Facets - Chap 4

A few hours later…

Dakar was rudely awakened by sensation of being poked roughly in the side repeatedly. 

What? he thought, groggily as he opened his eyes.  His mind got a little jump start when he realized that he did not recognize his surroundings.  

Instead of laying on a bed, he was sitting in a chair, a simple square table in front of him.  The walls around him where jet black and there was a single bright light shining down in the center.  Oh…a classic interrogation room:  how cliché can you get? 

“I love the look of confusion scum like you get when we get to do this.” 

Dakar directed his eyes forward in time to see a male turian step into the light.  He was an older man, easily in his fifties.  His grey carapace bore no colony markings, which meant he was either Palaven born or chose to not honor his colony of birth.  The attire he work was jet black, which nearly blended perfectly with the surrounding walls, giving him an almost disembodied head look.  “Normally, we’d have to use drugs to get you perps in here without you knowing, but you were in such a deep sleep we didn’t need to,” the man further explained. 

Damn good thing, Dakar thought with a frown.  I’d be dead if you tried.  One flaw with vakar is that just about any medical substance sent them into shock.  All natural based stuff didn’t cause the same effect, but in this era of synthetic chemicals and compounds, places like hospitals may as well be a deathtrap for him.  He wasn’t about to tell this stranger that, however:  vakar had a hard enough time without letting potential enemies know one of their biggest weaknesses. 

Focusing his attention more on the man before him.  This man’s posture and disposition practically reeked of being a high ranking muckymuck that wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty.  The attire and lack of visible rank was pointing in the same direction.  There weren’t many positions where one can go around without showing your rank and still get the attention and respect their position held and all those were right up under the tier of Primarch.

So it seems this hastatum thing was triggered higher up on the chain than I thought…lovely….  Dakar mused, sighing slightly before addressing the man.  “So which bureaucratic division are you from?” He rested his chin on one hand.  “Hierarchy Bureau of Investigation or Internal Affairs?” 

The man frowned, clearly not liking his tone.  “Internal Affairs,” he scowled. 

“Ah, a spook then,” Dakar snorted.  “One of the most frustrating types of people to work with.” 

“So you are familiar with this process.” 

“I am, due to my time as civic police,” Dakar confirmed casually.  “Admittedly, back then I was on your side of the table.” 

“Then let’s cut to the chase, shall we?”  The man leaned on the table.  “Why are you here?” 

“Aren’t you breaking protocol by not introducing yourself first?” Dakar chided. 

“Answer the question!” 

“Fine, fine.”  Dakar put his hands up.  “I stayed out too late and ended up being caught in the sweep with everyone else.” 

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” 

“Eh?”  Dakar tilted his head in confusion.  

“You’re colony is under lock down, with no one allowed in or out without express permission from the Hierarchy,” the man explained, his tone giving off a feeling that he thought Dakar was an idiot.  “So my superiors are very curious as to how you got past such safe guards.” 

Dakar frowned, it starting to dawn on him on what he was talking about.  “First off…I’ve lived here on Digeris since I was about five years old, maybe younger than that, which was over three centuries ago,” he explained.  “Second, I was orphaned about the same time I arrived here, so I never knew my parents.  Thus, I haven’t a clue what my colony is, let alone what may or may not have been going on with it.” 

The IA official seemed hardly convinced. “If that is true, why use their colony markings?” 

“Simply, it’s my only link to my heritage.”  Dakar shrugged his shoulders. 

The man snorted, folding his arms and his yellow eyes doing their best to bore holes into him.  Dakar casually stared back, not intimidated in the least by the man’s act.  Once the staring contest had gone on for a few moments, the official took out a datapad and appeared to flip through some files.  “So you claim to be a ‘Dakarus Kroisun’,” he said. 

“Once,” Dakar corrected.  “I dropped my full name when I became a vakar, as per our custom.  That was back in 1875CE.” 

“Which was the year Dakarus disappeared.  Rather convenient,” the official said dismissively. 

“I can tell you don’t believe me,” Dakar sighed, getting the feeling that this was going to be a long session. 

“Not in the least, but perhaps you can convince me.”  The man placed both hands on the table and leaned toward him.  “If you can tell me detail’s about Dakarus’ life.” 

“And you would know such details, despite it being nearly three hundred years ago?”  Dakar asked skeptically. 

“The file we have on his life was rather thorough.”  The man straightened up, folding his arms once more. 

Let me guess…because of the ‘bad colony’ I am supposedly from? Dakar thought.  “Fine.  What do you want to know?” 

The man smirked and Dakar got a bad feeling.  “Tell me about your sister.” 

Dakar sat up straight so fast he nearly tipped over in his chair.  Oh…going right for the groin are we?  You bastard.   “Her name was Thysa:  she was my twin,” he started, already feeling the emotions around the memory welling up.  “My only family.  She was the strong one…always told off the bullies at the orphanage that would pick on us.” In hindsight now, I have to wonder if we were picked up because of our colony of origin. 

“Which orphanage?” 

“Ah….”  He had to really think back.  “New Beginnings Orphanage.”  The IA official looked at his pad, then nodded for him to continue.  “We were happy as could be there, until that…day.”  Dakar felt his hands clench, the feelings of sorrow, guilt and even a little rage he felt that day threatening to overwhelm him.  He took several deep breaths in the attempt to calm himself enough to continue.  “When she was kidnapped and killed by a pedophile.” 

“How did that happen?” 

Oh you really want all the gory details don’t you? “We were walking back to the orphanage after day out.  Thysa wanted to take a shortcut.  I had looked away only a moment and she was gone.  I was able to find her…only to see that bastard…fucking her.”  His breaths starting coming in heavier as recounted it.  “I attacked him…tried to get him off her, tried to protect her like she did me.  I was knocked out…I wasn’t strong enough.”  His voice started cracking.  “I came to just in time to see him kill her.  He was about to kill me too…but a vakar intervened, saving my life by ripping that bastards throat out.  She…she regretted not getting there faster to save my sister too….”   

Tears were starting to well up and fall now.  He looked up at the man, only to see skepticism on his face.  Memories of sorrow turned into present day anger.  “You want even more? Fine!” he snapped.  “The one responsible for her death was Fategus Vimuan, then Chief of police of the 7^th legion civic police!”  He then gave them Fategus’ description, right down to the color of his underwear.  Dakar even gave them the exact address where his sister was killed.   

All the while, Dakar’s tone was getting more and more heated, the IA official’s nonchalant manner was only aggravating him more.  “What, you still don’t believe me!?” Dakar yelled, rising to his feet.  Behind him he heard a couple of weapons being drawn. 

“Everything you told me you could have gained from either public records, or through less than legal measures.” 

Dakar hissed, his emotions barely being kept in check.  “So you’re calling me a lair?  What happened to taking a turian at his word?” 

“In my job, we cannot assume everyone is telling the truth,” the man said coldly.  “Besides, you claim to not be a turian in the first place, so that ‘assumption’ doesn’t apply.” 

Oh you little— Dakar started to think, but then an idea came to mind.  It wasn’t something they purposely demonstrated in normal circumstances, but these weren’t normal circumstances.  “Very well then,” he said, after taking a few breaths to calm down.  “If I cannot prove the ‘who’, then perhaps I can prove the ‘what’.” 

The man raised a brow.  “And how do you plan to do that?” he asked.  “From what I know, ‘vakar’ cannot use their powers during the day and I’m not going to sit around for five hours waiting for the sun to go down.” 

“Not all aspects of my kind is limited by the time of day and for this…you only need to spare a few minutes.”  After saying that, he reached out with a hand, hovering it a few inches above the table.  Then, with the talons of that hand, he pierced the flesh of his palm.  Blood oozed out of the new wounds, eventually dripping onto the table.  It was only then that he retracted his hand, casually licking the rest of the blood off it as he sat back down. 

“And what is this supposed to do?” the official asked, his face twisting into one of disgust. 

“Just watch…try not to blink or you may miss it,” Dakar replied smugly. 

The man scowled at him, but waited.  A tense silence dominated the room as time passed.  After about three minutes, the blue drops of blood suddenly changed.  It seemed to bubble and pop, the blue color quickly disappearing, leaving only a few dark specks floating in a clear liquid.  The official blinked in genuine surprise, his mouth hanging open rather comically.  He even checked under the table to ensure there was no tampering underneath.  Eventually, he slowly looked back up at Dakar.  “What just happened?” 

“Self-defense mechanism,” Dakar explained, shrugging his shoulders.  “Our blood ‘self-destructs’ when it’s been out of contact with our body after a short period of time.  Keeps nosy science types from trying to figure out what makes us tick.” 

“Alright, fine…you’re not exactly ‘normal’.”  The man leaned on the table.  “But that doesn’t explain the identity angle.” 

“Now that you, somewhat believe me on the ‘vakar’ side of things, this should be easier to swallow,” Dakar said.  “No vakar was born a vakar: we were all normal turians first.  I really was Dakarus Kroisun all those years ago, but I wanted to do more for society and when I was offered the choice to become a vakar, I took it.” 

“And you become a vakar, how?” 

“Can’t tell ya.”  Dakar rested his cheek on a hand.  “Only those that wish to join our ranks get to know and only if they pass a very strict entrance exam.” 

“Pfft…figures.  Seems there’s nothing you can do to prove you are who you say you are.”  The man had the expression of annoyance on his face, like he felt he was wasting his time here. 

“To be honest, who I was matters little to me now.”  Dakar shrugged.  “Left that life long ago, though that life will always be a part of me.” 

“But you know damn well how meticulous we must keep our records for the sake of succession!” The man snapped.  “So I care not what you think of it:  I need to know who you really are!” 

Dakar sighed, running out of ways to try to convince this asshole that he was telling the truth.  “Well I suppose you could try a DNA test,” Dakar offered after a moment.  “However, three things you should know in that regard.  First, you can’t use a blood sample for previously demonstrated reasons.  Second, there’s a possibility our flesh has the same ‘self-destruct’ property as our blood, though I’ve never witnessed it myself.  And lastly, there’s the possibility that the process of becoming a vakar changes our DNA.  Admittedly, I am curious if that last one is true or not….” 

Dakar watched as the Internal Affairs official scratched his chin as he mulled this over.  After a moment, he pressed on an earpiece and said.  “This is Inquisitor Teneus:  do we have a DNA profile of Dakarus Kroisun on file?”  There was a pause as he listened to the response.  “Well, find out dammit!  I have a joker here that agreed to verify his identity via DNA.” 

Well, at least I know your name and title now, Dakar thought with a smirk.  He folded his arms onto the table and rested his chin on them.  As they waited, Teneus was pacing back and forth, impatiently.  “I don’t think they will appreciate you making a trench in their interrogation room,” he quipped at one point.  Teneus just growled at him. 

Then Teneus stopped abruptly and pressed a head against his earpiece, listening.  “Good, good.  Send a med-tech to Interrogation room 4 with a portable DNA scanner.  You do have one of those down here, right?  Look, I don’t care about the regulations in this case!  I’m not letting this…guy…out of my sight!  A half hour!?  Are you fucking kidding me!?  Fine! Fine!  Just…get him here as soon as you can!” 

The inquisitor sighed and turned back toward him.  “Well now, it looks like this won’t be quick and easy.”  He put both hands on the table.  “Since I’m not about to leave you alone in here, we may as well continue.  Now, I don’t suppose you have any information for us?” 

“Define ‘information’,” Dakar asked smugly.  “Historical, Scientific, Galactic…”  He started counting off on his fingers. 

“Criminal!”  Teneus slammed a fist onto the desk.  “I want to know about the criminal activity in this area:  particularly those that may be of threat to the Hierarchy!” 

“Ooooh.”  Dakar sat up and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.  “How far back do you want me to start?” 

Teneus blinked at him, then face palmed.  “Within the last year…,” he groaned. 

Dakar smiled, a glint in his eye.  “I hope your recording device has plenty of space,” he said, still smiling.  This guy really has no clue just how much a vakar can know.  I’m going to enjoy this.