The low ceiling of the inner holding cell vibrated with a continuous, rhythmic tremor that shook the moisture from the exposed pipes above. Zyfa sat perfectly upright in the metallic restraint chair, her eyes adjusted to the flickering dimness of the subterranean insurgent base. The electrical tingling sensation in her forearm had subsided into a dull, throbbing ache as the external override module continued its slow crawl through her cybernetic firewalls. Across the small metal table, the masked insurgent interrogator remained entirely motionless, his dark visor reflecting the amber status indicators of the data terminal.
"Your defensive arrays are exceptionally stubborn, Captain," the interrogator remarked, his voice filtered through a low, mechanical rasp that filled the cramped room
