Day 1 Post-Landing, Early Morning Victor stood in the observation room adjacent to the Victoria's primary interrogation facility, his fourth cup of coffee growing cold in his hands as he watched the scene unfold through the reinforced one-way display. The harsh glow of LED panels banished all shadow from the sterile chamber.The contrast was jarring. In one corner sat four men in rough-spun cloth and leather, their archaic projectile weapons confiscated and catalogued, their hands taken out of the zip-ties and put into proper handcuffs. They had the bearing of professional soldiers, despite their primitive equipment—alert eyes, disciplined posture, the kind of situational awareness that came from years of training or combat experience. Victor recognized the type; he'd recruited similar men from dozens of backwater worlds.The woman was different. Younger than the others, maybe early twenties at most, with maple hair spun in a rough bun and intelligent eyes that never stopped moving. Her clothes were better quality—wool dyed in rich blues and browns, with intricate embroidery along the sleeves. Most likely educated, then, Victor concluded. Possibly ruling class, though her hands showed calluses that suggested she wasn't afraid of manual work."Any progress?" he asked Major Childs, who stood beside him with a tablet full of notes and a frustrated expression."Nothing useful." The intelligence officer adjusted his glasses, sighing. "We've tried Standard Galactic, all the common Outer Rim derivatives of Arabic, Hindu and Mandarin, plus a few of the Heartland tongues. We’re down to old Terran languages, the kind you only find in Core Worlds. We’ve yet to ellicit a response from any of them.”Through the speakers, Victor could hear an interrogator attempting communication in what sounded like butchered Spanish. The prisoners listened politely, but their blank expressions (...)