[b]January 23rd, 2375
In orbit of Earth[/b]

The vice president is a tall person, in uniform as always with slicked black hair as per tradition.  As Liam approaches the vice president in the somewhat compact hanger of the orbital platform, he can’t help but notice the private shuttle has come docked not only with a couple escort microfrigates (never can be too safe), but also a quite grey, bleak looking ship with none of the flair the VIP’s green stripped shuttle has.  The ship, as per UF standard is a blocky and modular craft that gets the job done, but it lacks any of the angular markings or orange stripes the engineers on Mars are apt to use.    It is just this dull grey thing, absolutely depressing and dreadful to even observe.  It’s a prisoner transit ship.

Liam walks over to the Vice President, shakes his hand and takes a diligent posture while the Vice President just nods approvingly before telling Liam “Good to see you are here on time.  The reports from Concordia of secessionist activity going out of control are looking like they have been right this whole time.  I have with the escort of two other agents been able to bring on this weapons platform a convicted felon.”
Liam, puzzled to hell says “You brought a criminal on a weapons platform?”

“Look, I just brought him here since I figured you can get something out of him.  I was able to clear this whole hanger just so we can handle this here since no one else has their ships docked in this hanger anyways.  I came here mainly out of convenience, along with well, your connections.  You are an agent after all, an agent who knows how to talk to these people.” The Vice President tells Liam, attempting to address the question with a surprising amount of transparency.

Liam, knowing what happens if you keep asking questions just decides to obey and with the Vice president walks over to that grim vessel which has been docked.  Two heavily armed security guards in full armor from head to toe, the whirring of their hydraulics and bulky armoring complemented by similarly rigid rifles with slit-like nozzles.  Their glowing cyan helmets obscure whatever soul may be within, if there even if a soul.  It could just be machinery all the way down for all Liam knows.  With absolute obedience, the two heavily armored guards open the storage bay of the prison vessel and drag out a man with numerous vials stuck in him, the tubes winding all around his feet as the large guards drag the prisoner’s meaty body across the metallic furnished floors of the hanger.  

One of the guards in a strangely feminine voice starts to describe “Straight from Bernard’s Star, Prison 15.  Had to keep him there for two years but dedicated teams of interrogators and security ops were unable to get him to clue in on where the secessionists are hiding their weapons cache.  He keeps claiming he does not know.  This offworlder keeps referring to BD plus 50 degrees 1725 c as ‘CONCORDANCE’ and keeps demanding ‘COCORDANCE’ to be the official name.” 

Liam inspects the large, yet still fragile man and asks “You’d think we’d have better ways of getting information out of people’s heads by now.”

The guard replies “That is why we brought him to Earth.  Bernard’s Star is not stocked with any technology good for getting information from people.”

“Shipment problems again.  Always the shipment problems.  So why didn’t you just bring him here first then?” the agent asks.

The Vice President, with embarrassment starts to say “Well…  It was a bit of a mishap.  He wasn’t ever supposed to go to Bernard’s star.  He was supposed to go straight here where proper interrogation techniques can be used and that’s why I brought him here to you since you have a good clue how that interrogation stuff works.”

“I do.” Liam states with an air of semantics that rubs the vice president off the wrong way, so the Vice president just shrugs and mouths ‘well you do your thing’ before heading into his personal shuttle.

And so the interrogation begins.