The Core of the Matter

[Chirakis 1]

The Core of the Matter

The door to the security interrogation room slid open as Chirakis approached, but she stopped short of entering. Just inside, a livid CAG faced off with her for a moment, then excused himself and tried to move past. Chirakis stepped over to block his exit, then tossed him a threatening look after glancing at the person he had apparently been ‘interrogating’. The CAG stepped aside into a respectful posture and waited, his anger unabated.

On the other side of the interrogation room table sat a thoroughly exhausted Starfleet Lieutenant. Her long, auburn hair was pulled back to regulation, but more than a few strands had been pulled loose by the rub of the pilot’s helmet next to her. A pair of gloves sat askew to the side. The lieutenant was not merely exhausted, she was on the verge of tears—the kind that come from brow-beating. She had not moved since the door opened. Her bowed head rested in her hands as she stared blankly at the table.

Chirakis turned once more to study the man next to her: Commander Stratton, Commander of the Air Group. LT Juliette Chron was one of the best fighter pilots in the squadron, if not the galaxy. Her record was exemplary, her mission records were as close to perfect as one could get, and her awards enviable. Why, then, was she in the interrogation room rather than the more appropriate interview room?

“Commander,” said Kirel with quiet intensity. “Get the Lieutenant some fresh, cold water. Then inform her squadron that she is safe.”

His initial shock did not go unnoticed, and it took a moment before he gave a crisp acknowledgement and returned a moment later to reluctantly place the glass on the table next to her.

When he turned, the captain’s glare stopped him once more. “Outside. Now.”

As soon as the door closed behind them, Chirakis addressed him as diplomatically as she could manage, which was not exactly diplomatic.

“Commander Stratton, I understand that you are frustrated, and I understand why. We are all frustrated. Our entire situation is confusing, and therefore, frustrating. However, treating one of our finest pilots as a common criminal is a tactic that will neither help the situation nor get answers. Do you understand?”

Stratton did not respond. His jaw clenched.

“Very well, Commander,” Chirakis continued. “Let me put it another way. You are obviously stressed and need a break. Therefore, you are relieved of duty and confined to quarters. Lt Commander Apex, ACAG, will assume your duties. As soon as I am finished here, I will approach Captain Ramson, and we will review your position as Commander of the Air Group on this station, as well as your future in Starfleet. Do you understand that?”

“Yes, Captain,” he replied, stoic, and not a little defiant.

“Very well. Dismissed.”

Kirel’s gaze followed him until he turned the corner to exit the security complex. When she stepped back into the interrogation room, Lt Chron was still staring at the table, the glass of water untouched. Her eyes were red and teared, though her expression was controlled. She hadn’t even been given the courtesy of removing her flight suit, which is not exactly suited to this room. Though flight suits usually adapted to most changes in atmospheric conditions, conditions in security’s interrogation rooms did not fall under the category of ‘most’. They were hot, harsh, and unforgiving—like the surface of a dry, barren, windswept planet—meant to put a suspect in a very uncomfortable state.

Harnessing her anger, Kirel stepped to the wall to adjust the atmospheric controls.

“Drink some water, Lieutenant,” she said when she turned back. “You may also remove your flight suit if you wish, but if you feel more comfortable, you may keep it on.” A few taps on the table released a small provision drawer. After selecting a few choice energy bars, Kirel placed them next to the young pilot, then relaxed into the chair opposite. “I am not here to intimidate you, Lieutenant, nor am I here to interrogate you. I merely want your story, as best you remember it.”

Chron merely stared, obviously confused.

“Drink some water, Lieutenant,” Kirel repeated. “You need to hydrate.”

After a minute or two, she grabbed the glass. Her hands trembled for a moment, then she drained the glass and wiped the drips with the back of her hand.

“More?”

“Please, Captain.”

Two or three glasses later and the color of the healthy athlete she was returned to the pilot’s face. After slowly peeling off her flight suit, she set it aside. Then she chose an energy bar, slowly peeled the wrapper and took a bite, followed by another drink.

“So you want my story, ma’am?,” she said finally. “The same one I gave the CAG?”

“Your story, as best you remember it.”

“Honestly, ma’am?” She stared at another energy bar for a moment before looking up. “I don't know what happened. I had control of the fighter for a long time, then I just felt like I should….” She sighed and looked away. “That sounds so stupid. It sounds like I did it on purpose.”

“Did what on purpose?”

“I broke off from the squadron and took another vector, ma’am. I had to go somewhere else. I mean I knew I had to go somewhere else, and I just couldn’t… I couldn’t stop it. I tried, but I just….” She sighed again, frustrated. “I couldn’t.” Chron stared at Kirel for a long time, then swallowed hard. “You don’t believe me, do you, Captain.”

“Why should I not believe you?”

“You just look like you don’t. You look…. ”

“Intimidating?” Chirakis’ brows rose a bit, but her expression remained passive.

“Permission to speak freely, ma’am?”

“Of course.”

“Yes, ma’am. You look intimidating. I don’t know why. You just… do.”

“I know, Lieutenant.” Kirel chuckled into a minimal smile. “It comes from too many years working in Starfleet Intelligence. Remember that, if they ever approach you for an ‘exciting addition to your resume’. But above all, do not believe them.”

Chron relaxed, and almost smiled.

“As I said, this is not an interrogation, Lieutenant. I am asking for your story. Are you telling your story as best you remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then, there is no problem.” She shrugged. “Please continue.”

“Well, ma’am, that’s about it. I knew I had to leave. When I arrived at coordinates….”

Her eyes pressed tight for a while. Then she shook her head and looked up. “I can’t… I can't remember the coordinates. I just knew they were the right ones. It was like a switch turned off. All of a sudden, I realized that what I was doing was... crazy, and I turned back.”

Kirel thought for a moment, pondering the implications. As Chron watched her carefully, too many suspicions crowded Kirel’s thoughts, and she pushed them away. All but one. Captain Ramson would probably have the answer. In her mind, it was the only explanation. She finally nodded.

“You are free to go, Lieutenant. I suggest you rest at least until your next duty shift before resuming your duties. If you need more time, it is yours. I will inform LT CDR Apex of your changes in schedule. Remember that Doctor Davis is available. And if you get a sudden urge like that again, let someone immediately. Understood?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Very well. Dismissed.”