“And Gretian soldiers would never violate regulations, right?”
Dahl shrugged with a little smile.
“Young men and emotions.”
The young man sitting on the other side of the interrogation room was wearing a detention suit. It was rather less fashionable than the blue-and-white outfit he’d worn when they had arrested him the day before, but his body language was every bit as cocky and defiant as it had been during his transport and processing. He sat as spread legged as the built-in movement limiters of his suit would allow, arms crossed in front of his chest, and he looked at Dahl and Idina with contempt when they entered the room.
“Good day,” Dahl said to him. He returned the greeting with a scowl. Idina thought about saying the same greeting in her halting Gretian to rile him up and get the interrogation started on the lively side, then decided against it. Dahl was the expert here, and she’d let the other woman determine the steps of the dance.
They sat down at the other side of the Alon barrier that split the room in two and separated detainees and questioners. Dahl had explained to Idina that the barrier wasn’t really necessary because the detention suits would immobilize the suspects if they became violent, but that it was in place to rule out even the possibility of physical contact.
“I have to inform you that this room is monitored by four different AI systems. One for the state prosecutor, one for your defense, one for public record, and one for the police. Whatever you say will be entered into all of them.”
The kid shrugged.
“It does not matter. This is all a sham anyway. You are not even in charge here. They are.” He nodded at Idina, then glared at Dahl again. “You should be ashamed, doing their dirty work for them. Arresting your own people. Taking orders from the occupiers. No serfdom,” he added. Idina knew the slogan well enough by now that she didn’t have to rely on the AI translator to figure it out.
“That is a catchy phrase,” Dahl said. “I have heard it often lately. But let me assure you that I am in charge here. I was in charge here before you were born. And I will still be in charge here long after the Palladians and the Rhodians have gone home again. I do my work in the same way, with or without them. Their presence makes no difference to me.”
“That is a load of excrement,” the kid said. Idina was positive that the AI’s translation of the word in her ear was overly formal because she knew that expletive in the original by now as well.
Dahl nodded. Her expression was almost sad, a mother having to deal with a misbehaving favorite child whose punishment she dreaded.
She took an ID pass out of her pocket and held it up to read from it.
“Haimo Keller. Twenty years old. You work at the spaceport, as a traffic-controller apprentice.”
He looked at her without a change in expression, as if even acknowledging what she already knew about him would constitute recognition of her authority.
“What were you going to do with a loaded military weapon in a sports arena?” she asked.
“I was not going to do anything. I have the gun for protection. When I saw the scanners, I turned and walked away. What is wrong with going armed? Their kind walk around with weapons all the time. And this is our planet, not theirs.”
Dahl sighed.
“Let me explain to you the depth of the pool of excrement in which you are currently trying to hold your head above the surface, Haimo Keller,” Dahl said. “Based on the evidence, the court has already convicted you of the crime of possessing and carrying a restricted weapon without authorization. The conviction means your security clearance at the spaceport has been revoked automatically. I am sorry to inform you that your apprenticeship will be terminated.”
Haimo tried to maintain his self-control, but Idina could see that Dahl’s words were rapidly deflating his composure. He looked around the room, then back at Dahl.
“I get my certificate next week,” he said in disbelief. “My three-year certificate. I worked for it. I earned it. I passed all the exams. And the final test.”
Dahl shook her head.
“I am sorry, but that will not be happening, Haimo. A weapons offense makes you ineligible for that profession.”
“There must be something I can do.” He glanced at Idina, then back at Dahl. “I was just carrying that gun. I did not shoot anyone. I did not even enter the stadium. Why would you come to ask me questions if I am already convicted? Are you not supposed to offer me something so I will cooperate? What is the point?”
He almost shouted the last word. Now there was fear in his eyes again—not the wide-eyed panic from yesterday when they had aimed their guns at him, but something just as raw. Dahl had yanked the floor out from underneath his feet, and now he was in a tumble that he had not expected.
“The point is this,” Dahl said. “Your conviction already means a mandatory detention term. That is something you will not be able to avoid. You made that choice when you tried to carry an unauthorized weapon of war into a public gathering.”
Idina almost felt sorry for the kid, who was visibly recoiling at Dahl’s calm and certain declaration. He’d had a night in detention to work up a tough and defiant exterior for what was to come, his turn at standing up to the oppressor, and she had torn it down in just a few moments without even raising her voice.
“But your level of cooperation will determine where you serve that term,” Dahl continued.
She nodded at Idina.
“This Palladian soldier here has so far declined to have you charged with pointing a weapon at her. The weapon you were carrying was taken from one of her comrades. She would like to find out where you got
