Star Trek: Wings of the Renaissance

A Star Trek fanfiction by Andrew Joshua Talon

DISCLAIMER: This is a non-profit fan-based work of prose. Star Trek is the property of CBS and Paramount. Please support the official release.


Kurill Prime, The Gamma Quadrant

2371


Part of Suref's Starfleet tactical training had involved being hit with a phaser set to stun. The blast had knocked him off his feet, as his nervous system had burned like fire racing through his veins. Then everything had become numb from the hit point outwards. Finally, everything had gone black and he'd fallen unconscious. The entire incident had been deeply unpleasant, even for his Vulcan discipline. It was part of his training though, and it was useful to understand how it felt.

So right now, as he slowly awoke from his stun, he kept himself still to analyze his surroundings. Cold medical table he was bound to. Filtered air. The smells of medical equipment, faint but still noticeable. The heat of a light overhead.

"Now now, don't do that. Your ability to keep your brain activity, heartbeat, and other bodily functions under control is admirable but ultimately futile," a female voice spoke. Suref slowly opened his eyes.

The surroundings were dull grays and purple, with green lit control consoles. Two meters away from Suref's interrogation table, a familiar Vorta female was standing in front of him. She smiled gently. Another Vorta female stood at the entrance, looking awkward. Suref looked back to the nearer Vorta.

"Eris, I presume," he said. Eris smiled, almost seeming pleasant save for the steel in her violet eyes.

"Lieutenant JG Suref of Vulcan. Born in Vulcana Regar. Tactical track officer, original assignment to the USS T'Kumbra. After a first contact with the Chiaran Remnant, you received a letter of reprimand from Captain Solok and reassigned to the 477th Squadron: A severe black mark on your record, I believe."

"You are attempting to develop a theme for interrogation by attempting to establish a rapport," Suref stated, sounding as unimpressed as he could. "This is well known in multiple cultures across both of our quadrants."

Eris continued to smile, shaking her head in mild disappointment. "I had read Vulcans were direct, but to engage the interrogator like this? That's quite a risk, isn't it?"

"You are undoubtedly going to do anything you wish to get the information you want out of me. I will not say anything useful." Suref looked up at the ceiling. "You will have to kill me."

"Oh, that's where you're wrong, Suref," Eris said with a smile. She reached out and caressed Suref's face, while the Vulcan remained stony and silent. "Your mental abilities are impressive, I'll grant you. But the Dominion has been around far longer than the Federation. We know far more than you can imagine. We have methods you cannot defeat. Eventually, you will break. And you will tell us everything we want. How painful it will get is up to you."

Suref felt probes against his mind. He tensed as Eris's smile grew wider, showing her teeth. The female Vorta assistant pulled back, against the far wall. Eris stepped up, stroking Suref's ears as he began to struggle against his bonds. Even his great strength didn't avail him.

"The people who inhabited this planet were powerful psychics. They built amazing things: This entire city, the orbital elevator above our heads, but it was all for nought: They fell to the Dominion. And so will you. Their psychic abilities are now part of us-Part of me."

He could see her eyes in his mind, as memories were dragged out from behind his defenses. Suref grit his teeth, feeling agitated as jagged psychic fingers began to dig into his mind. Eris leaned in close, her breath hissing against his ear.

"Why don't we explore them," Eris whispered, as his mind screamed.


More to come...