Grax'ai, Prime of Information, was losing her patience. She had spent the last three decacycles personally overseeing the interrogation and information extraction from the An-Two that was responsible for the rogue prototype. Grax’ai had never bothered to learn the An’s name. After all, he was An, and a mere Ixtwo. She, on the other hand, was an Ixthree, soon to be elevated to the glory of Ixfour. The way Grax’ai saw it, the An-Two didn’t deserve the honor of a name, especially after his failure resulted in the loss of the datashard.

The datashard contained the latest experimental data from one of Grax’ai’s late counterparts in the Ixthree: Orrils, Prime of Science. Orrils was working on a new means to eradicate the human vermin without spoiling the rest of the planet in the process. However, an unforeseen systems failure caused her orbital laboratory to pitch towards Earth and burn up in the atmosphere before the data could be transmitted. Nearly all hands in the laboratory were lost in their attempts to stay behind and save their life’s work, including Orrils. Anyone else might have written the incident off as bad timing or the result or improper maintenance, doubly so when the recovered black box from the facility confirmed that a faulty control system was to blame. But not Grax’ai.

Grax’ai was of the opinion that there was no such thing as “bad fortune” or happenstance. Everything happened for a reason. Every action resulted in a reaction, every push followed by a pull. Someone had deliberately sabotaged Orrils’ lab, and Grax’ai was going to find out who was responsible by any means necessary.

Which brought Grax’ai back to the An-Two. His team had overseen the construction, maintenance, and launch of the prototype that was originally tasked with retrieving the datashard - A simple “milk run” as the humans called it. And yet during this “milk run” the prototype went down in the same weather system it was supposed to be using for cover. It was assumed that the craft had been destroyed, as no trace of the prototype could be found. At least, not until it showed up at the datashard site under human control.

Grax’ai turned the knob of the agonizer up another three clicks as she paced around the An-Two. His suspended form in the translucent cylinder writhed as the agonizer glowed crimson and stimulated his pain center directly, moving from nerve cluster to nerve cluster to prevent desensitization. Yet instead of yelling, screaming, moaning, or giving Grax’ai the satisfaction of knowing her methods were getting to him, the An-Two merely glared at her in silence despite his eyes trying to bulge out of his skull and his head tentacles spasming wildly.

“You’re currently on setting seven,” Grax’ai said as she stopped in front of him. “No An has ever survived past setting nine. I’m told that what you’re feeling now is but a pinprick compared to what setting nine is like. At least for you An, anyways. We Fan do have to keep you in control somehow, and pain is an excellent motivator.”

No reply. Grax’ai sighed and clicked the agonizer one setting higher. Finally the delightful sounds of grunting met her ear as the An-Two was pushed into pain beyond his ability to endure. And yet his scornful eyes never left Grax’ai. Loathe as she was to admit it (even in the safety of her own skull), the An-Two could teach some of Grax’ai’s agents a thing or two about resisting torture.

“This is your final chance. Tell me what faction you’re working for and who assisted you in sabotaging the prototype,” Grax’ai asked, stepping forward from the darkness. The only light in the octagonal room came from the agonizer in the center and a single spotlight high overhead focused such that one could move in and out of shadow at will.

“I… work alone…” managed the An-Two. “I remain… loyal to… the Supreme… Queen…”

“You would speak of loyalty?” said Grax’ai as she sent a mental command to the drones waiting in the wings. Three of them dragged out the deceased forms of the An-Two’s former co-workers, all An. “These three each singled you out as being the source for the abnormal orders to reconfigure the prototype’s EML. For all the talk of ‘An sticking together’, you fall over yourselves at the slightest chance of getting ahead. Though I will admit you are doing wonders to dispel that notion.”

The An-Two studied the dead best he could while grimacing and struggling against the pain of the agonizer. “They… were good engineers… they didn’t… need to die…”

“But they did!” replied Grax’ai as she resumed her pacing around the agonizer. “They lost the privilege to live the moment they failed to verify the abnormal order. The fake Ixthree approval seal you gave them was laughable. Anyone would have seen past your shoddy work with even the slightest bit of study. And yet these three blindly trusted in you instead of doing their duty.”

To Grax’ai’s surprise, the An-Two managed to laugh - A stunted, hissing chuckle that sounded more like a deflating swim-bladder, but a chuckle all the same. “You… speak of duty… as if you are… a… shining example… No Prime… of Information… has ever lived more than… ten megacycles… I wonder… how long you have…”

“Unlike my predecessors, I take my job rather seriously. And unfortunately for you, that means our conversation is at an end. You may be resistant to my methods in life, but I assure you that I will find the answers I seek when I comb through your memory engrams in the post-mortem. Would you care for any last words?”

The An-Two closed his eyes, then growled as Grax’ai turned the agonizer up, “Long… Live… Supreme… Queen… Rilmal—”

All at once the An-Two felt silent. His body went slack as his eyes rolled up into the back of his head. Grax’ai confirmed his passing before she turned off the agonizer and had the drones take him to the Chief of Death, Aqnaen. While she had claimed that extracting the An-Two’s memory engrams would be trivial, Grax’ai did not much care for Aqnaen and the political dance she would have to endure to interact with them.

Worst of all, Grax’ai might have to owe Aqnaen a favor.