Dirty Jobs: Bait

Posted on Mon Apr 26th, 2021 @ 8:12pm by Captain Hov'qIj Lon'HocH'tul

Mission: Heroes of the Hov'hurgh
Location: Security Cell I.K.S. Hov'HurgH
Timeline: 2409

The Romulan was sitting in her cell, her body covered only by a thin layer of dull, fibrous material. It was a far cry better than the nudity that she had found herself displaying upon being beamed directly into the sterile, ten by ten foot cell and she had spent a good deal of time wondering just how they had managed to pull that off. Had her clothing simply dropped where she had been standing?

She had searched every inch of her smooth walled prison and had not found a single panel that could be pried from its place. The dim red lighting was recessed into the ceiling and covered in what appeared to be transparent aluminum. Even the small sink and toilet appeared to have been cast as one with the rest of the room to avoid the possibility of anyone prying small parts off. It was as if they had built a cell, then sheathed it in a single piece of metal, and the drain in the middle of the floor was a bit disconcerting.

There were no cushions on the solid bunk and a small ledge that served as a table had an immovable, slightly smaller ledge a bit below it to use as seating, and only a thin cover of the same cloth that made up the flimsy prison uniform was offered. As she had not needed the cover because of the heat in the room, and could not figure out a way to transform the material into a fitting weapon against Klingons that were encased in full body armor, it was folded up at the head the uncomfortable bed. No one had spoken a word to her since her capture and her food was even beamed onto the table without anyone bringing down the shielding.

Opening the large black leather clad briefcase on the security chief’s desk gained Hov’ Qij some looks. First that something so alien was one a Klingon ship and also from raw morbid curiosity for what was planned for the ships guest.

The First question from the white haired Klingon that came over the intercom might seem to some like madness. “Do you understand the words that are being spoken to you?” With a universal translator of course she could. I was a test nothing else. Ment to dehumanize the subject.

“luq,” was the answer that was returned, an affirmative given in the same language that was spoken to her before T’sura gave a bit of a snort, “I have worked with Klingons long enough to know how to speak to them in their own tongue.”

“Next question?” the Romulan officer asked, her voice dripping with boredom and no small amount of condescension.

Ignoring her question like hearing a dog yip at a piece of meat that had not been offered, Hov’qIj simply moved onto his next step. Having a silver chair transported into the room as faint classical music began to play. “Please take a seat. Failure to comply will result in pain.” The ‘please’ was in Romulan.

After taking a short, dubious look at the metallic chair, an incredulous laugh escaped the Romulan prisoner, “You have got to be joking. I am a servant of the New Romulan Republic and the Klingon Empire! How dare you hold me hostage and treat me in such a manner. It is a direct violation of the treaty that our people have with yours! I demand representation!”

The answer came as swiftly as her reply, but it was not in words. The oxygen levels in the room dropped suddenly to almost survivable levels. This was meant to create the burning lung effect like being trapped in space or drowning. The white haired Klingon simply repeated his previous command, “Please take a seat. Failure to comply will result in pain.”

Her Tal Shiar training served her well. Not only did she not pass out the instant the pressure changed in room, she had the foresight to take a deep breath. These Klingon filth would not take her secrets easily or willingly. As the pain began to build up in her chest, the Commander focused her mind as she had in spacewalk training. Now, just as back then, failure was not an option.

Although in the end the struggle was futile as the darkness and screaming in her ears came to a point. Hov’qIj's monitors took note of the fact that unconsciousness had been reach. Waiting only slightly longer given the Romulan’s Vulcan-like physique.

From the darkness came a glaring light that seemed to shoot directly to the central nervous system. The voice echoed in her ears, “Now I know you might be thinking of talking at this point, or perhaps not. To me it makes little difference. I get so few chances to enjoy perfecting my art-form.”

As her eyes came into focus T’sura could see a rather large Klingon standing before her. Instinctively she tried to lash out at him only to find her arms and legs restrained by the very same chair she had fought to avoid being in. The music slightly louder now continued at the same place as before.

Near the chair on the right the First Officer placed his briefcase on a small medical table. After opening it slowly with a slight squeaking noise he began placing some of the instruments of pain in a neat ordered line in beat with the music playing. At one of the more dramatic point in the sonnet Hov’Qij hummed along with the music as he shook a small bottle with a bug inside as if to see that it was still fresh.

Lastly he held up a large bore IV needle something many races might not recognize without medical training. “The body can go without many things, for extensive periods of time. That said there are three things it just will not due without. The first of which you have already seen. Oxygen is something that with in moments under the right conditions can debilitate or kill.”

Tying a length of rubber tube around her arm and then slapping her forearm to make her veins stand out as he continued on. “Water is the subject of our next step. In this case the water in our blood you see.” After running his fingers along her arm the commander then pressed the needle into her like a bad phlebotomist fishing and not catching the mark. “It should be quite a sight to see just how much of that lovely green liquid you can lose and stay with us don’t you think?”

The statement drew a strange look from the Romulan woman and in spite of the situation that she was in, a small grin formed on her lips. T’sura couldn’t help herself; she kind of liked the twisted Klingon’s tactics, and she answered through the screaming in her head, “Why are you doing this? Torture is not typically the Klingon way, is it? Seems more fitting for one of the Obsidian Order. Or the Tal Shiar,” there was a glint in her eyes when she asked the next, “Would your honor driven captain really approve?”

The white haired Klingon shook his head and smiled before he moved onwards. It touched him that in some ways the Romulan had shown a level of bravery in the face of danger. “Oh no no, she has no idea of what i am doing here. She may have some idea, but like most of us she finds torture, even when necessary, to be deplorable.” Hov’qIj began to drip her green blood into an IV bag to be used for later. “Me I didn't spend much time on the home world and pick up certain hobbies and interests while abroad.”

At this point the First Officer began to place devices on her finger tips that resembled thimbles. “As a Romulan you might appreciate these.” He simply input some commands on his PADD and a grinding sensation began on one of her fingertips. The sensation pulsed and changed often make it harder for a subject to become accustomed to. “The beauty of these my dear is that they will just move up your fingers until there is nothing left. The nerves will remain largely intact. They can even be set to be paced with the music.” Which of course he demonstrated.

He patted her dark hair. “So let me guess go to the grave with those secrets and all. Would be the dogma they taught you. Don’t you worry your pretty head I will give you just the chance to test your resolve. You will likely feel the sting of the dead with out being freed by death itself. I have plans to keep you around maybe in stasis as my new practice subject.” The devices on her fingers felt like they began to grind well down past the fingertips as he spoke and now she was at least two pints low on blood.

T’sura daughter of the Tal Shiar knew her keepers would come for her. She was too important to be left at the tender mercies of this animal. Also when she made her escape her revenge would be like an on coming storm that would be felt through the galaxy. At least it would be if darkness did not overtake her again just before she spat more bile at her captor.

The light was very bright. Very white and somehow it seemed abnormally hard for her eyes to adjust. Maybe there was something wrong with her eyes. “Good morning,” came the abnormally calm pleasant Klingon voice. Even in that something was slightly different.