Episode I: Intelligence
"Good evening."
Crap.
Regald Uaira—known as Regi to his friends—had always been told that it would always be better to take his suicide capsule than to be captured. He had never thought he would be captured, so he had never worried about the capsule.
Now he wished he had.
Outpost 19B on Moloae III appeared on the galactic map as nothing more than a footnote. It was located in the "rightmost" quadrant of the "south" side of the Middle Rim. It wasn't a very appealing duty station, the largest city's population was half a million people and it was located literally on the other side of the planet.
The only reason Specialist Uaira had been stationed on Moloae III was that the outpost was in fact valuable. It was in fact very valuable. The outpost had possessed a very powerful experimental relay network. The hope of the alliance high command was that the relay would allow 19B the ability to intercept and transmit galactic transmissions from a wider range of the galaxy than the standard—if they could even be called that—relay networks used by the Alliance to Restore the Republic—also known as the Rebellion.
It had worked. Now it was rubble. The only silver lining in the Empire's characteristically brutal attack was that they would never be able to recover the network schematics. The flip of that coin though was that the alliance had no idea the network was worth its weight in gold.
"My name is Lieutenant Josan Eion."
Looking up, Regi found himself facing another Imperial officer. This one was garbed in the same black Imperial uniform of the elite Stormtrooper Corps, though he had a station pin attached that labeled him as a part of the Intelligence Division.
Double...triple crap...
"I will be administering your interrogation today."
The man sounded borderline smug, though he still retained a calm and collected appearance as he took in his prisoner's attire and demeanor.
"Would you care to tell me what you were doing on Moloae III?"
Regi held his gaze, but refused to answer the question or even speak back.
"I see." Lieutenant Eion made a gesture to someone standing behind the rebel prisoner.
WHAM!
Regi's world flew into spiraling halos of starfields as something slammed into the side of his head.
WHAM!
He grimaced as the same object—most likely a hollow durasteel baton—smacked the opposite side of his head.
WHAM!
A third smack left Regi with a bloody mouth, ringing ears, and teary eyes. He had tried to remain silent, but several—at least he hoped it was only several—whimpers and outright cries of pain had escaped from his mouth.
Before he had fully recovered from that, the baton—for he now saw that it was a baton—came flying around into his field of vision and Regi felt it smash his nose in.
CRUNCH!
The pain was unbelievable as blood burst forward onto the steel deck of the interrogation cell. Regi cried out unrestrained this time, his mouth added to the blood on the floor as he howled and cried and panted with the pain generated by the nose strike.
"Would you care to tell me now?"
"S-screw you!" Regi snapped out as he heaved forward in his chair.
He didn't have to see the officer make the gesture this time, he felt the baton coming as if it were apart of him. The blows increased and Regi felt his knee caps pop, his shins break, and his fingers splinter. The wounds of course were not as bad as they felt, the worst damage was a fractured finger; yet the pain was real and Regi roared in his agony.
"This can go on all day," the officer informed him casually as he eyed the bloody attire the rebel was garbed in. It was nothing but rags to begin with, but now they were completely ruined. They would be replaced with prison issue.
"I...I...won't ta-talk!"
"You're talking now."
"Sc-"
WHAM!
The baton descended upon Regi for a long time, the guard really knew how to use the weapon to inflict maximum pain with minimal damage. He lost track of time, but he could safely guess that it had been at least two hours before the man holding the baton stopped wailing on the rebel's battered body.
"You're going to tell me what you were doing down there at some point or another," the officer continued, "you might as well get it over with now. You're only prolonging the inevitable, I've seen your type before; you'll be broken within the week."
Regi tried to ignore the imp as he and his goon made their way out of the cell. The officer made a parting comment about how they would let him think about it overnight and get back with him in the morning. All he could do was hope he would starve to death before they returned.
As if they could hear his thoughts, a guard arrived a few hours later with a delicious looking meal on a break-safe tray with an identically made cup containing some form of juice. Regi was tempted, but he knew that the perceived gift would be stuffed full with a cocktail of drugs designed to make him talk.
His resolve had to remain ironclad, he knew that much. But his stomach rumbled again and he glanced down at the meal longingly as the guard unlocked his restraints.
Stormtrooper infantrymen were not idiots by design, Lieutenant Josan Eion reasoned to himself as he sat in his office. They were trained to do one thing and one thing only: to kill the enemies of the Empire. They did this very well and thus the Corps remained whereas other enforcement agencies had come and gone. Eion had joined the Corps himself because he was a loyal citizen of the greatest empire the galaxy had ever seen; he still had his doubts about the infantry though.
While it was obvious that the rebel base had been a listening post—a one man post at that—Lieutenant Eion had yet to see evidence as to why it would have been so well hidden. The outpost operator was an idiot, that much was obvious, but the base had been well hidden and the equipment was high grade material.
In short, it wasn't a facility just thrown together to appease some rebel brass.
Despite his lack of intelligence, the rebel operative had somehow managed to last a full four days under interrogation, though Eion was certain he was about to break. Granted, a full day had been nothing more than an exercise of starvation, but the rest had been nothing but beatings and repetition. No one could last long under those circumstances, not even this annoying pesky rebel scum.
Eion had come to the Corps from the Core world of Yulant—an agricultural world—as an eager-to-serve citizen. He had rapidly lost such eagerness following the Officer's Academy and the subsequent Officer's War College. Upon completing the long and grueling process of becoming an Imperial officer, Eion had been ready to serve his commitment and honorably resign from service.
Instead, his family home had been blown up.
The Alliance to "Restore" the Republic—commonly known as the Rebellion—had raided the world in an early strike against the Core Worlds. It had been for publicity, nothing more. His entire immediate family and a good portion of his extended family had been murdered so the rebels could claim they were the real deal.
That had seen Lieutenant Junior Grade Eion request for a war commission. The contract saw an increase in pay and the understanding that Josan Eion would serve the Corps until the Rebellion was no more—plus six months of additional duty.
"Sir," Sergeant Ali Fria said as he knocked on the doorway that led into Eion's office, "the prisoner just broke down in tears. I think he's ready, sir."
Eion smiled cruelly from ear to ear as he rose from his desk and followed his subordinate out into the hallway.
