Chapter 4

"Let's go over this again," the interrogator said slowly to Ben, "from the beginning. You were captured by Doctor Marcus Rommel, previously thought to be dead."

"Yes," Ben confirmed for at least the fourth time already, "and he then put me through some type of body modification process."

"But you say that he did not interrogate or torture you?"

"Unlike you," Ben muttered.

"What was that soldier?"

"Nothing."

A doctor standing beside Ben made a few adjustments to his console, pressing a few buttons to take another medical scan.

"Is all of this really necessary?" Ben asked. "I have been scanned at least ten times, I have been poked, prodded, and examined, and I have endured repeated questioning. I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"You emerged from a traitor's vessel in the middle of a firefight!" the interrogator snapped. "Consider yourself damned lucky not to be in a cell!"

Ben slid off the examination bed on the other side from the interrogator, grabbing a new uniform from the nearby table.

"I'm not done!" the doctor protested.

"And neither am I!" the interrogator shouted.

Ben suited himself up, and then walked over to a mirror to look at himself, completely ignoring the two men.

At least his new uniform looked good on him. He had temporarily been moved to the Galactic Warriors division, to place him in an environment of people that had also been enhanced in some way or another. He liked the black look... jet-black boots, pants, belt, and a dark insignia-laden shirt.

More important than the change in uniform was his change in overall appearance. His hair had darkened, he had increased slightly in height to a little over six feet, and his eyes were now an almost pulsating blue. He also noticed that his muscles were now much more sharply defined. The doctors assured him that the changes to his internal organs were even more impressive than his outer metamorphoses.

Ben turned to look at the doctor and interrogator.

"You have had plenty of time to investigate me," Ben stated, "and as I do not plan to spend the rest of my life as a medical experiment, I am drawing the line here. Fourteen hours of constant analysis is more than enough. File a protest if you must, but I am leaving."

The interrogator drew a plasma pistol, leveling it towards Ben.

"Computer," the interrogator commanded, "lock this room's door and permit no overrides, on the order of Council Intelligence Agent Zakarias. Ensign Benjamin Powell, you are confined to this examination room for the immediate future. You are going nowhere."

Ben sighed. "Well at least now I have a name to call you, Agent Zakarias. Then again, I had plenty of names to call you before, but I prefer not to use those particular words with higher ranking officers."

"Sit down and shut up!" Agent Zakarias shouted. "I want no more lip from you, Ensign! Until I am absolutely certain that you did not betray any League secrets, and that you do not represent a threat, you are in my custody!"

"What League secrets?" Ben asked exhaustedly. "What could I possibly have told Rommel? I am a junior officer, with no access to top-secret documentation. As a chief researcher, Rommel had a full admiral's access level before he left the fleet. He already knows more than I do."

"We will soon see if that is the truth," Agent Zakarias responded as he drew an injection gun from his pocket. "We're reasonably confident that this truth serum should work even with your altered anatomy."

Now Ben was just disgusted.

"No way," he growled. "I have cooperated long enough. Officer in the military or not, I still have rights. This treatment is ridiculous. Rommel, setting aside the attempted murder thing, was more hospitable than this."

"Ah, so you have something to hide do you?" Agent Zakarias asked.

Ben focused on the plasma pistol in Zakarias' hand. Not sure how he was doing it, he enveloped the weapon in concentrated energy, pressing in with thousands of atmospheres of pressure.

Zakarias swiftly withdrew his hand from the weapon, the compressed, half-molten device hanging uselessly in the air for several seconds before it finally dropped onto the floor.

"We," Ben emphasized, "are done here."

Zakarias stared at Ben in amazement, not moving from his seat as Ben strode to the door.

"I'm not opening it," Zakarias muttered in a frightened tone.

Ben sighed. "Why does everything have to be done the hard way with you?"

He reached back to punch the door, when it slid open. Lieutenant Rebecca Morrison stood there, wide eyed at the sight of Ben preparing to strike.

Ben, to his credit, managed a smooth transition of his fist into a salute.

"Lieutenant Morrison!" Ben yelped in surprise. "I'm sorry... I didn't know you were coming here. I also thought that Agent Zakarias had locked the door."

Lieutenant Morrison shifted her narrowing eyes towards Zakarias.

"So you're the little shit that decided to seal the door. I had to resort to my Warrior override codes to convince the computer to open the damned thing. You realize, of course, that you have no authority to detain an officer? This debriefing is over."

Agent Zakarias stood, ready to raise hell.

"And exactly who the hell are you?" he demanded. "I am a Lieutenant Commander of the Council's own intelligence division! I have the authority to detain whomever I choose to detain!"

Morrison shook her head wearily. "I am Lieutenant Rebecca Morrison, officer of the Galactic Warrior Corps. As you may recall, Commander, the Warriors are completely independent of the rest of the fleet. It was the reason we were established; to be a check on the rest of the military. We answer only to the Ruling Council... certainly not to a minor Lieutenant Commander. Ensign Powell has been transferred to my command, and thus is no longer subject to the purview of the intelligence division. Now that the legal niceties are out of the way, and my authority established, I am warning you to stay out of my way. We will handle Ensign Powell's special case on our own... any interference from you will earn you a trip to our brig."