| rdfs:comment | - "Colonel!" The shout comes from an ISB agent who normally keeps a pretty cool head on his shoulders. Colonel Desson crosses the ISB Command Center on HIMS Inquisitor, stopping just behind the agent's data terminal. "What is it?" "Sir." The agent pulls up a top-priority signal, flashing in bright red across the screen. "They've found him, at Selene." The agent points to the message with a hand. Colonel Desson leans in, reading the message intently, then blinks his eyes in surprise. "What the..." A moment later, the Colonel straightens, and reaches for his comlink. "Mercurio, report to the Command Center, immediately."
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| abstract | - "Colonel!" The shout comes from an ISB agent who normally keeps a pretty cool head on his shoulders. Colonel Desson crosses the ISB Command Center on HIMS Inquisitor, stopping just behind the agent's data terminal. "What is it?" "Sir." The agent pulls up a top-priority signal, flashing in bright red across the screen. "They've found him, at Selene." The agent points to the message with a hand. Colonel Desson leans in, reading the message intently, then blinks his eyes in surprise. "What the..." A moment later, the Colonel straightens, and reaches for his comlink. "Mercurio, report to the Command Center, immediately." A few minutes pass, and an apparently just-waking-up ISB Agent comes rushing into the ISB Command Center, panting as he fixes his gloves and his uniform. He straightens himself up, making sure his hair was flat before he gives the half-bow to the Colonel, then rises up once more, his arms folded behind his back. "You called for me, Colonel?" "We just received a level six transmission from Selene." Colonel Desson takes Dreven aside, where he can speak with him quietly. "A Naval Customs Inspection discovered a shipment of type-four sonic motivators, the type used to create artillery-scale sonic weapons." Artillery scale sonic weapons are, of course, completely illegal for non-licensed traders to carry. A smuggler. Colonel Desson's eyes grow cold, icy cold. "Naturally, the inspectors looked at every piece of cargo the trader was carrying, and they found a crate of carbonite hidden inside a cargo tube marked foodstuffs." He pauses for a moment, then turns aside to bring up the message from Selene. "The ISB Commissar on duty there claims that Director Fleming is frozen in the carbonite slab." The Agent raises his eyebrows, part confusion and part amazement at the same time. He leans over the message, and then exhales through his lips before he straightens himself upright. "Colonel, even if this is not true, I suggest that we take it at face value and investigate immediately." His face is calm and stoic, although his dull brown eyes finally show a hint of emotion, a desire to get hold of the Director ASAP. "I request permission to take one CompForce Assault Squad with me and board the vessel to investigate. I also request that I be assigned this squad for the duration of the investigation and further on until they are no longer required. We have no idea if the Director has been compromised, or not, and we are to assume, by regulation, that the Director has been compromised. Yes, Colonel?" Colonel Desson nods his head. "Approved." He looks toward the CompForce liaison nearby, and shouts out orders for the liaison to accommodate one Assault Squad for Dreven. "You're correct, Sergeant. Until we can ascertain his status, I am temporarily revoking his military powers pending a formal determination by the Select Committee. If it is him, bring him back here immediately." A firm half-bow from the Field Coordinator. He straightens himself upright and stands there for a few more moments before he takes a step back. "Understood, Colonel. All rights will be revoked and he will be informed of his status as a compromised Agent until the Select Committee can verify him. I will question the prisoner as to ascertain the situation." He turns as he swiftly moves out, waiting for the Assault Squad, then barks a few orders. He stops by the armory on the way, equipping himself with weaponry, his own personal choices. A suit of armor and an AA Shotgun for close combat. He didn't expect violence, but it was stupid to be unprepared.
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