A Mirror Shattered #95 "A walk down memory lane."

[On:] [Brig, U.S.S. Pegasus]

Sulan sat in the center of her cell with her legs folded in the lotus position,and her hands pressed palms together, resting lightly on her chest. No matter how she tried to fight it, the hours flowed together, each moment loosing it's meaning in the unchanging cell. The same white walls and flickering blue force-field. Occasionally, Miller would show up to brief her on the goings on within the ship and the planet's surface, but those were only once a day. Aside form that, and the regular meals, there was nothing to break the monotony of her situation.

So if she could not physically leave her cell then she would do the next best thing, and use her memories and thoughts to give her an intangible freedom. She sat, recalling memories with Vulcan clarity equal to that of a holoprojector.

She remembered Sigma Six...

The day had been long and hot, even by Vulcan standards. It was near twilight, and the desert world was still bright, with the sun only beginning to sink toward the dusty horizon. The inside of the recently captured Jem 'Hadar prison burned like an oven. It's small black walled rooms absorbed the heat and reflected it back, like a kiln. Worse, the various fluids that stained the walls and floors festered in the heat, smelling of rot, death, and filth. The Jem 'Hadar had used the prison as an interrogation area for captured prisoners. Most starfleet personnel gagged when entering the rooms. But not Sulan. She entered the room casually. Carrying a pair of obsolete bolt-cutters over her shoulder. She stared at the Vorta tied to the chair in the center of the room without expression, though she felt joy in her heart at the task she was about to perform. Indeed she'd been doing it for several hours. The blood staining her uniform proved that.

"I find it ironic, that the warden of this prison would find himself a guest in his own interrogation chambers. All of those federation prisoners you ordered tortured, and now, you yourself sit in the sane position as they did." Sulan said dryly.

"Ha." The vorta said sweating. "You seek to intimidate me with that device you carry, to try and get me to talk? It won't work. I'd rather die the betray the founders."

Sulan stood over him, holding the blood soaked bolt-cutters centimeters from his face. "Make no mistake Vorta. You ARE going to die today. But before you do, you're going to tell me what I want to know." She stares at his disbelieving face. "You doubt me? I've spent the last hour and a half using these to remove the fingers of your senior staff one by one. I would have brought the fingers as proof, but they were forced to eat them also. The Jem 'Hadar have spent the day killing my men, and as such I have very little patience with personel who won't tell me their remaining forces positions."

"I won't-" He sputters.

"You prefer a demonstration then? Very well." She moved over to him, and stomped on the back of his hand till till his clenched fist weakened and his fingers were splayed against the arm of the chair. She placed the open jaws of the bolt cutters on either side of his right index finger and brought the handles of the cutters together slowly, severing the finger with a wet snap sound. The vorta screamed. It was a mixture of shock, and disbelief, as much as it was pain.

"A- Alright! I'll tell you! Just stop, please!" The vorta cried weakly.

"What's your hurry Vorta" She had said, evenly. "The way I see it, I lost three fourths of my squad fighting the Jem Hadar today. I'm going to make you suffer for every one of their lives." She stares down at his hands. Both of them. "It appears that I have nine more points to make." The Vorta told her everything. He screamed and raved till his voice was raw. Still she did not stop.

She continued her work until late into the night. After he ran out of fingers, she moved onto his toes, then ears, then nose. She didn't stop until she felt all the men that had suffered in the prison, and all of the men in her squad that had fallen that day were satisfied...

Sulan opened her eyes slowly, ending the meditation on her memories. She still sat in the same brig, on the Pegasus, with the same flickering blue force-field. But she knew it was simply a matter of time before she was free again.

She began exercising, as she turned her thoughts to the future and her place in it.


A cutting post by

Lieutenant (jg) Telek Sulan U.S.S. Pegasus "How many fingers am I holding up?"