Mendel contemplated Vitali Kir before him, cautiously.
Something was bothering him... something he couldn't quite put his finger on.
One thing Mendel didn't like, it was that gut feeling that something just didn't add up. It was part of being a Commissar charged with protecting the Coalition, the right hand to the Premier himself.
He lit another cigarette and glanced at Boris, making a subtle gesture.
The burly Marine clubbed the recruit across the back of the head with his shotgun. Picking him up by the scruff of his neck and driving him down on the metal table so hard it buckled the legs.
Mendel blew another smoke ring, "I believe I have found myself a spy... Boris?"
Boris drew a sharp knife, using it to cut the man's shirt open so that they could see if he was wearing any kind of communication equipment.
Mendel pursed his lips, leaning forward. "Someone needs to do some more calisthenics I think... a little flabby round the middle. Who do you work for?"
He drew his pistol and calmly reloaded the magazine.
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