It had been a rapid move into the new office. Carl was now director of Blacken's garrison; with the Armored Command Unit technology now declassified within the Unified Fleet, the need for manpower on the ground had diminished significantly, and the fifty thousand units kept in storage around the city were completely autonomous, though all the more lethal, a single Titan-pattern assault bot capable of replacing an entire company of UEF infantry. For urban operations, the Mech Marine assault automatons and Widowmaker heavy battle drones would serve well, performing better than human soldiers in most conditions. In case human intervention was needed, Blacken was assigned three platoons from Rigel Division, the best special operations division available to humanity, as well as the capability to militarize the entire colony's human population in a time of crisis.
Carl leaned back in his chair, resembling something a Terran executive would sit in - not just comfortable, but almost over the top. What had surprised him was that the UEF Logistics Service had provided this chair as part of his Standard Citizen Allocation, a package, the size and constituency of which was determined by rank, that all UEF citizens received to cover basic living needs like food, water, and shelter. Though Carl had recently been promoted to full General within the UEF Military Service, he was surprised to see something like this chair covered by his Standard Allocation, as it was not intended for the provision of luxury goods, even for a flag officer.
The rest of his office, most of which was also covered by his Standard Allocation, was of similar quality. The rounded polycarbonate desk provided easy reach to his computer terminal and the stack of datapads slowly building up while still providing more than enough work space. Against the wall, he had placed an automatically indexing filing cabinet to store paper documents. For visitors, he had provided several armchairs in front of his desk. Behind him, a holographic display projected an globe of Blacken Prime, its landmasses in full topographic detail against a deep blue sea.
Carl was deep in conversation with James Bridgetown, who was enjoying a tropical fruit drink made from onome'ahai, a citrus-like fruit originally from Seraphim II that did well in the terraformed region of Blacken V. Julius Bridgetown, James's father and Carl's brother-in-law by marriage, had begun the project of converting the desert world into an agricultural center, and the results had been promising so far. As the UES Unification's chief medical officer, as well as one of the Unified Fleet's foremost medical researchers, James had taken advantage of the newly created arable land to study all manner of plants and herbs of great value to his profession, determining whether or not they could be grown easily in mass quantity. From the data entering the Fleet's database every day, Carl gathered that this project was also a resounding success.
The topic of discussion, however, was not about medical research, nor about culinary matters, but about the recovery process for Elliot and Amanda Grimnar.
"I understand they have experienced severe trauma," Carl commented.
James nodded. "They were kept alive by their captors, but only just. The Talus doctors are competent, certainly, but there was still considerable internal damage, including liver and brain damage, that I had to deal with - to say nothing of the mental wounds that they have undoubtedly sustained."
"Were you able to fix the damage?" Carl asked, taking a sip from his own mug of hot chocolate.
"Of course," James responded, "but it's uncertain whether or not the healed tissue will perform to standard, and there was quite a bit of other junk in their systems that I had to deal with. Apparently, the Kallum used them not only as political prisoners, but as test subjects for medical experimentation."
"What kind of medical experimentation?" Carl asked, suddenly worried.
"Apparently, the Kallum were attempting to create some sort of biological agent to use against human populations," James explained. "It's unclear if they were trying to cause casualties through elementary cellular damage or through psychological manipulation - I'm willing to bet it was both. Anyhow, the extensive experimentation, apart from causing internal damage and psychological problems I haven't even begun to heal yet, left a plethora of trace chemicals and bioagents that I had to purge from their systems. Some of it is familiar to Alliance science, but much of it is completely alien. I've consulted with the UEF Military Research Service to see if I can get authorization to study these compounds in more detail, but the word is, it's against UEF regulations to develop bioagents."
Carl shook his head. "Not anymore, not since the ruling on Kyrozch bioweapons was made four months ago. I'll have a talk with the folks at Military Research. You'll get your authorization soon enough."
The door chime sounded. "Come in," Carl called out. The computer opened the sliding door, which was almost stereotypical of old science fiction.
Carl recognized the intimidating Cy'tan armored figure immediately as that of Jeodan Deathsquad, who entered the office followed by twelve equally ferocious warriors. Carl and James immediately stood up in respect for the figure that had almost singlehandedly convinced the Cy'tan ruling authorities to permit the Cy'tan to join the Alliance.
Jeodan fired off his best warrior's salute, and Carl felt the blast of it immediately; memories that were not his own coursed through his mind. Remembered pain from a thousand wounds, the bitterness of losing a valued comrade, the loss of an only son.
Carl nodded in acknowledgement, but James seemed to have another idea. Everything in the look in his eyes told Carl one thing: if the Cy'tan wanted to play the game, then James would not be left out.
Carl, Jeodan, and everyone else in the room suddenly had a vision of a prison cell, experienced in a moment a week's worth of neglect, malnourishment, and seemingly endless torture. The harsh indoctrination and propaganda of a faceless alien dictatorship reverberated in their heads as they were forced to endure unbearable pain and agony, followed by what felt like months of neglect sealed in solitary confinement in an empty cell too small to lie down within.
Carl blinked back to consciousness, his mind reeling from the experience. Jeodan came back to his senses as well, and began to laugh. "I am impressed," he commented.
"Not bad at all," Carl agreed, though as everyone took their seats, the nanobots in the walls conjuring chairs from nowhere for the extra guests, he shot a was-that-really-necessary look at James, who caught it and dismissed it with an expression that said 'they had it coming'.
Once the assemblage was settled, Carl began to speak.
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