“You were thrown from the plant?” Commander Rylan asked. The dark, fitted plates of his armor made almost no sound as he paced. The dim storeroom was not ideal for an interrogation, especially when the subject was a loyal citizen, but he couldn't risk him talking to anyone outside the Order. The young man sat on a barrel of lubricant and leaned on a large, inert passive conveyance device. His elbows were perched in two of the input sockets festooning the device at irregular intervals. With his face in his hands, he looked like a tripod set up by a drunk.
Telam balled his fingers and looked up, reddened eyes staring in the direction of the paper label fastened to the top of the battery. If he had bothered to read it, which in his current state Rylan doubted, he would have discovered the outdated device was scheduled for tralaticon reclamation in three days time. Nothing containing that precious substance was ever wasted. It was a devil to forge, but was the only known material that could contain raw element energy. It was no secret that the life blood of the three Conduit Cities did not flow, but was scraped grain by grain off the mysterious island in the southwest ocean made solely from coral saturated with it. There were still isolated nuggets discovered by prospectors looking to make their fortune, but those were rare and unreliable.
“It was next week you know,” Telam whispered at the label. Rylan stopped pacing and glanced towards the door. Pali, a veteran member of his Sweep Team who was training as an interrogator and his eventual replacement, leaned against the frame with her arms crossed. She wore the same armor and smoke-colored cloak as Rylan, but the subtle threads woven into the fringe marked her lower rank. Few outside the Census Office knew their agents had ranks. She shook her head, unsure of what the technician meant. Rylan searched his memory. The Census Office had files on everyone with sensitive positions pertaining to the security of the city. A man with seven years experience modulating the flow of element energy from the Planes fell into that category. He came up empty.
“What do you mean, Telam? What happens next week?” Rylan injected warmth into his voice and used the man’s name, but did not approach or attempt a more human gesture like physical contact. The interview had started with Rylan seated across the battery from Telam, but the man's delicate condition coerced him into leaning back and trying to create space between them.
Telam’s eyes suddenly became wild as he looked off into the shadows of the storeroom. Pali’s hand twitched towards her short sword, the only visible weapon she carried, but she did not move otherwise.
“I didn’t have a choice, did I?” The words ghosted out of Telam, belying his fierce expression. Rylan abandoned warmth now, firming his voice to give Telam an anchor before mania washed him away.
“Yes, absolutely you did the right thing.” They had all been lucky, really. Whatever the cause, Telam had been thrown across the plant and slid out of the containment door. Rylan imagined that all the man could see and hear in his mind’s eye were his colleagues’ screams, blood, and his own hand pulling the lever to seal the door and their fate. That lever also tripped the hard-wired alarm that summoned Rylan’s team. Usually it was a mistake or a minor breach handled by trained staff like Telam. Less common were Incursions by Outsiders or Element Cults attempting to damage the Conduit or steal technology. Those were the only options until recently. This thought brought awareness of the heat emanating from the charged dagger strapped to his ribs; the item that was as much a responsibility as a weapon.
Rylan relaxed as Telam’s eyes calmed and his face lost the feral expression, softening towards despair. He did not speak, however. Pali uncrossed and recrossed her arms, her impatience matching the Commander's. He addressed Telam.
“Show me where you were struck.” the technician looked from Rylan to Pali, the look of a trapped animal seeping into his features again. Rylan raised a supplicating hand.
“I just want to know what medical attention to get you,” he lied.
Muttering and nodding, Telam stood up, knocking over the barrel of lubricant. Rylan could not see around the bulk of the battery, but it must’ve leaked because the oil scent was abruptly strong. Telam wormed his way out of the battered uniform top, fumbling with the ties on the side. He was a woolly man, slim and almost as tall as Rylan, with most of his front and arms covered in coarse, black hair. He apparently forgot why he had taken his shirt off, because Rylan had to motion for him to turn around. When he did, the Commander saw Pali detach from the wall and take a step forward. His own feet felt like lead and adrenaline started to pour into his veins.
Despite the impressive coverage of fur, a series of bruises stood out on Telam's pale skin in the shape of a hand print. Rylan jerked his head towards Pali and gave a stiff nod. She flew out the door to gather the rest of the eight member squad. They were spread in pairs throughout the facility, enforcing Incursion Protocol. There was no incursion, at least not from Outsiders, but Rylan had ordered it to quarantine the workers in the other parts of the plant and limit questions. He had made the right decision. When he spoke, his voice was thick, but understandable.
“Thank you, technician, you may dress again.” When this was done, Rylan motioned Telam towards the door and followed him. It opened before they got there and a bearded man stood on the doorway. His plate armor was the same shade as the Commander's, but his cloak was dyed in the mottled earth tones of a former Stalker. Rylan turned to Telam.
“Go with Jerich here, he will take you to an airtran outside. You will see a doctor.” This statement was true, but it was an eroding island in an ocean of omission. Telam would receive medical attention, but when and if he would go back to his life, Rylan did not know. The secret he didn’t know he carried forced the Commander's hand. His nod to Jerich confirming the order contained neither relish or regret. The security of the city was paramount. The report would read that an accident killed all the technicians in that part of the plant.
For the first time in the interview, Telam looked directly at him. Rylan was a tall, imposing man, but determination was set in the technician’s jaw. “I want to go back,” he said, “Find what...what went wrong.”
Rylan reached up and grasped the man’s shoulder, his gloved hand draped over Telam like a pauldron. Looking into the man’s eyes, he thought of the several times Jerich had saved his life outside the walls, generating a feeling of brotherhood and projecting it outward.
“Your devotion to the City and your colleagues does you credit. I would wish the same.”