No Exit

Posted on Sat Jul 2nd, 2011 @ 3:13pm by Lieutenant Commander Aral Aix & Captain Nathan Cowell MD
Edited on on Sat Jul 2nd, 2011 @ 3:27pm

Mission: Too Close for Comfort...
Location: Containment Facility, Archadia III
Timeline: Following 'Whispers in the Dark'

The Archadian guards left the cell, sliding a heavy barred gate into a locked position; if there had ever been a time for talking it was now clearly over. Their heavy footsteps echoed against the solid bare walls before a door was unlocked and then swung shut with a creek followed by an almighty crash. Aix counted four different bolts slide into place. The Archadian's security methods were crude but effective, the cell had double doors, the outer door would be locked before the inner gate was opened and vice versa. Aral felt one of the bars that held them; it was cold, rigid and the diameter of his wrist, testing the hinge and lock he attempted to slide the gate back with both hands, it did not budge a nanometre. It was probably some sort of iron alloy.

Aral caught the eye of the Commodore and shook his head. The Commodore nodded as if to say 'thought as much'.

Aral paced around the perimeter of the cell, running his hands along its surface and down into the join between the floor and wall. The material was perfectly smooth and cold to the touch; it joined the floor perfectly without a seam. Aral followed the wall to the ceiling, each surface joined to the other in a sweeping shiny curve. Their chamber was not just secure, it was sealed. He followed the wall back to the bars and noticed a series of small air vents and a large reinforced metal door. He sighed, frustrated.

"Sucks, don't it?" Nathan asked suddenly.

Aral nodded. "Even if we rushed the guards and somehow made it through that door," He pointed at the metal door, "the rest of the building will be swarming with guards at the very least."

"Reminds me of a German prison I was in years ago... Can't say I'm happy to relive those days, but at least this time someone is out there who might be able to spring us from this hell hole. I just hope the Colonel doesn't get too wasted before she tries to find us... Not sure how good she is with a phaser when she's plastered," the Commodore chuckled.

Aix raised an eyebrow. "It won't be easy, with any luck we'll not be too deep to show on sensors and I don't think they've mastered dampening fields yet." He paused, "What was it like... in Germany?" Memories stirred, Zalia had read The Diary of a Young Girl Aral remembered her tears as his own.

"Which time?" Nathan asked, "Went there twice..."

"The time you were in prison." Clarified Aral with a catch in his throat. Aral's knowledge of history was derived through Zalia's reading; Earth's bloody history sat in stark contrast to that of his own culture which had coexisted relatively peacefully for several centuries. Historically the Trill had peacefully exerted their energies on science, education and the arts while humanity had spent several hundred years bending its creative genius to devise new and even more powerful ways to kill one another.

"Again, which time? I've been a prisoner of war three time, twice in Germany, once in the States... so you might want to clarify which time you're wondering about," Nathan chuckled as if the memories weren't the least bit bothersome.

Aral sighed and ran a hand through his short hair. "The 1939 - 1945 Anglo-American conflict with Germany... if you were involved." Aral struggled to tell if the Commodore's questions were an attempt at prevarication in sight of painful memories. If it was Aral was without sympathy, he had more recent painful memories of his own.

"World War II, yeah, I was there... was in the 82nd Airborne, Golf Company. Was their medic for... about a year, year and a half... then the unit I was with got ambushed, captured, and hauled of to some god-forsaken shit hole. That was back in '44... I'd actually made First Sergeant by the time we'd gotten bushwacked, watched the camp Commandant put a bullet in the CO's head. Didn't have the means to save that poor boy, but I did get the rest of my men out. Took three months and a lot of sneaking around, but we managed. About a year after our escape, I went back and paid that Commandant a visit... put six in his head from the pistol those butch bitches took from me... Remind me to get that thing back when we get sprung from here," Nathan recounted.

Aix listened to Nathan's grim tale. In almost three hundred years he had fought in one war, and that was Aral's single, peculiar distinction as a host. It was not a distinction that brought Aral pride, in Trill society soldiers did not have the special place in the pantheon that they had in other cultures. "How long do you think we'll be waiting on the Colonel?" Aral asked, his sweating fingers formed a steeple as he spoke; as he finished it collapsed in on itself.

The last time Aral had found himself in a cell was during what his mother euphemistically called 'his year out'; during his psychotic episode he had been under the care of Dr Pela and the Trill Symbiosis Commission. He recalled the treatment regime, aspects of it still haunted him, particularly the table. Each week - every Friday morning - he would be given a general anesthetic that left him conscious but paralysed while the guardians administered neurostimulants to the grey matter in both the symbiont and the host. He remembered laser scalpels that left no scar, long needles in his abdomen and a haunting laugh. He had been told these were hallucinations, but he remembered them vividly.

"Knowing her, I'd say if she was near the explosion, she's near to us already. Not more than a day... but we'll have to wait for her, we won't be able to do much from here..." Nathan said with a grousing tone.

"Agreed sir." Aral replied as he grabbed one of the sleeping mats and attempted to make himself comfortable in the far corner.