Homestar Saga

Chapter 116: Counterintelligence

Yvian woke with a pounding headache. The drone's stunshot had left a low grade ache throughout her body, a side effect of the disruption of her nervous system, but the headache was much worse. Light stabbed her eyes when she forced them open. She let out a pained hiss and shut them again.

It was better than being dead, she supposed. If that drone had been programmed to kill, she'd be standing before the Bright Lady right now. Had Mims gotten away? Lissa? Probably not, she decided. If the drone had failed to take either of them out before they could activate their armor, they would have cut a swath through the station and Yvian would be waking up in a med pod without a headache. She allowed herself a single, aggrieved sigh.

Yvian tried opening her eyes again. Slowly, this time. There wasn't much to see. The hard surface her head was resting on turned out to be a simple metal table. A small table, cheap, square. She'd seen hundreds, maybe thousands just like it, on ships and stations throughout the Confed. Looking past the table, she saw the metal bulkheads of a small room.

Slowly, carefully, Yvian raised her head off the table. The cool feeling of air moving against wetness alerted her that she'd drooled while unconscious. Yvian reached up to wipe it away, only to be stymied when her hand was halfway to her chin. A metal cuff was attached to her wrist. The cuff was connected to a chain which appeared to come out of the chair she was sitting in. Yvian blinked in alarm.

The small table in the small room made a lot more sense, now. Yvian checked her other limbs, confirming they were all similarly restrained. She pulled and jerked at the chains, just in case, but she already knew they wouldn't come loose. Interrogation chairs were infamous in the Confed. Used mostly by the Militia, they were the standard method of keeping prisoners restrained for "questioning." Nothing good ever happened to a pixen who woke up in one of those chairs. The last time she was in one, the Militia had beat The Crunch out of her. She'd only been set loose that time because Captain Mims had connections. She wondered if those connections would be able to help her, now.

Yvian wiped her face on her shoulder. Another look around the room confirmed her suspicions. A small, cramped room. One table. One interrogation chair. And one cheap but comfortable looking regular chair. That's where her questioner would sit. Yvian also noted that she wasn't wearing any clothes. Disappointing, but not a surprise. If they'd left Yvian with her voidarmor, she could easily break out of this place. Taking it away was just basic security.

Assessment complete, Yvian settled back in her chair. There was nothing to do but wait. She had a lot of questions. What she didn't have was enough information to make any kind of guess. Planning an escape wasn't feasible, either. At least not yet. She couldn't get out of the interrogation chair on her own, and she couldn't make any plans until she knew where she was. Or at least who she was dealing with.

Yvian shifted around, trying to get comfortable. She knew it was a waste of time. Interrogation chairs weren't designed for comfort. She did it anyway. It wasn't like she didn't have time to waste. Speaking of time, how long had she been out? One hour? Three? Her wrist console had been taken along with everything else. She had no way to know. She did know that the Vore had been sixty one hours from entering the system when she'd reached Danil's door. Yvian had less than sixty one hours to get out of here, retrieve the Skygem, and be ready to fight the Vore. Maybe a lot less, depending on how long she'd been kept unconscious.

There was no point in worrying about it. That's what Yvian told herself. It was good advice, from a woman with a lot of experience with dangerous situations. Unfortunately, Yvian couldn't take it. She was nervous. Scared. Getting more scared by the minute. Yvian noticed her breath coming faster. Too fast. Her heartbeat quickened the pounding in her head. She forced herself to slow down, breathe deeper. She bent forward, resting her forehead against the cool metal of the table. It helped. A little.