Nerys looked at the unconscious form lying next to her on the floor, a worried cast to her eyes. The burns from the forcefield were severe, she knew; the blisters that had formed only seconds after he had been thrown back from the forcefield attested to that. The pallor of his skin gave her more to worry about than the simple burns, however. She was afraid he might be in the throes of plasma shock. If that were the case, and he couldn’t get medical attention soon…
But there was no use worrying about that now. All she could do now was to make him as comfortable as possible and hope that the Cardassians would send a competent physician to tend to him. But then she wondered, even if they did send one of their medical staff, would she be able to trust them? She had lost a great deal of her natural inclination to take people at their word in the last few hours. The fact that Odo had captured her and her husband had hurt more than she thought should have been possible…but then, there had been something strange about him from the beginning. Some kind of connection between the two of them that she really couldn’t understand, but believed in just the same…and she had thought Odo had too.
Apparently it had all been a sham. Odo hadn’t felt any affinity with her, he had only been playing a part to make their abduction more easily accomplished. She didn’t know what he wanted with them, as he obviously worked for the Cardassians and Bajor had never had any quarrel with the Cardassian Empire…at least, not until now.
Bareil shifted positions, and her attention was diverted from her thoughts for a moment as she turned to make certain he hadn’t caused any of his wounds any more damage. Satisfied that he was all right, she drew her knees up to her chest and stared out the illuminated portal in front of her. There were no guards present, from what she could see, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. It really didn’t make any difference anyway. There was no way she could carry Bareil out of here, even if she succeeded in breaking out of the tiny cell. The thought of leaving him never even crossed her mind.
As she mused, her thoughts drifted once more to Odo. How could he have betrayed her like this? She had given him her trust…what did he plan to do with them now?
A noise outside the cell caught her attention, and she glanced up to see what it was. The Cardassian she had seen earlier with Odo was standing there, as well as a deceivingly delicate-appearing Cardassian woman.
“What do you want?” she asked bluntly, not caring who these people were, knowing only that they were her enemies.
“Nothing, Mrs. Bareil,” the short Cardassian officer said (did she hear a stress on her name? No, that wasn’t logical) while turning off the forcefield. “We’d just like for you to answer a few questions for us.”
“Forget it.” Nerys turned away. The image of herself launching her body through the unsealed door onto the Cardassian bloomed like some evil flower in her mind, the ferocity of it scaring her more than a little.
“We don’t intend to give you a choice, madam.” Her head whipped around so she could glare at him, but the smile on his face never wilted. “You’re going to have to cooperate…whether you like it or not.”
Quite suddenly she saw there was a phaser pointed directly at her temple, and steeled herself-this was only the second time in her life that had happened, but even based on her limited experience she knew she would never be able to become fond of the sensation.
“All right, all right, there’s no need to become violent.” She stood and faced her captor without fear. “I’ll go with you — but don’t think that means you’ll get anything out of me easily.”
“We weren’t expecting it, madam.” The Cardassian smiled, bowing a little, mocking her. “I’m Garak, your interrogator.”
“Whatever.” She stepped out of the cell, casting one quick look at her unconscious husband. “I’m ready.”
“Excellent.” Garak waved a hand towards Bareil. “Trieka, would you have the Kai brought to the interrogation lounge as well?”
“No!” Nerys objected emphatically. “He’s hurt. He won’t be able to answer any questions you’d have.”
“On the contrary, Mrs. Bareil. Subjects in his condition often are the best subjects we interrogate.”
Something about the way he had said subjects and interrogate made her very uneasy, and she suddenly had a fairly vivid idea of what Cardassian interrogating was going to entail. In Bareil’s condition, it might kill him.
But in hers, it could do as much damage…though not to her, but to the unborn baby that slept in peaceful slumber beneath her heart. Her mother’s instinct howled in horror at the thought that her child might be harmed, and though it pained her more than she could ever possibly say, she turned her head away and dropped it, staring in a strange sort of shame at the floor.
Garak seemed to consider her silence permission of some sort, and gave a silent nod to his associate to carry out his orders.
“Shall we go, madam?” he asked, his eyes glittering in a horrible sort of anticipation.
She followed him out silently, her mind resolved to keep her secret no matter what the cost. If the Cardassians knew she was pregnant, it would give them enormous power over her…she must not let that happen.
Even if it meant Bareil might be tortured to death.
(-|-)
He was alone in his quarters. Nothing but silence surrounded him and for a moment he remembered.
She had been lying there, silent, still, serene. Her eyes closed, Nerys had lain there before him, motionless.
He had damned himself, damned the Prophets, damned everyone for letting this happen to her. Nobody could have answered him why she had been the one to be the object of this incurable disease. And then he cursed himself again for not protecting her, for not saving her, for not being there for her.
The small viewscreen in the room flickered to life.
“Ah, Odoital. I trust you are enjoying yourself.”
Odo turned slowly, for the screaming in the background threatened to drown out Garak’s words.
“Pity you aren’t here. I’m sure you enjoy a good interrogation as much as the next person.”
Garak stepped aside almost absent-mindedly, as if to tend to something else.
Odo drew a sharp intake of air as the writhing form of the Kai was revealed before him. He had known Cardassian torture in those of his universe, but here, where they seemed even more bitter, even more brutal…And Bareil’s tortured form reflected that.
“Well,” said Garak, stepping back into view completely, “I must be getting back to my questioning.” And the link was cut.
But not before Odo caught Nerys’ eyes in the background.
She was sitting near her husband, her face impassive. She had turned to the screen when she knew the conversation was about to end. And Odo saw in her eyes a sorrow, a fierce anger, and a last hope for help, a hope that was diminishing readily before Odo’s eyes.
Those eyes burned into his souls and he remembered another pair of eyes that had stared at him in much the same way.
He bade the memory keep its distance for now as he headed out the door. He wasn’t going to let there be even the slightest possibility for regret this time.
Garak was a fool for underestimating him. The simple forcefield and two guards were easy enough to evade. Now, if only to find the interrogation room. This time Nerys wasn’t going to have that hope in her die. Not this time.
(-|-)
The scent of blood hung heavily in the air. That, and the screams emanating from Bareil’s throat, no longer held back, no longer stifled. He had tried, for an hour or so, not to scream, not for the Cardassians. But more importantly, for his wife.
He knew the burden she carried in her mind, the result of the bundle she carried inside of her. He would not add guilt or any second thoughts to that. So he endured the pain, the mind-searing, agonizing pain.
He drew within himself, trying to shut off his outside senses. In desperation he turned to his thoughts, allowing his vocal cords to release the fire burning through his body.
But he found no comfort there. Instead of calming, soothing images he had learned to meditate on during his training to become a Vedek, clashing, disharmonious pictures racked his thoughts. The tumult of his mind was something he was not accustomed to. He had never been in a situation where he could not control his thoughts, had never been in such mental agony… and somehow that hurt worse than any torture the Cardassians could devise.
Suddenly, the fiery spear of pain in his chest was gone, and his body collapsed from its tensed state, landing with a thud on the metal table. Every nerve in his body felt numb, and for the first time he realized the forcefield burns on his left arm had broken open and were slowly dripping half clotted blood. He hadn’t felt that pain. The torture techniques of the Cardassians were much more sophisticated than that- their instruments left no marks, no permanent damage.
There was a soft sound beside him and it took his poor, confused mind a few moments to realize what it was. Nerys, he tried to say, but his throat, raw from the endless screaming, wouldn’t allow the sound to come out. So he simply looked at her, her eyes red from crying, and her face pale and frightened, trying to convey some sense of comfort to her with his eyes. He wished he could take on her pain as well as his own, even though his was killing him.
What had they done to deserve this? Bajor was a peaceful world, a religious sanctuary to all who needed it. They hadn’t even been involved in a war for over three centuries! Bareil wished he knew what they wanted him to tell them–but they hadn’t even asked any questions yet.
Already shallow, his breath quickened as he thought of who had done this to them. Hatred was not an emotion he had been taught to feel, and he had always thought it to be a useless, destructive emotion, but there was no doubt in his mind that the molten rage boiling up inside of him was caused by pure, unbridled hatred. What could he hope to gain by their pain– this Odo Ital? He was obviously more than what he had at first appeared to be.
He could feel the electrodes building up for another session. He looked at the blood leisurely tracing a path down the already scarred tissue of his arm.
Finally they were asking him questions. He looked at his wife once more before his impulses took over, once more before the debilitating pain shot through him again. He would not answer any of their questions, relevant or not. He could not allow them a reference point by which they could gauge his reactions.
The energy continued to build until finally Bareil could hear the screaming in his head and the shaking and shrieking of his tattered body.
(-|-)
But Bareil wasn’t the only one shaking. The entire ship was. Garak was on the bridge in an instant, leaving the nearby interrogation room.
The viewscreen, mottled with smoke, displayed five Jem’Hadar warships, all circling the Cardassian ship like vultures surrounding a dead body.
“Jem’Hadar closing for another round…closing fast on Terek Nor.”
“Drop to impulse.” Garak ordered.
“Commander?”
“Drop to impulse,” he said again, emphasizing every word.
“Aye, sir.”
The ship dropped out of warp, the streaks of colorful light pounding into normal space to reform the ship.
“Hail Terek Nor.”
“Channel open, sir.”
“This is sub-commander Garak of the Cardassian Empire. I suggest you call off your welcoming committee. I really don’t think your leader, Odoital, would appreciate being fired upon.”
“What do you mean?” came the response over the commlink.
“I have your leader aboard. I suggest you hold your fire, if you wish him to remain alive.”
There was silence. Then Garak backed away from the screen . He knew what scene would fill it when he heard the impossibly familiar voice.
“Garak, Garak. You’ve made another mistake, my dear friend,” Odoital said smugly from the screen. “Only this time, I suspect it is your last.”
The image of Odoital in the familiar command center-Garak’s command center-of Terek Nor dropped away as quickly as it appeared. Garak swore vehemently. If that was the Dominion leader, then who did he have captured?
“Bring me the shapeshifter!” he barked to a nearby guard, who never had the opportunity to comply because the ship rocked again, and the unassuming guard was thrown to the floor. The welcoming committee was back.
“The station has locked on a tractor beam,” some said from far away.
Garak smashed his fist into the arm of his command chair, never noticing that it sliced the side of his hand wide open. Whoever was responsible for this was going to pay…dearly.
(-|-)
“What are you going to do now, Garak?” Odo asked the air as the ship rocked. It was a simple Cardassian ship and he knew the basic layout. Even in two universes, they still held the same sense of style and architecture. Two more decks, if the ship didn’t decide to blow apart, were below him.
He heard the hum of a transporter and through the din, he could make out five Jem’Hadar soldiers. He melded himself into the bulkhead quietly. He couldn’t attract any attention to himself. Garak was obviously in a lot of trouble.
He heard/sensed numerous phaser shots and cries of surprise as the Jem’Hadar started their methodical takeover of the ship. The struggles continued until a only a few muffled orders were heard. Odo slid into a crack in the wall, ignoring– with some difficulty– the massacre of the Cardassian crew. He didn’t have time for sympathy. He had to get to the bridge and find out what was going on.
(-|-)
Odoital sat back in his chair. Garak was a fool. It was only natural he would have made another mistake.
“Tsk tsk,” he said, shaking his head. “Make sure Mr. Garak is placed in the brig. And place the Kai and his wife in our special accommodations.”
“Aye, sir…team four reports that the ship is secured…Mr. Garak and the Kai and his wife have been transported aboard the station.”
“Very good. Have the rest of the crew thrown into the Repository.”
The slender Jem’Hadar woman at communications nodded curtly. “Aye, sir.” A communique came up on her board. “Sir, Jirat Abaki reports that there will be roughly 380 bodies to send there.”
“Mmmm. As excellent as the accomadations are here, I don’t think we have room for so many. Just tell him to stick them somewhere in the habitat ring. We’ll deal with them later.”
“Aye, sir.”
Well, well, Garak. Should I send you to join your crew now or later? Odoital smiled, a cruel look on his vaguely Cardassian features. I don’ t want to rush things…I guess I’ll just have to wait and see what I am in the mood for.
The Changeling’s form reformed into the Cardassian equivalent of an albatross. He often assumed this shape, allowing for a hard fear to be instilled in his followers. A half-meter long beak sharp as razors, two talons with six claws each, and (a rarity for a bird, even on Cardassia) one-inch long teeth. He had once seen one of these birds rip a Vulcan sehlat in two with no more effort than that which he had needed to capture Garak. Underestimating a creature was always a fatal mistake.
Now, Odoital hovered above his crew.
“Make sure the Jem’Hadar dock that ship in working condition. It should serve well in my plan.” And with that, he flew off into one of the lift shafts.
(-|-)
He could hear a mild strain on the ship’s structure, not characteristic of the normal strain the ship felt while at impulse. As he listened intently, he could hear a soft hum.
A tractor beam, thought Odo. He had heard that on a few of his undercover missions. He continued to creep along, closer and closer to the bridge.
(-|-)
It was empty when he arrived. He seeped through the grate, and quickly reformed himself. He looked around at the bridge. The entire bridge crew must have left to find some alternative to involuntary slaughter. The ship was still moving under the power of the station’s beam, and Odo searched over every panel to find out just what was going on.
He heard a noise: the lift reaching the bridge. His smooth face gave way to ridges and Cardassian contours. If he could just stay here until the ship was docked…
He heard the Jem’Hadar soldiers talking. But their words were swept away by the wave of dissociation created by a transporter, taking him…
(-|-)