Brig
Corvette Krasnyk
Munro System
The brig was one of the few areas of his ship that M’raq had familiarized himself. It was but a small closet near the cargo hold. M’raq considered it more of an add-on than an integral part of his ship. A ship and crew of his size had little room to spare for unruly crew. Now a carrier or cruiser, they would certainly require a location where unruly crew could cool down, but the Krasnyk--- no, his crew knew better than to misbehave. Despite all the jokes to the contrary, replacement crew were easier to obtain than replacement ordinance.
M’raq opened the door and stepped into the brig. Unlike most of his ship, which was bathed in a respectable red light, the brig was flooded with harsh white light. He squinted his eyes in an attempt to filter out some of the light. The captive Ape sat on the floor, up against the wall, and was unphased by the light. His world, or homeworld at the least, orbited a bright star, thus his kind evolved in such light. Even Kilrathi born on such planets had trouble going from Imperial red to piercingly bright.
M’raq was not overly impressed by the sight of the captive. He just looked like a caged animal. Unlike so many beasts in zoos and game preserves, this one could talk. “Do you speak any Kilrathi language?” M’raq asked in the Navy’s language. Odds were that if any Ape knew a Kilrathi language, it would be the common military one.
When the Ape made no motion of recognition, M’raq tried a different one. “Do you understand me now?” he asked in the Confederation’s naval tongue. He knew he made a hash out of it, but could not care less. His mouth was made for speaking only a proper language. The Ape said nothing, merely bobbed his head up and down. M’raq growled. There was no use playing dumb; anyone in the Apes’ navy knew the language. “Do you understand? Answer!”
“I understand,” the Ape replied, with little interest in his voice. He did not seem more tired than afraid. Perhaps he had accepted his fate and was ready to embrace death. M’raq considered this. If it were true, why had he not already taken his own life? A Kilrathi pilot would have done so, if for no other reason than to deny his enemy a victory.
“What ship is your?” M’raq asked. He doubted the Ape would answer.
“Conway, Samson, Lieutenant Commander,” the Ape rattled off a series of numbers. M’raq knew the language, but the Ape number nine always stumped him. Perhaps when the war is won, a little genetic engineering could give the Apes the proper number of fingers. Or a finger could simply be removed from every hand. Either way.
“Those are not ship names,” M’raq hissed. If they were, they certainly we not the names of any carrier. He knew about a Concordia class carrier, the Tennessee River as well as this new Bengal class ship. The Ape responded by identifying himself again.
M’raq bared his teeth. “You will reveal you ship’s name. The only question is whether or not it will be torn from your mind.” The Ki’ra Pride was very secretive about its interrogation methods. Actually, they were pretty much secretive about everything. Of the Eight, the Ki’ra were the least trusted. They spent so much time studying aliens that they were picking up their nasty habits. “You should save the really important information, such as codes and strike plans, for the mind probes.”
The Ape—Conway—made no attempt to speak. M’raq wondered if he could beat the answer out of him without killing him. No, he had better not make the attempt. After cracking the whip upon the crew in order to get the prisoner back unharmed, it would not do to go back on his own orders. There were other ways to win than brute force. As with any commanding officer, M’raq has been trained in psychological warfare. The Ki’ra’s love of cultures notwithstanding, they have provided the Empire with a great deal of data on the Terran psyche.
M’raq calmed himself, hiding both teeth and claws. “Would you be inclined to give your ship’s name, if I gave mine? You are on the Krasnyk. It might not be as impressive as a Fralthi-class cruiser, but it accomplishes its tasks.” Otherwise Conway would not be a captive.
The Ape said nothing. He continued to study the Kilrathi captain, trying to decide just what to make of his demeanor. Yes, he was probably told that the Kilrathi do unspeakable things to prisoners. It was certainly true for the army, but the fleet was another matter. If Conway’s fate was to be dead, then he would already be meeting whatever Gods he worshipped. When he finally spoke, it was but two words. “Dragon’s Teeth.”
It took M’raq a moment to realize it was the name of the ship and not some oath or curse. He understood teeth easily enough, but not dragon. It was some sort of beast in the Apes’ language. Teeth of a vicious predator; an apt name for such a heavily armed carrier. “By your rank, I assume you are the commander of your squadron.”
Conway started to make that bobbing motion again before answering. “That’s right.” His response was short and guarded. He was more worried about revealing secrets than what the Kilrathi would do to him.
M’raq wagered that this Ape was running all sorts of nasty scenarios through his mind, and trying to conjure means of defense. Rest assured, pilot Conway, when the interrogators get you, you will reveal all you know. “You flew in point-defense fighters. What were you doing so far from your ship?”
This time, Conway made no attempt to answer. M’raq hissed. “How disappointing. You would be wise to answer my questions. It is not as if I’m asking what your fleet is planning.” Nor would he ask such a question. What would a pilot know of fleet operations? What he could learn back at base was nothing more than rumor. According to some, the Ape known as Custer was commanding the Terran Fleet. Intel pegged him as an impulsive commander, one who likes to leap first then think.
“Flying recon,” Conway answered.
M’raq cocked his head. “With Hornets?”
Conway shrugged. “I’m just a pilot. The CO says fly recon, I fly recon.”
“As any pilot should,” the Kilrathi agreed. Light fighters on recon. Most ships had similar cruising speeds, so speed could not be an issue. In combat, yes the Hornets were quicker and more agile than most Kilrathi counterparts. Perhaps the Dragon’s Teeth did not have a full complement of fighters. Or perhaps its captain had other plans for his heavier fighters.
M’raq turned to leave the brig. He would have plenty of time to talk to this Ape later. “I will return. I suggest you be in a more cooperative mood when I get back.” That would give him something to worry about in the meantime.