Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything but the idea.
Notes: This is the second installment of the Modulation Series.
The duel suns of Kamien rose slowly over the mountains in the distance. Their light filtered in through the tiny window above them, waking Tom from his sleep. He found himself curled up against Kathryn. His arm draped over her protectively.
With the full light of the morning, he was able to survey her injuries easily. The fine porcelain color of her face was littered with angry cuts and bruises. Her left eye was nearly swollen shut, and there was a large cut on her lip. Her right cheek was battered, and a large gash extended from the bridge of her nose to her hairline. Blood has soaked onto the ground and caked her hair around the injury.
Kathryn's uniform jacket was in tatters in the corner. She'd discarded it in the night, leaving her in only her tank top. Her back was covered in welts. Each at varying stages of healing; some had formed into scars and others must have been received during last night's beating.
From her back, Tom's attention was drawn towards her wrists. They were also badly bruised and nearly twice the size they should be.
Sighing lightly, Tom began to stroke her hair as she started to sob in her sleep.
"What have they done to you?" He whispered.
He knew that she blamed herself for them being there. To be honest, it was no one's fault. The ship had been overpower by a fleet that drastically outnumbered them. Rather than killing the crew instantly, the Kamien Imperial Army had forced Voyager to land on the planet's surface. From there, every crew member was made to march through the mountains to this camp. The journey was over seventy miles long, and the guards sent to escort them had forced them to walk day and night with little to no rest. In all honesty, it had foreshadowed the treatment to come.
Upon their arrival at the camp, they were forced to work in factories, manufacturing weapons, torpedoes, uniforms, and build shuttle crafts. Each member of the crew was expected to work from dusk to dawn with only a ten minute break for lunch. The factories themselves were filthy. The walls and floor were sticky, presumably stained by the blood of those that came before. The Imperial Army hadn't even bothered to clean the walls.
Punishment in the camp was brutal and swift. Anyone attempting escape would be killed as would every member of their cell. Any member of the crew that fell ill was given only three days to recover, if they were not able to return to duties after that time, they were promptly executed. Interfering with the guards was grounds for a rather brutal beating. Their torture sessions would last anywhere from ten minutes to hours at a time, and would only end when the Imperial Guard Leader, Kenoshia, had had his fill for the day.
Kathryn had endured more of these beatings than any other member of her crew. At first, it was to protect them, but she soon realized the guards were starting to punish every member on her cell block for her actions. So, she had forced herself to remain indifferent. The good of the many outweighing the good of the few.
Just as she learned to choose when to interfere, she had also learned escape was next to impossible. However, this lesson came at a much higher price. Seventy crew members had paid for her orders with their lives. Each one made to dig a long, deep crevasse in the center of the encampment. All of them were sealed into coffins and buried alive. Their captors erected a forcefield around the area so that attempts to save them were futile. For hours those left above ground were forced to listen to the buried crewmember's screams. By dawn, only a few voices remained as they were marched out towards their work. At sunset, they were all silenced.
A chill ran through him as Tom recalled those events. Each day in this prison was a mixed blessing. To wake from sleep meant another another day had to be faced, but he also realized that he never would have truly met Kathryn if it hadn't been for their capture. She was bright, funny, and fought hard for her convictions. It was also this personality that lead to her beatings. A few more beatings like last nights...
When they had returned her from her latest torture session, it had taken her over three hours for her to regain consciousness. When she had come around, she had seemed more free in confessions. Their conversation had been sobering if nothing else. A smile tugged as his lips as he recalled the illusion he had painted for her. To be honest, it was one he had dreamt about as of late. At least in his dreams, he was free.
Tom noted that her breath was slowly growing more shallow as she began to wake. She sighed in contentment and turned towards him.
"Good morning, Mrs. Paris," he said, smiling.
"Good morning, Tom," she said, laughing lightly. "Still intent on claiming me for you own I see. As long as you don't start dragging me by my hair.."
"How do you feel?"
Kathryn pushed herself up into a sitting position, wincing in pain. "Never better."
"Maybe you should stay out of the Yard today. Stay in the cell and rest."
"I can't do that and you know it. The second I give up...,"
"You're made of flesh and blood not titanium. You can't keep this up forever."
"No one lives forever, Tom," she said defiantly.
"Don't you think I know that? I think about it every time that they haul you into that room. The only way I know you are still alive is when you scream...," he said, matching her tone, then softening he added, "I thought I'd lost you last night."
Kathryn lowered her gaze. At almost a whisper she replied. "We have to find a way out of here...or die trying."
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