the source of the blaring alarms through the gray walls of the
cell. She still felt a mild pleasant wooziness from the alcohol Nick Daphral,
the Junior Interrogator, had brought her earlier. That quick, hard sexual
escapade with him was something else she didn’t regret. “Sounds like,” she
murmured drolly, still looking around, “there might be some trouble ‘round
here.”
“That’s none of your concern,” one of the two
interchangeable Interrogators said a little sharply. The pair exchanged worried
glances that weren’t as sly as they meant them to be.
Virge permitted herself the ghost of a smile. Anything to
disrupt this session. She knew the tactic—keep at her and at her without break
until her whole world became this cell. But if things got interrupted it would
be like hitting the reset button. These two Guard Interrogators, professionals
or not, wouldn’t be eager to start from scratch with her.
They tried their questions again, but their rhythm was off.
Before, they’d gone after her in perfect tandem, trading off the inquiries,
making endless notes on the pads of paper they’d brought with them. Now they
started tripping each other up as the commotion of the alarms persisted, along
with a general rumbling, as of many footfalls, in the corridor beyond this
room. Virge slowed down her replies to make matters worse. Instead of
responding quickly so as to kill off the questions once and for all, she now
contemplated each query with a deliberate—and mocking—solemnity.
After a few minutes it was plain by the Interrogators’
manner that they’d lost control of the session. One muttered an aside to the
other. That one answered with a muted snarl.
Good, Virge thought with a growing glow of triumph. Let them
turn on each other.
Finally, without another word to her, they stood and exited
the little room. Virge, now starting to seriously wonder what the alarms
indicated, was strangely pleased when, a moment later, Nick Daphral reappeared.
He crossed toward her, something approximating a mischievous
smile on his face, and set on the desk the half-empty bottle she’d drunk from
earlier. Immediately she snatched it up and took a long swallow. Take what you
can when you can.
She regarded the low-level Interrogator. His demeanor was
different. He seemed looser, more relaxed. He was looking at her almost
goofily, like a semi-smitten adolescent. Had she changed him out of all
recognition just by sharing her body with him? Apparently so.
The alcohol burned in her throat, warmed her gut. Maybe she
liked her booze a bit too much, but so what? It didn’t affect her work at the
laboratory.
“Is it okay?” Nick asked solicitously.
No Guard had ever asked her such a question in quite that
tone of voice. Hiding her surprise, she said, “It was fine before. It’s fine
now.”
He seemed to wince a little at her harsh tone, which
dismayed her all the more. Equally surprising to her was that she felt a tiny
twinge of guilt for being curt with him. But she had to press this unexpected
advantage. “What’s going on out there?” she asked.
The alarms were still clanging away in the distance. The
grounds of the Citadel were very large. In addition to the Lux’s grand edifice
and outbuildings, there were these Guard facilities, as well as the military’s
complex.
“I don’t—” Nick hesitated. Some of the puppyishness died on
his features. Whatever feelings he might suddenly have for her, he was still a
member of the Guard. “I’m not sure.”
Virge downed another swallow. The small bottle was rapidly
emptying. She thought about reaching into his pants, grabbing hold of his cock
and squeezing until he answered, but that might well lead to further fucking,
and she had no idea when the Senior Interrogators were coming back.
Instead she tried a softly pouty expression, feeling vaguely
idiotic putting on the coquettish pretense. “Fine, don’t tell me,” she said.
“Okay, okay.” He lifted a hand