Verlin had spent the last week in this cell, with the help of ships inhabitants, he had managed to re-learn the majority of the Coratian language.
The room he was in was different from the ones he was first put in, that room had been designed to determine which environments his biology could tolerate best. And although he didnt like getting tested, the knowledge he got was certainly useful.
Apparently after adapting to using geothermal energy, his body no longer handled extreme cold temperatures with the same ease it once did. Anything below -190 Celsius would cause his body to shutdown. A limitation he hadn't known about until they'd tested it.
Now he was in a room about 4500 cubic meters with a temperature of roughly 70 degrees Celsius. A pool of lava and magma sat on the side serving as a source of energy for him and a light source.
"Verlin, your progress in learning the Coratian language has been quite adequate."
The voice came from the walls—speakers embedded throughout the chamber, creating that same omnidirectional effect. He'd grown accustomed to it over the past week.
Verlin lifted his gaze from the molten pool, the slow currents of magma illuminating the chamber in waves of orange light.
"And your observation skills remain impressive," Verlin replied in Coratian, his tone passive. "You stopped correcting my pronunciation a few days ago"
The voice followed up, "That is correct, your linguistic development has reached acceptable parameters."
After a short pause, the voice continued. " From now on, We will enter a period of questioning. We have acquired a base understanding of your biology through observation and analysis. Incompliance will result in punitive measures calibrated to your confirmed physiological vulnerabilities"
The temperature in the chamber dipped by a fraction of a degree.
A demonstration.
Verlin watched the magma bubble slowly before answering.
"I see," he said evenly. "Ask your questions,"
There was a brief pause.
Then the voice spoke again—and something changed.
It was still the same voice. The same harmonic undertones, the same mechanical precision in pronunciation. But something in the pattern shifted. The rhythm was different. Less automated. The pauses between words had subtle variations—hesitations, considerations—things that hadn't been there before.
Like someone had just taken control.
"What is your name?"
"You already know my name," Verlin replied
The voice repeated, "What is your name?"
Verlin frowned slightly.
"Verlin," he answered.
The voice continued.
"Species classification?"
"Kryptonian"
"How would you describe your relationship with the Coratians?"
"Enemies"
"Why were you searching through the Coratian remains?"
" I wanted to get off the planet"
"Are you the only living being on said planet?"
Verlin's head raised slightly. "I don't know. I was hoping you would have more information about that."
There was a pause. Longer this time.
"Our orbital surveillance detected no life signs beyond basic microbial activity," the voice said. "Atmospheric composition is toxic. Surface temperatures are extreme. Seismic instability continues. The planet is categorized as uninhabitable."
Verlin absorbed that information in silence.
No survivors.
He'd suspected as much. Known it, really. But hearing it confirmed—
Over a billion sentient beings. Dead, for no good reason, and it was all his fault.
"What a sin." Verlin whispered to himself.
The voice caught it. "Clarify that statement."
Verlin didn't respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on the magma pool.
"Nothing," he said finally.
A pause. Then the voice continued with a different question.
"The dominant species on that planet. Were they the same species as you? Kryptonian?"
Verlin's head snapped up.
"No," he said. "They were human. Completely different species."
" And these two species coexisted on the planet?"
"There was only one Kryptonian," Verlin said. "Me. The rest of the population was human."
"You were integrated into their society?"
"No."
"Did you have any conflict with the humans?"
"No."
"How did a Coratian mothership come about"
" The mothership was captured during an attempt invasion."
"An attempted invasion. As in, it ended in failure?"
" Correct."
"Did the humans posses the technological might to repel a Coratian invasion force?"
"No," Verlin said. "I did."
Verlin's response was followed by a pause.
"The damage sustained by the mothership, was that caused by you?"
"No. A god did"
Another silence followed, longer this time.
"And the damage sustained by the planet. Was that the so called 'god' as well?"
Verlin stayed silent.
For a moment the massive crater on the Western continent flashed in his mind. The six kilometer wall leading to the abyss he had carved into the world.
"Yes," he said.
This time no response came.
In another room, five individuals of different species sat around a circular table. The chamber was crystalline like the rest of the ship, but smaller, more intimate. Designed for deliberation.
Drayen sat at the head, his 2.5-meter crystalline form refracting the soft blue light from the ceiling. The bioluminescent veins within his body pulsed slowly—a sign of deep contemplation.
To his left sat Tactician Korvath, another Draeknith. Smaller than Drayen—perhaps 2.3 meters—with a darker crystalline structure that refracted light in sharper, more aggressive angles.
Across from Korvath sat Vorrn, a heavily armored species with thick chitinous plating and four eyes that could track multiple targets simultaneously.
Next to Vorrn sat Kellis, a Quellan covered in sleek black feathers that seemed to absorb the light around them, creating an almost void-like appearance. Large, intelligent eyes sat above a narrow, beak-like facial structure.
The fifth seat held Envoy Thessa from the Ulari delegation—tall, slender, with elongated features and skin that seemed to shimmer with an inner luminescence.
The interrogation had just concluded. Drayen had withdrawn from the communication link with Verlin's containment chamber moments ago.
Silence hung in the air.
Then Korvath spoke, his voice carrying the harmonic resonance characteristic of all Draeknith, but with sharper, more clipped tones. "We kill him."
All eyes turned to the tactician.
"Given his capabilites keeping him on this ship is already an unacceptable risk," Korvath continued, his internal light pulsing in staccato bursts. "We witnessed ground-level movement at Mach 8.5. He destroyed forty-two salvage units with minimal effort. And his words cannot be trusted."
Vorrn's four eyes narrowed. "Explain."
"He speaks of a 'god' destroying the mothership. A 'god' causing the planetary devastation." Korvath's light pulsed sharply. "The same religious propaganda the Coratians have been spreading in recent years. And our analysis detected deception in his final answer—the claim that this 'god' damaged the planet registered as a lie."
Drayen's light pulsed slowly. "Confirmed. Physiological stress indicators spiked during that response."
"So he's lying about his involvement in the planetary extinction," Korvath said. "Which means he's either responsible for it himself, or he knows more than he's saying. Either way, he's dangerous and dishonest. We eliminate the threat."
Thessa's luminescence brightened as she leaned forward. "I disagree."
The room's attention shifted to her.
"The risk of keeping him alive is worth the potential gain," Thessa said. "His physical capabilities are extraordinary. If we can study him—understand how his biology produces those results—we could replicate it. Create biological weapons with similar capabilities."
"Biological weapons," Vorrn repeated.
"Strategic assets," Thessa corrected. "Operatives who can move at those speeds. Withstand that level of damage. The Coratians are winning because of their technological superiority. This could be our answer."
"You can experiment on his corpse," Korvath said flatly.
Thessa's shimmer dimmed slightly. "Dead tissue won't show us active processes. We need to observe him alive. See how his systems function in real-time."
"While risking this entire ship," Korvath countered, his light flaring. "He's proven he can destroy our constructs. He's lying about his involvement in a planetary extinction event. And you want to keep him alive to run experiments?"
"I want to give the Coalition a fighting chance," Thessa said. "The war is not going in our favor. We need advantages wherever we can find them."
Drayen's light pulsed—a deliberate, commanding pattern. "Positions. Is anyone against termination?"
Thessa's luminescence brightened. "I am against it. The research value outweighs the risk."
Kellis's black feathers ruffled. "Whether he caused the extinction himself or is lying to protect someone else, an entire planet was killed. And he was involved. I agree with Korvath. Termination."
Vorrn's plating shifted. "Agreed. Too dangerous."
Drayen stood, his crystalline form chiming softly. "Four to one. The decision is termination."
He looked at Thessa. "You'll have access to the specimen for post-mortem study."
Thessa's luminescence dimmed but she agreed, "Understood."
Verlin's Containment Chamber
The temperature dropped rapidly.
Not the slow, deliberate decline from before. This was different—aggressive, intentional.
Five degrees in as many seconds.
Verlin felt it immediately. The heat differential between his body and the surrounding air increased sharply, steam rising from his skin in thicker plumes.
"Wait," he called out in Coratian, standing up. "What's happening?"
No response.
The temperature continued to plummet.
Ten degrees lower than it had been moments ago. Fifteen. Twenty.
"Stop," Verlin said, louder this time. "I'll answer more questions. Whatever you want to know—"
Silence.
Only the sound of the environmental systems working overtime, pumping cold air into the chamber.
Verlin's mind raced.
He could break out. The walls were crystalline, strong but not indestructible. He'd already proven he could destroy their constructs. The door wouldn't hold him if he really wanted to leave.
But then what?
Short term, he might escape the containment chamber. But long term? He was trapped on their ship. He didn't know the layout. Didn't know their capabilities. Didn't know how many more of those war machines they had waiting.
They had home court advantage.
And worse—they were in space.
If they decided to just vent the section he was in, eject him into the vacuum, he'd be dead. Or close enough to it that it wouldn't matter.
Verlin glanced at the pool of lava and magma on the side of the room—his primary heat source. But the ambient temperature was falling so fast that even standing next to it wouldn't be enough soon.
"Listen to me!" he shouted. "I can help you!"
Nothing.
The cold was starting to affect him now. Not painfully, but he was starting to feel it. The way his body was reacting, trying to compensate, drawing more energy from the heat around him to maintain function.
Verlin's thoughts shifted to what he'd observed when he first arrived on the ship. What they'd been doing. Why they were here.
The Coratian mothership.
They'd been salvaging it. Systematically stripping it for technology. The docking bay had been filled with Coratian components—weapons systems, power cores, communication arrays.
They were trying to understand Coratian technology.
Reverse-engineer it.
The temperature dropped again. Fifty degrees below where it had started.
Verlin's breath came out in visible clouds now, steam mixing with the air.
"I know how to build Coratian technology!" he shouted at the ceiling.
The temperature kept falling.
"I lived on that mothership when it was fully functional! I studied their systems! I know how they work!"
Still nothing.
Seventy degrees below baseline. The air around him was becoming hostile.
"I know their weaknesses!" Verlin's voice echoed off the crystalline walls.
Just as Verlin was about to lose hope and attempt an escape ,the temperature stabilized.
Not rising. Not falling. Just... holding steady.
Verlin stood in the center of the chamber, watching the environmental controls, waiting. Steam continued to billow from his body in the suddenly static cold.
Several seconds passed.
Then the voice returned.
"Elaborate."
Verlin exhaled, a long plume of steam rising from his mouth.
"The Coratian mothership," he said. " I have studied it in great detail. Learned how they operated. I know how their stealth technology works. Their propulsion systems. Their energy shield matrices."
Another pause.
"The propulsion systems. Explain how they function."
Verlin took a breath, organizing his thoughts.
"Spatial compression," he said. "The ships don't use conventional thrust. They manipulate space itself—compress it in front of the vessel, expand it behind. Creates a localized distortion field that allows the ship to move through folded space. That's how they achieve such high velocities without traditional propulsion."
Silence.
"Continue."
"The same technology enables their stealth capabilities," Verlin continued. "When the spatial compression field is active, it deflects electromagnetic radiation around the ship rather than absorbing or reflecting it. The vessel essentially hides within the spatial distortion, makes them nearly invisible across most detection frequencies."
Another long pause.
Then the voice said something unexpected: "Stand by."
Deliberation Chamber
Thessa's luminescence pulsed rapidly as she processed what she'd heard. She muted the link to Verlin's chamber and turned to the others.
"His explanation is... theoretically consistent with spatial manipulation principles," she said. "We've observed some of these effects in our engagements with Coratian vessels but lacked the context to understand them."
Korvath's flared. "You're accepting his claims based on theoretical consistency?"
"I'm saying his explanation aligns with observed Coratian capabilities," Thessa countered. "The impossible speeds. The way their ships seem to vanish from our sensors. The gravitational anomalies we've detected but couldn't explain. If what he's describing is accurate, if they're actually compressing space-time for propulsion—it would account for all of it."
Kellis's black feathers ruffled. "Or he's telling us what we want to hear. Fabricating explanations that sound plausible."
Drayen's light pulsed slowly. "Thessa. Can his claims be verified?"
Thessa's shimmer brightened. "Yes. We have salvaged Coratian components in the processing bay. If he can identify specific systems—describe their function in detail, explain how they operate—that would confirm genuine knowledge rather than fabrication."
Vorrn's four eyes fixed on her. "And if he fails?"
"Then we proceed with termination," Thessa said. "But if his knowledge is genuine, Commander, he could provide critical intelligence. Strategic vulnerabilities the Coratians have kept hidden for years. You know how hard it is to acquire Coratian tech, those maniacs rather self destruct that leave any loose ends."
Korvath's light pulsed sharply. "I maintain my position. He's too dangerous to keep alive regardless of what he claims to know."
Drayen stood, his crystalline form chiming softly. "Positions. Has anyone's stance changed based on this information?"
Thessa's luminescence remained bright. "I maintain my opposition to termination. His knowledge is too valuable."
Kellis's feathers settled into their dark state. "I agree with Korvath. Termination."
Vorrn's plating shifted slightly. "I'm... reconsidering. If he can provide actionable intelligence on Coratian weaknesses, that changes the equation."
Korvath's light flared. "Termination."
Drayen's internal light pulsed in a complex pattern, processing the positions. "Two for termination. One against. One reconsidering. The decision is not unanimous."
He looked directly at Thessa. "You'll have forty-eight hours to verify his claims. Provide him with salvaged Coratian components under maximum security protocols. If he demonstrates genuine knowledge—identifies systems we haven't been able to decipher, explains their function, suggests exploitable weaknesses—his status will be re-evaluated."
Drayen's gaze shifted to Korvath. "If verification fails, or if he attempts escape, termination proceeds immediately. No further deliberation."
Korvath's light pulsed once in sharp acknowledgment.
Thessa nodded. "Understood."
Drayen reactivated the communication link to Verlin's chamber.
Verlin's Containment Chamber
The voice—Drayen's voice—returned.
"Your claims are being evaluated," he said. "You will be provided an opportunity to demonstrate your knowledge of Coratian technology. You will be escorted to the salvage processing bay where you will identify systems and explain their function."
The temperature began to rise. Slowly but steadily, climbing back toward habitable levels.
"This is your only opportunity to prove your value to the Coalition," Drayen continued. "Failure to demonstrate genuine knowledge will result in immediate termination. Any attempt to escape will result in immediate termination. Any act of aggression will result in immediate termination. Do you understand?"
Verlin looked up at the ceiling, at the sensors watching his every movement.
"I understand," he said.
"Your escort will arrive shortly. Remain in position. Do not approach the door. Do not make any sudden movements."
The voice withdrew.
The temperature continued rising, the hostile cold gradually dissipating as warmth returned to the chamber.
(P.S Verlin will get back to normal in like 2 to 3 chapters)