evidence was clear that you acted in self-defense."
"So then you know what happened. Why do you need me?"
The interrogator seemed to deviate from her script. "Maximillia, we know everything. We have for months. We've been running a multi-agency operation on the Tsen-Tzes utilizing full-spectrum surveillance. We know about Dom, your pal Mardo, the Bruisers and we've got detailed files on all the rackets the Tsen-Tzes have been running. We've got intel on their entire criminal network: the drug-running, prostitution, Xartha's, the off-world stuff. We've got it all. Look, we know you're just a foot soldier. What we need is your testimony. A lot of the intel we have isn't admissible in court. You've been on the inside. You know all the players. You are one. You're just a worker bee, but you are a member of the hive. We even know where you were before Dom picked you up."
Maximillia's eyes glazed over, a weak resistance welling up in her. "Where was I?"
The interrogator sat forward and exhaled, a sudden humanity pouring from her. Now she was just a woman, her armor removed. "I know you lost your baby."
The girl couldn't shield her weakness any longer as her lips began to tremble.
"We want to nail Mardo and we've got the Tsen-Tzes on the ropes, but we'd need your testimony to drive that final nail into the coffin," the interrogator said with a warm frankness. "You know, I wasn't always in a uniform. I used to be just like you. I had a rap sheet. I was going to be a young mom, but I lost her."
Maximillia could see that the interrogator's words were true. Her ability to discern deception had become razor-sharp and, whatever the circumstances, this uniformed officer of the law, this rigid steward of justice, her story wasn't a fabrication. She was pouring out her heart when she didn't need to. Maximillia kept quiet, but her glazed, teary eyes exposed her.
"I had to make a choice to turn my life around," the interrogator continued. "I could've chosen to die in the muck or change the script and remake myself into someone I could look at in a mirror. No one could force me to do it. I had to choose. If you don't care about yourself you've probably got someone in your life who does. If not for yourself, do it for them."
As the tears flowed, Maximillia lowered her head, sniffling.
"Will you help us nail these guys?" the interrogator finally asked, a vigilant resolve in her voice.
The girl looked up and wiped away the tears, fighting off the sorrow.
***
Gareth , Maximillia's father, levitated into a windowless, cylindrical room via his hoverchair, escorted by a police official.
“The transmission will begin shortly. If you need anything I’ll be right outside,” she said.
“Okay, thank you.”
The worriment showed on his face. A three-dimensional holographic effigy of Maximillia materialized before Gareth.
“Hi, dad,” she said with a sheepish shame in her digitized voice.
“Maxie, what happened?” he asked, panic-stricken.
All she could do was shake her head.
“It’s okay. Papa’s here. I just want to know what happened. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’ve been so stupid,” she confessed.
“Well, tell me. I’m going to love you no matter what. You get mixed up with some bad people? What did you do?”
“I just wanted to tell you before the sentencing that I love you. I know I’ve been difficult, but I just—I just made a lot of bad choices. Met a lot of bad people.”
“But, are you okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah, dad. I’m okay. I just have to get through this. I don’t know how this is going to go. No matter what happens, though, I love you.”
The trial was merely preparation for the slaughter. Maximillia testified to having intimate knowledge of the prostitution operation at Xartha’s. This included client lists as well as an awareness of drug trafficking—including refined Gatekeeper—on the premises. She gave the authorities everything they needed to drop the hammer on
"So then you know what happened. Why do you need me?"
The interrogator seemed to deviate from her script. "Maximillia, we know everything. We have for months. We've been running a multi-agency operation on the Tsen-Tzes utilizing full-spectrum surveillance. We know about Dom, your pal Mardo, the Bruisers and we've got detailed files on all the rackets the Tsen-Tzes have been running. We've got intel on their entire criminal network: the drug-running, prostitution, Xartha's, the off-world stuff. We've got it all. Look, we know you're just a foot soldier. What we need is your testimony. A lot of the intel we have isn't admissible in court. You've been on the inside. You know all the players. You are one. You're just a worker bee, but you are a member of the hive. We even know where you were before Dom picked you up."
Maximillia's eyes glazed over, a weak resistance welling up in her. "Where was I?"
The interrogator sat forward and exhaled, a sudden humanity pouring from her. Now she was just a woman, her armor removed. "I know you lost your baby."
The girl couldn't shield her weakness any longer as her lips began to tremble.
"We want to nail Mardo and we've got the Tsen-Tzes on the ropes, but we'd need your testimony to drive that final nail into the coffin," the interrogator said with a warm frankness. "You know, I wasn't always in a uniform. I used to be just like you. I had a rap sheet. I was going to be a young mom, but I lost her."
Maximillia could see that the interrogator's words were true. Her ability to discern deception had become razor-sharp and, whatever the circumstances, this uniformed officer of the law, this rigid steward of justice, her story wasn't a fabrication. She was pouring out her heart when she didn't need to. Maximillia kept quiet, but her glazed, teary eyes exposed her.
"I had to make a choice to turn my life around," the interrogator continued. "I could've chosen to die in the muck or change the script and remake myself into someone I could look at in a mirror. No one could force me to do it. I had to choose. If you don't care about yourself you've probably got someone in your life who does. If not for yourself, do it for them."
As the tears flowed, Maximillia lowered her head, sniffling.
"Will you help us nail these guys?" the interrogator finally asked, a vigilant resolve in her voice.
The girl looked up and wiped away the tears, fighting off the sorrow.
***
Gareth , Maximillia's father, levitated into a windowless, cylindrical room via his hoverchair, escorted by a police official.
“The transmission will begin shortly. If you need anything I’ll be right outside,” she said.
“Okay, thank you.”
The worriment showed on his face. A three-dimensional holographic effigy of Maximillia materialized before Gareth.
“Hi, dad,” she said with a sheepish shame in her digitized voice.
“Maxie, what happened?” he asked, panic-stricken.
All she could do was shake her head.
“It’s okay. Papa’s here. I just want to know what happened. I want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’ve been so stupid,” she confessed.
“Well, tell me. I’m going to love you no matter what. You get mixed up with some bad people? What did you do?”
“I just wanted to tell you before the sentencing that I love you. I know I’ve been difficult, but I just—I just made a lot of bad choices. Met a lot of bad people.”
“But, are you okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah, dad. I’m okay. I just have to get through this. I don’t know how this is going to go. No matter what happens, though, I love you.”
The trial was merely preparation for the slaughter. Maximillia testified to having intimate knowledge of the prostitution operation at Xartha’s. This included client lists as well as an awareness of drug trafficking—including refined Gatekeeper—on the premises. She gave the authorities everything they needed to drop the hammer on
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