As the Captain gradually makes the journey through gleaming corridors toward the brig, he finds himself confronted by a notion. Much like his Communications Officer, he too wishes to pay a visitation to the Medbay. It is, after all, his duty to be kept abreast of the wellbeing of his crew; the personnel aboard this fine vessel are, in fact, under his care, so to speak. He has a responsibility to all of them, to ensure their safety; even his second-in-command – that very crew member situated within the ward – and who has a charge of his own. With the Medbay itself not too far from the brig, a visit may not seem too much of a stretch. It won't take too much from his current duty.
With nearly a change of his present trajectory, there is a subtle chirp emanating from his trouser pocket. It is almost as if the chief medico can hear his thoughts as well, as that is from whom the summons originates, that is the name on the communicator now clasped in the Captain's hand. It may be a tad unusual for the physician to address his captain in such a way, as he would much rather deliver his report in person. Yet, there is a reason for his present method of summons.
"Talk to me, Bones."
"I'm not going to take too much from you, Jim, but we got the Benjisidrine in time. Right now, Spock's resting. He'll be out for a while, but he'll be okay. Now, Jim, " his tone is a tad gruff, a mix of fatigue and residual ire, "you bring the hammer on that son of a bitch."
With the medico's final words, comes the end of their communique. It was almost a granting of permission, per se, for the Captain to visit the brig. Almost, as in his presence is not required in the Medbay, the information that he needs – and seeks – in that regard is now with him. As his regular duty shift does not begin for another ten minutes or so, and there is no urgent summons or emergency to tend to, he can divert himself away from the bridge for the moment. For now, the Captain's chair can wait. And so, he stays on his present course, so to speak. Towards the brig.
... ... ...
While the tone within this part of the vessel is normally tainted with a kind of unease, it is presently brimmed with an unseen and unforgiving fog. From the floor to the walls to the ceiling above, there is a tense air wafting about, more so than usual. Only once had the ambience become this unnerving, in times past, and a much more ruthless prisoner had been placed within. Such perilous times, yet thankfully put behind them all; not without some degree of loss and sacrifice, of course. And, it is through a newly disquiet air that the Captain now moves.
With a heft to his chest almost compressing onto him, and a mind laden with queries, he soon approaches the attacker's cell. For all his preparations and training and prior experience, there may be no foretelling of what he might soon hear. The prisoner might have attempted to predict what his interrogator may ask of him, and conjured his responses thusly. After all, as displayed by the execution of his deeds – those acts which have placed him here – he seems rather methodical in the motions of his mind. No one but he would know of the lengths to his planning, the careful concocting of chemicals, how many failures there may have been until the right one was made. This is a man of high skill and intellect, a man of a scientific mind. The responses he makes to his captain's questions should, theoretically, reflect that. And, despite his intellect, it is his bigotry that becomes his downfall.
"Why did you attack him?" In a near mockery of his Captain's voice, the prisoner is the first to speak.
Naturally, the superior officer is a tad perplexed at the words. Yet, he does not respond; there is no time, as the assailant continues.
"Is that not what you're going to ask me, Captain? What would you say if I refused to answer? To give you only silence? What would you do then?"
"I would assume that you were covering for someone. That you had an accomplice." The Captain opts to entertain the assailant, just for now; until he receives the information he needs.
"Oh, there was no 'accomplice', Captain. I am but a lone wolf stalking his prey."
For the manner in which the prisoner speaks, it seems quite apparent that silence is not what he had opted for. He is, however, toying with his interrogator. Not at all amused, Kirk will play along.
"And what other conclusion would you draw, given the answer I just offered?"
"You're also not working for anyone. No accomplice, no superiors."
It almost seems as if, by this exchange, that the assailant is in control. That it is he who now takes the lead, who steers his interrogator into his own questions. This should not be how it all unfolds, and the Captain knows. Particularly since he is the interrogator, he is the superior officer. The course of this exchange may have been inevitable, yet the Captain needs to steer the control back to himself.
"You might already know that I'm going to ask this question, but how do I know what you're telling me is true? How do I know you're not lying to me?"
"There may not ever be a credible answer to that question, only that – "
"I'll have to take your word for it." The time soon approaches for the interrogator to begin his duty shift, to place himself upon his chair at the bridge. Time has been reclaimed for his First Officer, but not for his interrogation. Yet, time has not been squandered here.
"Again, you're wondering why I did it, why I attacked him. Tell me, did you mourn with them as their planet imploded? Did you shed a tear? When others wept, I laughed. I revelled in their destruction."
"They were innocent people...a peaceful race – "
"Peaceful? No non-human will ever taste peace."
As the prisoner swivels away from his captain, it seems apparent – clear as day, in fact – that the abundance of hatred he had buried and veiled has at last broken to the surface. Like a shark in motionless waters.
After a moment to calm himself, with the tense air escalating instantaneously, the prisoner makes a silent exhale. His eyes are fixed onto the wall now, whilst the Captain's own eyes remain on him. The superior officer finds himself contemplating where so much disdain had originated, what brought the younger man to become so hateful of non-human species. To regard some of the Federation's own members – and allies, and even those not within the armada – as somehow lesser beings, despite the coalition's ideal that all peoples within its borders are equal. Perhaps, he perceives non-humans as some kind of threat; a threat to whom, though? A threat to humankind?
Another thought occurs to the Captain: was he coached into this hatred? And, who had conditioned him? If that may be the case here, the Captain might almost pity him. That pity, however, might not reach too far. The belief and actions of this man contradict everything the Federation stands for, everything it had strived for. Any inkling of pity Kirk may have for the man quickly disappears. Particularly considering how he had attacked his First Officer.
"By your silence, Captain, ", the prisoner's tone is low, surprisingly bereft of the anger it had moments ago, "may I assume that your questioning is finished?"
"We're not done here. My presence is needed on the bridge. I'll have more questions for you later."
The Captain now swivels his form at the utterance of those final words. Without additional words or glances to the assailant, he takes his leave of the brig, and a fresh journey is made. And, while he may not yet have all the information he needs, it might eventually come to light.
All in due time.
