Interrogation

The Imperial officer walked into the small room, carrying a few data slates as well as physical files underneath his arm. He took a seat at the table, taking a few moments to organize his belongings before looking up to meet the gaze of the man sitting across from him.

Offering a friendly smile to him, the officer asked “Doing well, Colonel Saint?” He took a slightly strained look and half opened one of the files on the desk, peering into it while adding “Of course, that rank is currently upon review.”

Raphael stared at him unamused, his hands chained together and resting in his lap.

“You know why you’re here?” the officer asked, keeping his conversational tone.

“I think I have an idea,” Raphael answered wryly.

“Good, then we don’t have waste time playing that game. The Commodore has declined to hold a traditional court marshal in favor of keeping it low key. I doubt he wants to make any public appearances right now as he’s missing a few teeth. You agree that you’re guilty?”

“I don’t know,” Raphael shrugged. “Can you run his dental records against these?” he asked, holding up one of his cuffed hands, displaying tooth marks on his knuckles.

The officer smirked at him. “Just what I’ve come to expect from your type.”

Raphael raised a brow, but didn’t pursue it. “And these,” he said, bringing his hands up to display the cuffs. “Is this how you treat a Tribunus Colonel of the Amarr Navy?”

“Well,” the officer ceded, “if you were of nobility, there’s a symbolic rope that would be loosely wrapped ‘round your wrists, but…” he trailed off, smiling at Raphael.

Raphael dropped his hands back into his lap, giving the officer a scowl. “Fuck off…”

The officer smiled at him. “Classy. I’m sure it’s exactly that attitude that got you here. The rope’s only for court appearances anyways.” He opened one of the files, looking over it. “Raphael Ulysses Saint.” He adopted a look of pleasant surprise. “Huh, I didn’t know you had a middle name.”

Raphael rolled his eyes slightly, saying nothing.

“Born on a small station in orbit of Lossa Three; only son of entrepreneurial miners. Father, Caspar Greid Saint, deceased; heart attack. Mother, Bathalsa Feye Saint…” the officer raised his eyes to look up at Saint for a moment, as if he were about to divulge a big secret. Raphael was watching him intently, waiting. “…missing.”

Saint gave a huff and sat back, having leaned forward a bit.

The officer looked back down at the file. “In charge of his own company at age 22. Rather successful, but the incident with the de’Auvrie family was a substantial blow. Still, by age 30 the company was successful enough to be able to pay your way to capsuleerhood.” The officer raised his eyes to Raphael again briefly. “Rather selfish, don’t you think?”

“I think I’ve heard this story before,” Raphael responded dryly, ignoring the question.

The officer smirked and went back to his files. “Continued your industrial activities for a few months before joining Praetoria Imperialis Excubitores. At the behest of a Garst Tyrell, I believe, who is now a wanted criminal and enemy of the Empire.”

“Your point?” Raphael asked, feeling this a big waste of time.

“Merely stating.” The officer responded. “Served honorably for some time before a short sabbatical. Needed a break?”

“Trust issues.”

“Ah. Well, they couldn’t have been too bad. You rejoined for another few months before leaving to join the Knighthood of the Merciful Crown, where you’ve been endearing yourself to your wingmen.”

“Well thank you, sir, I had almost forgotten how I’d gotten here,” Raphael said sardonically.

“Well, I’d say that the death of Nephanie Sennor, the de’Auvrie assault, the incident with Ariel Avestatos, and your divorce have more to do with why you’re sitting here today. Everything else is just a byproduct.” The officer responded coolly. “…Though it could be argued that the byproduct of one caused another.”

Raphael looked at him for a second before raising his hands up to rest on the table, the tight chain between his wrists keeping them close. “I’m sorry, why and how do you have all this?”

“Well, most of it is from your extensive background check from your application to become a capsuleer. The rest, well, that’s just from routine surveillance. If you think the Empire would grant immortality to someone without getting to know who they are and then not at least keep tabs on them afterwards, well, it’s no surprise that you’ve made some less-than-inspired choices in life.”

Raphael stared at the man, his face contorting into a frown and his eyes narrowing.

The officer sat up straighter and went back to his files. “Also, I believe that there were some suspicions about your activities with Navy assets. It was the reason for your meeting with the Commodore if I’m not mistaken.”

Raphael gave him a mocking smile. “And how often are you mistaken?”

He got a smile back. “I’m glad to see you’re catching on. ‘Never’ is the answer, of course.”

The officer sat comfortable. “The truth, Mr. Saint, is that you are no threat. No traitor to the Empire. You’re a thuggish, self-destructive drunk at worst and a powerful asset to the Empire at best. You are a capsuleer and your loyalty, by all indication, is to the Empire.”

Raphael sat silent for a moment. “I never really considered myself to be a thug.”

The officer smiled at him. “You and I both know that your relationship with the Navy started years go with those bar fights you and your friends routinely provoked, and now seemingly ended with your assault on the Commodore.”

“Fiesty,” Raphael offered.

He looked Raphael in the eye, drawing the words out. “Maybe your superiors screwed you over, maybe your fiancé screwed you over, hell, maybe even God screwed you over, but the Empire has done nothing but give you a home. Even if you were to leave the service, where would you go? Back to the fields; the mines.”

“You’ve no idea what the Empire’s done to me.” Raphael countered in a low growl.

The officer looked unparsed. “And yet you’ve stayed. If you’re serving your own purposes, it still currently serves the Empire as well. As long as that happens, then we’ll have no problems. I don’t care what you were up to or what you were trying to do. After you’ve served your time here, we’ll know if you’re up to no good because we’ll be watching you. Our agents have already found clues indicating we’re not the only one watching you, either.”

Raphael gave him a quizzical look.

The officer gathered his files and his data slates, piling them together and picking them up off the table. “But we’re through for now. Enjoy your time here. Try not to get into any fights.” He got to the door, putting his hand on the lockpad. “You have a visitor.”