Hard Questioning

[Damien Nightblade]

The groaning of the lift descending further into the sub levels reminded him of why he had always preferred to be space bound. If he wore a watch, he would have eyed it several times at this point though by the smells and changing sounds of his surrounds he knew that he had been traveling downward for far too long.
Perhaps the pilot in him wasn't taking well to the patience required but he managed to subdue his restlessness for the time being.
His mind began moving more quickly than the derelict lift.
The report of Teta, post battle was cycling through his thoughts.
He had many questions concerning the events that transpired there, luckily for him, the Jedi victory at Teta placed him in a position to ask all of them.

The lift lurching to a halt shook him from his pondering. He righted his robes and stepped out into the hallway of the sub level. The force guided his steps, being rather unfamiliar with the layout of the temples lower levels he walked without direction trusting the unending guidance of force he loved so, to lead his way to the interrogation room.

Two Jedi guarded the entrance way. He did not recognize them on a personal level however he had come to terms with being a stranger planet side. His position on the Council however was recognized upon his approach and the two waved him into the room. As he began to step through the threshold one of the Jedi took the liberty to inform him of the situation before entering. His informative tone carried his words clearly. "Master Talohn. This is the the holding area. Please be aware that it is particularly outfitted for the humane holding and question of force sensitive occupants."
Darix nodded his affirmations "I understand. Thank you."

He stepped across the door way and was instantly appreciative of his fellow Jedi's warning. The absence of the force felt like he had fallen into a black hole. Void of the connection he had loved and savored for every one of his forty-two years he felt sick, dizzy.
He stopped taking the time to regroup himself, a series of deep breaths provided him a sense of relaxation and comfort as his body adjusted to the void.
He took his first step without the binding energy of the universe, the very source of life within him. Difficult and trying at first, he began to collect himself over time, his stomach relaxed and his vision cleared he felt human again though he didn't want to ever get used to the empty feeling within him.

Rounding a corner the holding cells came into view. Within them the prisoners his fellow Jedi had captured on Empress Teta were silently sitting, some standing, none possessing anything more than their thoughts, and the clothing provided to them upon their incarceration.

He passed cleared the holding cell and into a series of two other rooms. One outfitted clearly for interrogation, and questioning. The other separated by a wall of one way glass allowed for the monitoring of sessions. Darix took his seat within the monitoring room and flipped a switch opening communications to the Alliances provided interrogators. Normally the Jedi would have done the questioning themselves, though after the events that had transpired the Council thought it best that a member of the Alliance performing the questioning as opposed to a member of the Order.
Perhaps the captives would be more inclined to talk to someone other than a Jedi. "Everything is in place. We are ready to begin, Once we start questioning I want the captives separated. We cant allow any room for communication between them once we begin."

 

[Cassanova]

The hallway was the poorly lit, intimidating area that you would expect. This was one of the few times, and to be honest, the first time that Lieutenant De Bankole had ever heard of the New Jedi Order requesting the Alliance's help when it came to interrogation of a force sensitive. As for the facility itself - The mechanics behind it were mind boggling. Taking away the single thing that made the Jedi and Sith so damn special. Level playing field... I like it.

The Lieutenant who 'no longer existed' stood in the hallway, leaning against the wall, idly smoking upon a cigar. He had been assigned to this post for one reason; Bank simply didn't care how things got done, as long as they did. Standing opposite the doors to the interrogation and observation rooms, his eyes turned as Darix approached.

Despite having never met the Battlemaster, Bank knew his profile intimately. Insanely skilled with a lightsaber, and one of the best pilots on this side of the war. Whether those labels were accurate or not, Bank couldn't be sure. Sometimes it was best to listen to rumour. In this case, Bank would hold his salute until it was returned in some manner - A Battlemaster also held the rank of General among the Alliance, and Bank wasn't about to spit on the boots of one of the men who signed the pay checks; so to speak.

He calmly placed his cigarra in a stainless plastisteel ashtray, and pivoted on a boot and presented a sharp salute to the Jedi Master, "Lieutenant De Bankole. Reporting, sir."

 

[MoreThanSane]

The sound of boot heels echoed heavily, preceding him down the dimly lit corridor. They were rhythmic, predictable, somehow comforting, and Sergeant Aelianus Atratinus needed the comfort of predictability at that moment. It was an aspect of life for which he held a deep dislike, but for now he definitely considered it a positive.

Tumultuous. It was the perfect adjective; his current life embodied in a single word.

Military life was wearing him down. He was hardly healed from his last mission, hardly rested from his last flight, and yet here he was, prepared to spend the next Force-knows-how-long squeezing Sith for information. That would be fun, no doubt. He shook his head. Why the Jedi weren't simply taking care of this interrogation themselves he didn't know. Nor, he thought, was it likely that he'd find out. For all their good will and charitable acts, the Jedi were a secretive lot nonetheless. Perhaps they didn't perceive themselves as such, but viewpoint wasn't everything. On occasion a thing simple was, there could be no argument.

Aelianus came to a halt outside a drab grey door. Setting his jaw, resolved to see this assignment through despite his lack of interest, the sergeant pulled it open and stepped through to the space beyond. Inside were two men. One dark-skinned, muscular, dangerous--Aelianus tagged him immediately, Lieutenant De Bankole. The other was obviously the Jedi overseeing the interrogations, Battlemaster Darix Talohn.

He sniffed loudly through the smoke. "Aelianus Atratinus," he introduced himself.

 

[Damien Nightblade]

"Darix Talohn, a pleasure." He responded in his professional tone. The same one in which he regarded other members of the Order or comrades on the battlefield.

Hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, revealing his stone hard visage. He regarded the men with a salute of respect. He understood that they had volunteered their services for this assignment and his appreciation for that was immeasurable.
Normally, Jedi would conduct the interrogation of their own captives.
Captives.
He never had taken a liking to the term 'prisoner' however when dealing with these particular captives, responsible for a vicious attack on the Jedi enclave on Teta, he would have allowed the term some sense of accuracy.
He had requested the aid of the Galactic Alliance interrogation specialists however due to the delicacy of this particular assignment. The Sith had information. Valuable information the Jedi needed in order to further their understanding of the attack on their homeworld. The council had come to the agreement that their captives would be more willing to oblige, had they not been face to face with a Jedi himself. But rather a representative from an organization with less turbulent relations.

"In short, we are hoping to extract any and all information regarding the attack on Empress Teta. I need to know how they managed to make their way to the planet, as well as who was responsible for leading and organizing the attack."

The interrogation, although he hoped would go smoothly would most likely be a rather grueling process though most things were when the Sith were involved. He himself had not been a stranger to such interrogations, though in his experience, they were performed first hand, and in the field, mid mission. Enter, extract, eliminate. Though the same rules would not apply to this mission. It was to be fully documented and on record. Nothing questionable.

"I'm sure I do not need to remind you that this is to be an official session on behalf of the Jedi Order. 'Enhanced interrogation techniques' have no place here. Do I make myself clear?"

 

[Cassanova]

"I'm sure I do not need to remind you that this is to be an official session on behalf of the Jedi Order. 'Enhanced interrogation techniques' have no place here. Do I make myself clear?" The remark had unmistakable undertones.

Nevertheless, Bank grinned as he pushed the point, "So we're to go simple then, sir? Pliers to the fingernails? Kneecaps?..." he paused as he took the time to pull another cigarra from his pocket, and light. Over the cup of his hands, he stared at Darix and continued. "If you're not prepared for us to use these 'enhanced interrogation techniques' measures if 'standard' methods don't work, then where's the point in us being here at all?"

He chuckled as he passed a look to Aelianus and offered him a cigarra, and his lighter. He didn't know the man from a grain of salt, but you don't volunteer for a job like this unless you've got the stomach for the worst, or you simply don't care. Bank looked back to Darix and offered a suggestion. "How about you stay out here, and let us go in there and get the information you need? No questions asked," he paused, and stared at Darix with the look of a man who's moral spectrum looked more like scrambled eggs than a straight-edge. Bank was a Red Hand operative - right and wrong never came into it.

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus shook his head slightly and waved his hand as the Lieutenant offered him a cigar. Now was not the time to allow any sort of reduction in the efficiency of his mental processing powers, not when the flick of a finger, the shift of an arm, or the twitch of a facial muscle could tell him all he needed to know about a subject.

It was odd, being assigned to this interrogation yet ordered not to use any of the methods society had dubbed "unsavory". He was glad Bank said as much, as he really wasn't interested in serving under a soft, overly-empathetic officer with a over-abundance of love and kindness for all beings.

Aelianus shivered at the thought. Luckily, as he observed Bank's mannerisms and voice inflection and listened to his words, the Sergeant realized that the man was anything but the touchy-feely kind of soldier he so despised. Good, he thought darkly. Perhaps this wouldn't be as gruelingly long a process as he'd expected.

 

[Damien Nightblade]

Darix, although steadfast in his decision to regard their captives in a human manner, couldn't help but be impressed by the Bank's assertiveness. He understood the desire to do things his own way, and respected the time he had served as a Red Hand operative. Though coming from a somewhat similar background, The Battlemaster also knew that orders trumped all personal desire. The mission always came first, always.
"How about, you go in there, and get the information I need by asking the right questions." The Jedi Master's instant response and authoritative intonation gave no indication that he would allow anything other than what he had specifically instructed to take place. He too after all, was following orders.
"Although I have faith in your methods Lieutenant, I am certain that a man of your experience would never underestimate an opponent such as a Sith, despite the current conditions." Darix added. His words reinforcing his belief and reasoning in why he had selected the Lieutenant for this particular assignment, though his words also held another meaning.

He motioned to the observation room where he would monitor the interrogation.
"I'll be monitoring the situation from this observation room. Where Alliance tech has provided the necessary tools and instruments to detect any.. discrepancies in the subjects story, or vital anomalies."

He punched in the code to the room, sharing final words with his questioners before the process was to begin and the first captive was selected.
"We do this my way. You'll have your change for aggressive negotiations soon enough." The Battlemaster finished, as he passed into the survailance room and made himself comfortable.

 

[Cassanova]

Bank stood there in his place. He had been put there firmly by the battle master. On the bright side, the Jedi Master knew that his methods were appropriate at times, but the situation was simple: By the books.

He looked to Aelianus and sighed, "Sergeant. Shall we meet our house guest -- By the book..." he grinned cheekily and lowered his tone, "...unless the suspect is hostile."

Bank took a few small strides towards the door after putting out his cigarra, and nodded to the Jedi who stood guard. The Jedi turned, subtly punched in a code -- even Bank didn't quite catch it -- and then opened the door, holding it for the two Alliance soldiers. Bank stepped through first, his combat boots tapping softly on the floor, squeaking as he shifted his weight.

A few small strides had the Lieutenant standing opposite a stainless steel table, smooth, and solidly bolted to the ground. There were no sharp edges, it seemed, and no way to move the table, or the chair who's occupant sat in silence. Bank stood there, staring at the figure in the chair. He set himself with his feet shoulder width apart, his hands clasped behind his back, and simply watched.

Bank had no intention of speaking. Not yet, anyway.

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus sighed. If the Jedi Master's orders were final--and there was no evidence to suggest otherwise--then his hopes about expediting this process were baseless. He followed Bank into the room after the Jedi left, referencing all his knowledge in the area of nonviolent interrogation.

It was certainly quite interesting psychologically. If he had to be here for the long haul, he supposed he would make the best of it. What better way was there to test theories than on relatively helpless subjects?

Aelianus stood slightly behind and to Bank's right. His face impassive, arms crossed, body still, he stared, taking in the scene in its entirety.

 

[Black Noise]

“Fear not the reaper, as hys scythe is merely the fyrst chapter in Nothyng’s great story. Instead walk eagerly unto hys embrace, for it shall speed ye towards Nothyng. All thyngs in thys Unyverse are meanyngless, it is therefore equally meanyngless to allow them to darken thy spyryt.”
The Tome, book four, chapter fourteen, excerpt nineteen.

The words of the sacred Tome comforted the Dark Lord during this ordeal. Though, really 'ordeal' was too strong a word. An ordeal often had the implications of an unfavorable situation where one, once past it, would rather forget it. The Grand Instructor, Darth Inanio, would rather not forget this situation. Indeed, in ways his own situation was actually comforting. All around him, the Force had been stripped away, and when he closed his eyes, even his sight was stripped away. No matter how hard he reached out, he felt nothing. In feeling nothing, the Sith was comforted. As Nothingness was really something to be strived for, and this was possibly as close as he would get to nothing without embracing the reaper's scythe.*

The door to the Sith's room opened, and Inanio allowed himself to once again see. He was in a room, his one remaining arm and and legs strapped into a steel chair locked to the floor. Before him stood a dark skinned, strong man, Inanio's first interrogator. The graying, older Sith cracked his neck at the man's arrival and looked to the second soldier behind him, a signal that he was just as ready to begin as his interrogators. Inanio was not surprised that two soldiers were to interrogate him, as surely the Jedi knew he could more easily mess with the heads of a Force User without the aid of the Force than one deaf to it. That did not mean that he could not mess with these men's heads, he could, he would. He would find the right buttons, then smash them, enrage the soldiers and watch them let their emotions get the best of them.*

Torture would be useless, as Inanio's willpower was immense. His arm was snapped, twisted, and utterly destroyed before being cut off in the Battle of Teta, and still he fought. That was a testament to his willpower. But, assuming torture would be used, then amount of pain necessary to make Inanio speak would be more than enough to kill him if Inanio 'accidentally' lost the will to resist and live. Killing Inanio would be favorable in his eyes, and a loss to the Jedi.

Regardless of it all, the old man simply drilled his interrogators with a calm look. A look that spoke volumes, a look that expressed the Sith really didn't care.

 

[Cassanova]

Bank smiled inwardly, and then spoke softly. "If you care to know, I am a Lieutenant, and this..." he motioned towards Aelianus, "...is a Sergeant. You will be given our names when you give us what we want to know."

He took a step forward, and sat down in a chair opposite Inanio. He placed his hands on the desk, purposefully resting his elbow upon the table, then his head upon his hand. "You look excited to be here. Personally I'm giddy. I get to waste a perfectly good saturday talking to some low-level errand boy who wants to play ilke he's important."

Bank hadn't had much success with these standard techniques, he usually resorted to the enhanced methods, as they produced results much faster. Unfortunately he had orders. And as much as the Red Hand played loose with the rule book, they usually got to do so by vague instructions. Bank knew that the Sith were egotistical, ego-centric, and generally assholes. He had every intention of playing upon that.

"So, rather than ask you some questions that our superiors need answers to -- which I know you don't know the answers to -- I figure I'll just ramble about me," he turned to Aelianus and sat back in his chair, shuffling in his seat to a more relaxed and reclined position. "Borgleball. I love that game. Always put a bet on for my favourite team - the Hawks. Been doing quite well this season, If i dare say so myself."

Bank's expression changed quickly, to one of sadness, "Unfortunately, I'm missing their game today because of you. Had tickets and everything. I mean if you were a little higher up the food chain, I'd say it might be a worthwhile trade-off, but since you're a glorified personal assistant, I get to just talk about the game that I'm missing..." he pointed to Inanio, "... just to clarify - I'm not happy about that."

He sighed as he leaned back, flicking his hand dismissively.

 

[MoreThanSane]

"Borgleball, eh?" Aelianus asked, coming around the table and standing to Bank's left. He placed both hands on atop it, leaning casually forward. It had been quite a while since he'd exercised his acting skills, but he was anything but rusty. Acting was one of his more useful--and impressive--talents. "Never cared much for it m'self." He was sliding into the new persona with relative ease.

Tapping his fingers idly on the table, he winked exaggeratedly at Bank. "But I know the feeling, this little kriffer messed up my whole week. I'd planned to spend some time with my girl, maybe even pop the ol' question, y'know? Spent the last month working myself up. But nope, I get called into work for this." He slid forward bodily until he was level with the Sith's face. "How d'ya think that makes me feel?"

He straightened and looked at Bank. "Not to belittle your borgleball game, Ell-Tee. Just a bit angry here, y'know? Maybe we could fake a communications error or somethin'? Slappin' this joker a couple times'd sure make me feel better. Y'know, off the record o' course."

 

[Black Noise]

Inanio cracked a very small smile underneath the bush of his mustache as the Lieutenant began speaking. Leaning back in his chair, he stayed silent. The black man was expressing his displeasure, most likely faked, at Inanio's expense. The old man didn't care. As for the 'subtle' blows to his ego, well, frankly Inanio felt he was far, far too old to have an ego anymore. He knew upon joining the Sith that he was expendable. As a young man he was brought into a project where half the men involved died needlessly in the first month. He was a parish in a church that believed in nothing. Hell, his entire position on the Dark Council was that of a glorified acolyte teacher. All of his life, he had been expendable, and now was no different.

However, he couldn't really complain. If a Jedi had been captured by the Sith, his only hope would've been to be assassinated by them quickly after rigorous months of slow, physical torture for entertainment. However, he was an old man, torture wasn't really enjoyable to a Sith with the elderly, usually his type of prisoners would just be killed off quickly. Body thrown to the jawas on Raxus Prime to rot among the twisted metal and lakes of plasma.

Again, however, he didn't have time for this. He'd rather be meditating in the nothingness of the Force here while he could. And these interrogation 'tactics' bored him. He had ordered, watched, and carried out too many interrogations to care about his own. Inanio interrupted in his deep, gruff voice.*
"Gentlemen, get to the point. Otherwise I might as well die in my old age right here. I suppose your superiors wouldn't get any answers from this old glorified personal assistant in that case."

 

[Cassanova]

Bank looked to him as he thought to himself, On no world is it ever that easy...

The question that Bank needed to ask was simple, and he had assumed that it wasn't going to be answered honestly, at least not yet. There was something on the table that Bank couldn't see yet, something that his 'lowly' rank, and the Jedi secrecy have kept a wedge between him and this knowledge. Bank pondered to himself about how the Jedi fail to share their intelligence as willingly as the Alliance does, about just how deep the shit storm goes, how rough it actually is going to get. Hell, all Bank got was two questions regarding this incident and his primary objectives. 'Who?' and 'How?'

"Fair enough..." he paused, passing a knowing look to Aelianus - among military men, it said simply Cut the b.s., "...Who was it that orchestrated the attack on the Jedi Temple on Empress Teta?"

 

[Black Noise]

Inanio sat up as the soldier shot a glance to his comrade. Perhaps he could speed up there interrogation by telling the truth. The Grand Instructor, as a personal rule, kept himself out of the general matters of the council. As such if he was ever captured, he'd truly know nothing of value. As for who orchestrated the battle, well, Inanio truly knew none of the details on that either. But he knew a little.
"Let's see, that would be the Warmaster I believe. Frightening animal, more destructive beast than man. He assaulted the temple gate I believe, your cameras should show him, as I assume he left no Jedi alive in his annihilating wake."

 

[MoreThanSane]

"Sounds like a fun guy," said Aelianus, now fully in-character. "Reminds me of a girl I knew--right down to the trail of bodies. She was crazy." He cocked a sly grin. "Askajians, y'know? Get me all--ah, ne'ermind that."

Beneath the facade of "typical male soldier" that the decidedly atypical sergeant had constructed, his incredible mind continued to churn. It was as if he was now two completely different people sharing the same body; the first, the outer person, constructed and directed by the inner, but with a completely developed personality and a life's history that was uniquely his own.

"Listen," said the Outer Person, "we need a name, guy. What's old Mister Destructo-Beasty's name?"

 

[Black Noise]

Inanio chuckled at the second soldier, answering.
"Indeed, a very fun guy, the Warmaster is the embodiment of what I teach the acolytes to strive for."
Leaning forward slightly, he added.
"A harded, merciless, sentient-slaughtering monster that causes every man, woman, and child to quake in fear as the very thought of being within a thousand kilometers of him."

Cracking his neck once again, he answered the man's question, though albeit not the way he wanted it answered.
"As for his name, I don't know. The title he has chosen to be known by is Vires. Dark Lords do not ask other Dark Lords what their old 'names' were."

 

[Cassanova]

Bank nodded, feigning as if he was actually making progress with the interview - so far he didn't believe a word that the Sith had said. He tapped gently on the table and leant forward, hunching down. His face curled into an almost comical scrunched up ball of suspicion, "So you're telling me that a massive, butt-ugly badass orchestrated an attack deep behind Alliance territory? Orchestrated, mind you. Not led?"

He shrugged, and dismissed it, making a mental note to return to the point later. "So. How exactly did he do that?"

 

[Black Noise]

Inanio thought for a moment, then replied.
"Mmmhh, yep. As for how he did it? Well-"
Inanio sat forward and, in a clearly sarcastic and condescending tone, spoke.
"The Force is a power you couldn't possibly understand. Sneaking in Star Destroyers to Jedi temples? Child's play, pathetic, easy."

 

[MoreThanSane]

Aelianus had slowly circled the Sith until he was directly behind the older man. He stood there, waiting for his cue. Finally, with Bank's leaning forward and the Sith's condescending tone, he felt it had come. His hand shot out, wrapping around the back of Inanio's head and propelling it forward toward the table. It was within centimeters when he grabbed hold of the man's hair and jerked backwards, saving the Sith from the bone-shattering consequences that usually accompanied one's face contacting a table at such a speed.

"Scared ya!" Aelianus was pleased. The Outer Person grinned. "Hey, bub, I don't much care for your tone, 'kay? The Ell-Tee deserves respect, y'know? Insulting his intelligence: not respect. You got that? Good."

He slid himself onto the table's edge and smiled down at the captive Sith. "So, cut the poodoo. A Star Destroyer didn't just materialize due to some magnificent Force power. If you 'spect us to believe that you're kiddin' yourself, all right? So how'd he do it, guy? Details, my friend," he patted the man's shoulder. "Details."