Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
Welcome to Return To Mobius. We hope you enjoy your visit.


You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.


Join our community!


If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features:

Username:   Password:
Locked Topic
Judgement Past
Topic Started: May 28 2012, 07:04 PM (25 Views)
Fran
Member Avatar

Posted by: Ziroir Mar 3 2012, 10:36 PM
Scheduling an intensive pre-trial session immediately following a lengthy bout of physiotherapy might have seemed cruel to some, but Zarthan-Tau wasn’t one to be concerned with the opinions of others. It was the earliest time available… and having the subject fatigued might make the exercise that much easier. She was known for being a troublemaker.

She was wheeled in by a technician, still wearing medical robes from the drills that had ended only a few minutes previously. There were soft-soled slippers on her feet; all but useless, since according to the just-updated medical entry, she wasn’t yet able to walk. It was by her own insistence that therapy had begun so soon, against the wishes of nurses and engineers alike, and the residual weakness was obvious: sallow skin, fur dull and lifeless, body slumped against the back of the chair. Many might have thought her asleep, but Zarthan knew better than to rely on such fallible external observations. The feline’s heart rate was elevated, and both eyes moved rapidly behind half-closed lids.

He noted that they barely gave him a glance, until the technician retreated and they were left alone. Only then did she turn her stare onto him, and it alone was enough to put his metallic nerves on edge; the look was nothing but insolence. It seemed vigorous physical exertion hadn’t been enough to quash it.

A more direct approach would be necessary.

“Special agent Miroir 0,” he began, using his voice synthesizers to full effect, “Are you aware of why you were brought here?”

Ziroir slowly sat up in her seat, eyes never once leaving the judge’s faceplate.

“You want to know how my recovery is coming along?”

Her voice was as audacious as her eyes.

“You are addressing a Judge of the Inner Circle. Insubordination will not be tolerated.”

Instead of flinching from the harsh words, the woman smiled. It was akin to watching a crocodile bare its teeth, but far less natural.

“I’m being court-marshalled.” Her voice was sickly-sweet, her grin just a touch too wide. “Are you suggesting that calling you Inner Circle Judge Zarthan-Tau every time I open my mouth will help my case… sir?”

Quite a few responses came to the forefront of the judge’s mind, most of which were not suitable for use in official Corp business.

“You have not yet been expelled,” he answered, red eyes narrowing as he spoke. “Until a decision is made, you are still a member of the Corp, and will behave as such.”

She made no reply, folding both hands in her lap and continuing to stare up at him. Her smile hadn’t dimmed in the slightest, and if anything, the feline’s eyes seemed brighter now than when she’d first arrived. Zarthan had been half-expecting another witty retort, but when none seemed forthcoming, he continued. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he didn’t want to deal with this woman for any longer than protocol deemed necessary.

“Special Agent Miroir 0, you have been charged with gross breach of duty, conspiring against the Corp, violation of the basic principles of the Zonecops, and sharing confidential information with one of your counterparts, Miroir 816.” There was a momentary pause, before he added, “you are also under suspicion of importing illegal out-of-zone items into the No-Zone, without authorization or intent to transfer them to the appropriate authorities.”

Still no reaction from Ziroir. He’d begun to understand why the others had nominated him to do this interview.

“As this is a preliminary hearing, we will be taking your statements. This would normally have been done upon your return to the No-Zone, but as you were incapacitated at that time, now has been deemed the most suitable occasion to record them.” He waited a few seconds, before adding, “You may begin.”

“Well,” she shifted slightly, though the motion seemed pointless; perhaps she was just making herself comfortable. “Does that mean I have permission to speak freely… sir?”

His first instinct was to refuse, which was entirely logical, but unfortunately against Corp policy. Statements were meant to be taken as soon as possible, for the express purpose of registering the most accurate feelings on the matter… these were highly emotional, for the majority of organic beings, and restricting the subject’s vocabulary would provide less truthful information. However, Ziroir was no longer in the heat of the moment, and had unfortunately been given several days during which to compose herself. Her words were likely already chosen, with the knowledge that they would not be censored. Zarthan was thus forced to acquiesce, though not without a great deal of irritation at the immutability of this law. Some provisions might need adding, at some point in the future.

When given the affirmative answer, the feline’s eyes sharpened still more, until he was certain there was nothing good to come of this interview. But there was nothing to be done besides follow protocol, and thus he was forced to listen to what she had to say.

“Firstly, I find it very interesting that the Corp would only press charges after I lost a leg in their service.” Despite her weakened appearance, her voice was full of strength, sharp and bitter as it might be. “Why not file beforehand, if they were so desperate to get rid of me? We both know I’m hardly the model agent nowadays… so you can’t help but wonder what their reasoning is, for getting out the chains after I’m too crippled to make a run for it.”

If the robotic judge had had hair, it would have been standing up on the back of his neck. Language like that was exactly why he had been trying to reshape the Corp for so long!

“I’ll tell you why… Because you don’t want to pay my damn medical bills.” She smacked one hand against her thigh, which produced a distinctly metallic sound in reply. “I’ve got a good idea how much this new leg costs, and we both know I’d never have enough to pay for it on my own… Not to mention therapy, drugs, and all the rest. So why not get rid of me, and ruin me at the same time? If I’m kicked out, there’s no way in Void I’d get a job doing more than washing dishes, and that’ll never pay the bills.

“Yeah, I’m a troublemaker. Yeah, I don’t exactly play by the rules anymore. But if they didn’t like how I was doing their business, there were plenty of ways to get me out of the way without blowing my fucking leg off.”

The cat’s canine teeth were visible as she snarled, sharp ivory points illuminated by the room’s harsh light. After a second, she seemed to retreat somewhat, taking several breaths and forcing her muscles to release their pent-up tension.

“You’re a robot, Judge Zarthan,” she continued, having returned her voice to a reasonable volume and somewhat more acceptable tone, “that means you’re not going to let emotions get in the way of the facts. There’s nothing to prove that having my Zoner explode on landing was pre-meditated, and I’m not going to throw out stupid accusations at anyone without any proof. But you know protocols and regulations better than anyone, I bet…”

Leaning forward, resting her elbows on her knees, Ziroir stared up at him with a contorted grin on her face.

“So tell me, is it within protocol to leave an agent Outside for three days without so much as a check-in?”

… It wasn’t.

In taking a nanosecond to scour his databanks for all information on the case, Zarthan realized that no mention had been made of attempted contacts. Any failure to communicate with an agent would be grounds for directing a screen or two in their direction, but there were no signs that this had been done either. At the very least, this was highly unorthodox, even for the Unit…

“You know,” she didn’t wait for any acknowledgement of the new information by the judge, instead continuing on, “I could have kept working, even without my leg. This replacement’s almost as good as the real thing, and once I heal up properly, I’d be read for duty again. Not where I am right now, of course, but I could get transferred somewhere else... finally.”

The word was sharp, and the judge pulled up a file; she had requested a transfer, several years ago. It had never been granted.

“I won’t be good for combat now, with all the scarring, but I could have made a pretty good secretary. A desk job would have been nice, something with regular hours…” Ziroir’s voice took on a new bitterness, spitting harsh but brittle words. “But I don’t suppose that matters any more. What do I need regular hours for? I don’t have anything to go home to…”

Silence fell, though Zarthan could tell by her physical reactions that she was far from finished. Her muscles grew taut with every passing second, and her heart rate was growing both stronger and faster. Such agitation would likely be frowned upon by the medical technicians, but as the judge had no part in creating the reaction, he wasn’t about to attempt to defuse it either. Besides, this was still an interview in progress.

“You’ve read my medical files.”

From the look on the woman’s face, he saw that she expected some sort of response. He inclined his head, rather than voicing to the affirmative, lest an auditory response cause stronger emotions to boil up.

“But you’re a robot. You don’t really know how that works…” Her hands clenched and unclenched on the arms of the wheelchair, fingernails digging into the cushioned armrests. “Maybe I can explain it to you another way, so you’ll understand it.”

“Imagine you’re going about your business, doing your… judge stuff. You work, you get your files sorted, missions taken care of, discipline decided, and all that.”

Whatever imaginary scenario this was supposed to be, Zarthan wasn’t terribly impressed with it. But it was still part of her statement, and it had to be recorded.

“So you’re going along, exactly like you’re supposed to. Then, bam! You get infected with a virus, one you can’t fight off. And it runs through your whole system, messing you up, and wrecking your computer parts. The Corp notices, of course, because you’re really important and they need to keep you all in one piece… But they can’t beat the virus.

“So now you’re still here, still working well enough to do your job, but you can’t connect to the Zonecop systems because that would infect the whole Corp…” She paused, staring him straight in the eye. “That means once you get old and stop working, that’s it. All the data stored in you will be gone forever. You can’t give it to anyone else. You can’t store it away. You can’t pass it on...”

Ziroir’s voice had grown quiet over the past few words, but it roared back to life, so loud it echoed in the practically empty room.

“And you know what? It was the Corp that gave you the virus in the first place! Even though you were built for them! You’ve worked for them your whole life!”

The hands that had been gouging pieces from the armrests moments before turned white at the knuckles, and the woman suddenly heaved herself forward, straight out of the chair she’d been sitting in. Zarthan couldn’t help but register the extreme improbability of what he was seeing: Ziroir, her face lit with fiery anger, was standing before him on her own two legs, damaged as they were. It was strange that he would have more luck with this than the therapists…

“Everything you are, you are for them! You do whatever they tell you!” Her hand sliced a vicious arc through the air, full of energy that by rights the feline shouldn’t have had. “You gave them everything you had, and then some! And that’s how they repay you! Plus, they might just throw you in the scrap heap, because they can always get a newer and better model that’ll do exactly what they want!”

For all the passion she put into it, she was saying exactly what the judge wanted to hear. She had been made to understand the importance of perfection, of the need to rid oneself of those interfering emotions that plagued organic Zonecops… But instead, she rejected the knowledge, using her feelings to shove away the overarching truth. How unfortunate; there would be no salvaging her, then.

Finally, she seemed to run out of steam. Breathing heavily, she stood for a few more seconds before her legs finally gave out, leaving their owner to collapse back into the chair. Whatever energy had animated her movements before was gone, and she seemed even more drained than before; Zarthan debated calling in the nurse who stood outside, but hesitated when Ziroir moved again.

“I already had the appointment booked. It was still two years away, but…”

There was little left of her voice, and only his superior audio sensors were able to pick up the words.

“I was one of the lucky ones.” Not even the frailty of the words kept them from catching in her throat. “I was going to beat the odds…”

Her entire body seemed to sag with defeat, and the judge took this as a sign that the interview was over. At his signal, the door opened once again, and the waiting medical personnel swept the woman from the room. He, however, remained for some time afterward, going through the information he’d been given, and the data he had stored. This case had grown far more complicated than he had anticipated, but one thing was clear: something would have to be done with the feline.

She could have been made to disappear, but after consideration, he rejected the option. Between the physical damage and mental instability, it was highly improbable that she could cause more than a minimum of trouble. Besides, she had brought up some information he might otherwise not have been made aware of… How superior officers were allowing their own emotions to cloud judgement on even the simplest tasks, such as unit transfers and agent check-ins. Some refinements among the ranks would be required.

No, Ziroir didn’t have enough power to cause significant disturbances, which meant she could simply be reassigned to somewhere that would minimize damage, and contact with other Zonecops. He would make his recommendations to the Circle once it reconvened; now that this was taken care of, he could attend to far more important matters.

Still, Zarthan had the feeling this wouldn’t be the last time he came face to faceplate with the feline woman, or read a report where her behaviour was in question…
Offline Profile Goto Top
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Join the millions that use us for their forum communities. Create your own forum today.
« Previous Topic · Far Away Complete · Next Topic »
Locked Topic

Etavarium Theme created by Zeus00 and converted by Wolt of the ZetaBoards Theme Zone