Chapter Text
Caleb, colonel of the Tuum Fleet, was leaning against a wall facing a hooded individual—a suspected undercover agent for the Chargrit—in a 4x4 interrogation room, and he was getting incensed with each passing second.
The room was once a utility room; Caleb had decided to rebuild it into a soundproof interrogation room. It was mostly bare, furnished with a simple metal chair in the middle. No light switches were in the room or windows. An oppressive white light embedded in the centre of the ceiling illuminated the space. Under prolonged exposure even the toughest hostages broke out in sweat, then with migraine, and afterwards they'd spill even their vilest and most sordid secrets.
A malicious grin tugged at Caleb's lips when the individual began struggling again. It was of no use, but people still tried. There was this...survival instinct rearing its head each and every time with only one goal: to break free and escape.
Colonel Caleb, given name Xia Yizhou, was amused.
"It's always so adorable to see those bound struggling, don't you think?" His deep voice shot through the room like a lightning strike. The undercover agent froze, like a deer caught in headlights. "You believed you'd be alone in here?" Caleb continued; it was a routine for him nowadays, interrogating the hostages, the would-be agents, and the rats coming in from the sewers of Chargrit.
Chargrit, also known as a resistance group, originated from a little village in Avirie which was run over by the Deep Ones 15 years ago. Chargrit leaders decided EVER group was the culprit of Deep Ones appearing, and ever since then they have been sabotaging EVER's missions. Caleb was introduced to Chargrit when he rose to the rank of major. Now as a colonel, he had more than one occasion of seeing Chargrit perform their “Save the humanity, stop the evil organisation” and “Save the people, stop the war with interstellar species” revolts. They tried to rally the common folk into working against EVER. Work against their progress toward getting rid of the Deep Ones.
"Silly," he sneered, "worthless," he continued. Rage simmered deep underneath his skin, crawling under it like maggots, feasting on his flesh, on his organs. The dull pain of his mechanical arm speared through him like a needle. It was as if the bionic chip could read his emotions just as well. Caleb could read when it’d malfunction. It hissed and clanked as Caleb let his fist unfold. “We can be here all day and all night… Or… You can tell me who sent you. Who’s your boss?" Caleb flexed his fingers in anticipation.
The excitement from the capture of this worthless being sitting in front of him silently fizzled out of him like popped champagne’s foam long ago. He was agitated with the lack of answers, yet he didn’t want to ruin his uniform; it was freshly cleaned. It didn’t sit well with the rest of the fleet to see a commander like him covered in blood and piss.
“Colour me impressed; you managed to avoid our sentries for…how long was it? Two weeks, if Lei Cheng’s information on your arrival here is correct. You’re exactly—" Caleb counted on the fingers of his left hand—“second who was captured so late.”
The spy tied to the metal chair in front of him remained silent like a grave.
A hiss echoed through the room, cutting through the oppressive silence that stretched between them, coming from Caleb’s arm as it decompressed. The spy flinched. It was well known how ruthless Colonel Caleb could be, how bloodthirsty he got when off a very tight leash with his bionic chip.
But nothing good was awaiting the spy, not once the colonel of the Tuum Fleet laid eyes on him. He knew it as well as the other undercover spies working for the Chargrit. There weren’t many to speak of; Colonel Caleb prided himself on the tightest security control programme on all spaceships under the EVER group. ”Not even mice can crawl underneath our watchful gaze. “That was one of his most used speeches.
“Are you really not going to talk?” Caleb called out, strolling casually toward the man sitting there, tied to a metal chair. His pace was soundless, yet the aura about him was oppressive, heart-stopping, breath-catching—
The spy gasped, but no air entered his lungs. A prickle of cold metal on his neck was the only thing he felt before his throat seized up, beneath the tight grip of the bionic arm. “Within ten seconds from now you will start losing consciousness,” Caleb murmured. “In one to two minutes your brain will start losing the first few of its brain cells—those power your body.” The grip of the mechanical arm released just a fraction; the spy gasped loudly, his body shaking from head to toe. “After three to five minutes of prolonged oxygen denial neurons start dying,” Caleb droned on; the grip of the bionic arm once again began closing in around the spy’s neck.
Giddiness roiled and twisted deep in Caleb’s insides at the sounds of a struggling choking man, left completely at his mercy. He felt all the more whole, all the more sane. Like a starving wolf finally felling a doe and devouring it whole. “After five whole minutes,“ he dramatically paused, “you’ll never hold a pencil or a spoon up to your mouth.” A deep chuckle resonated through the room alongside the loud gasping.
“But I can give you an easy out… Tell me who sent you here.” Caleb's voice dripped of syrup, spoilt rotten. “Hm…” He said, as if considering the way he’ll end the spy's life.
He had decided before he even stepped into the room.
Caleb despised these the most, the courageous. Those proud ones weren’t even half as bad; the determined cracked the easiest… But the one sitting in front of him... Caleb felt the snarky smirk of the man whose head was covered with a black bag.
'I’ll squash them underneath his boot like cockroaches.'
He had suspicions that someone from within was behind all these security breaches, yet he couldn’t find the head. Eliminate the head from the body, and the body is left to rot… Yet, he reminded himself. He didn’t find them yet. But he would, and soon.
“I will break you, you know. Everyone breaks,” Caleb said, just as his hand drifted toward the knife he kept in his thigh holder. “Just like they broke you?” The man asked, his voice muffled due to the bag covering his head. Caleb snickered, then barked a laugh. HA! HA HA HA! It reverberated through the man on the metal chair. It raised the hairs on his arms.
“Me?” Caleb enquired, his voice soft like a mother's singing a lullaby. “I’m far from broken, silly, little Hound.”
All deserters of pilot factions were called Hounds. Not a fitting name by far, if Caleb could say anything, but if they were then hunted and brought down as such, well, he wasn’t someone who’d complain, and the names stuck.
“Am not a hound.” The man whispered, as if revealing a secret. “No?” Caleb mocked.
After all the struggling in the tied chair, the man’s sleeves rolled up, showing up his scars. Those were battle scars of pilots who were in one of the first wars—the Cinder War and then the Shroud Crusade. These men prided themselves as capable of defeating the monsters which haunted the endless space. But as the Colonel once said, all men broke if one knew who they were holding dear.
“Enlighten me then. Who are you if not a Hound?” Caleb smiled, big and wide, all teeth. ”Not a Hound, not a spy, but definitely both!” He circled around the man; ‘round and ‘round he went.
Back then Caleb wasn't interested in interrogating the spies, but upon getting wind of the first time a spy had entered the mothership—Acrux—and stolen vital data, setting EVER back by several months of hard labour, he took it upon himself to find out who kept letting them in.
No one knew exactly what Caleb did when he was unreachable, thanks to Liam anyway. His friend managed to dissuade anyone asking for Caleb when he was on his personal missions. There were two majors—Kang An and Qin Yazhu, to whom Caleb would also relegate his work. Both were more than satisfactory in their accomplishments.
The man in the chair slumped. A Little Hound… It wasn’t often that Caleb managed to get in a room with one. “Alright, I’m getting bored. Let’s start,” Caleb said.
“You won’t get anything from me, you piece of shit!” The man on the chair chuckled, but Caleb saw through it all; he was once a man like that too. Too proud for his own good. And then the bad guys got wind of his weakness, and Caleb paid a heavy price. He moved his bionic arm slowly; the mechanical clinks and hissing raised hairs on the other man’s arms.
“It looks like you’re deeply underestimating me, Hound,” Caleb sneered. He outstretched his bionic arm, using his EVOL to spread out the bound man's fingers apart. “We’ll see what you’re willing to tell me after you lose a few fingers,” he finished, just as the other’s heartrending screams filled the small room.
The throbbing pain zipping up his spine from his arm made him groan—a stifled sound gritted between his teeth. The pain came and went, but recently Caleb started noticing little tell-tales. Whenever his emotions ran high, or when a mission went tits-up, it was then that the bionic arm was out to get him.
Caleb was treading on thin ice. One step wrong and he'd be in deep, freezing waters, drowning, never to be found again. But that was his life now—the only one he had any recollection of other than those meager nightmares, those hallucinations he'd see in his dreams.
Passing soldiers saluted him as he walked the brightly lit hallways of the spaceship. His uniform was pristine, without a wrinkle in sight, but his whole right side hurt, and his heart was beating a frantic rhythm as he got closer to the strategy deck, where his superiors awaited him for a debrief of his latest mission and scientific discovery of EVOLs.
He left the Hound in the interrogation room and didn’t wait until his last breath. The agent was a bloody pulp that turned Caleb’s stomach on the inside out once all the anger fizzled out of him, but he couldn’t let his feelings show. He had a persona to uphold, a cold and uncaring colonel. Youngest to make it that far. A slip wouldn’t just mean his rank but his life too, and… His temples throbbed, pain spearing through them like icicles. The thought was a fleeting thing; it was there, and then the next second it was not. Caleb had no other choice but to push through.
In his hand he clutched the thick file retrieved from the principal investigator of the lab research department.
It was uncommon for military leaders to involve themselves with the scientific wing or be even slightly interested in their research besides requesting documents to discuss their next plans. Caleb, though, was more than interested; something inside him was aggravating him enough that he visited the lab at least once a week to hear about the progress, or lack thereof. The scientists were reserved with sharing information at first; only when he pulled military rank did they reluctantly tell him information they usually wrote in their reports to the higher-ups. Caleb’s reasoning was simple; if he and his fleet were to risk their necks capturing the Wanderers, he was in position to know why and for what they were needed.
As he neared the strategy deck, he paused. In the corner of his eye he saw a group of what looked like the newest scientists hired after the latest breakthrough. EVER was getting more stable and prominent, thanks to Caleb’s efforts, and Chargrit hadn't been able to set them back for a long time now.
It was a gaggle of young women who whispered to each other and turned away from him when he turned to take a proper look, tucking their hair behind their ears and covering their faces. Caleb was aware he was a handsome young man. But truth to be told, he never liked these giggly little Pomeranians. He wasn’t against women in research; he‘d argue that women in research made bigger progress than men, but the gossip. Ugh. Caleb sighed, turned away once again, and started walking.
He stopped only to wait for the door leading to the strategy deck to open with a whoosh, then stepped inside. The door sealed behind him, then he took five steps and waited at parade rest.
“Ah, Colonel, it's great of you to finally join us.” Su Wuhan, director of the Oversight Division under EVER, greeted him. He was a burly man, shorter than most, but his muscles were as formidable as his expression was fierce. His warmth showed in his smile, but his voice carried an icy edge, and his posture radiated danger. Caleb didn’t have much to say to his higher-ups; he couldn’t befriend them, and it wasn’t always good politically to do so in case they were the spy, the head of the Chargrit. A colonel like Caleb couldn’t take any unnecessary risks, so he just dipped his head.
“Good, we were wondering what was the hold-up. Come closer, Colonel Xia.” The one speaking was Captain Zhu Jia of the Acrux mothership. The captain of the Acrux fleet was a man resembling a dried branch, all spindly arms and legs.
He was a father of three; Caleb usually saw his children visiting over every other month. They disturbed the scientists, the engineers, and even the soldiers lining the hallways. But no one dared to complain. Only Caleb dared to chastise the rowdy children because he preferred his men in good condition rather than fatigued because those rascals kept on opening their dormitory passages. Caleb had a suspicion the captain was not appreciating Caleb’s efforts of disciplining his children; maybe there was something else the captain didn’t like about Caleb.
“We’d like to know if the lab made any progress on the latest subject. " Huo Yating asked. As a general of the fleet, he ranked over Caleb and didn’t hide how much he hated Caleb for getting so far in under a year of service. Caleb stared at the circle-shaped table showcasing the holographic plan of the fleet's progress through the Deepspace tunnels.
A total of 4 Deepspace tunnels were visible on the holographic plan, 1 highlighted bright red, the same one Caleb and his fleet retrieved the subject the scientists in the lab on the ship were currently testing on. Their missions were decided on levels of Metaflux, and the bright red tunnel had been the most active of all 4.
"The principal investigator gave me these files," Caleb said, placing the file atop the holograph. The image flickered before statistics and words appeared, erasing the map of 4 tunnels.
"It seems the department hadn't yet made any progress," Huo Yating sneered. His cold gaze landed on Caleb after taking in the new information.
"How'd you like to answer for that, Colonel Xia?" Su Wuhan asked.
Caleb set his jaw, eyes tracking the documents. "It seems we might need a new principal investigator or an entire new scientific team."
"That's simply unacceptable," Huo Yating chuckled, waving his hand around dismissively. "The head of the lab department is one of the best scientists we have; disposing of him is out of the question, Colonel."
Caleb nodded, eyes moving towards Su Wuhan. In his humble opinion, Su Wuhan was one of the most agreeable people within EVER. Su Wuhan smiled lightly. "Yating, I believe there might be more to this. Colonel Xia, in your latest report the Wanderer you managed to bring back from the tunnel was an elite class, wasn't it?" His warm brown eyes took Caleb in.
"That is correct, sir."
Su Wuhan nodded, pinning his gaze on Captain Zhu Jia. "Could it be that something happened to the specimen as he was transported from the dock?" Zhu Jia asked, hiding the tremor of his hands by linking them behind his back. "I'd like you to investigate that, Captain," Su Wuhan said.
Caleb felt a bit better by having someone stand up for him with these things. But he wasn't someone who'd take it for granted. He cleared his throat, eyes on the captain of the Acrux. "If you permit me, I'd like for Major Kang An to be a part of this investigation."
The captain's eyes narrowed, but he nodded all the same. "Then it's settled." Huo Yating exclaimed.
"Thank you, Caleb. We'll be expecting better news once the investigation is over." Su Wuhan said and motioned with his hand towards the exit. Caleb bowed slightly before he walked out of the strategy deck.
As the doors to his bedroom—also substituting for his office—closed behind him with the mechanical sealing sound, Caleb was overcome with the sudden urge to rip his arm off. The pain was reverberating through his bones, making his muscles seize with cramps. It travelled from his shoulder down his back, immobilising him.
He stumbled over to the desk stationed in the middle of the room, covered in mountains of paperwork. Sitting down on the chair, he let his head fall back. He squeezed his eyes shut, his right arm convulsing. He breathed in and out, deep breaths.
The interrogation was running through his mind. Then the lack of progress with the captured Wanderer. Then the strategy deck... He had to contact Major Kang An, debrief him about his newest task, reinstate his work for others...
His temples were throbbing; opening his eyes, he looked over his immaculate room—he’d have to talk to Liam about letting the cleaning crew into this room unattended. His eyes snagged on the stacked folders on his table. He was long overdue with verifying the newest EVER employees’ backgrounds. Those closely connected or directly working in the lab.
Ever since the Chargrit became a widely known organisation, not just anonymous attacks by individuals, people started talking about them more positively than the organisation even deserved. As a result, Chargrit had more options to infiltrate EVER than before. But so long as Caleb was still on Acrux, he was prepared to hunt them all down.
Groaning, he stood up, taking hold of the folders, and walked towards his bunk. He was long overdue checking the lab's new team's personal files...