Chapter 3

He didn't know how long he had been hanging there, but it felt like an eternity. Once Madred had left, he calmed himself from the fear that was working its way into his mind and tried to look at the situation from a rational perspective. If he could just get to the metal rod and release the clamp holding his shackles to it, then he would be in business. His various attempts: trying to shake it loose, trying to bring his feet up and kick it loose, trying to pull his body up so that he could work the lock with his mouth…all had resulted in failure and intensifying the pain in his wrists and shoulders. After a dozen attempts with each method, he gave up and tried to focus on all that he could do…try shutting out the pain. He played songs in his head, tried to meditate, tried to push up more onto his toes to relieve some of the weight from his wrists. It didn't work. Picard's arms went from aching to excruciating, to tingling, to numb. He could no longer feel his hands which had become swollen and bluish. His calves ached and twitched from trying to stay on his toes and then gave out completely with muscle fatigue. He was unbearably miserable. He was cold. He was humiliated. He was desperately thirsty. There were times when he cried out in pain and frustration, unable to suppress it. He imagined an away team blasting through the door and rescuing him but scorned himself for such ridiculous fantasies. He knew he was on his own. He thought of Beverly and Worf and hoped they were safe onboard the Enterprise. Beverly. Feelings of regret welled in him and he pushed them down. Anger welled up...then acceptance. There was absolutely nothing he could do…nothing… so he hanged there all night and eventually started to doze, his head dropping to his chest. No dreams came, no respite from the agony of it all.

7 hours later…

"Good morning!" Madred said as he cheerfully strode into the interrogation room. "I trust you slept well."

Picard's head jerked up from his chest, his mind dragging slowly out of the stupor the misery of the night had produced.

Madred strode past Picard and towards his desk, carrying his morning beverage. Two guards followed him in and came to the sides of the prisoner.

With a sudden jolt, the bar suspending the captain lowered. Picard's knees buckled under him as he unexpectedly and mercifully sank from the ceiling. The bracket holding him was now at a level that the guards could reach. They released the restraints from the bracket as Picard tried to stand up shakily. One guard had to hold him up while the other removed the restraints and pulled the remnants of Picard's clothes and boots from around his feet. Picard had regained his senses by the time the guards finished their tasks. They deposited him in front of Madred's desk.

The relief from being suspended from the ceiling was temporary as the feeling in his shoulders and arms started to return in the form of sharp needles of pain. Picard was unable to lower his arms below shoulder height. The tendons in his shoulders had been stretched for so many hours that they felt frozen in that condition, throbbing with each heartbeat. He still couldn't believe what had just transpired. Madred sat behind his desk calmly watching Picard.

"Thirsty?" Madred queried.

Picard nodded. Could this be a moment of compassion on the part of his captor? He was hungry and thirsty, having had nothing for a day or more.

"I'm sure you are." Madred took a sip from his drink and sat the cup back on the desk.

The cruelty of this man was stunning. "I've told you all that I know," Picard said. His voice was soft and hoarse. It surprised him to hear it.

"Yes, I'm sure that you have." The Gul took another sip of his tea and savored it. "Well, it's time to move on." Madred picked up a padd from his desk and pushed a button. Four glaring spotlights flared on above the Cardassian's head, shining directly into Picard's eyes. He reflexively jammed his eyes shut and he turned his head away from the sudden brightness. "How many lights do you see there?"

Picard squinted into the lights. There were four lights. What kind of question was that? "There are four lights," he said out loud.

"There are five. Be quite sure."

Picard looked from Madred back to the blinding lights. "There are four lights," he said again.

Madred was building up to something. Picard could sense an amount of excitement in the Cardassian's voice; an excitement that he was attempting to restrain. "Perhaps you are aware of the incision in your chest. While you were under the influence of our drugs, we implanted a small device. It's a remarkable invention. By inputting commands into this padd, I can produce pain in any part of your body, at varying levels of severity…"

Picard looked down and there was indeed a fresh scar on his chest. He touched it, vaguely remembering something happening to him after the interrogation. He looked back to Madred with a sudden dread and understanding that his torment had just begun. Adrenaline heightened his senses as he tried to brace himself for whatever was to come.

"Forgive me. I don't enjoy this, but I must demonstrate. It will make everything clearer." Madred pushed a red button on the padd, and pain exploded through Picard so intense that it sent him gasping to his knees. He clutched to the desk, not even aware he was doing so… eyes clenched, sweat pouring, bladder evacuating, his pulse was the only thing he could hear... Then it was over. It was no more than a few seconds, but it had left the captain shocked and horrified. He had never felt anything like it…nothing could have prepared him for it.

Madred stood up in excitement, his voice louder. "Amazing, isn't it? Most people feel that they can steel themselves against it, but are totally unprepared for the intensity of the pain!" He was almost giddy now. "That was the lowest possible setting," he said dangerously.

"I know nothing of Minos Corva," Picard gasped. This was senseless! Couldn't this Cardassian see that?

"I didn't ask you about Minos Corva. I asked you how many lights you see."

The magnitude of what was happening slapped Picard right in the face. This was not about getting information…this was about a battle of wills. Picard took a few more rasping breaths, looking up at the Cardassian, then the lights, and back. He knew his next words were the gauntlet being dropped; knew it was exactly what the Cardassian wanted; knew that he was in over his head. "There are four lights."

"I don't see how you can be so mistaken." Madred waited long enough to heighten the expectation of what was to come, then pushed the button. Picard convulsed back, landing on the floor in front of the desk. He couldn't scream, couldn't breathe, couldn't control the muscles seizing. The last thing he saw was Madred's pleased expression before everything mercifully went black.

Picard lay unconscious on the floor. A blast of cold water in the face jolted him awake. He had the taste of vomit in his mouth. He sputtered as the water went up his nose and into his lungs. The silhouette of a soldier was above him haloed by bright white light. "Get up!"

Reality crashed back and Picard reflexively put up his arms protectively over his face. His brain registered that he was incredibly thirsty and water had just been poured on his head. He rolled onto his stomach and sucked up as much water from the floor as he could before the Cardassian roughly dragged him to his feet. Picard glared at the soldier who shoved a bundle into his arms. "Put this on. We're tired of looking at you."

If he hadn't been cold and humiliated, Picard would have shoved the bundle back in the Cardassian's face, but clothing was something he welcomed now, even if it was an orange jumpsuit. He put it on gratefully. His mind was cloudy. He was exhausted. He hurt all over. The soldier pointed to the chair. "Sit down." Picard glared at the guard but sat; he didn't much feel like standing anyway. Exhaustion was setting in, and he slouched in the chair. The captain cast his eyes down to look away from the lights, and his gaze came to rest on his raw and bruised wrists. He realized they hurt and saw why. It didn't take long before his eyes unfocused, and he stared blankly into space.

"Father?" came a small voice from behind him. The unexpected sound pulled him out of his reverie. He didn't move, but his eyes refocused. His peripheral vision saw movement and he turned his eyes to discover a small child running past him. His eyes followed her as she ran joyfully to the Cardassian thug standing before his desk.

"Ah, Jelora! Come here, my dear." Madred knelt down and held his arms out to the child, perhaps six years old. They hugged each other warmly.

"I wanted to see you before you went back to work. Is that a human?" she asked looking back at the creature she had passed coming in. She had completely innocent demeanor, sincere in her love for her father and curiosity about his work.

"Yes, that is a human."

"Do humans have mothers and fathers too?"

"Yes, they do, but human parents don't love their children as we do. They are different than we are." He hugged her again.

Jelora glanced back at the human, "May I go look at him?"

"Yes, my dear, but don't get too close. Humans are uncivilized creatures."

Jelora approached Picard as if approaching an animal on exhibit at a zoo, Madred following closely, protectively. She was bold and inquisitive, stopping a meter away from him only because her father's hand on her shoulder warned that she was too close. He could hear her humming something softly to herself as she stared at him. Picard half expected her to poke him to make him move. He lifted his eyes to meet hers, making no other movement.

"The human smells bad," she said.

"Yes."

"Do they all smell this bad?" She looked up at her father, her nose wrinkling.

"I'm afraid so, my dear. They are dirty and too stupid to know it."

Picard sat listening to the exchange, the term "brainwashing" entering his mind. He decided not to remain the silent, dirty, stupid creature Madred wanted his daughter to see. "Hello," he said, a hint of a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Madred moved between Jelora and the human and slapped him hard across the face. "Do not speak, human!" The Cardassian was fuming. Picard straightened back up in the chair after the blow, gritting his teeth. Striking back at Madred would just have proven the point to his daughter. Jelora for her part was unphased, as if this were a common sight. She lost interest in the human and turned toward her father.

"Will you read to me tonight, father?" she said in her small voice.

Madred smiled at her, softening at her very presence, "Well yes of course I will. Go on. I will see you tonight." Jelora skipped out of the room, humming her song.

"Your daughter is lovely," Picard said to Madred after the doors had closed behind the child.

"Yes, I think so," Madred answered proudly. "I must admit that I was quite surprised by the power she has over me…since the moment she was born." He beamed at the thought of her.

Picard was perplexed. "I'm surprised you let her come in here."

"Why?" Madred was equally perplexed.

"To expose a child to…this? To let her see someone who is suffering and that it is you who inflicts that suffering…" What more needed to be said?

"From the time Jelora could crawl, she was taught about the enemies of the Cardassians and that enemies deserve their fates."

"I am not your enemy," Picard said simply, raising his eyes to meet Madred's. "A child who learns to devalue others has a dangerously limited view of the world. They can devalue anyone, including their parents."

"What a blind, narrow view you have. What an arrogant man you are!" Madred said in disbelief. "What do you know of raising a child? What do you know of Cardassian views of the world?!"

Picard answered, "I know that you were once a peaceful people with a rich spiritual life. Then the military took over and hundreds of thousands of people have died."

"Where did this rich spirituality get us? Before the military took control, people starved. Bodies went unburied. The cities were in chaos. That's what spirituality got for the people. Now, we are strong and feared…we acquired new territories during the wars. We developed new resources. We implemented work programs and agricultural programs. That's what the military has done for Cardassia, and because of that, my daughter will never have to worry about going hungry."

"Her belly may be full, but her spirit will be empty."

That was it. Madred whirled in rage and backhanded the captain across the face. This time, the blow nearly knocked him out of the chair, but Picard managed to keep from falling. Where he struck was hot and already starting to swell. He could taste blood in his mouth and felt with his tongue the molar that had been knocked loose.

Madred continued to stand over him, deciding whether or not to pummel the human again, but turned back to the desk and slammed his hand down on the desk. The sudden sound made the captain look towards the desk and inadvertently at the lights. He flinched and shut his eyes at the brightness, turning his face away. "Shall we begin again?" Madred asked coldly as he sat down at his desk. "How many lights do you see?"

Picard didn't look. Cardassian bastard. "What lights?"

Madred's eyes blazed with anger. He dialed the intensity of the pain the prisoner would experience to a much higher level and pushed the red button.