Pass / Fail

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Seclusion.

Privacy was a rare privilege. It certainly wasn't a right. It wasn't as a warrior on Selonia, and it wasn't as a Knight of the Imperial Throne. It was a privilege granted to those who performed their tasks admirably and honorably, and only when time and circumstances permitted. With such fleeting criteria, Matatek Sel Vissica took her rare moments and savored them.

The furnishings of Vissica's quarters within the Knights compound were spartan. The lack of adornment complemented the brutalism of Imperial aesthetic, though this was not her intention. She was a woman of few possessions and trappings. There was little she needed in life that was not issued to her as kit. Her armor - unclasped and propped in a corner like a cage. Her greatsaber - resting atop a simple shelf with no other accompaniment. Hairbrushes - one with short and dense bristles to negotiate her thick and wiry coat. Another brush with longer, more-spaced prongs designed for the tresses of brown hair on her head. Vissica retrieved the latter, carefully working her hair out of her duty braids, coaxing the locks into a state of ease as she brushed them down each side of her head.

This was a ritual. The next stage in the ritual was to allow the body to follow the hair's example, uncoiling and releasing the day's tension away. A stretch was not a casual affair for a Selonian. With a long and flexible spine, it began at the head and worked meticulously down in waves. Lithe, taut muscles tensed and relaxed as Vissica bunched and slinked in careful measure, until the wave worked to it's conclusion at the base of her tail. Exhaling deeply, Vissica squared herself to the back of her quarters. To the right was the modest bed allotted to her. Before her was the closest thing to a liberty of decor that she allowed. A thin padded mat lay on the floor in front of a broad bench. On the bench rested two small metal troughs, the bottoms of which were dusted with soot and residue. Lady Vissica carefully retrieved the cylinder that rested between these, measuring out two lengths of incense. She inserted each fragrant stick into a notch in each trough, and carefully lit each tip. Thin trails of smoke began to snake upward toward the ceiling, but not before leaving their distinctive woodsy and perfumed aroma. Between each trail of smoke rested Vissica's last personal effect. It was a holocube set for maximum clarity and resolution. Vissica carefully knelt upon the mat. Only after she was completely comfortable did she tap the diode to activate the hologram. The space before her lit up with a bust of Empress Miranda Tarkin. It was a still pose, nothing more. Something to fix the eyes upon in a moment of reflection.

Lady Vissica drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly as she regarded the holographic icon. To a simpleton, this may have appeared to be a form of idolatry. That was a naive assumption. Miranda Tarkin was not a god or a goddess. Selonians had none. She was, however, the apex of Lady Vissica's oath. Tarkin was the zenith upon which her promised words rested, and her likeness was a reminder of everything that the Selonian said and did. In the past. In the present. In the future.

No, this was not worship. The Jedi Knights once believed in meditation to achieve focus. Those traitors were wrong in so many things, but there was truth buried in many aspects of their order. As Lady Vissica refreshed and renewed her commitment to the Queen of her Queen, she wondered how deeply this similarity lay.

[Reikkel Orgern]

"Colonel Stroft..."

Captain Reikkel Orgern stood at attention on the upper-tier landing pad at Imperial Citadel. The man stepping down the gangplank was slight in stature, with almost a grandfatherly look to him. Blue eyes, a grey mustache. Anyone disarmed by that would do well to pay attention to the tan of the man's uniform. The Imperial Security Bureau's preferred shade of duty jacket stood in noted contrast to the black and grey of the navy or the olive drab of the army. It looked somehow more benign than the others. Any Imperial officer who thought such a thing was soon disabused of the notion. The ISB's chief task was to uphold the spirit of the New Order, against enemies beyond and within.

"Where is that...creature...that holds your leash, Captain?"

The query caught Orgern offguard, and he blinked.

"I..."

Annoyed, Colonel Stroft's pressed lips disappeared under his mustache.

"The Selonian. She's interfering in ISB affairs and putting my investigations in jeopardy."

With a bit more lead time, Orgern could now retort.

"The matter with Argenth Khaas?"

"Certainly." Stroft replied with a sharp tone as he passed. His security troopers were keeping pace with him, so it would be up to the Captain to do the same. "My office informed me of the prisoner transfer this morning. I cut short a perfectly good interrogation on Bilbringi to return to Imperial Center to deal with this mess."

Orgern kept eyes forward as he matched the Colonel's brisk pace. The stormtroopers ahead manning the blast door parted, allowing the multi-paned durasteel aperture to glide open. Admiral Stroft continued without relent.

"Knight General Atrapes may well sit at Empress Tarkin's right hand, but the Imperial Security Bureau sits at her left. We've ferreted out our fair share of those whose work falls at cross purposes with the New Order. If I must take this directly to the Empress, I assure you I will. And if there is a conspiracy to countermand our authority, I will discover every last person at it's source."

The talk was all hellfire and brimstone, and it had a way of seeping into one's pores. No matter how right you thought you were, crossing paths with the ISB made you question that. Captain Orgern's conflict began to show on his face as he lead the Colonel to Lady Vissica's quarters.

"Colonel, with all due respect, I can understand if this was a major defection case or a high value capture. Argenth Khaas is neither. At best, he's an alleged contraband dealer in the lower levels. I'm honestly surprised he attracted your notice."

Stroft's blue eyes fixed on Orgern again.

"Of course you are, Captain. You live in the realm of the obvious. An enemy in front of you and overwhelming firepower at your command. A droid could do your job, and at less cost to the state. What you admit in your failure to notice is that an errant thread at the bottom of a tapestry, if pulled so, can unravel the whole affair. Argenth Khaas may appear to be some mere gutter punk, but we believe him to be...intertwined."

The pair arrived just shy of the nondescript door that would lead into Lady Vissica's quarters.

"Best that one hand pulls the thread than two."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Before light or sound or any corporeal insight betrayed her guests, there was the force. A sense that defied description to the unseen, but one that divined what the others combined did not.

Vissica's eyes opened before the image of Empress Tarkin framed in tracing fingers of fragrant smoke. Her pink tongue darted briefly along her muzzle as she took in a measured breath.

Two people. One, familiar. The slow-burning fear in his mind that never died out.

The Selonian Knight rose to her two hind paws, turning towards the door that had yet to open. A gesture of a webbed hand commanded the force, acting upon the mechanism to open the way. Vissica's feelings had not betrayed her.

"What is it, Captain?"

And then, there was the matter of his guest. Vissica's attention shifted evenly to the ISB Colonel.

[Reikkel Orgern]

There were moments when Lady Vissica spoke that Captain Orgern could feel his throat tightening. Whether that was nerves or a phantom reliving of the moment he'd fallen short of her expectations, he wasn't sure. Fortunately, the notion was fleeting, dismissed with a swallow.

"Lady Vissica, this is Colonel Stroft of the Imperial Security Bureau. He has some...concerns regarding the prisoner transfer."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The Selonian's gimlet eyes moved in small degree from Captain Orgern to Colonel Stroft, appraising the older officer briefly. Her whiskers rose and fell as she crossed her arms. It took no difficulty to discern the man's anger. She could have done that without the force.

"State your concerns, Colonel."

[Reikkel Orgern]

Colonel Stroft's piercing expression did not diminish now that he was done playing with subordinates. He met the tall alien's eyes unflinchingly, a sneer nearly obfuscated by his mustache.

"Where shall I begin? The flagrant disregard of protocol? The lack of investigatory tact? This isn't Palpatine's Empire, Lady Vissica, nor are you Darth Vader. Your truculent defiance of ISB procedure will cost you."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"You may address the matter with the Knight General." Vissica replied flatly, not intimidated by the ISB officer's threat.

"In the meantime, we have the prisoner. I intend to interrogate him at once. You may observe the process if you wish, but you won't stand in my way."

[Reikkel Orgern]

Captain Orgern was watching a dangerous game play out. The Knights of the Imperial Throne were an almost-entirely extrajudicial force. They represented the will of the Empress, and they used their powers to great effect. However, the Imperial Security Bureau was somehow equally fearful, despite not commanding the force. The ISB dealt in fear. They fanatically upheld the virtues of the New Order, and trusted no one but the Empress. No one was safe from their scrutiny. For every two ISB officers in uniform, the tale went that another was either in plainclothes or under the guise of another branch of Imperial service. More than one regional governor had been arrested due to an ISB agent lurking in their inner circle, reporting on any perceived signs of disloyalty. Captain Orgern was certain that disturbing observation was perhaps more true in the 79th Legion. The hand-picked troops that served the Imperial Knights likely held several ISB informants in secret. The worst part was that this was the system. This was how it was intended to operate. In the Empire, privacy was more precious than gold.

"Careful, Knight..." warned Colonel Stroft with a dangerously drawn tone, "One could view your obstinance as working at cross purposes with the New Order. After all, the Knights seem to have conveniently deviated from the purity of COMPNOR's vision."[/i]

Stroft punctuated that remark with a distasteful glance up and down at his alien adversary.

"You are a motley assortment of creatures and beasts, congregated together quite conveniently. One might view such a thing as a breeding ground for conspiracy."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Stroft's hypotheticals wore thin on the Selonian's patience, and she puffed her pent-up breath through her nose.

"One might."

The musteloid's eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

"That...would be a mistake."

Briefly retreating into her quarters again, Vissica donned her armor, quickly working the clasps around her as she clipped her greatsaber into its scabbard. Her hair, she settled for securing in a rudimentary ponytail. It lacked the martial tidiness of her warrior's braids, but it would serve it's purpose for this unnanounced intrusion.

Returning to the officers, she fixed Stroft with the same even expression that she'd given him at their introduction.

"Captain Orgern, prepare Argenth Khaas for interrogation in facility three. I want an interrogation droid and a torture detachment on standby."

Lady Vissica paused, a hand raising up to scratch the fur at her chin.

"And summon cadets Rayner and Khoovi to attend. I have something special for them."

[Reikkel Orgern]

Suddenly relieved to have orders and to be cut loose from this uncomfortable encounter, Captain Orgern clicked his bootheels together in time with a curt nod of his head.

"At once, Lady Vissica."

No sooner had Orgern pivoted on his feet to stride away did Colonel Stroft return fire.

"Not wasting a minute, are you? Yes, well the clock is ticking. I give you two hours at best before the Bureau snaps all the slack out of your leash and you're brought to heel. You'll regret this maverick course of action."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Threats do not interest me, Colonel. Results do."

Lady Vissica's tail thumped the deck with impatience. Stroft's tantrum was wasting her time.

"I intend to interrogate Argenth Khaas. You are welcome to observe and to share what I discover. But if you interfere..."

The Selonian's rough voice tapered off into a growl.

"...you will find the limit of my hospitality."

Lady Vissica cut off any further desultory conversation, walking past the ISB officer. He would slow her down no longer.

[Reikkel Orgern]

Interrogation Room Three
- fifteen minutes later -


There was a comforting sameness in Imperial service. Standard kit, standard design. Standard architecture. If you'd been in the confines of one Imperial interrogation chamber, then you'd seen them all. The Imperial Citadel had thirty eight of them, each capable of accomodating detainees ranging from the petty miscreant to even Jedi Knights. There was an adjacent viewing room for attendees who valued discretion. Within, there was a desk fixed to the ground, and two basic chairs. This arrangement sufficed for more compliant subjects. For the less compliant...

"The board is ready for the prisoner, Captain."

The master technician of the torture platoon gave a curt nod, stepping away from the machine. Captain Orgern's eyes remained affixed to the device, his face in a taut expression of recollection. Each officer of the Imperial Army was conditioned on the Arakyd GXR-19 Compliance Regulator as part of their RUI training module. The board, as it was called, used precise electical pulses in concert with detailed sensors to accurately activate pain receptors in excruciating detail. A bewildering combination of injuries and agonies could be simulated without leaving a mark on the subject's body. As a tool available to an expert torturer, it was very persuasive. Of the board's thirty-six settings, Captain Orgern had only lasted through twelve, which was one more than anyone in his graduating class. Still, even the sight of the apparatus caused Orgern's extremities to tingle in psychosomatic dread.

"Thank you, chief." Orgern stammered, keeping his cool by a thread as he stood to attention. The doors parted as the interrogation procession and the prisoner entered, the latter bound in stun cuffs and being frog-marched by stormtroopers. Behind him, the towering figure of Lady Vissica followed, along with Colonel Stroft. Trailing further came the cadets - the Shistavanen, Khoovi Wan, and the Nehantite, Kyle Rayner. A final pair of stormtroopers trailed the cadets, posting at each side of the door as guards as the durasteel aperture sealed shut.

[Khoovi Wan]

"Ah," the Shistavanen said, his canid expression remaining opaque. His ears, however, turned back. "Torture. Lovely."

He turned to the overwhelming Selonian.

"Knight Vissica, if it isn't insubordination for me to ask, but why are we learning to torture?" he kept his posture straight and his eyes clear, but to the Force Sensitive adepts watching it was clear he was not comfortable with what was about to happen. "With our abilities, is this even necessary? Could we not just convince them to divulge information, or pluck it from their heads?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica turned slowly to look down at the Shistavanen. The Selonian's non-humanoid features rarely emoted in a familiar manner to humans, but with slightly puffed flews and a spread array of whiskers, Vissica gave the closest equivalent to a smile that her people wore.

"That is an interesting question, Cadet. Are you capable of this?"

A mere glance was all that was needed to command the stormtroopers to pull the prisoner towards Khoovi. If he was already prepared to demonstrate what he claimed, then Vissica would be impressed. If not, then the Shistavanen still had much to learn, even excluding matters of the force.

[Khoovi Wan]

"Are you capable of this?" Knight Vissica asked.

Cadet Khoovi Wan stopped, his eyes drifting down and his ears drooping, before he steadied his stance and continued on.

"Not yet," he said. "But one of the Empire's greatest strengths lies in its pool of resources. Not everyone will be gifted enough to able to do everything. It would be simple to call upon a trained interrogator or... torturer, and oversee the process and gather the information."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal watched the scene with distaste so severe he may as well have been eating a guacamole sandwich, yet he allowed none of it to register upon his face. As usual, Khoovi was eager to offer a solution which was accurate, yet not fully thought-out, and for once Hal waited for a superior to answer before saying anything himself.

Instead he studied the prisoner, having no idea who he was or why he was important, or why two cadets would be involved in his interrogation. Stalling for time in the hopes that things would be explained, he simply carried on with the current line of conversation. "Yes, there are some who can scan and read another's thoughts, but even they must be careful and understand the physical nature of the brain they are trying to pry into. Some do not take to it well in either direction, such as the Nehantite brain," he said.

It was a half-truth, in that the Nehantite brain was not as advanced as most humanoids in the correct areas for mental burglary, and would cause both parties a headache if they attempted it. But the half lie was played out instead as Hal sent a sharp spike of pain into Khoovi's brain by locating and tugging upon a nerve strand within it via telekenesis, and a much milder one into Vissica's brain simultaneously, to make Khoovi look like a wimp when he would react more severely to what was obviously the "same" pain sent to both. In order to sell it, Hal faked a wince as well, reaching up to rub his left temple. While an effective display, Hal knew he was playing a dangerous game, attempting to convince two fellow Force-sensitves of a lie, but if they both thought they would encounter such discomfort while trying to scan his mind, perhaps it would better keep everyone out of his head, just in case.

"I've heard there are some races with worse responses than what mine just did," he spoke. "So, I'd stick with traditional methods unless you really know what you're doing, Khoovi."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Lady Vissica winced in irritation, turning to glower at the Nehantite cadet in the wake of his ill-advised demonstration.

"Careful with your demonstrations, Cadet."

The Selonian held her attention upon Kyle Rayner a moment longer, needing no further threat to imply an or else scenario. Her attentions then turned to the troopers holding Argenth Khaas.

"Put him on the machine."

Vissica stepped aside, allowing the stormtroopers to do their work. Fasteners and binders were connected at the ankles, the wrists, around the waist, the neck, and across the forehead. A technician began to apply a series of electrodes to the man's exposed skin at his forehead. He then unbuttoned Argenth Khaas's jacket, and applied them at intervals along his chest and abdomen. Throughout this, Khaas said nothing. Stoicism could only mask so much fear. He betrayed himself with a quickening breath, and a tightening of his jaw.

Lady Vissica slowly circled the group as the technicians began their work.

"Don't be so quick to dismiss a conventional tool." she reprimanded Khoovi, passing behind him in a steady gait.

"The machine is crude, next to a willful mind and the power of the force. But it has it's uses."

The prepping technician stepped aside, and manned the board's control panel. Lady Vissica wasted no time. She came to a halt beside her students, wearing an expression of indifference.

"Begin."

The torturer set the machine's settings at level five. There was no sound from the device. No electric hum. No tell-tale light. It was as quiet as when it were switched off.

Argenth Khaas, however, was not quiet.

"GGHHHAAAAAAAAA!!! AGHH HGAH AAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!"

Vissica's dark eyes took in Khaas's agonies with quiet curiosity as the man shrieked and howled. His entire body tensend and convulsed, shaking and straining the fasteners that bound him to the spot.

"GHAAAGGGGAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!"

The Selonian leaned forward, intent on observing every subtlety. Beyond the tortured prisoner, Captain Orgern swallowed sharply, averting his eyes from the act unfolding.

[Khoovi Wan]

Khoovi yelped and almost snapped at the older Cadet, but managed to hold himself back with only a small glare.

"Of course, Knight Vissica," he said, retreating into his memories of the readings on information gathering and torture to distract himself from the screams of the unfortunate man. "Weaken and muddle the physical to more easily pry the secrets from the mental. It's in the first chapter ofour mental training manuals."

He couldn't look the man in the face; he compromised by looking at his chest and cataloguing the fabric and colour to distance himself from the pain he could feel in the Force.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal watched, his face cold as the prisoner screamed in agony. How simple it would be to shut off the machine through the Force, but in this instance it would be unwise. All he could do was stand and watch, unblinking, as Vissica tortured a man, presumably for information. What Hal was supposed to be learning from this, he had no clue, and presumed it was more a test of the intestinal fortitude of the cadets to watch instead of learning how to torture. Any idiot could cause pain, after all. What was difficult was to know the right kind of pain that would reveal your desired outcome. From Hal's experience, the best methods didn't require pain at all.

"What do you expect him to tell us, Knight Vissica?" he asked at last, just as the machine was shut off. It wasn't like Khaas was going to be capable of delivering clear, coherent answers while every pain receptor in his body was being stimulated.

[Reikkel Orgern]

Captain Orgern could feel the perspiration beginning to bead on his forehead. He stymied it's assault with a square handkerchief pulled from his jacket pocket, daubing discretely at his temples and upwards before curling a gloved hand over the cloth. Being a party to torture relived the horror in some degree, and this all greatly unsettled the army officer.

And just as suddenly as it began, it ended. He hadn't noticed the gesture Vissica made to terminate the session, but the screams from Argenth Khaas had fallen away to hyperventilating whimpers. His body shook in it's restraints, shivering through his own sweat. By some mercy of dignity, the man had retained agency over his bladder, which tended to fail those subjected to the board with some regularity.

Orgern turned his attention to the Cadets, who had managed to suffer the whole scene and still maintain some manner of academic curiosity about it all.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"I expect him to tell us the truth, Cadet Rayner."

Vissica replied matter-of-factly without turning her attention to her student.

"I have given him a taste of consequence. Just a taste. An obstacle formed in his mind to any deception he may choose. Cadet Khoovi is correct, torture alone is a clumsy tool to extract a secret, but it is useful to upset a man's composure. When you shake the foundation, even the most sturdily-built lie can crumble."

At her periphery, the Selonian could see Colonel Stroft's impatient glower. She intended to demonstrate that her pupils were fast learners.

"Cadet Khoovi."

Vissica turned, gesturing to Captain Orgern, who pressed a datapad into her paw. She paused momentarily to read a few lines, then glanced back to the Shistavanen.

"Ask the prisoner who he works for."

[Khoovi Wan]

"Cadet Khoovi."

He snapped into a straight stance, eyes tearing from the man's shuddering chest to stare at a point on the wall.

"Ask the prisoner who he works for."

"Sir!" he responded, and turned to the prisoner. A pang of sympathy shot through him at the sensations of confusion and fear and pain coming from the prone form, and it deepened at the realization that it was only going to get worse for the man from here; he was reminded of home, and the documentaries where he was told the ancestors would hamstring or nearly kill their prey and leave the deed itself to the cubs; a method of training and preparation, much like this. He moved to stand next to the man. He was short enough that he didn't need to lean forward to reach his ear.

"This is only going to get worse for you, and for that I am sorry," he said, pushing his sincerity to the man through the Force. It was crude and inefficient perhaps; an exploitation of his own good nature, but it didn't mean it was not true. "It will end all the sooner if you simply tell me the name of your employer."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The expression on Khaas's face softened for a moment. It seemed as if he might have been persuaded to see Khoovi's point of view...up until the point that his face turned back to a defiant sneer. The prisoner spat a thick spray into the Shistavanen's muzzle. Khoovi had all the answer he was going to get - for now.

There was no rebuke from Vissica as she watched the exchange. No chiding the cadet for failure.

"Focused empathy. Good."

The Selonian nodded in approval.

"Mercy is a powerful incentive. Don't withold it out of pride or ego, but likewise, don't lavish it generously. Show the prisoner only what you are prepared to deliver. We expect the prisoner to be honest, therefore we must also maintain this position."

Returning her attention back to Khaas, Vissica flicked her tongue along her muzzle.

"Question asked. Question refused. The prisoner has chosen his consequence. Set the board to level ten."

The torturer adjusted the controls for another round, and nodded when they were recalibrated.

"Begin."

The chamber once more filled with bone-chilling screams of agony as Argenth Khaas convulsed violently against his restraints. Though the board itself caused no damage to it's victim, a struggling man could quickly injure himself against the restraints. Raw skin at his wrists, ankles, and neck began to bleed as he thrashed, until at last Vissica ended the latest demonstration of pain with a raised paw. She turned to the Nehantite this time.

"Cadet Rayner, perhaps the prisoner will listen to you."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal watched with blank expression, though inside his stomach turned at the sight. He only managed to remain calm on the exterior thanks to some of the things he'd seen while undercover inside the Merestri crime syndicate, and he hated the fact that he had such monsters to thank for his next move.

"Your knife, please, Captain," he extended his paw to Orgern while staring at Khaas's face.

When the handle of a combat knife was pressed into his palm, Hal wrapped his fingers around it, and tested its edge with the thumbpad of his left paw. Razor sharp, Imperial standard. Hal could even shave with it, if he wanted to look like a fool. The Nehantite edged toward the center of the table, nudging Khoovi out of the way, and he let the tip of the knife drag backwards along the prisoner's thigh, its point able to be felt through his trousers, but not cutting the fabric. Then he put the point somewhere far more sensitive, and he pressed in until he heard a whimper.

"Your left one is bigger, I see," Hal said in a conversational tone. "Makes a nice target. Now, I should tell you that, yes, you can lie to me once and you'll still be able to have kids, buuuut.... I wouldn't recommend it." The knife twisted slowly, eliciting another whimper. "Soooo, who do you work for?" Hal smiled as his voice adopted a sing-song quality.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Knight Vissica!" Colonel Stroft objected angrily, "This is an interrogation, not a gang initiation. We have standards!"

For her part, the Selonian was inclined to agree with her ISB adversary. Standards of Imperial interrogation were high and the practices were meticulous. Not out of sense of compassion for the prisoner, but because the process reliably produced results. Kyle Rayner was upping the ante in a dangerous way. He'd presented the prisoner with consequence that was as tangible as it was painful. Was it a bluff? The Selonian could not tell from merely observing her student. The way he engaged with Khaas reminded Vissica of Comrade Alexia's style - dangerously unpredictable.

Khaas didn't reply. Instead his eyes were fixed to the Selonian, as Stroft had unintentionally intervened to her on his behalf.

He'd find no safe harbor with her.

"Proceed, Cadet."

"Wait!"

All eyes turned back to Khaas, whose eyes were back firmly on Cadet Rayner, where they ought to be.

"Sabol Wurrg. I work for Sabol Wurrg."

[Reikkel Orgern]

It was a name unfamiliar to Vissica, but one that Captain Orgern knew. He stood beside his superior, muttering within earshot.

"A Ubese gangster in the lower levels. Runs weapons. Peddles information."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The name meant nothing to the Selonian, who growled neutrally in response to it. Turning her datapad over in her paws, she glanced to the two Cadets.

"Is he telling the truth?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal shrugged. "Well, I did threaten to stab one of his nuts, so, I'd say he's telling the truth. If he's not, well, like I said, he can still have kids with one," he replied, then handed the Captain his knife back.

[Khoovi Wan]

Khoovi shrugged.

"I want to say yes, but I don't really have enough information to tell if he's trying to give us a run. Torture can be notoriously unreliable, even in the face of pain and death. I don't have the skill to tell if he was being truthful yet either," the canid grimaced slightly. "Too much pain and fear muddying the waters, so to speak."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Her students had given their answers, but they had neglected to show their work. Vissica crossed her arms, her tail thumping audibly against the floor with impatience.

"Don't let your surroundings blind you. Don't fall prey to a hunch, and don't limit yourselves to the methods of a simple interrogator."

The Selonian's dark eyes skewed to fix on Colonel Stroft, who took the insult in silence.

"The answer is here. You can't hear it. You can't see it. It's beyond smell, taste, or touch, but you know how to find it."

Vissica turned suddenly to Khaas, pressing close to the prisoner as she splayed a paw across his face. She turned his head to the side, pressing his cheek against the cold durasteel as her fingertips dragged roughly along the other cheek.

"In the air and under his skin and in his sweat, it is there."

The musteloid turned on a heel, pressing her sweat-dampened fingertips under Khoovi's nose.

"The most powerful weapon a Knight of the Empress holds is not a lightsaber. It isn't a weapon at all. It's the sense that guides you to the truth."

She fixed her eyes on both students in even measure.

"Now, use it."