Chapter 2

Slowly, slowly, Picard began to rouse. After drifting in and out of oblivion, he began to remember what had happened…the trap, Worf was shot, Cardassians closing in, the interrogation, taken to a room…It all came back like a wave crashing over him, and he reflexively sat bolt upright. Or at least he tried to. The strap across his throat choked him, and his head clunked back to the table with a thud. He winced at the unexpected shock, coughing from the pressure on his throat. More careful this time, he tried moving his arms and his legs, but they were held firm, hard straps cutting into his skin through his clothing. He tried to twist his hands out of the cuffs, but it only rubbed his wrists raw and did nothing to free them. Blinded and completely immobilized, he waited, intensely aware of his thirst, hunger, and bladder. His senses on full alert, he had to fight to keep the fear from creeping in. This was a hell of a situation, and it took all his training to pull his wits back together.

After an eternity of listening to the rhythmic thrumming of the air circulation system and his pounding heart, Picard heard a metal latch sliding, then a door opening. The sharp crack of heels on stone gave Picard a fresh shot of adrenaline, and he reflexively struggled against the restraints again. Realizing again that he was just injuring his wrists more, he stopped and turned his face towards the sound as though he could see through the blindfold. "Who's there? Where am I?" Picard demanded. No answer. He was breathing like he had just run a mile.

He could feel the table rolling, and from the sound of it, out of a room and down a hall. "Where are you taking me?" No answer. The hall smelled of chemicals and sweat.

The motion stopped. Picard felt hands loosening and then removing the straps holding his legs down, then the same for the straps over his arms and torso, the sounds of metal clasps clinking. They waited to release the throat restraint as they tugged on the wrist shackles, making sure they were not coming off. The skin on his wrists burned as the metal bands closed even more tightly. He could hear the sounds of the guards breathing and footsteps as they worked. Their armor creaked with their movements. Finally, cold fingers bumped his chin up as the strap over his throat loosened. The zip of the course strap through its clasp and the final clank of it onto the table signaled that the guards were finished. Strong hands gripped his arms and dragged him roughly off the table and to his feet. One guard on either side, fingers digging into his upper arms…Picard's mind raced. This could be his chance to escape. And go where? He'd figure that out later.

Picard let himself be led, feigning weakness. After a few steps, he intentionally stumbled as if his knees were buckling under him. Just as the guards readjusted their grips, Picard jerked as hard as he could away. The sudden movement had the intended result. The guard to his left lost his grip at the unexpected motion. Picard kicked out blindly in that direction, somehow managing to land a solid kick on that guard and push the other one backwards. He heard the guard he had kicked grunt, followed by a thud on the floor. The other guard, however, never lost his grip and used his momentum as he stumbled backwards to swing the captain around and face-first into the wall. Picard's forehead hit the wall with a smack. He felt his teeth rattle and he fell backwards to the floor, the back of his skull thunking against rock as he landed. Stars shot behind the blindfold and he could feel the room spin with the impact.

Powerful hands on the front of his shirt wrenched him to his feet before he could regain his senses and slammed him back against the wall, the back of his head taking its turn cracking against the wall. He could feel his brain jostling inside his skull. The guard held him pinned there, a hand squeezing around his throat. He could smell and feel the Cardassian's rank breath just inches from his face, cursing at him in Cardassian. "Don't try that again," he spat in Federation Standard. The guard he'd kicked was breathing hard, and Picard could hear boots sliding on the floor as he stood up. Another curse. The hand released his neck and grabbed his right arm. Another pair of hands on his left arm…"Walk!" the guard yelled, digging his fingers into the captain's upper arm. They didn't go very far before Picard heard doors sliding open in front of him. From the sound of the echoes, they had entered into a large room, walked a few more paces then stopped…and waited.

"I demand to see a neutral representative in accordance with the Federation/Cardassian Peace Treaty," Picard said into space, his head throbbing from his failed escape attempt. No response. After a moment, boot steps on a hard floor approached leisurely from a distance, then stopped in front of him. He felt the blindfold pulled from his eyes and was temporarily blinded by a glaring white light above him. It intensified the pounding in his head. Blinking to adjust his eyes, he could make out a Cardassian standing in front of him with a smug, amused look on his face.

"Captain Picard." The Cardassian's tone was that of a man pleased with the success of a bold plan. "You should prove an interesting challenge…probably the most interesting challenge to walk through that door in many years."

Picard said again, "I demand to see a neutral representative…"

The Cardassian cut him off, "One has already been dispatched from Tovan III, the nearest neutral planet." He motioned for the guards to leave and considered the captain. "Would you allow me to remove your restraints?"

After the drama in the hall, Picard was surprised at the offer, but he wouldn't complain. He raised his hands towards his captor while the Cardassian punched a series of buttons on a padd he was carrying. The shackles unlocked with a snap but loosened only enough that Picard had to wriggle his hands out. He winced as metal scraped across bruised and raw wrists. He rubbed them to dull the sensation. It didn't help much. The Cardassian looked pleased at the human's discomfort and held Picard's gaze for a while before turning and walking towards a desk in the middle of the expansive room.

"I am Gul Madred. Have a seat." He motioned to a chair across from the desk. Picard slowly approached the chair and sat down, still rubbing his wrists, which bore angry red marks. "So, Captain, did you find what you were looking for on Celtris III?" Madrid smirked.

Picard was not amused. "What do you want?" he demanded.

"Why, you of course," Madred answered candidly.

What the hell? Another pulse of adrenaline blasted through him, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end, but Picard forced a cool exterior. "So you concocted an elaborate ruse to bring me here. Why?"

The Cardassian became annoyed. "In this room, you do not ask questions. You answer them. If I do not like your answers, you will die," he answered with a cool, menacing superiority. After a moment, his mood softened and the smirk returned. "It worked quite well, didn't it?" He paused, eyes narrowed. "You know, Captain, I know a lot about you. If people only knew what interesting things one can learn from spying, everyone would want to become a spy!" Madred smiled broadly at the joke. "I understand you are a student of archaeology. Did you know that Cardassia boasts some of the most splendid ruins in the galaxy?"

Where was the Cardassian leading this? Who was the spy? And why did the Cardassians have such an interest in him? Picard answered cautiously, "I know that the burial vaults from the First Hibition Civilization are reported to be magnificent."

Madred looked impressed at this knowledge. "Yes, they were magnificent when they were uncovered a hundred years ago. Priceless treasures were found there... artifacts made from precious metals inlaid with jevenite, a rare, breathtaking stone."

"You said "were" magnificent… What happened to them?"

"What happens to impoverished societies...The ruins were plundered. Their artifacts were stolen. Some were preserved in museums, but even those too were eventually sold to support the war effort…" He looked pensive, regret in his eyes.

"That war cost you millions of lives and yet you risk another war! Why?" Picard demanded incredulously.

Madred's eyes blazed at the question, then he asked nonchalantly, "Would you like to see the Hibition burial vaults, Captain?"

"What I would like is to be returned to my ship. The Federation will know soon enough of this scheme of yours and will want to get to the bottom of it. Holding me here will only escalate the situation…"

"My dear Captain, you are a criminal!" Madred interrupted him incredulously. "You were apprehended invading a secret facility. The least that will happen is that you will be tried and punished." He paused, letting the words bring the desired fear. "But I am willing to offer you the chance to have that experience be….civilized."

The sneering way he said "civilized" gave Picard a chill. He knew from reports of what Cardassian trials and punishments were like. Prisoners were put on display in a show trial, and then tortured to death in front of an audience. He had learned much from conversations with Ro Laren about the sadistic ways they treated their prisoners…horrifying… "What is the price of that offer?" Picard asked warily.

"Cooperation. We need to know the Federation's defensive strategy for Minos Corva."

At this, Picard almost chuckled with the absurdity of it all. "You've injected me with drugs. Surely you realize that I have answered truthfully every question you have put to me."

"Perhaps…but we went to great lengths to lure you here, Captain, because we know that in the event of an invasion of Minos Corva, the federation flagship will command the fleet for the sector encompassing Minos Corva. And her captain will know that strategy. Just think of all the lives you will save by giving us that information." Madred had risen from his seat and was approaching Picard now.

"I told you that I don't KNOW any plans. As far as the Federation is concerned, we have peaceful relations with Cardassia!"

Madred punched a button on the desk, and the doors behind Picard slide open. The two guards strode through the opening door, their footfalls in unison. Before Picard realized what was happening, they had wrenched him up out of the seat and pulled him forcibly towards a metal bar that was lowering down from the ceiling. Picard dug his heels into the floor and tried to twist free, but the guards were ready this time and had steely grips on his arms. They spun him around to face Madred who was casually opening a desk drawer. He produced a twelve-centimeter long knife that he gazed at admiringly.

"Are you in good health? Do you have any health problems I should be aware of?" He turned the knife blade to make it glint in the light. "The stones in the handle are jevenite. Now you can see why it is so highly prized."

Adrenaline coursed through Picard's veins, fight and flight both screaming for purchase. "Torture is expressly forbidden under the mandates of the Saldonis Convention defining the treatment of prisoners of war!" Heart pounding, breathing hard, he struggled to no avail. The guards' grips were like vises on his upper arms.

Madred ignored him. Aggressively, he stalked towards Picard, holding the knife in a downward grip. When he got within striking distance, Picard kicked Madred away from him, using the guards as leverage. Madred crashed backwards into the chair in which Picard had been seated but didn't fall. The guards were incensed. A sharp punch to the stomach doubled the captain over before a blow between his shoulder blades knocked him to his knees. Picard staggered back up, but the guard he had kicked earlier grabbed his collar and punched him squarely in the jaw. Picard crumpled to the floor, momentarily blacking out.

"That's enough." Madred's command came out as a low growl. "Get him on his feet."

The guards, breathing hard from exertion and anger, yanked Picard to his feet. The world rushed back in, the room spinning, a metallic taste in his mouth. The fight was out of him. Before he could regain his senses, the guards had already put the cuffs back on his wrists. Picard gasped as they savagely clamped them down tighter than before and attached them to the metal rod that hung from the ceiling. With his prisoner's hands secured overhead, Madred angrily approached the captain. "Wasted energy, Captain. You will wish that you hadn't wasted it on such a futile effort." He held the knife in front of Picard's face with the same downward grip, tightening his grip on the handle.

Picard's mind raced. Was he going to slit his throat? Disembowel him? Stab him?

"From now on, you have no privilege of rank, no privilege of person. You will be referred to only as human. You have no other identity." As he spat this in Picard's face, Madred sliced away the captain's clothes with the jeweled knife. The sound of ripping fabric, cut boot laces... The cold blade brushing against his skin...The tug of hands on fabric, ripping his clothes down to his ankles in one motion. The cool air of the room rushed against his bare skin...

It was surreal. This had to be happening to someone else. The sheer absurdity of it all left Picard's mind reeling. Madred pushed another button and the rod suspending his prisoner raised upwards, stretching Picard up until his toes barely touched the floor. The pain in his wrists and shoulders was immediate, but he was too stunned to say or do anything…hanging naked from his wrists in a Cardassian interrogation room…this shouldn't be happening, couldn't be happening...but it was. He looked at Madred whose eyes burned with hatred, disgust, and enjoyment. The Cardassian marched past him and out of the room, leaving his captive to his thoughts.