An Interrogation

Vaal had been here before. The room was small with a raised bed against the far wall. Between the interrogator and the subject there was a finely perforated sheet of anti-ballistic material. The subject was bipedal, which is uncommon for reptiles. It had spent the morning attempting to escape, but appeared resigned to its captivity. Vaal understood its frustration. She had once been in that cell. They came daily to ask her questions that she couldn’t answer. She nearly starved to death before it occurred to them that she didn’t speak their language. “Water” was the first word that she spoke.

Vaal wasn’t expecting to teach the reptilian any English. Even her grasp of it was tenuous. But she hoped to serve as an interpreter between the two species. It had taken years to build up mutual trust with the humans and a fragile one at best. The reptilian had been resting on the bed when she entered. Now it stood staring at her as she paced back and forth in front of the separator. She listened intently to its slow hiss as she strolled past. She stopped and stared back at it. “Don’t lie to me,” she hissed. In the high-pitched speech of her species, she introduced herself. It covered its auditory organs and shrunk away. She smiled, then hissed an apology and a second introduction.

“Vaal,” it managed to hiss out. “Aarai,” the reptile hissed while pointing to itself. It was going to be a long day. Vaal hated interrogations. She didn’t always. Back home, before falling into the void, she was very good at them. But there is a big difference between dealing with your own species and dealing with an alien race. Most of Aarai’s language was outside the normal human range. It would require a frequency modulation. Humans lacked the ability to modulate frequencies naturally. But the apes were nothing if not ingenious inventors. They were also deadly intolerant. She warned Aarai not to anger them, not to underestimate them, but she left out the worst part. Aarai was never going home.