Just running an errand (Arya, Jaas, and Ben)

[Brask]

The technicians ahead of Arya were carrying one of their all too familiar scanning kits. The large black and silver box with scuffed edges held between them, they shuffled rather to rapidly down the ramp. The tech leading the way, back to their course, was struggling to maintain his grip.

"Easy!" he growled at his companion to no effect. His companion was paying little attention.

The box slipped from the first tech's fingers. A wild grab failed to arrest the fall. The leading edge of the box hit the ramp with a bang and, encouraged by its angle, slid forward at speed. The second tech's grip was too loose to stay the motion so, with a horrid bony thud, the box smacked into the first tech's lower legs.

"Damnit!"

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya stifled her anxiety, and took a couple long steps to catch up with the hapless technicians. "Watch it!" she barked, crouching down and helping pick up the scanning kit, doing it with such haste that the other techs were too busy trying to grab the ends of the kit to take a good look at her. She rolled her eyes at them and stalked past as they continued to wobble with the box, trying to infuse her body language with got-better-things-to-do/ain't-got-time-for-this-shit. It seemed to work, carrying her across the hangar and into a corridor without being stopped.

She made it into an empty turbolift, and peered at the grid of buttons. Fortunately they were well marked, and Arya poked the indicator for the detention levels. So far, so good, which was more than she could say about the rest of this crazy trip.

[Brask]

In the detention levels, Brask was seated on a hard metal chair at a bare metal table beneath an overly bright glow panel. It flickered just a little seemingly at random in a manner that would, eventually, induce a headache.

A classic setup. When you have perfected an interrogation suite, why mess with it?

His jacket, waistcoat, accessories (including his chrono) and even his shoes had been taken away. His formerly crisp white shirt was rather rumpled. His body ached from the stun blast.

He was not entirely sure how long he had been here but he could make a reasonable guess based upon experience. It would have been a while but less than it actually seemed.

At least I haven't eaten yet. The shifting meal schedule is always fun.

The door behind him hissed open. He turned to look at the visitor even though he knew he should not because that was what he ought to do. He was rewarded with a barked "Prisoner do not move!" over the speaker concealed in a corner of the room.

Footsteps behind him and a shadow fell across the table.

[Brask]

The shadow rested on the table for a moment as its owner considered Brask. Then it slid onwards. The shadow's owner was a customs officer in neatly pressed uniform carrying a datapad under his arm and a mug of something steaming in his hand.

Obviously decided that I am not up to doing anything untoward with hot liquids then.

The mug was set down and then the pad. The customs man then settled himself in the opposite chair.

"Your name, please."

"Admar Brask but I..."

A hand was raised, "There will be plenty of time for explanations when I have finished. Your place of residence, please."

So they went through the questions he had already answered with the previous officer. Each question phrased not as a question but as a request. The officer polite, calm, uninterested. It took an age.

"Now how did you come to be," at this the officer made a show of consulting his pad, delivering the next part of his question in the monotone of a quote from a dry written report of something extraordinary, "'holding a disruptor apparently in an altercation with a non-human felineoid in proximity to a substantial deposit of coagulated biomatter'?"

"As I explained to your colleague, I booked passage with that beast and his consort out of necessity. En route I found that they were planning to rob me and I took steps to defend myself."

"With a highly powered and highly illegal weapon."

"With an old family heirloom that I carry mostly for show. In my line of work one has to be careful."

"A," again consultation of the pad, "tailor has to be careful?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I travel a lot. I have many customers, many who are very important. Tailors learn things that other want to know. I had a partner once..."

Again the hand, "Thank you." A check of the pad. "And you say that your name is Admar Brask?"

"Yes. But as I already..."

"...explained to my colleague you are not the Admar Brask we are looking for. You have said so already."

Not to you I haven't.

Brask paused and said, "Well yes, exactly. I can't be. I have never done anything that would be of interest to you."

"Indeed?" A smirk touched the lips of the officer. "I think that possibly you have."

[Brask]

In his office, Inspector Hardige looked away from the feed from Interrogation Room Six and towards his "guest" with an unspoken question.

Is this really the man you had us do all this for?

His guest wore the uniform of Imperial Intelligence. In the hierarchy of the various security and intelligence agencies, ImpIntel ranked quite highly - certainly higher than ImpCustoms - but was certainly the poorer relation of the dread Imperial Security Bureau. Or at least it had been before The Treaty. With the drawing of the Treaty Line and the emergence of not only the so-called-Alliance of Free Planets but also numerous unaligned worlds on its far side, ImpIntel was on the up. After all, the I.S.B. was essentially an internal force; it lacked the skills, knowledge, and above all, the mandate to operate outside Imperial space of their erstwhile colleagues. Nevertheless, it did well for a humble customs officer to treat such visitors with some respect or at least show of it.

The intelligence officer did not answer immediately. His eyes left the monitor long enough to register that enquiring look before fixing again on the image of the little man in shirtsleeves sitting across from what appeared to be another customs officer - actually someone from INTEL in a borrowed uniform - with the slightest of smiles.

"Inspector, you have done very well. This man is the one we came here for. You will discontinue your monitoring of the interrogation room." He sensed Hardige stiffen at the thought of loss of sight of operations on his ship. "It is best that you do not know what is said in that room. I can assure you nothing will be done to him. We only wish to talk."

"Very well," the inspector conceded, keying the relevant controls to show immediate acquiescence though he knew his guest would set a lock on the feed to ensure compliance, "And what about the others? And their ship?"

"They are yours," the guest had turned away from the now blank screen, "I have no doubt that you will be able secure the credit for their conviction in due course." He stalked towards the door. "I am going to oversee the questioning of my prisoner," there was subtle emphasis on the possessive there, "and then we will arrange suitable records and reports. I am sure that I can rely upon your assistance with that."

The doors slid open and then closed, leaving the inspector alone. After a few moments of introspection during which he decided that co-operation in full would now be his lot like that of those he detained, he keyed the comm.

"Have the scanning crew that dealt with that last ship report to me now."