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He had never seen Katz like this, subdued and even a bit withdrawn. As Katz mentioned being surrounded by light, John just nodded his agreement. He then shook his head slightly, "I know what you're about to do." He shook his head again, "Don't. He just saved the life of a Coalition officer." He knew though that there was nothing he could do to stop what was coming.
Katz turned his head, slightly. His eyes weary, haunted, like a man who had seen far too much violence around him.
"John, you know I can't," He stated with his brow furrowing. "The Commissariat exists for a reason, and a good one. I was a Commissar before politics. There is a line, for the good of the people, that must be held. I ask that you don't interfere."
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John said nothing. He only followed him with his eyes, turning his body as he did, as Katz disappeared behind the wall of men. There he stood, just waiting for what he knew was coming.
He fixed the officer's cap on his head, his boots hitting the same deck they had only days before. But now it was different once again; he was a Lieutenant, and blue piping adorned his uniform.
The twisted webs we weave, he thought to himself, clenching a fist. Life truly was surprising; one minute he was a technician, the next
Well
Lieutenant Petrovin strode down the hallway, flanked by two fully-loaded Coalition Marines. They looked as if they were about to storm an enemy bunker instead of escorting an officer down a friendly hallway, but the situation dictated their presence. Comrade Lieutenant Rasputin was following a meter or two behind the group; the perfect spectators position.
Kostya rounded a corner, immediately catching sight of the Premier and Doctor John Holliday, the Premiers twin bodyguards nearly blocking the view. They were silhouetted against the glaring vista beyond a viewport, almost ethereal in appearance, but menacing in practice. No more than a few feet away from the closest guard was the door to Comrade Doctor Caeseras office, still wide open.
Kostya set his face like stone. Calm, unaffected, belying no emotion, no secrets, as per his training.
He smoothly stepped around the door frame and into Caeseras office, measuring his steps so that there was ample room behind him.
At first the doctors eyes lit up with recognition of his fellow pilot, and his mouth began to open in order to voice a greeting, or perhaps a question.
He had time for neither as the two marines swooped into the room from behind Petrovins back.
Privet, Tovarisch Doctor, Kostya said, his voice even and nonthreatening in spite of his fearsome entourage. It appears we have a bit of a problem here.
He glanced up at the two marines who had already slipped around and behind the man still seated at his desk. Meticulous planning; not a word need be spoken.
Youre under arrest.
Without any additional warning, twin assault rifle butts came crashing down onto Caeseras head, a move that would daze even the most fit of soldiers. The marine on the left moved to grab the subject by his hair and smash his head down onto the desk, while the marine on the right arrested and slapped binders on the subjects wrists with practiced efficiency.
Konstantin nodded to the two marines who promptly hefted, or rather manhandled, Caesera out of his chair and to his feet. Satisfied that the target was incapacitated and ready for transfer, Kostya glanced over his shoulder at Ivan and gave him a curt nod.
Alright, he said, looking back towards the marines before spinning on his heel and exiting the office, Bring him.
Katz's pressed his flat hand against Doc. Holliday's chest, "Don't interfere John, if you do, they'll shoot you." His eyes were insistent, locked onto his friend's face. "Please..."
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He nodded...and understood.
"Then let me do this. There is a patient down the hall that needs to be checked in on that has a new heart. Allow me to be escorted down to tend to him."
He looked towards Caesera's room, "Someone will have to and I guess, well, he's my patient now. Just come see me when it's over."
He then added, "If you do, I need my bag out of Caesera's office."
Rasputin led the group, the marines carrying between them the knocked out Caesera and Kostya walking behind them, as they had entered the office of the doctor, Rasputin had looked at John Holliday and given him a nod, and Primiere Katz a Salute, now they walked along the hallways to where the good doctor where to be questioned..
Rasputin did not enjoy what was to come, he had no wish to take a life of a fellow officer and comrade of the coalition, but he knew his duties and it came before his own wishes.
As the reached the second turn they came to on dimly lit part, where one bulky steel reinforced door led them into an relatively large but dark room, one light lit up the chair that stood in the middle.
Rasputin pointed to the chair, and the two marines firmly set Caesera onto it, also locking his hands to the back of the chair with constraints, Rasputin looked for a minute at the Doctor, this fine example of the Coalition.. Now to be interrogated and most probably executed.. Such a shame..
He left the light and went over to Kostya lighting a cigarette as he did..
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Taking his bag, he walked the hallway to the patient's ICU room where he was resting comfortably.
"Answer me one question, Alvin," as he pointed at the patient, "is that man, in fact, a high ranking Coalition officer? I just don't want to find out that I saved a man's life for nothing."
Kostya set his jaw, his arms folded for a moment. Where to begin...
"I hope my men weren't too rough, Tovarisch Doctor," he started, "After all, I need you conscious for the next few minutes..."
Slowly, deliberately, he began walking around the chair Caesera was bound to. As if it hadn't been there before, he suddenly felt the impression that he was some type of omnipotent predator stalking hapless prey. The feeling was alluring, much to his personal chagrin, and he vowed to keep himself focused on his objective instead.
"Your... record is rather astounding, you know," Kostya said, his tone light, "Good education towards being a doctor, excellent marks in those regards, fine work with the refugees..."
He stopped walking, standing right in front of the man, and looked down on him.
"Yet, for one so diligent in the healing arts, you've shown a propensity to kill..."
Kostya looked away with a puzzled expression.
"An astounding propensity to kill.. Last I checked you outstripped Tovarisch Lieutenant Commander Jayce on the killboard.."
He began walking again, the only sounds in the dead room his voice and the clanking of boot leather on metal decking.
"Oh I'm not jealous, of course, Tovarisch Doctor," Kostya muttered, "Since we're all part of the Coalition, we're all equal, all work yields equal merit towards the Cause.. And while your kill record might be, frankly, amazing, it does not entitle you to much.. As a matter of fact it.."
Kostya looked at him again, still pacing.
".. Turns heads? Raises eyebrows, da? Da.. So.."
He stopped in front once more, this time turning to face the man completely. As he spoke, the lightness of his tone began to melt away into something colder than the deck plates.
"A person avowed to saving lives by dedicating his life to the study of medicine applies to the Coalition as a doctor, and yet also applies to the fighter corps, where he shows a unique aptitude for doing precisely the opposite.."
His voice devolved into a growl.
"An aptitude unfitting for anyone but a professional soldier."
Kostya's lips formed a predatory sneer, almost reflexively.
"Fighter pilots are trained, not born, Tovarisch. I wonder where in your illustrious record it states that you've received enough combat hours in a fighter to perform on par with one of our most experienced soldiers?"
He took off his officer's cap and tucked it into a pocket underneath his uniform trench coat, never letting his glare leave the eyes of Doctor Caesera.
"After all, having 'outside perspectives' is good, da? Killing more men than you heal is fitting of a doctor, da? Well some of us don't think so, you see.."
Some of Us. He let the implications of that set in as he looked up at Lieutenant Rasputin, waiting patiently by the wall. Their eyes met, his meaning understood.
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