The dividers spun in his hands expertly, his pale grey eyes squinting as he double checked his findings, looking across the broad glass table in the commandant’s office towards the recent reconnaissance reports collected by his advanced scouts. He was right, they could see him coming and they were reacting to his movements.
Commissar-Commander Katz scooped up a cup of tea and sighed, chewing on his lip as he analyzed the detailed reports and files of the applicants had taken of the surrounding systems.
The office was kept dark, back lit display cases and shelves lining two walls loaded with books. All uniform, all with matching covers. Each important for political theory, or military theory, or scientific theory, there was no questioning Katz’s academic past.
He was taking extra precautions, ensuring a second layer of security was in place on the ship. A cadre of highly specialized Marines under the direct orders from the High Command itself had been deployed, dark eyed Arabic men that remained in key places though sensitive areas ready to react should anything go wrong.
The Commodore was sitting behind Katz’s desk over against the wall, watching while Vicenta stood in the center of the room, looking at the young Luka in front of him. Katz was keeping very quiet through the interview, occasionally looking up before looking back at his reports.
“Are you a spy?” Katz asked, his voice deadly quiet.
Behind Luka, the large automaton of the war bot hissed to life, moving with surprising agility as one massive hand grabbed Luka by the Torso, lifting him into the air, as the second hand grabbed onto Luka’s free arm, wrenching it painfully tight threatening to tear the boy in half if he gave the wrong answer.
“Think very, very carefully about your answer,” Katz said, shifting papers from one side of his table to the other. “If you are a spy… Viatchislav here will rip your arm out of its socket.”
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