Light leaked into the side of Cole’s vision, his head throbbed like it was about to explode. He blinked a few times to try and clear his vision, but it was still slightly out of focus. His hands were bound, a short leash fixing them to the cold metal table. A single light shone on him from behind him somewhere, it sounded like there were maybe two guards back there as well. This wasn’t good. The memories of the stormy night flooded back into his mind. He couldn’t tell how long it had been. Hours? Days?

Olivia. Zara.

A man paced up and down the far wall of the room, he looked in Cole’s direction.

“Ah, finally awake are we?” he said, turning to face the large mirror on the left wall, “took you long enough.”

“Where, am I?” Cole asked, he was still groggy but he had a fair idea of what the reply was going to be.

“Interrogation room 387, Cotar Central Command.”

“What?” Cole said, “what kind of bullshit is this?”

Cole struggled against the cuffs, trying to slip them. A quick jab from the guards electro-pike put an end to that.

“Easy. No use fighting,” the interrogator said, still facing the mirror.

“Fighting?” Cole said, “what am I even doing here? I haven’t done anything. My family was just–”

“Your family was just what?” the interrogator said, cutting him off.

“They were murdered you ignorant drak,” Cole shot back. One of the guards stepped forward, pike at the ready. He was waved away by the interrogator who sat down on the edge of the table facing Cole. As he moved into the light Cole could see he was young, far too young to be doing this. Cole now knew how to handle this situation.

“On who’s orders am I being held here?” Cole asked calmly.

The interrogator shot a nervous look towards the mirror before refocusing on Cole. “Command.”

Cole could see the small crack appear in the kid’s facade. “Command?” –he shook his head– “You expect me to believe that Federation Command is detaining me.”

“Believe what you want, it won’t–”

“What’s your name kid?” Cole said.

The crack widened slightly. “What?”

“Your name, we’ve all got one kid,” Cole said. He’d noticed that his face twitched every time he called him ‘kid’.

“Daniels,” he offered, his back straightened, the crack widened.

“Daniels,” Cole said, “do you know who I am?”

“Sergeant Major Cole Traske, thirty-eight years old, newly appointed leader of Shadow Point of the 42nd Purifying Force, of which you’ve been a member for ten years. fourteen year veteran of the Federation Armed Forces and owner of the highest target acquisition rate since the end of the Fifty Year War,” Daniels said, barely drawing breath. The crack narrowed slightly.

“So why in the hell–“

“Former hunter, smuggler and gun for hire. Synth. Known associate of war criminals. Target of thirty-seven outstanding warrants for your arrest across the border systems,” –Daniels stood up straighter now– “and sole owner of this.” From behind his back Daniels produced the hilt of Cole’s sword, and slammed it down on the table. The crack slammed shut right along with it.

Cole had misread the situation.

“And as such you are the sole suspect in the murder of eight Purifying Force specialists, and seventeen civilians, apparently including your own wife and daughter.”

Cole said nothing. He could see Daniels’ mind ticking over, mulling his next move. The kid was deadly serious.

“So what was it that tipped the scales? Huh?” –Daniels sat back down on the table– “Life in the military getting to stressful? Too boring maybe?” –he leaned in closer– “Maybe those implants of yours finally shorted,” –Daniels smirked– “Or maybe, all that time away, for all those years, gave Mrs Traske time and reason to step out?”

Cole lurched forward, his forehead smashing into Daniels’ mouth. Kicking his chair into one of the now rushing guards, Cole did his best to lock his arm around Daniels’ throat and squeezed, hard. The chair only slowed one guard though, the other jammed his pike into Cole’s ribs and held it there until Cole’s body went weak and he fell, crashing into the table.

Daniels scampered away from the table clutching at his throat.

“You’ll pay dearly for this,” Daniels said, catching his breath.

Cole was picked up by the guards and placed roughly back in his chair.

“You stupid son of a bitch,” Cole said, “it wasn’t me, it–”

Daniels picked up the hilt and slammed it down again for effect. “You were the only living being found anywhere in that building. The weapon is yours and your fingerprints are the only ones on it.”

Cole’s eyes bore a hole in Daniels’ chest.

Without warning the door opened behind Cole and looking in the mirror all he could see was a large silhouette, contrasted against the brightness of the room outside. Daniels stiffened, the crack had returned.

“Enough.” The voice was deep, and commanded immediate attention.

Daniels wavered. “But sir, I uh…”

“This man is now in my custody.” The perfectly pointed delivery was indicative of someone raised in the Old Core worlds. “You’re dismissed corporal.”

Daniels shuffled quickly out the door, nursing his sore chin. 

“Leave us,” the silhouette said. The guards didn’t need to be told twice and followed closely behind Daniels.

“A corporal? Really?,” Cole said, bewildered. “Is this what you jackasses call a sound interrogation practice? He was barely out of diapers for crying out loud.”

“Cole, is that any way to speak to an old friend?

The man entered the room and his face became clear in the reflection.

“Oren?” Cole said, barely believing his eyes.

Lieutenant Commander Oren Rhey’ll had been the commanding officer of the 42nd Purifying Force for two years now. He had inherited a division that had slowly corrupted itself in the years since the war ended. It’s original mission, set twenty five years ago during the war, was this: Roam the galaxy, find dissent, do what was needed to quell it, and move on. After the war however, it’s name took on a more sinister connotation. The 42nd Purifying Force were no longer just peace keepers, they were glorified bounty hunters. They were tasked with hunting down and capturing, not killing, every last Conduit across the galaxy; men, women and children, whether they were a threat or not. No one ever knew what happened to them once they were brought in, but more often and not they were never seen again. 

As Conduit numbers dwindled, they started going after other targets, political extremists, radicals and basically any undesirables Federation leadership saw fit to deal with. There weren’t any restrictions on lethality with those other targets and in the long run it made a bad deal even worse. In more recent years the Force was viewed as less of a necessity to galactic safety and more and more as black mark on the face of the Federation. The PF was a wartime unit that tried to adapt to peace time and failed. 

In the short two years that Oren had been in charge recruitment numbers were up, corruption was down, and he had recently secured funding which would keep the PF in action for at least the next ten years. It wasn’t all good news though, in recent months leaks within the division had endangered and even taken many of its operatives lives. Recruitment may have been up, but they were losing people faster than they could replace them. To Oren, the rebuilding of the PF was to be a life long battle, and he wore every struggle in the creases of a face that belied his age.

Oren Rhey’ll was Cole’s oldest friend, and the fact that he was even there, in that room, away from his crusade, spoke volumes.

“Aren’t you supposed to be halfway across the galaxy?” Cole said, watching as Oren signalled for the cameras to be switched off.

“I swear,” Oren said, seemingly not hearing the question, “I must have a word to Modell about the people they let in here.”

“Oren,” Cole said, “what are you doing here?”

“I just got back,” Oren said, unlocking Cole’s handcuffs, “word filtered through about what happened.” –Oren sat down opposite Cole– “I’m so terribly sorry Cole and I can’t help but feel partially responsible.”

“Responsible?” Cole said, “nothing that happened last night had anything to do with you.”

“Last night?” Oren said, “Cole, it’s been four days.”

“Four days?”

“They must still have the hibernation protocol in place,” Oren offered, “I petitioned them two months ago to have it lifted. Lot of good that did, it seems.”

Oren produced a data pad and placed it in front of Cole.

“This is the man we believe is responsible for the death of your family,” Oren said, “Tobias–“

“–Navarr,” Cole finished. 

Oren’s eyebrows raised. “You know him?”

“Watched him die fifteen years ago Oren.”

“Cole, Navarr escaped from Kylgor Prison two months ago, he’d been in there for thirteen years…” Oren trailed off, as a thought began to form.

“Prison?” Cole said.

Oren didn’t hear him. “This is starting to make much more sense now,” he said, “For two months we’ve been chasing him as he made a tear across the galaxy, killing seemingly at random. We’d never been able to find a motive,” –Oren shifted uneasily in his chair– “until now.”

“He was coming for me, the whole time,” Cole said, the pieces falling together in his mind.

“Unfortunately it does seem that way,” Oren said.

A somber silence fell on the room.

Cole flicked through the pages of information on the data pad.

“He was on Tragg,” Cole said, suddenly remembering.

“What? When?” Oren asked.

“It’d be, a week ago now I guess,” Cole said, “we were there on a job. I take the guy out, turn around, and there he is. Just, sitting there.”

“What happened?”

“He got the drop on me. I, I froze. If I hadn’t…”

“We’d been tracking him,” Oren said, “but we lost him ten days ago when he passed through Nelmar.”

“A lot of people disappear there,” Cole said, “and he has more of a knack for it than anyone I’ve ever known.”

“If we hadn’t lost him,” Oren said, “perhaps we would have been able to intercept him and stop this whole tragedy from occurring.”

Cole pushed the data pad away, he’d seen enough. “Oren I made this bed a long time ago, and now I have to lie in it. I’m the only one to blame here. My family is dead because of me.” –Cole stood up from the table– “The only thing I can control is what happens now.”

“You want to go after him,” Oren said.

Cole looked down at the picture of Tobias on the data pad, “I want to tear his heart out.”

“What can I do?”

“Well for starters, if you could get me out of here that’d be great.”

“Already taken care of,” Oren said.

“Thanks,” Cole said, making for the door.

“I presume you have a plan?” Oren said following him out.

“I do.”

Oren picked up on the tone in Cole’s voice, one he hadn’t heard for a while. “I’m not going to like it am I?”

“No. No you’re not.”

Next Chapter: Chapter 5