covered her face. For just a moment, Fiearius thought he was looking at a ghost. That is, until she started speaking in broken Ridellian.

"Gi'et ti madal'lin," she said, staring at Aster and pointing at the door. Fiearius frowned at the girl curiously.

Aster was startled. "W-who are you?" he demanded.

The girl hesitated. Her eyes flicked to the floor and then she said, "Lé fidarien ti pal'ar siet," which translated roughly to 'the bathroom to right side'. Fiearius blinked at her slowly, now utterly confused.

Fortunately for her, Aster clearly didn't speak Ridellian. Any Ridellian. "I don't-what does that-" He narrowed his eyes. "Are you from Satieri?"

The girl groaned and rolled her eyes, sighing, "Dov'ha ti'arte," before lifting up her hand and showing the back of her wrist where the thick black lines of the Society librera shone in the dull light.

Apparently, that was enough for Aster to get the picture. "W-what are you doing here?" he stammered, confusion replaced with nervousness.

Again, the eyes rolled under the shadow of her headscarf and she pointed sharply to the door. "Gi'et!" she ordered and said something unintelligible about directions to the bus stop in a threatening tone.

Aster seemed conflicted. He looked down at Fiearius and then up at the girl and finally decided it wasn't worth the risk. "Fine," he breathed in at last, heading to the door, but not without shouting, "I'm speaking with my supervisor about this!" as he slammed it shut behind him.

For a few moments, Fiearius and the strange visitor stared at each other in the darkness, silent and waiting. He had no idea what to say. Too much had happened within the last five minutes for him to comprehend what a Society agent with Aela's headscarf and shitty Ridellian was doing here.

As soon as the absolute silence blanketed the place, she giggled stupidly and removed the wrap, revealing a grinning Richelle Donovan behind it. Fiearius' jaw slackened, but before he could even begin to think of what to say, she had already launched into an excited explanation. "How exciting was that?! I can't believe it worked! I found this in your room." She held up the end of the scarf. "It's so pretty. I've seen them in my book before. Oh yeah, I'm learning Ridellian, did I tell you that last night? I'm not very good yet. Maybe you can help me out. All Satierans know it, right? Oh and by the way, this?" She tapped her wrist where the librera was. "Don't freak out, it's just pen. That was in my book too. Came in handy, huh? See, aren't you glad I stuck around? Never would have seen you get caught if I'd left when you told me to. Right?"

Fiearius could do nothing but stare at her. His entire brain seemed to have just shut off.

As she crouched down to unbind his wrists, Richelle laughed, "Come on, don't just sit there. We've got some more rescuing to do."