The Pilot Who Tried to Get Away, Part 1: A Brief Interrogation
Posted on Sat Nov 15th, 2025 @ 4:39pm by Lieutenant Jean-Baptiste Dorsainvil & Commander Maxun Spello & Major Clay McEntyre III & Commander Irene Seya
Edited on on Sun Nov 16th, 2025 @ 3:47pm
1,076 words; about a 5 minute read
Mission:
Peril at the Unification Accords
Location: Barisa Prime Starfleet Operations Security Suite
Timeline: MD 08, 1810 Hours
Commander Spello and Major McEntyre arrived at the room where the pilot of the now-grounded shuttle craft was being held. At her insistence, Commander Irene Seya was in tow. Security officials had one in custody, and were holding the pilot, a female, not apparently clear from her appearance if she were Vulcan or Romulan. By Human standards, she appeared to be middle-aged and impatient.
The room wasn't exactly a holding cell, nor was it designed for interrogations. It was much larger than the ones typically used to press suspects for information, but still Spartan in appearance, sterile. There was one smaller table in the corner, not much larger than a small desk, though there were no drawers, computer terminals, or compartments. It was just a simple piece of furniture with four legs, and one chair behind it.
A slightly larger sleek metal table Was positioned near the center of the room and could seat sixteen comfortably, twenty in a pinch. A closer look at the ceiling would reveal that there were holoimagers in place, even a viewscreen that could be lowered on one side of the room. But none of these were in use at the moment.
The woman in custody kept trying to fold her arms across her chest, which was causing the security detail to also grow impatient as they kept repeating orders for her to keep her hands at her side, even having to physically put them there for her. She watched as the two officers in Starfleet dress uniforms, the third a Marine who looked ready for battle approached her.
She muttered something in Romulan, which translated into Federation Standard as, "Are you serious?"
As they approached, Maxun heard the woman speak. In perfect Rihan, he spoke in response. "We are very serious, Madam." He then switched to Federation Standard. "There was an attack on the Vulcan ambassador, then, after the area was locked down, you attempted to flee. After you were warned several times to turn around, our starfighters had to lock your shuttle in tractor beams and haul you back." He took a step forward, and continued. "So, lets start with an easy question. Who are you?"
"Doctor Aerev tr'Khellan," She replied dryly. "And you are?"
Seemingly unfazed by her attitude, Maxun replied evenly. "I am Commander Maxun Spello, Executive Officer of the starship Astrea." He took a breath, then sat down across from her. "Now that we have introductions out of the way, why don't you explain exactly why you refused to heed the orders to return to the planet?"
Aerev remained standing. She would not be disarmed and cow to this Human's interrogation tactices.
"I am a member of the Romulan Free State, and I am not subject to Starfeet orders," she said crisply, sounding more like a Romulan military commander than a doctor or civillian
Clay glared at the doctor. Using his size and bulk to appear intimidating and stern.
“But you are subject to the laws of the region of space you are in.” Clay retorted, his arms across his chest, armor flexing as he breathed.
Aerev smirked at the posturing that the large Caitian was attempting to do. Starfleet types were humorous. All bark, no bite... but really not even much of a bark compared to what the Empire could do to its own citizens.
"Not when they are arbitrary, capricious, and impinge on my own freedoms," she replied, a bored expression crossing her face. "What do you need from me so that I can be on my way?"
Maxun held up a hand, to hold Clay back, as he could feel the strong Caitian practically vibrating behind him. He then looked back at the Romulan. In her language again, he spoke clearly, so their would be no misunderstanding over the universal translator. "Tarahn, kahs ehn tehl wun sheh'at, neh hhkai ast tuhlvak t'kel, shanik hah ehn kahsh akai uhn dreh." (1) He then stared directly into her eyes. Showing no measure that he was either impressed by her attitude or concerned by it.
Aerev grinned as she gave Spello a once over, splaying her fingertips across the table as she replied, "Hveolhaonn akifvi tharon. Aorre ieiuqh inuberae'edh iudaiht taeth fvullh." I will sit, but you must adapt to my strong personality.
She sat down easily and cast a coy look to the first officer.
Maxun shook his head slowly, replying in Federation Standard. "No Ma'am, I do not. I am not the one currently in custody for fleeing a crime scene like a coward. You are." He took a breath then continued. "And if you wish to get out of here, without having more charges leveled against you, it behooves you to begin cooperating, before something terrible happens."
The door to the the hotel suite--now a makeshift interrogation room--opened without a sound. The marine standing guard outside--a young corporal, broad through the shoulders, face drawn into a permanent scowl of vigilance--snapped to attention. For a second, he looked uncertain as to whom he was saluting. The woman who passed him gave no notice.
Rethel moved through the foyer of the suite with feline poise that made no sound but suggested trained readiness. She carried a green Romulan data PADD in one hand, like an oversized emerald. Upon seeing Commander Irene Seya, she walked over, leaned in, and whispered three words in the most sympathetic voice she could muster:
"T'Varel is dead."
Irene felt her pulse quicken and the blood threaten to drain from her face before she remembered where she was, who she was and quickly worked to temper any emotional response. She maintained a cool expression while fighting the urge to run into the courtyard and scream. She had failed and now her charge was dead. Irene replayed the final moments, the last 48 hours, and chided herself for not being more strict with the Ambassador, more cautious.
Without another word, Rethel crossed the room and held the PADD out to Spello. Her fingers, long and well-manicured, brushed against his only faintly. "This is an unredacted dossier of your detainee," she said, loud enough for Aerev to hear her. "Compliments of the Praetorian Executive Council." Her eyes narrowed as she studied Aerev for a moment, then flicked over to the large Caitian Marine.
(1)-"Madam, the first thing you shall do, if you wish to be released from here, is sit down and drop the attitude."
~tbc~
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