Writing Challenge: Ensnared — Die Gedanken Sind Frei
Vall’myn let out a low groan of pain as the agony booth shifted its target, a fresh, sharp burst of pain blooming from their chest. They would have long since doubled over and curled up in on themselves, if not for the fact that the booth was too small to even collapse on the spot in its confines. As things stood, they leaned against the smooth glass wall of the agonizer, their antennae twitching in pain as they winced, their eyes fluttering shut for several moments.
“Well, Lieutenant Ollilov, I'd say this is just where you belong,” The entirely too smug voice of the first officer rang out to the other side of the agonizer. Letting out a small hiss of pain, Vall’myn slowly opened their eyes and turned to look at their tormentor, their short silver hair sweaty, disheveled and stuck to their skin.
“Consider this your punishment for failure, Lieutenant. You were under orders, all you had to do was get a correct firing solution on those rebel ships, and you’d be a free blue-skinned bastard. But you couldn’t even get that right. Maybe 12 more hours in the agony booth will be enough to ensure you learn from this mistake,” As the booth shifted to yet another nerve cluster, all Vall’myn could do in response as their superior walked to the control console was slump to the side, their energy almost completely spent, but unable even to fall unconscious.
As the commander worked at the panel, the source of pain suddenly shifted, bolts of agony lancing through Vall’myn’s head and continuing through their entire body as they let out a loud, strained scream, their throat soon going hoarse, but unable to stop screaming. Their screaming covered up the words their XO said as he left the room, his eyes uncaring and unsympathetic, his expression cold.
Time went on, but for Vall’myn, it rapidly lost all meaning, the moments bleeding into one another, with the only constant being an ever-shifting pain keeping them awake, albeit in an at best semi-aware state, unable to focus on anything but the pain, their mind wandering and confused. They had stopped screaming after what seemed to them like several minutes, although the actual time was anyone’s guess. Even so, they remained breathless, their throat sore and strained, adding yet another layer of discomfort and misery to their torture, and leaving them unable to respond to the new bursts and jolts of pain that occurred whenever the agonizer’s program decided that they were getting to used to the pain. The only outwardly visible sign of such a shift was yet another renewed twitching of their antennae and a hitch in their breathing, barely noticeable with how shallow it already was.
At some point, while the room they were in was darkened in accordance with the night-time cycle aboard, Vall’myn suddenly felt a burst of clarity, the fog of pain in their mind clearing, and even as it brought the pain into far greater focus, it also let them truly think on their circumstances, shutting their eyes to even just slightly reduce the sensory input they had to deal with and trying to deepen their breathing, slowly but surely regaining control of their body even as the pain continued to run through them.
As they slowly came back to themselves, the thoughts about what had caused this came back. They had been on duty when the Brand had come across a rebel vessel left from the doomed insurrection that had been crushed back when they were just starting their service with the Terran Imperial Navy. The ship had been heavily damaged, cripppled and barely limping along when the Brand had caught up with it, Vall’myn had been ordered to target their engines, but had taken just a few moments too long. As the ship flashed off to warp, escaping for the moment, they knew that consequences would be coming soon. They’d seen it so often before, and kept their head down, not wanting to face the same fate as always befell those who complained. It was simply how things were, changing it couldn’t happen.
As another burst of pain lanced through Vall’myn, though, it disrupted their train of thought for a moment, and as they started to compose themselves, their thoughts strayed towards rumors they’d started hearing while on shore leave and when working with other ships. There had been rumblings of some Vulcan taking control of the Enterprise, which itself wasn’t unusual outside of the species of the mutineer, but the claims of his plans certainly were. Reform? Changing Terran society from the ground up? It was almost laughable how grand the plans were from the rumors, and yet. As pain continued to ripple through their body, Vall’myn couldn’t help wonder about how such a thing could be possible, if it could even be possible.
Letting out a long, drawn-out sigh of pain, they felt their legs nearly give out as the pain centers in their legs were hit by a prolonged stabbing pain. As they tried to lean on the smooth, glass sides of the booth, they couldn’t help but feel hopeless about the idea of change. The empire had always been like this, throughout the millenia of existence, all that had changed was how efficient the punishment was. It would surely be easier to just go along, never hesitate again, and take power for themselves, the same way that any and all higher-ups in the Navy took power. If Vall’myn could become captain, they’d never have to fear the agonizer again, they could do what they wanted to anyone.
This thought held for a few moments, but as a jolt of pain radiated through them again, it quickly faded from their mind. The idea of forcing someone, even those who they hated most, the XO who tortured them and berated any and all non-humans aboard the ship, through an experience like this was not something they could consider right.
The more they considered it, though, the more it seemed to Vall’myn that many of the things that they had done and seen were far beyond what seemed right. Had they not hesitated, the empty agonizers in this room would all be full of rebels, each awaiting further tortures and, eventually, execution. As a junior officer aboard the Endeavour, they had seen this fate plenty of times, and even served in a firing squad at times. Their complicity in other horrible acts flashed through their mind as they groaned loudly, guts twisting inside them as they remembered the orders dutifully carried out, civilian areas destroyed on suspicion of a single rebel or rebel sympathiser being harbored. After all, Vall’myn had been a good soldier, and that meant absolute obedience, no matter what. But thinking of being the one ultimately responsible for such, that was far beyond what they could stomach. And yet, they also couldn’t go through another time in the agonizer. This was their first time, having always kept their head down, obeying as necessary and avoiding any major mistakes. Still, there had to be a better way, though, both for themselves, and for others.
After several long minutes of contemplation, time still being difficult to gauge, only being able to be told by the regular shifts in focus of the agony booth, which served to break Vall’myn’s focus for several moments each time, even with them having grown slowly accustomed to it, they started to come to a decision. Through their pain and misery, they knew that they’d never survive if they ever had to go through another round in the booth after this, leaving them with two options.
They could continue to keep their head down, hope to not make any more mistakes, keep quiet and not try to do anything risky, or take the biggest risk of all, and throw in their lot with a different set of potential rebels. They’d seen what could happen, hell, they’d caused the deaths of rebels before as weapons officer of the Endeavour. And yet, despite everything, despite the fact that doing so would almost certainly be the death of them, Vall’myn couldn’t help but think about what success could mean.
Certainly it would mean no longer having to deal with arrogant superiors who treated them as though they couldn’t be trusted as an Andorian, but what seemed so much more important in that moment was the idea that all the agonizers, all the tools of cruelty and pain that the Terran Empire had developed over centuries might be destroyed, that they and all others may no longer have to face such treatment. And as they pondered and began to plan, even through the pain, even through the fatigue and hunger and misery that suffused their body, an irreducible spark of hope began to grow within them, hope that this would never need to happen again.
https://www.stonewallgaming.net/photos/180335
“Well, Lieutenant Ollilov, I'd say this is just where you belong,” The entirely too smug voice of the first officer rang out to the other side of the agonizer. Letting out a small hiss of pain, Vall’myn slowly opened their eyes and turned to look at their tormentor, their short silver hair sweaty, disheveled and stuck to their skin.
“Consider this your punishment for failure, Lieutenant. You were under orders, all you had to do was get a correct firing solution on those rebel ships, and you’d be a free blue-skinned bastard. But you couldn’t even get that right. Maybe 12 more hours in the agony booth will be enough to ensure you learn from this mistake,” As the booth shifted to yet another nerve cluster, all Vall’myn could do in response as their superior walked to the control console was slump to the side, their energy almost completely spent, but unable even to fall unconscious.
As the commander worked at the panel, the source of pain suddenly shifted, bolts of agony lancing through Vall’myn’s head and continuing through their entire body as they let out a loud, strained scream, their throat soon going hoarse, but unable to stop screaming. Their screaming covered up the words their XO said as he left the room, his eyes uncaring and unsympathetic, his expression cold.
Time went on, but for Vall’myn, it rapidly lost all meaning, the moments bleeding into one another, with the only constant being an ever-shifting pain keeping them awake, albeit in an at best semi-aware state, unable to focus on anything but the pain, their mind wandering and confused. They had stopped screaming after what seemed to them like several minutes, although the actual time was anyone’s guess. Even so, they remained breathless, their throat sore and strained, adding yet another layer of discomfort and misery to their torture, and leaving them unable to respond to the new bursts and jolts of pain that occurred whenever the agonizer’s program decided that they were getting to used to the pain. The only outwardly visible sign of such a shift was yet another renewed twitching of their antennae and a hitch in their breathing, barely noticeable with how shallow it already was.
At some point, while the room they were in was darkened in accordance with the night-time cycle aboard, Vall’myn suddenly felt a burst of clarity, the fog of pain in their mind clearing, and even as it brought the pain into far greater focus, it also let them truly think on their circumstances, shutting their eyes to even just slightly reduce the sensory input they had to deal with and trying to deepen their breathing, slowly but surely regaining control of their body even as the pain continued to run through them.
As they slowly came back to themselves, the thoughts about what had caused this came back. They had been on duty when the Brand had come across a rebel vessel left from the doomed insurrection that had been crushed back when they were just starting their service with the Terran Imperial Navy. The ship had been heavily damaged, cripppled and barely limping along when the Brand had caught up with it, Vall’myn had been ordered to target their engines, but had taken just a few moments too long. As the ship flashed off to warp, escaping for the moment, they knew that consequences would be coming soon. They’d seen it so often before, and kept their head down, not wanting to face the same fate as always befell those who complained. It was simply how things were, changing it couldn’t happen.
As another burst of pain lanced through Vall’myn, though, it disrupted their train of thought for a moment, and as they started to compose themselves, their thoughts strayed towards rumors they’d started hearing while on shore leave and when working with other ships. There had been rumblings of some Vulcan taking control of the Enterprise, which itself wasn’t unusual outside of the species of the mutineer, but the claims of his plans certainly were. Reform? Changing Terran society from the ground up? It was almost laughable how grand the plans were from the rumors, and yet. As pain continued to ripple through their body, Vall’myn couldn’t help wonder about how such a thing could be possible, if it could even be possible.
Letting out a long, drawn-out sigh of pain, they felt their legs nearly give out as the pain centers in their legs were hit by a prolonged stabbing pain. As they tried to lean on the smooth, glass sides of the booth, they couldn’t help but feel hopeless about the idea of change. The empire had always been like this, throughout the millenia of existence, all that had changed was how efficient the punishment was. It would surely be easier to just go along, never hesitate again, and take power for themselves, the same way that any and all higher-ups in the Navy took power. If Vall’myn could become captain, they’d never have to fear the agonizer again, they could do what they wanted to anyone.
This thought held for a few moments, but as a jolt of pain radiated through them again, it quickly faded from their mind. The idea of forcing someone, even those who they hated most, the XO who tortured them and berated any and all non-humans aboard the ship, through an experience like this was not something they could consider right.
The more they considered it, though, the more it seemed to Vall’myn that many of the things that they had done and seen were far beyond what seemed right. Had they not hesitated, the empty agonizers in this room would all be full of rebels, each awaiting further tortures and, eventually, execution. As a junior officer aboard the Endeavour, they had seen this fate plenty of times, and even served in a firing squad at times. Their complicity in other horrible acts flashed through their mind as they groaned loudly, guts twisting inside them as they remembered the orders dutifully carried out, civilian areas destroyed on suspicion of a single rebel or rebel sympathiser being harbored. After all, Vall’myn had been a good soldier, and that meant absolute obedience, no matter what. But thinking of being the one ultimately responsible for such, that was far beyond what they could stomach. And yet, they also couldn’t go through another time in the agonizer. This was their first time, having always kept their head down, obeying as necessary and avoiding any major mistakes. Still, there had to be a better way, though, both for themselves, and for others.
After several long minutes of contemplation, time still being difficult to gauge, only being able to be told by the regular shifts in focus of the agony booth, which served to break Vall’myn’s focus for several moments each time, even with them having grown slowly accustomed to it, they started to come to a decision. Through their pain and misery, they knew that they’d never survive if they ever had to go through another round in the booth after this, leaving them with two options.
They could continue to keep their head down, hope to not make any more mistakes, keep quiet and not try to do anything risky, or take the biggest risk of all, and throw in their lot with a different set of potential rebels. They’d seen what could happen, hell, they’d caused the deaths of rebels before as weapons officer of the Endeavour. And yet, despite everything, despite the fact that doing so would almost certainly be the death of them, Vall’myn couldn’t help but think about what success could mean.
Certainly it would mean no longer having to deal with arrogant superiors who treated them as though they couldn’t be trusted as an Andorian, but what seemed so much more important in that moment was the idea that all the agonizers, all the tools of cruelty and pain that the Terran Empire had developed over centuries might be destroyed, that they and all others may no longer have to face such treatment. And as they pondered and began to plan, even through the pain, even through the fatigue and hunger and misery that suffused their body, an irreducible spark of hope began to grow within them, hope that this would never need to happen again.
https://www.stonewallgaming.net/photos/180335