Frank's hands were red.

Despite no blood being shed, Frank felt like he could see it staining his fingers. He shook his hands, trying to get the image out of his mind. It was nothing. It hadn't even been much of an interrogation. He was almost ashamed of his performance, but the shame of of what he had done to Gerard overshadowed that.

He would have to visit his holding cell every twenty four hours to administer more, or risk Gerard regaining his magic and some potential rage after forty eight. He had no idea how it worked in the rebel's bloodstreams, but it was effective for the force.

"Hey, the interrogator is back." A voice laughed, prompting Frank to look up from his hands.

Ray was walking towards him with a grin on his face. Frank felt more at ease with his friend approaching. Nearly their entire time in the force they had been friends. Ray had sat beside Frank in the cafeteria after some of the other kids had tipped his lunch tray. They shared Ray's meal and became quick friends.

"Hey." Frank gave a small wave as Ray sat on the bunk opposite his.

"Heard you had quite the day." Ray bent down to unlace his shoes as he spoke.

Frank nodded, "You could say that."

Ray gently kicked his shoes off his feet before looking back at Frank. "Care to elaborate?"

Frank looked back down at his hands. Red. "I'm being offered a new position."

"Excellent!" Ray held his hand up in the air, ready for a high five.

Frank, however, didn't look up from his hands. "Squadron Commander. He wants me to take over the role of Squadron Commander."

Ray lowered his hand. "Is that a problem?"

"I don't know the first thing about being a Squadron Commander!" Frank exclaimed, "This promotion seems way better suited for a squadron leader that actually has something close to experience to taking charge." He finally looked up from his hands. "Like you! You could probably nail that job!"

Ray laughed, much to Frank's surprise. "Who do you think they offered the position to first?" He asked, grinning at Frank.

"You turned it down?" Frank stared wide eyed at Ray. "Why would you turn something like that down!?"

"I'm comfortable where I am." Ray shrugged, "I don't have the expectations to rise up. I like having a small group to manage within the walls." He tapped his mattress, "I don't want to go out and die in a world beyond what I know to be safe."

Frank continued to stare at his friend. When they were kids, they both shared dreams of somehow breaking ranks and sneaking onto the planet. They plotted to become wanderers of the orange sands to explore places the force has never seen. Those fantasy talks has ended years ago, however, and it appeared that Ray's dreams along with them.

"This is something great for you, though!" Ray spoke up in Frank's silence, "You've always wanted more. Now, you're getting it! I'm proud of you." He tapped his socked foot against Frank's boot.

"Thanks..." Frank looked down again. He hadn't realized how content Ray was with his life within the walls. Maybe he should strive to be that way, rather that staring out into the orange landscape imagining voices calling him away.

---

The prisoner had been moved to a holding cell.

Prisoner. Frank tried to hold that word in his head rather than the rebel leader's name. Gerard. Did all the natives of the planet have names that almost sounded like names he would hear thrown around the force? It wasn't such an odd name, the more he thought about it.

"Focus!" He hissed to himself.

He needed to stay set on the task at hand. Visit the prisoner. Administer the serum. Try to get any information that he could. Simple.

Frank's footsteps echoed as he made his way down countless halls towards the holding cells. There wasn't as much thought put into the aesthetic design of this part of the compound. Everything was a simple slab of gray with red torches hanging every few feet. The torches cast eerie shadows that seemed to follow any movement that came near.

Frank kept his head down as he walked. He couldn't get over the conflicted feeling in his chest over what he was setting out to do. What if he wasn't successful? What if he caused irreversible damage? What if he wanted to stay in his current position, just like Ray?

With everything running through his head, he failed to see the future approaching him before it was too late. They both collided and stumbled to the floor, side by side.

Frank pushed himself up into a sitting position before turning to look at who had fallen with him. The second figure was sitting up as well, brushing dark hair out of their face.

"Jamia." Her name came as an apology last Frank's lips. He hastily rose to his feet and offered his hand to help her.

"Thank you." Her voice was soft as she took his hand. He pulled her to her feet where they faced each other for a moment in silence.

Jamia was the daughter of a high ranking official in the force, but there was an air of mystery as to who exactly it was. The ratio of men and women in the compound was skewed due to the first colonizing being an all male team with only disproportionately mixed teams to follow.

Despite that fact, quite a few of the current best force soldiers were girls. They were sectioned on the opposite side of the compound to the boys, but training, meals, and spare time was shared in the large space.

Jamia smiled at Frank. "Haven't seen you since the last force dinner."

"Yea." Frank agreed. The meal has been reserved for the high ranking officials, but their children were also allowed to attend. Frank had sat across from Jamia. Their soft small talk had given him goosebumps. "How-how are you?"

"Doing a lot of paperwork." She shrugged, "We suffered quite a loss with the last ambush. I'm helping with the build up."

"That's good." Frank nodded. He wanted to say more. He wanted to add something meaningful. Before he could however, Jamia was stepping away.

"Maybe next time you could try to avoid the whole knocking me off my feet thing." There was a laugh beneath her words that made Frank's lip curl up into a smile.

"I'll try my best." He responded as she turned her back to him. He turned away as well, but hesitated before continuing towards his goal. He spun back around, ready to say more, but she was gone.

Disappointed, he turned again towards his goal. Another expectation from his father was, to quote, "charm another official's daughter." Frank hated the idea, but he did actually like Jamia. They got along well enough and there didn't seem to be any expectation from her.

He sighed. There was too much on his mind. How was he going to focus on front of Gerard? The prisoner. Frank swore under his breath. It was turning into a long day, and it had barely begun.

A distance later, Frank stood outside of the cell block. A guard nodded to him. "Here for Harris?" The guard asked.

"He can rot for all I care." Frank scoffed. He shifted on his feet. It just now hit him that this would be his first solo interrogation. No one was there to judge whether he passed or failed but himself. It made him trip slightly on his words as he asked for the rebel leader.

"Ah, the annoying one." The soldier turned to unlock the iron bar door to the cell block. "Take the first left and he's two doors down."

"Thanks..." Frank muttered, slipping through the small opening into the cell block.

He had never been here by himself. During basic training, small groups were taken through to familiarize them with the vastness of the compound. Otherwise, it has never been a destination for Frank.

It was cold here. He didn't remember that from his walkthrough all those years ago. He quickened his pace in order to get to the cell he was looking for.

Solid gray doors with a small square view window lined each side of the hall. The cell block itself was expansive enough to contain a small army of prisoners if need be. Frank wasn't sure if it had ever came to that point, but it was a fact the force was proud of.

When he made it to the cell he was directed to, he hesitated at the door. The rolling cart was positioned against the wall. It was already waiting for him to pull it open and get on with the task at hand. Would it always be ready for him like this?

Frank knelt down in front of the rolling cabinet. He slowly pulled open the doors, looking over what had been left for him. His eyes were drawn to the magic suppression syringe almost immediately. It was really the only one he needed to take into the room. Just to be sure Gerard-the prisoner couldn't use any tricks...

Frank grabbed the syringe and slipped it up his sleeve. He then stood, closing the cabinet doors as he rose, and faced the cell door. He was tasked with this interrogation and he had to follow through. There was no back stepping now. He had to prove himself.

With a nervous breath, he reached out and held his hand up to the cell door. His hand overdosed for just a moment before pressing against the cool cement.

It began to pull apart almost instantly at his touch. Frank retracted his hand and looked into the cell, determined not to show his nerves.

The opening door allowed light to flood into the dark room. Near the back wall sat the prisoner, who glared at Frank. He was bound by chains that were embedded in the floor. His mobility was limited to help prevent escape.

"Fancy seeing you down here." Gerard sat straight, never taking his eyes off Frank.

Frank took a step inside the cell. "I see you're more willing to talk today." He picked his head, "Shy in front of a crowd?"

A soft chuckle came from Gerard. "Your people should know damn well I'm not shy of anything."

Frank looked Gerard over. He was still in the clothes he was captured in. There was more bruising on his exposed skin, however. Frank was sure he hadn't seen as much the day before.

"Are you here to talk or stare?" Gerard snapped, pulling Frank's eyes to his.

"Are you going to give me anything useful?" Frank somehow managed to speak despite momentarily getting caught off guard by Gerard's eyes. They were... He couldn't think of anything to describe them for an instant. They were just otherworldly.

"When I die." Gerard spat at the ground. "Even then, you'd have to follow me into hell to get it."

Frank curled his fingers, feeling the tip of the syringe up his sleeve. He didn't want to use it, but he knew he had to. "Things could be so much easier for you here if you would just cooperate."

Gerard turned his head, averting his gaze to the wall in defiance.

"A rebel location." Frank took half a step forward. "A supply route. Information on soldiers we've never recovered." He took a small step to the right, mindful of the chains that vanished into the floor. "It doesn't have to be like-"

"Like what?" Gerard snapped. He turned back to face Frank. "Even if I told you anything, I'd still be in a cell, never allowed to go home. What are you offering me, a slower death? Would sell out your friends for some little?"

Frank's breath caught. Of course Gerard was right. All Frank had to offer was empty promises. The force couldn't afford to ever let such a player to the rebellion go free. He would just be left alone to rot once the interrogations were done.

"I won't betray my people." Gerard said, firmly.

Frank nodded. Gerard-the prisoner was loyal. He had strong values. That was admirable. However, interrogation tactics from years of training provided ways to break that. Frank could practically hear his father's voice bragging of all the ways to break someone down.

He moved forward in the cell. He knelt in front of Gerard. "Then I guess I'll be visiting you quite often until you will." With his last word, he slid the syringe out of his sleeve and swiftly landed it in Gerard's neck.

The prisoner hissed, immediately tensing from the injection. Pain spread over his features before his head dropped. His shoulders slumped as Frank pulled the syringe away.

"Care to join the game?" Frank asked, trying to use a hard voice to hide the guilt he really felt.

Gerard was silent. The only sound in the room came from his more labored breathing.

"Same time tomorrow then?" Frank asked, rising to his feet. His hands shook ash stepped back, thankfully concealed by shadow. There was a wrenching in his gut as he looked down at Gerard.

The prisoner.

Leader of the rebels.

A soldier, just like him.