No One Expects the Dominion Inquisition!

"No! Not this! Anything but this!" Rutherford cried in pain.

"Aggghhhhhh! Help! I can't take anymore!" Boimler howled withering on the floor in agony. "Make it stop! Make it stop!"

"You people are sick! Sick I tell you!" Mariner screamed clawing at her face. "Kill me! Kill me now!"

"Well, these certainly aren't the reactions I expected," Valiawen blinked at the four ensigns in shock. Lipura'klan and his men stood by watching dispassionately. "I'm not trying to torture you. I'm attempting to get you to relax."

"How the heck do you expect us to do that when you bombard us with nonstop Tellarite polka music?!" Mariner screamed desperately attempting to cover her ears while music blared from a handheld padd-like device in Valiawen's hand. "Gahhh! My ears are bleeding!"

"My ear is enhanced!" Rutheford frantically attempted to disable it. "Curse this Vulcan-level implant!"

"Where's a pair of noise-cancelling earplugs when you need them?" Boimler whimpered while futilely attempting to hum warp engine sounds to counteract the music. "I wish I was deaf!"

"Come on, guys. It's not…that…bad," Tendi vainly attempted a pained smile while gritting her teeth in anguish. "Kinda springy, rhythmical and…upbeat?"

"More like a misaligned sonic screwdriver whirring straight into my skull!" Mariner cried. "Yahhh, I'd rather be infested with Ceti Alpha eels!"

"I don't understand why you people find this music so unbearable," Valiawen remarked. "Personally, I rather enjoy it."

"Oh gosh, it's true! Vorta really do lack all sense of aesthetics!" Boimler yelled miserably. "If only the same could be said for me!"

"Why doesn't this thing come with a mute button?" Rutherford frenetically stabbed at his implant. "If viewscreens and audio channels can be muted, so should I!"

"Figures Stevens would remain unconscious during all this," Mariner hissed glancing at Stevens' prone form. "Gosh, I envy him!"

"Alright, that's enough," Valiawen sighed tapping the padd. "I can see this form of prisoner malleability preparation isn't working."

"No, ya think?" Mariner snapped as the music finally shut off. "Ahhh, thank the Great Bird. I can hear again!"

"Ah, silence. Sweet, blessed silence," Boimler sighed in relief. "Never again will I leave you."

"Oooo, my ear," Rutherford moaned rubbing his implant. "I think some of the micro gyrostabilizers short-circuited again."

"Let's move on to one-on-one sessions," Valiawen addressed Lipura'klan and his men while gesturing to Boimler. "Take this one to my private office. You may have your pick of the rest. Study them one at a time. Try to leave them intact."

"Understood," Lipura'klan replied deactivating the force fields.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Boimler yelped as a pair of Jem'Hadar grabbed his arms. "You can't treat prisoners like this! This is a violation of the Khitomer Accords! Help!"

"Don't worry, Boims! You can take it!" Mariner shouted as Boimler was dragged out of the room. "Stay strong! Don't let 'em break ya!"

"Forget about him. He is no longer your concern," Lipura'klan said coldly before looking at Rutherford. "Bring this one."

"Huh?" Rutherford gulped as another pair of Jem'Hadar grabbed him. "Ow, watch the hands!"

"Hey! Let him go!" Tendi jumped on the back of one of the Jem'Hadar. Mariner moved to do the same only to be immediately met with a trio of rifle muzzles.

"You have a surprising amount of aggressiveness for a medically-trained officer," Lipura'klan noted as two more Jem'Hadar pried Tendi off their squadmate. "It should serve you well in the ring."

"Ring?" Tendi blinked as she was restrained.

"We have spent over five years training and familiarizing ourselves with all Alpha Quadrant species who are enemies of the Dominion," Lipura'klan indicated Rutherford. "But we have never trained against a living opponent until now."

"What?!" Rutherford yelped. "Wait! I don't wanna fight! I'm an engineer, not a commando!"

"We shall see," Lipura'klan said heading for the door.

"Oh no you don't!" Mariner lunged at him only to be held back by Lipura'klan's men. "You wanna throw down against a real opponent, pal? I'll tangle with ya!"

"Your time will come," Lipura'klan promised sparing Rutherford a look. "After we are done with him."

"Uh, you don't have to do that," Rutherford gulped. "I don't mind waiting a few days or a few years. There's really no rush!"

"Yeah, I'm sure there are plenty of other ways to train," Tendi suggested. "Like against holograms or studying gross anatomy."

"So much for the vaunted martial reputation of the Jem'Hadar," Mariner taunted. "You don't mind beating up weak addle-minded engineers, but you start quaking in your boots when faced against a real fighter!"

"Yeah!" Rutherford cheered. "Wait a minute…hey!"

"You wish to exchange places with your companion?" Lipura'klan stared at Mariner a moment. "Very well. Bring her."

"If you insist," Mariner quipped as Rutherford was placed back into the containment circle with Tendi. "Don't worry, guys. I got this."

"I hope so," Tendi fretted as the force fields were reactivated and Mariner was led away. Three Jem'Hadar guards remained. "Be careful!"

"Don't worry. This is Mariner we're talking about," Rutherford attempted to cheer Tendi up. "How reckless and irresponsible could she be?"

"Stop! You don't have to do this!" Boimler protested as he was led into a plain, sparsely furnished office dominated by a large computer desk, wall-mounted monitor screen and chair. "Torture is a notoriously unreliable way of gaining information! None of this is necessary!"

"Oh, please. Stop whining," Valiawen tsked as the Jem'Hadar securely bound Boimler to the chair positioned behind the desk. "No one is going to torture you here. We aren't barbarians."

"Really?" Boimler blinked. "You're not going to use drugs or needles or mind scanners or anything?"

"Of course not," Valiawen waved dismissing the Jem'Hadar. "We're just going to talk."

"Oh. Well, that's not so bad," Boimler sighed in relief. "But why drag me in here?"

"To help put you at ease. I figured you'd be more comfortable discussing things in my private quarters than in some public detention area," Valiawen smiled disarmingly. "I prefer to conduct interrogations in a more…intimate setting."

"Huh?" Boimler blinked, surprised. He noticed a simple bed wedged in a corner. "Your private quarters?"

"Of course. Unlike the Jem'Hadar, Vorta do need to eat and sleep," Valiawen explained patting the mattress. "Among other activities."

"Eh?" Boimler twitched gaping at the bed.

"You have no idea what's it like to go this long without satisfying intrinsic, biological yearnings and desires," Valiawen said wistfully. "I'd do almost anything to have a functioning epidermal ablution module and modern personal waste disposal unit."

"Oh, that's what you were referring to," Boimler blushed. "Not other common biological urges…"

"Would you like something to eat?" Valiawen moved towards what appeared to be a salvaged Federation food replicator standing along one wall. "Perhaps a refreshing drink?"

"No, no thanks. I'm good," Boimler declined.

"Suit yourself," Valiawen shrugged ordering a plate of bite-sized fruit and a glass of water. "I've enjoyed sampling the various cuisines stored in this unit's limited Federation database. I couldn't differentiate much in terms of their tastes, but the diverse selection of textures was quite interesting."

"That's nice. Have you ever tried hazelnut- and frosting-filled churros?" Boimler suggested. "Crunchy, creamy and chewy all at the same time."

"Unfortunately, no. I'll remember to do so at some point," Valiawen smiled leaning against the desk as she ate. "I must admit, I've missed engaging in intelligent, civilized conversation these past several years. Jem'Hadar may be outstanding soldiers, but they are terrible raconteurs."

"Sounds like a certain writer or two I know," Boimler muttered under his breath. "By the way, how did you and the Jem'Hadar get here? Why are you still here? And why haven't you left?"

"Those are excellent questions. I see Starfleet's reputation for discovery is still intact, no matter how naïvely misguided it may be," Valiawen smiled. "Perhaps if you answer my questions, I will reciprocate by answering some of yours. Now, what fresh news can you tell me about the war?"

"We've already told you, the war is over," Boimler repeated. "The Federation and Dominion are at peace. There's no reason for you to detain us."

"Still attempting your feeble attempts at deception," Valiawen shook her head. "How disappointing. You really are an amateur at this. But don't worry. I'll get what I want from you." She pushed her plate aside and licked her lips while gazing at Boimler appraisingly. "One way or another.

"Eeep!" Boimler gulped as Valiawen descended on him.

"Gotta say, this is quite the base you have here," Mariner quipped as she was led down more uniformly gray corridors. "Love what you've done with the place. Who's your interior decorator? Captain Matt Jefferies?"

Lipura'klan and his remaining men ignored her as they entered a long, open room filled with over a dozen more Jem'Hadar sparring, checking equipment and cleaning weapons. All but one ignored the newcomers as they entered. "This is one of the prisoners?"

"Yes," Lipura'klan confirmed indicating Mariner. "Human female, Starfleet. She has been allowed to be used for training, as per the Vorta's orders."

"The Vorta," The other Jem'Hadar nodded studying Mariner for a moment. "Very well. Prepare her."

"Yes, First," Lipura'klan nodded.

"First?" Mariner blinked, confused. "I thought you were the First."

"I am First Lipura'klan of Squad Two," Lipura'klan explained. "He is First Matana'son of Squad Six."

"So, you're both the same rank?" Mariner asked.

"No," Lipura'klan corrected. "I command a squad. Matana'son commands a company. Therefore, he is my superior."

"But you just said he leads a squad," Mariner frowned.

"He leads both along with Platoon Four," Lipura'klan stated. "As well as all the Jem'Hadar in the garrison."

"Okay," Mariner nodded. "So, does that make you the Second?"

"No, Second Katar'arax is the Second of Company One," Lipura'klan explained. "He is also First of Platoon Three. Second Hatal'ahan is my Second."

"Wait, how can a guy be Second and First at the same time?" Mariner protested. "It makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Lipura'klan looked at her with mild disdain. "Rank is based on position, ability, and trust. It is the order of things."

"So where do you rank in the order of things?" Mariner gave him a look. "High or low?"

"I am First of Squad Two, Third of Platoon Six and Ninth of Company One," Lipura'klan replied.

"Then who's First?" Mariner asked in exasperation.

"No, Matana'son is First," Lipura'klan said. "There is no Jem'Hadar here named Who."

"Ugh, never mind," Mariner groaned. "Let's just quit this sad Abbott and Costello bit before my head explodes."

"Attention!" Matana'son announced standing in the middle of a ring-shaped fighting area marked by a makeshift string of lights and trio of unlit posts. "Today we train against a living adversary. Observe, analyze and remember for we will soon face her species in combat. The lessons you learn here will ensure Victory. Victory is life!"

"Victory is life!" The assembled Jem'Hadar answered gathering around.

"I wouldn't count on that," Mariner quipped punching a fist into her palm. "'Cause you guys are about to receive a whooping dose of Mariner-style butt-kicking."

"Rules of the ring are simple: fight until you or your opponent yields or can no longer rise," Lipura'klan quickly briefed Mariner. "If you fall to the floor, you must touch one of the three posts or forfeit the match."

"Yeah, yeah. I got it," Mariner waved stepping into the ring and cracking her neck. She eyed the eager-looking Jem'Hadar across from her and took a fighting stance. "Enough yapping already. Let's dance!"

"Begin!" Matana'son declared stepping out of the ring right before Mariner and her opponent leapt at each other.