Scene: Werewolf Interrogation (from Book 2)
The Spaceman approached the table, very reluctantly.
The werewolf’s eyes tracked him. All its muscles were tensed, ready. The ship’s AI noticed this and tightened the restraints further, steel straps digging into the creature’s skin. Its lip peeled back in a snarl.
The Spaceman lifted the device the Squidbassador had provided. It looked to Cal, for all the world, like a fucking muzzle.
Oh, this is going to go great, he thought.
Then the Spaceman—with shaking hands—tried to put a muzzle on a seven-foot-tall werewolf.
The creature jerked hard against its restraints.
It wasn’t possible for a flesh-and-blood creature to break those steel restraints. Cal knew that. It was absolutely not possible.
For a second, he thought it was going to happen—and he got real fucking scared.
It was one of the few times in his life Cal took a step backward without making the decision to do so.
The noises the creature made sounded like Junkrat. If the rottweiler was seven feet tall and ready to die right here and now.
The Spaceman had flown backward across the room so hard he was now sprawled on his ass and gasping for air.
The Admiral and XO had also taken a step back. Cal wondered if they’d decided to do that or not.
“Everyone freeze,” Cal said, with a calmness that surprised even himself. “Let me do this. No one move.” He wasn’t certain he could be heard over the enraged monster now bleeding all over its restraints.
Cal stepped forward to the table and, in a loud and clear voice—but with an utterly calm, aggression-free tone—said, “Stop. I will not hurt you. I will not let them hurt you while I am in the room. Stop now.”
The creature’s eyes snapped toward Cal with utter hatred—but it stopped. It snarled, low and steady, like it was reciting a speech to itself.
Cal nodded to the beast—no. He made himself stop doing that. Cal nodded to the Alien Man and turned slowly toward the device now lying at the Spaceman’s feet. Retrieving it, Cal slowly turned toward the Aggressor but didn’t approach the table.
He raised the device to his own face, paused, and turned to the Admiral. “Is this thing going to hurt me if I put it on?”
The Admiral shrugged helplessly. “Squid sent it. Called it a translation solution. No idea, Cal.”
Cal sighed and looked at the Aggressor again—its eyes hadn’t moved off him. Its whole body was tensed, blood pooled beneath the restraints.
Cal made an—as best he could—respectful imitation of the low growling sounds the Aggressor seemed to use to communicate.
It wasn’t a bad impression, the Admiral noted.
Cal then placed the device over his own face, careful not to flinch, and spoke in normal human tones. “Hello. My name is Cal.”
He repeated the entire sequence, then lowered the device and locked eyes with the Aggressor.
Very slowly—very fucking slowly—he approached the table and set the device on it. Then stepped away.
The ship’s AI, which saw and heard everything aboard itself at all times—except inside the final doors of The Box, which it resented with a quiet fury—understood Cal’s intent. It waited for him to step back but didn’t wait for an order before loosening the restraint on the creature’s dominant hand just enough to let it reach the device.
It also warned the guards it was doing this, and told them to take aim with slow, gentle movements.
They followed its orders after a nod from the XO, who—along with the Admiral and Cal—had also been looped in.
The creature hesitated so long Cal almost wasn’t sure it understood, but at last it moved. Slowly, it picked up the device and eyed it from every possible angle for long, thoughtful moments.
Cal could feel the tension in the room pushing past human patience. He suspected the creature was testing them. He decided to say so.
“I think he’s reasserting what little control he has. Making us wait. Don’t give in.”
No one did. No one would have. But Cal was used to talking to little girls and ranch hands—not top brass and their hand-selected special forces escort.
They forgave him—as men with true confidence do.
Finally, the creature bent to their will. Painfully slowly, it placed the device over its muzzle and growled into it—a wet, snarling noise.
The translator spoke for him. The voice it chose was AI-modulated to match the user: deep, dangerous, and filled with an undercurrent of rage.
“Can you understand me now, tiny apes?”
—
No one moved. No one spoke.
It’s entirely possible no human in that room took a breath for five full seconds.
The Werewolf snarled into his translator. “This room reeks of fear. I can barely think for it. Did one of you piss yourself?”
Cal cut his eyes to the XO, who glared at him hard in return. Cal broke eye contact, vaguely apologetic, as the Spaceman—still struggling to get up off the floor—muttered in the general direction of the Werewolf, without actually looking at him, “Scrape brown.”
Then he turned to the Admiral with half a salute and a small stain on his pants. “Permission to get the fuck out of here.”
The Admiral couldn’t help the chuckle in his voice. He did try to hide it. “Dismissed.”
—
The interrogation began slowly.
***
Author's Edit of book 1 is here for free forever:
https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/106849/hollows-landing
Professionally edited version is WIP.
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