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Mother Confessor:

Sitting with crossed legs in the silence, watching the senior officer and the tech for a long moment.

“What is your interest in that Terran man” , I break the uncomfortable silence that built up.

“He has knowledge on a particular piece of equipment. To be more precise, he knows what the implications of this equipment are. Furthermore he may have some intel on what the Confederation is plotting. Better to get the beginning of the story before making our next move in this chess match” , the Ober-Commander replies as the tech quietly takes his vitals.

A part of what he wants to know from the Confederation soldier has something to do with that large war machine they acquired back on my home planet. Interesting enough in itself, but I am more entertained in finding out what the Confederation is preparing to impose.

“I see”, I flatly respond, “I too would like something in return for doing this.” I observe him considering my proposal.

Marckus:

Taking a minute to think as to what this intriguing creature is playing at.

“Where is your injury, sir” , the friendly tech asks me. Sliding off the table, I start to unbuckle my belt, keeping my focus trained on the Mother Confessor. Unbuttoning my fatigue pants, and lowering them to my knees. I retake my seat on the cold ceramic slab. Peering down at my wound, it was more than a scratch. I suppose being shot so many times, it was my negligent reaction to the affliction. The tech placing a drape over my thigh, mops up the blood with a sponge.

“What is it that you should like in return for your service tonight” , I ask the pale skinned interrogator, waiving my rejection to the local anesthetic offered by the tech. Her slit pupils looking up from her task, quizzical of my resistance in receiving the pain killer.