Was The Uniform Worth It?

Posted on Tue May 31st, 2022 @ 5:47pm by Lieutenant Commander P’rel M.D & [DECEASED] Gil Silnan Tolbarr & Commander N'Garzi Zora & Lieutenant Commander Finnley Keating VII

Mission: Ares Ascending
Location: Rondac Planetary Installation
Timeline: During the orbital battle.
3013 words - 6 OF Standard Post Measure

Having despatched two Jem'Hadar guards, P'rel was now at least in possession of a decent blade which would enable her kill silently and allow her to move through the complex with less risk of drawing attention to herself. Crouching behind containers, and sliding into doorways as she moved through the complex she was fortunate that the tactical alert seemed to be at least keeping most of the Rondac personnel occupied at duty stations and not filling the corridors. Her tricorder told her she was getting closer to someone from Athena; there was a large concentration of Starfleet IDs at one end of the cavernous complex, and at the other a single ID with a Cardassian male in bad shape. She was too far away yet to determine who the ID belonged to, but it was a logical deduction that someone from Athena had been captured with Silnan and that they were being held together. There was just too much shielding in the structure's composition, and too much interference from massive power generators, to get clear readings just yet however. She was at least consoled the Lieutenant Keating had been acting in good faith, though she had gotten the layout of the rooms wrong, she wasn't to have known that Silnan had been taken from the station to the planet.

-------

The Cardassian smiled as the two guards moved forward once again, one with their weapon trained on the human female, the other holding the pain stick with the hand-less traitor by now despised with every fibre of his being, as well as the blonde engineer. Once again the force field was lowered and the Cardassian took great pleasure in watching the traitor whimper in the corner. He had no dignity, no shame; he truly wasn't a son of Cardassia.

The Breen soldier with the pain stick entered the cell first. Finn was in his way, he admitted a few loud noises from his helmet and went to zap her in the torso.

Finn doubled over as she was hit with the object, but then shifted right and threw her own elbow into the guard and swept her foot on the ground causing him to fall backward. The second managed to jam his rifle into her ribs, but Finn didn't fall. Instead, she latched onto the weapon and used every ounce of strength she could muster to shove him into their Cardassian interrogator.

For a moment, the guilt she had felt was replaced with a sense of accomplishment, having successfully bested both guards. But the feeling was fleeting as the first guard grasped her ankle from the ground and tugged, hard. Finn's face made contact with the metal grate below and before she could catch her breath and push up, the other Breen had clambered on top. His knee dug into her back and he shoved the rifle into her neck threateningly.

"Too much of a coward to take me yourself so you have these two fight for you eh?" Finn spat angrily from the ground.

"And you're too much of a coward to put your friend out of his misery," The Cardassian replied coldly. "My face will fill your nightmares until the day you die and your final thought will be: was the uniform worth it?" The Breen officer that was on top of Finn drove the device into her back and as she withered and thrashed in pain, the Cardassian pulled out that knife he loved so much. The blade easily sliced through Finn's index and middle fingers on her left hand as Torbarr continued to whimper in the corner of the cell.

She let out a cry of anguish as her fingers left her hand, now only connected by a stream of blood on the floor. No. No this can't be happening, Finn screamed internally as the tears now flowed freely from her eyes. Partly from the pain, but also from the thoughts of what was to come. Would they make it out of this hell hole alive? And if they did, could she still be an effective engineer with a disabled hand? The pain stick dug ever further into her back and Finn desperately tried to twist away from the agonizing pain, yet there was no escape.

-------

P'rel rounded a final corner before a long straight corridor opened up, the readings she was closing in on were down the far end and there was no cover between her corner, and the door she was trying to get to; the door she believed Silnan was being held behind. Various tactical messages sporadically filled the corridors, warning of launches taking place, incoming Starfleet vessels, and most pleasingly and finally; the destruction of the orbital facility. P'rel crouched around the corner, weighing her next move - now she was closer, her tricorder added a complication; at least two Breen guards and possibly a second Cardassian was in immediate proximity to the Starfleet officer and the wounded Cardassian. There was a great deal of power being channeled through the facility, and she presumed it must be surface to space weapons fire; the resolution on the scans was becoming increasingly problematic however.

-------

The Cardassian's face twisted into annoyance as his communicator went off. "Gil Ezar, we have a situation. We need back up."

"Very well," Ezar replied angrily, someone was going to pay for interrupting his interrogation. He secretly hoped it was Gul Krem, he had always hated the brass Cardassian and taking him down a few pegs would be the satisfying end to a fulfilling day. "Go, be quick!" He barked to the Breen.

Ezar pulled out his own phaser, made sure it was on stun, and shot the human, just in case she had any more ideas about using this as an opportunity to escape. He was taking no chances, not when he was so close.

-------

Before she could make a final decision, two Breen exited the doorway at the end and hurriedly made off for her position. Deepening her crouch, P'rel managed to squeeze out of sight as the pair took an earlier doorway before they would have got to her. This was going to be the best moment, the least risky tactical opportunity; a final scan showed the resolution hadn't improved, but the last she could deduce was that behind the door was a wounded Silnan, another Starfleet officer, and possibly a second Cardassian. Deciding it was now or never, the Vulcan made off at speed for the door sheathing the knife and extending the phaser rifle, shouldering the butt and preparing to fire once she was through the door...

-----

Ezar stood over the lip of the containment cell, admiring his handy work. The almost dead traitor and the semi-conscious human, who he guessed was ready to spill her guts about everything. The smell alone was torture, but after what she had witnessed and been involved in, he doubted she would ever sleep again, not that she would have to worry about that for much longer.

"No..." Silnan whispered mournfully, he struggled forward, stumbling awkwardly over his own damaged and missing limbs and slipping in Keating's fresh blood. He tried to place himself between Keating and the interrogator, clumsily clambering across Keating's legs to protect her limp body. "S, stop, please stop..." he stammered through burning breaths and bloody tears. With the guards gone, he might just have a chance to attack this cruel demon he thought, and as dismal as his chances were, if he were to die then would die trying to live. "You...will" a painful cough of fresh blood reverberated through him, "...will soon....die....f f for this...." he struggled to threaten.

"Don't embarrass yourself anymore than you have done so already," the Cardassian spat. He was almost insulted that this dog still had the strength and the will to stand up to him in such a way. He was a pawn, a tool to make the woman more agreeable, once they had the information they needed then the traitor's need would be no more. Ezar wouldn't kill him straight away though, some prisoners didn't deserve quick deaths and the traitor was one of them.

The Cardassian punched Tolbarr in the face hard enough that he heard a bone crack in the man's cheek. Tolbarr was nearly knocked back to the ground under the sheer force but the Cardassian caught him, ready to strike again.

"Please...!" Silnan cried, begging for it to stop, he had nothing of any value to offer the man and now that Keating was sprawled out on the floor, he couldn't even be used as incentive to make her talk either. "Please no more....no more...." he begged, desperate for it to end.

---

She took the final few steps, and landed against the wall on her strong, athletic left shoulder with the rifle pointing safely to the ground as per her tactical field training, though still butted into her shoulder ready to raise in a fraction of a second. Taking one final look around, she pivoted on a heel and the doors opened, the rifle raised, the muzzle finding it's target. P'rel's deadpan, hard eyes locked on the gloating Cardassian standing over Silnan's bloodied body, she traced a line of fresh blood to Lieutenant Keating's damaged hand, and assumed the cloners had somehow intercepted the transporter beam from the station. Her voice have no ambiguity as to her sincerity, it was slow and measured as her finger held over the firing stud - "back away now, or I will blow you open...". As she briefly calculated the odds, it was highly likely she was going to do just that anyway.

Gil Ezar whipped around, pulling Tolbarr with him, using the traitor as a shield. How typical it was that the Breen had failed in their one job of protecting him. He knew he should have used Cardassians only for this task, a mistake he may not live long enough to rectify. He recognised the woman from the Athena's files. Had he been a betting man he would have placed a high wager on her being the one to come to the rescue, but how he wished it had been Kane himself. "It appears we have a situation," the Cardassian said, in his cold voice.

Her finger closing around the firing stud just shy of depressing it, P'rel raised the rifle so she was looking straight down the sights. The overlay display wasn't allowing a perfect lock on the Cardassian, and she daren't fire on the current setting and risk hitting Silnan. She looked him up and down for a moment, and the most unbridled terrible rage she had ever felt filled her. Silnan, bloodied and broken, looked ready to die; one leg had a gaping though thankfully cauterised wound, his right wrist dripped thick blood in lieu of a hand, and every visible patch of skin seemingly had some kind of bruise, laceration or graze on it. A fresh cut to his cheek flowed fresh blood, and above was an eye so blackened and swollen she wondered if it were perhaps itself destroyed under all the visible damage. "You have a situation...." she replied, looking cold and soulless eyes dead on - no, she decided after a moment, not soulless; there was life there, passion even. The soul she was looking at was just in every way purely evil, and desperately cruel. "Keating!" she called, trying to rouse the Lieutenant, and noticing her own missing fingers. "Before we leave here today, I am going to kill you" she told the wicked man, as calmly as she could manage.

"It's very easy to kill when one believes their cause is righteous," the Cardassian replied, his voice unchanged as though he was talking about the price of Kanar. "But righteous Starfleet officers don't kill in cold blood; especially Vulcan Starfleet officers," he added in a confident tone.

Finn struggled to fully return to a conscious state, but she had caught enough of what was going on as she stepped back and forth between the realm of reality and darkness. She hadn't quite made out who had come to their rescue yet, but that didn't matter. Move! Finn screamed at her body from within her mind and she began to slowly drag herself along the floor towards Ezar. Once her good hand was within grasp, she reached out in a move similar to what the Breen had done before and tugged on his ankle with the only strength she had left. It wasn't much, but she hoped it was enough to give their rescuer the upper hand.

Having remained looked dead on into those terrible eyes, P'rel hadn't given away that in her peripheral vision a badly stunned and injured Keating had slowly inched her way to striking distance. Like an Andorian ice viper, the Lieutenant struck and coupled with the surprise, gave just enough of a pull to destabilise the man's balance. "DROP!" she yelled to Silnan, and in the moment decided it was still too risky to shoot - the Cardassian hadn't let go of Silnan after all and had only momentarily lost his firm footing. Throwing the rifle to the ground, the Vulcan woman mustered every sinew to launch herself forward at a sprint. Her arms outstretched, rage fuelled hands found the upper body of the cruel thing and with every muscle harnessing every iota of Vulcan strength she gripped his uniform and continued to launch the pair of them to the back of the cell. As he flew backwards, the evil Gil let go of Silnan who collapsed to the floor. A satisfying crack of the man's head on the wall, and the pair came to rapid and sudden stop, using his momentary dazing P'rel landed a swift punch upwards to the man's chin with her right fist, then her left, then both hands found his neck. Nose to nose, she closed her grip. "Tell me how we get off this planet or die here..." she threatened, with sufficient determination in her voice that would leave nobody misconceiving her sincerity. From behind her, P'rel was peripherally aware of both Silnan and Keating moving a little, she hoped they were getting ready to make as much of a run for it as either of them were able to. "TELL ME!" she repeated as his temporary dazing visibly lessened. She had decided already, that this man would die. Partly for the risk in leaving him alive, but mostly for what he had done to her undeserving ward; he had been battered beyond belief and mutilated, and this man was going to pay.

The Gil tried to laugh but all he managed was a mangled cough that rattled deep within his chest. He saw no way out of this, the Vulcan had him pinned and he could see the others scrambling for fallen weapons and last-ditch attempts at survival. His only chance now was to stall and hope that someone might come looking for him; anybody except Gul Krem, he would not be embarrassed like that, he would rather die here and now.

"You already told me you were going to kill me," the Cardassian said in a strained voice. "Helping you doesn't benefit me, so let's die here together."

Releasing her grip the merest fraction, P'rel lied; "So convince me to let you live..." she sneered through gritted teeth. She was uncertain whether her embracement of V'Tosh philosophy and harmonising emotion with logic was a help or hindrance at that moment; was her emotion getting the better of her, or was her suppression and control restraining her still from exacting a bloody revenge on the Gil without even trying to extort him for information...

Silnan looked on as his mentor pinned the man to the wall, he stumbled alongside Keating and shook her to rouse her further from the stun. They had best start to move, one way or the other they were going to have to get out of there in a hurry. As much of a hurry as his broken and pain riddled body would allow him anyway. A shrill alert sounded followed by a standard computer voice; "Evacuate. Evacuate. Orbital debris detected. Collisions detected. Evacuate. Evacuate."

Finn finally shook out of the haze that had held her as the alarms triggered a rush of adrenalin into her veins. She took in her surroundings and finally noticed who their rescuer was...Lieutenant P'Rel. If their interrogator hadn't killed them, surely the Vulcan would after she learned of what Finn had done to Tolbarr. Not that she didn't deserve whatever punishment was coming her way. She was a monster, after all, Finn thought as she surveyed Tolbarr's damaged body. At least he'll live now that we've gotten help. That much I'll make sure of.

Tightening her grip again, P'rel moved her mouth to the Cardassian's ear; "you're running out of time, tell me or I will leave you here to die in agony...." she whispered to him.

The Cardassian weighed his options; on one hand, the Starfleet officer may be desperate enough to let him live, sparing his life for a small bit of information. He had no doubt they would make him suffer a bit but would they be able to kill him before his forces arrived? On the other hand, P'rel's eyes, as cool and cold as she was trying to be, she had a killer look. Ezar had seen that look a thousand times before in his life, in fact, that was how he had stayed alive so long. She had no intention of keeping her promise and he would be a fool to think so.

In one swift motion, he drew his dagger from its sheath, twisted his arm, and drove the blade into P'rel's side as far as it would go. "As I said, helping you doesn't benefit me, so let's die here together!"