Segment: "The Big House"

<area: inside the Chi-Lin detention facilities, evening>

	The corridor was dark. Dark and stifling, like the hall 
in a movie theater. The little light there was came from a small 
(2 cm) strip of lighting in the ceiling every meter. Selvane 
could barely hear his footsteps, or the footsteps of the 2 guards 
securing him as he was lead through the tight hallway. His hands 
were bound behind his back, and his legs hurt like hell. 35 km of 
hiking and a street fight will do that to you. The corridor 
turned ahead, and opened into a large dark room, lit by a circle 
of lighting strip at the top of the domed ceiling. There were 2 
doors at the back. Both lead down a dark corridor. In the center 
was a black desk with 2 men standing at it. The desk was more of 
a box with lots of blinking lights and buttons. Selvane was 
hustled in front of the desk. The two officers were plump and 
looked rather jolly, except for the sidearms. There uniforms were 
the same as the gate officer's, except the orange highlights were 
replaced with blue.
	The soldier holding Selvane's right arm addressed the two, 
"Onad, me koob," one of the officers on the other side of the 
desk chuckled.
	"Estrada koo?" all four of the soldiers enjoyed a slight 
chuckle. Selvane got an annoyed look on his face. The desk 
officers shook their heads. One grabbed a small camera and took 
Vladiva's picture. He was turned to the side. Another picture. He 
was turned to face the desk, and bent over the side. The man on 
the left side of the desk garbed a small tube that look like a 
fiber optic wire and shined it into his eyes.
	*Retinal scan,* Selvane thought. Next, the other desk 
officer held something that looked like a microphone up to 
Selvane's lips. He pressed a button, and a speaker somewhere on 
the desk began to play a recording.
	"Bentna sta, zilla, sempta, kroth kan. Belta stor, dru, 
shraada, usk val. Kreptor gauss, nan sempher, vale......" it went 
on for several minutes, until finally it played, "State your 
name, place of origin, employment, and language..."
	{The following statements by Selvane are translated from 
Russian}
	"Selvane Vladiva, Earth, aircraft engineer, Russian," 
Selvane spoke into the microphone. The two rotund desk jockeys 
seemed satisfied, and waved Selv and his captors toward the door 
on the left, behind the desk.
	He was hustled down what seemed another endless dark 
corridor, until they reached a dark square room. Sitting at 
another boxy desk in the far right corner was another jolly 
looking blue uniformed officer. He stood, motioned to the border 
guards, and the shackles were removed. The desk officer removed 
Selvane's pack and set it off to the side. He was then pressed 
against a wall spread eagle and frisked. Most everything was 
removed from his person and placed in a carton with the pack. The 
guards produced the Gloc and knife, and placed those in the 
carton too. The desk officer carried the carton over to the far 
side of the room, near his desk. He pressed a button, and a large 
panel of wall slid up to reveal a black gray metal box. The 
carton was put into the box, and the panel slid back down. There 
was a whoosh sound, and then a slight whirr from the wall. The 
officer nodded to the guards, and Selvane was hustled back down 
the hallway.
	He was shoved back to the first room, and moved down the 
other corridor, which again seemed like an eternity. They reached 
what seemed to be dead end. "Chapps!" shouted one of the guards. 
A door slid down behind them, and a mechanical whirr enveloped the 
room.
	*Elevator,* Selvane guessed, even though he didn't feel 
the familiar pull of gravity associated with elevators. Soon, a 
panel on the opposite side of the small box opened up, and 
Selvane was again hustled down a dark corridor, same as all the 
others, except every 2.5 meters there was the outline of a door, 
and some characters on the wall in gray coloring of some sort. 
They reached some door or other, full of symbols Selvane didn't 
recognize, but assumed were his cell numbers. "Invat!" one of the 
guards called out, and the door slid up. The firm grip on his 
biceps was released, and Selvane was unsamarrily shoved into 
small (shock!) black cell. To the left was a cot, and the right a 
faucet and toilet of sorts were against the wall. All in black. 
There was a mirror above these. There was a single strip of 
illumination on the ceiling. The door slid down. Selvane looked 
around his surroundings.
	"I've been in worse prisons," he muttered, "In the old 
country, this would qualify as a cheap hotel room," he chuckled 
slightly to cure his own uneasiness. *Nexxus knows where I am. 
She has Aristalarus. Probably going through customs right now. 
Just have to wait for her to talk to her friend,* he tried to 
comfort himself. It was actually his first time out of the 
dimension. On Earth, you can always escape and get back home, 
some way, some how. But here? Maybe the team would decide to go 
after Katze, and have to list him as MIA? After all, he qualified 
as a foot soldier for this op. She was the councillor. All these 
doubts ran through Selvane's head, but to his credit, the ruddy 
man didn't show it, *No use thinking about it. Doesn't change the 
situation,* he shrugged, and laid down on the cot. About a foot 
of leg hung off the end. His last thought before dreaming of his 
home was characteristic, *Wish I had that Smihrnoff with me 
now...*

	A short time later (perhaps 20 minutes), Selvane was 
woken by a the hiss of the opening door. He awoke with a start. 
In the doorway was a tall man. There was a scar across his left 
cheek. His black eyes dared meet the Slav's dark jade gaze. The 
two locked their eyes in cold stares, penetrating, seeking. His 
uniform was blue, like the desk officers, but he was missing 
their jolly figure. His boots were polished to a perfect black, 
and every button sparkled. His face was grim and determined, and 
would not leave Selvane's stare. He was not human. The jaw came 
to a distinct point, and his eyebrow ridges were low, and came 
all the way up his forehead and met his short brown hair. He had 
no visible facial hair, aside from eyebrows. His posture was 
straight, emphasizing his well developed chest and soldiers. In 
his large left hand was a small datapad.
	Selvane stood, never letting up his gaze. The officer 
broke the silence. In Russian, "Selvane Vladiva?" Selvane nodded, 
"You are officially under arrest by Chi-Lin law enforcement for 
attempted illegal entry into the city, assault of an officer of 
the justice, evading arrest, reckless endangerment of the 
populace of Chi-Lin, reckless behavior among heavy vehicles, and 
possession of an unlicensed weapon within the city limits. Do 
you understand these charges?" again Selvane nodded. "You are not 
from this dimension?" he didn't wait for an answer, "What are you 
doing in this place, raising hell?"
	"I took a wrong turn," he answered curtly.
	The officer glanced at the datapad, "This says you are an 
engineer," Selvane nodded, "How does an engineer best one of our 
finest guards at hand-to-hand combat after racing through a wall 
of vehicles?" he squinted at the Ranger. No answer. "Why did you 
race through those vehicles? What was so important that you had 
to risk your life?" No answer. "Who were those three people you 
spoke to?"
	"If they were touched..." Selvane trailed off menacingly.
	"We are searching for them now," he continued, "Why are 
you really here, Mr. Vladiva?" Selvane remained resolute in his 
silence. The officer huffed in disapproval, "I can see I'm 
getting no where with an ingrate vigilante like yourself. You 
know, this isn't helping your case," he turned toward the door 
panel, "Invat!" the door slip back up. The officer turned over 
his shoulder, "You should be arraigned by mid-day tomorrow," he 
sneered as the door slid back down.
	*Nexxus better find her friend,* Selvane thought, 
slightly rattled. With the inquisitor gone, he went back to 
sleep. In his dreams, the unfortunate Vladiva dreamt of the labor 
camps he had seen in Siberia. The moans of the people slaving in 
the gulag filled his head.

The breath of the morning;
And I keep forgetting;
The smell of the warm summer air.
I live in a town;
Where no one smells a thing;
You watch your feet;
For cracks in the pavement.
	-radiohead, Subterranean Homesick Alien