This is somehting I wanted to explore as part of a larger story but for now this is too good of an opportunity to meet a challenge entry. So here goes.
Day 87:
The voice was quiet. It was a pleasant and polite tone. “What are you?”
“I am a Starfleet doctor.” Her voice was small. It was clear. It was direct. It was ...
“WRONG!”
The shock smacked into her body. Her body contorted and spasmed as the energy coursed through it. Her body flailed and jerked. Her eyes rolled. Finally, the pain ended. Her body flopped to the ground to lie perfectly still.
Her chest rose and fell with laboured breaths. Her eyes were half shut – somewhere between delirium and nightmare. Occasionally, her body jerked as if in memory of the shock shot into it. Her left foot twitched. Her eyelids began to flutter.
After a time, she rolled over onto her side. Her eyes reluctantly opened.
He saw she was ready again.
“What are you?”
The voice was scared and whimpering. “I’m a doctor. Just a doctor.”
He shook his sadly as if disappointed, as if he did not desire to punish her for her wrong answers. His voice was despondent but harsh. A rebuking father. “You don’t seem to learn do you? We’ve been though this now for at least an hour. You keep giving me the wrong answer. You need to learn your lesson.” He depressed the button and grinned with macabre pleasure as she shrieked again.
For a long moment afterwards, she lay gasping for breath and sobbing in pain. Waiting for the question to be repeated. Waiting for her punishment to be repeated. She did not know what answer he sought. So she could only give the one by which she had defined herself.
Again, in a quiet solicitous tone he politely enquired, “What are you?”
“I’m ... I’m a d-d-doctor.”
He cocked a scaled reptilian eyebrow. Whether in admiration or puzzlement at her stupidity she did not know. He let out an exasperated sigh. “The things you make me do. Wrong answer.”
“You bast- aggggh!” Her screams resounded around the cold damp dirt blood streaked walls of her tiny cell. Then as the surge was stopped, she collapsed to the floor and lost consciousness. It was an unknown time before she came round again.
“The key to enlightenment is to know oneself. Your human philosophers have remarked. A pity you do not heed them.”
“Is that it? Do you want me to tell you I’m human?!”
“No, you don’t get it at all. You are whatever I decide you are. You are a plaything. A hobby for me. An animal. My own sweet pet. You are nothing. You are a prisoner of the Cardassian Empire. You are not a Starfleet Officer. Starfleet does not exist here. You do not exist to Starfleet. You are not a doctor. Where is your clinic? Where are your patients? Tell me – what are you?”
“I. Am. A. Starfleet. Doctor.”
“You are stubborn ... and more than a little stupid. Enjoy.” He pressed the button again. He did not let go for a long time.
“Ah you’re awake. We may continue. Before you do, would you are for something to eat?” He indicated the bowl of gruel laid near to her head. I believe they may actually have used actual fish heads tonight for the gruel. It seems my superiors believe you deserve a reward for being so useful to the Cardassian Empire."
She looked over at the gruel. Beside a copper vessel held dirty water. Without a word, she shuffled towards it.
Greedily she supped on the water oblivious to the dank smell or foul taste. She needed water so she had to drink.
The plate she pushed aside. She would only vomit it up again if he were to shock again. Which he would.
“What are you?”
“I’ve told you already. Do you expect to break me? Do you think I have vital secrets? I don’t. I’m just a doctor.”
“But you are so much more ... and so much less.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know and you keep getting the answer wrong because you don’t.” He pushed the button. She flinched in anticipation. The shock did not come. She twisted her neck to look a the chip imbedded to her neck. She saw it intact and flashing. She followed the cord as it snaked towards the power source on the wall. All checked out.
Looking back at the Cardassian, she questioned her luck and his motives.
He returned her shocked stare with a grim smile that broke into a harsh laugh. “Half the delight is the anticipation of the pain. I momentarily disabled the charge. Next time I won’t.”
“As I was saying you are so much more. And so much less. Was your father disappointed?” She frowned. “When you did not follow him into a Starfleet career. Was he disappointed? Or was he secretly relieved you would not let down the family name? A very proud man the Admiral.”
She shook her head disbelievingly. He smiled as he asked and answered. “What are you? You are an Admiral’s daughter.”
He let her sit in silence.
“You are to be married are you not?” She was careful not to say or do anything for she did not know the ramifications if she were to admit anything. “But of course you are. You met him at the Academy. He, a dashing young officer on the fast track to command. You, a student doctor. What strings must have been pulled to get a posting together!”
“What are you? You are a wife to be”
Confusion crossed her face. Their engagement was not official.
“Tell me doctor did he propose before or after you discovered you were pregnant?”
She sobbed and bowed her head. The grief poured back. Her child. Her hands reached for her scarred midsection and the unborn baby torn from her womb. How did they know so much about her?
“What are you? You are a grieving mother. An empty husk.”
Through tears and clenched teeth she demanded from the floor, “How dare you? Who told you these things?”
“What are you? You are a widow. A betrayed widow.”
“No ... no that’s not possible.”
“I’m afraid it is. He did not play the game.”
“Game?”
“The game is to survive. Now answer me ... what are you?”
Her grief was overwhelming her. She had no answer to give. No words to express. She just shook her head.
“Wrong.” He pushed the button.
She shivered. Pulling her knees up to her chin to gather as much of her body in on itself for heat she knew she was the image of a surrendered foetal position. She didn’t care.
She saw him digging dirt out from under his nails.
He waited patiently, gnawing on a torn ragged nail and spat it out at her.
Her fingernails gripped the cold stone floor and flew at the receptacle on the base of her neck.
“I wouldn’t advise it. If you were to wrench it free a failsafe sends a continuous shock to the system. Unless of course you want to end it. But you needn’t grasp and flail about to do so. Look at the far wall. A red button. A green button. The red button will automatically send a fatal shock to your system. You can end it anytime you want. You can be with your lover and your unborn child.”
She said nothing. Instead, her eyes bore into the green button. He saw and smiled.
“The green button opens that door.” He pointed to a rusted heavy door with a small rectangle window shaft exposing grimy light through its dirt packed glass. “To the outside. To others from your ship. Those still laive. Those playing the ultimate survival game. You need only press it and you will be free of this cell.”
“But be warned you may not like it out there. Your people are playing for themselves. Hunt or be hunted. Kill or be killed.”
“You mean you make us fight each other like savages.”
“What are you? A plaything; an animal; an experiment; whatever I deem you to be.”
“I won’t play your games. I’m a doctor”
“The question you should ask yourself is: are you a survivor? It’s the only question that matters. That and whether you press the red or the green button.”
“What are you? A survivor or a quitter? Take tonight to make your choice.”
The night came. A long lonely night. They had all been lonely nights ever since they had taken her child. Ever since they had taken Matthew to such a cell. Ever since they had come and taken her to this isolated cell. This cell she had now occupied for more than seventy days.
And then she was told he was gone too her isolation and desolation was complete. She cradled herself and rocked herself in her foetal position. Her eyes bore into the two deactivated buttons.
She knew the Cardassian wanted her to spend the night in contemplation. She knew too that was part of his sick game. To make her wait. To make her feel helpless. To diminish whatever choice and decision she made by trying to control how and when she would make it.
They had taken her freedom. They had taken her fiancé. They had taken her child. They had taken her ability to mourn. They had taken her ability to fight. They had taken her control.
She stared at the buttons and the different escapes they offered. She had the third option of remaining here in this cell. Playing his mind games. Taking his punishments. Becoming his pet, his experiment, his plaything. Nothing.
His voice echoed in her head. What are you?
A quitter?
An animal?
A killer?
She laughed. After all his sick mind games she realised that even then his choices weren’t even that simple. He could be lying altogether. The buttons might be duds to test her. They might be wrongly wired. So she controlled nothing in the end.
The door creaked open. The Cardassian entered and approached her. She sat up against the far wall as far away as possible.
“Good morning. Time to decide.” He beckoned her to the far wall, where the lights activated.
She refused to move or say a word at his entreats. He frowned then grasped her by the arm and tossed her over to the wall. She hit the dirt. The helpless yelp escaped her lips before she knew it. Last night she was determined not to show any weakness. She did not want to give this Cardassian the satisfaction of seeing her flinch, scream or betray any sign of suffering.
“That is not a game we are going to play. You will make your decision. I will ask what are you and you will answer by pressing the button ... or you may prostrate yourself in front of me if you wish to become my pet. Understand?”
She locked eyes with him.
“Should you choose to play the game of survival ...” He threw a disruptor at her prostrate form. Her eyes bulged as it clattered along the ground to within centimetres of her torn, bloodied fingertips. He relished at the confusion on her face. His contorted scaled face broke into a gale of laughter. A harsh bitter chesty laugh escaped from his lips causing the Cardassian to hock up phlegm. Phlegm he then spat into her hair.
“Go ahead, reach for it.”
His eyes beckoned at her to grab for the gun. Her eyes flickered from the gun to the Cardassian. She tried to assess his motives. Did he think to test her reflexes? She guessed it was no reflex test. Not at this time when he was testing so much else about her.
She knew too they needed no justification or excuse to torture them. They no longer existed. They had played non-stop the Federation Newsnet coverage that reported their vessel lost with all hands. Browbeating their spirit letting them know no rescue attempt was coming.
She shot forward for the disruptor. His heavy booted foot rammed into her ribs tossing her onto her back. He dug his foot in again. She curled up into a ball on her side as he repeated the savage kicks again and again and again. With each vicious kick he ridiculed her.
“Did. You. Think. I. Would. Let. You. Shoot. Me?” Each word punctuated with a kick. She felt two ribs break. “Did. You. Think. Me. Stupid?”
The wails she wished she could cry did not come forth. She knew in the recesses of her mind that she did whimper. A small internal grief and shame for the unborn child in her womb destroyed by just such a beating ripped through her soul.
“You. Stupid. Federation. Whore.” He stepped back immensely pleased with his efforts.
Her left eye was almost blind. The bone around her octal lobe shattered. Blood poured from the wound. With her good eye she spied the disruptor and she pulled herself across the bloodstained floor by the fingernails towards it. She hauled her broken damaged body towards the disruptor, expecting at any moment to feel the steel-tip toe of his savage kicks.
They did not come.
Her broken fingers tried to wrap themselves around the butt of the gun. Limply she picked it up as she rolled onto her side and faced his garish smile. Why did he let her get so far?
She decompressed the trigger. Nothing happened.
He laughed once more. “The disruptor is disabled within this room.”
He hunkered down in front of her. His cold reptilian hand reached out and gently cupped her chin with his grey knobbled index finger.
“I do like that you try so. For that reason I will give you this information. Through that door...” he turned her head towards the door indicated, “the dampening field does not work and you can shoot the disruptor.”
She felt a surge of emotion. Was it relief? Hope? Joy? Foreboding? She looked to him and then back to the door and then down at the disruptor in her hand. “Once you go through that door you can shoot what you will.”
Confusion reigned on her face. “But of course there is a catch. You are not the only one with such a weapon. There are shipmates within the warren of buildings and trenches you will find. Shipmates and others. At least four Klingons. A Gorn. Some Ferengi may yet be alive! Your only challenge is to stay alive. How you do so is entirely up to you. Do you decide to hide and wait the task out? You could do. But this one has currently run for one month already. You will have to find found and try not to be discovered when you do. You could team up with some of the others but how do you know they won’t betray you. Simply put you don’t. Your fiancé already betrayed you in a feeble attempt to save his own life. Or do you hunt the others down seeking to be the last one alive? The choice is yours.”
She looked to the door release button and to the Cardassian. He saw the turmoil behind her eyes. “But of course you are a doctor. You help people. How could you possibly kill another? You don’t need to. You can offer yourself up. Or point the disruptor to the side of your head and be done with it. Others have chosen such a noble course.”
“Or take the easy way. Hit the red button. The shock is so high it will kill you in an instant. No pain. No anguish just blessed release from all this.”
“Red or green?”
“What are you?”
She took hold of the disruptor in her broken hand. She pulled herself over to the buttons. She met his eyes with her defiance.
She saw him try to read what she would do next. Which button would she press? She saw him calculate in his mind how much he felt he had broken her. She saw him lick his cracked scaled lips in anticipation.
She smiled.
He had seen them smile before at this juncture. They felt they either cheated him of breaking or killing them if they took their own life or else they imagined out in the game they could return to exact a revenge on him. But her smile was so self-satisfied and smug he gave him cause to panic for an instant.
“What am I?” She spat blood out through her broken teeth. “I’m a survivor. And I’m one smart bitch.”
She slapped the red button and they both screamed as the electrical surge rammed into their bodies.
He collapsed to the floor gasping for breath. He looked at her wide-eyed and stupefied. He saw the fire in her eyes and understood then what she had done.
In the late of the night she had determined to take back her control. She unwired the buttons in the dim shaft of moonlight. She had rerouted the power into the floor.
She hissed at him, “What are you? Red or green?”
He could only croak, “No.”
She slapped the buttons again. They both screamed and rolled about as the floor crackled with energy.
He tried to scramble to his feet but she turned and kicked the button with her foot inflicting another shock upon them both.
“Stop! Guards! Agh!”
She slapped the button again. And again and again.
“It is not a question of what am I? It’s who am I?” She grasped him by the throat as her other hand reached out to the buttons. “Who am I?”
“No!” He choked.
“Wrong!”
She slapped the button. They both convulsed. But she recovered quicker. “Who am I?”
“You’re ... you’re Ryan. Dr Caitlyn Ryan.”
A Question of Survival
Day 87:
The voice was quiet. It was a pleasant and polite tone. “What are you?”
“I am a Starfleet doctor.” Her voice was small. It was clear. It was direct. It was ...
“WRONG!”
The shock smacked into her body. Her body contorted and spasmed as the energy coursed through it. Her body flailed and jerked. Her eyes rolled. Finally, the pain ended. Her body flopped to the ground to lie perfectly still.
Her chest rose and fell with laboured breaths. Her eyes were half shut – somewhere between delirium and nightmare. Occasionally, her body jerked as if in memory of the shock shot into it. Her left foot twitched. Her eyelids began to flutter.
After a time, she rolled over onto her side. Her eyes reluctantly opened.
He saw she was ready again.
“What are you?”
The voice was scared and whimpering. “I’m a doctor. Just a doctor.”
He shook his sadly as if disappointed, as if he did not desire to punish her for her wrong answers. His voice was despondent but harsh. A rebuking father. “You don’t seem to learn do you? We’ve been though this now for at least an hour. You keep giving me the wrong answer. You need to learn your lesson.” He depressed the button and grinned with macabre pleasure as she shrieked again.
For a long moment afterwards, she lay gasping for breath and sobbing in pain. Waiting for the question to be repeated. Waiting for her punishment to be repeated. She did not know what answer he sought. So she could only give the one by which she had defined herself.
Again, in a quiet solicitous tone he politely enquired, “What are you?”
“I’m ... I’m a d-d-doctor.”
He cocked a scaled reptilian eyebrow. Whether in admiration or puzzlement at her stupidity she did not know. He let out an exasperated sigh. “The things you make me do. Wrong answer.”
“You bast- aggggh!” Her screams resounded around the cold damp dirt blood streaked walls of her tiny cell. Then as the surge was stopped, she collapsed to the floor and lost consciousness. It was an unknown time before she came round again.
“The key to enlightenment is to know oneself. Your human philosophers have remarked. A pity you do not heed them.”
“Is that it? Do you want me to tell you I’m human?!”
“No, you don’t get it at all. You are whatever I decide you are. You are a plaything. A hobby for me. An animal. My own sweet pet. You are nothing. You are a prisoner of the Cardassian Empire. You are not a Starfleet Officer. Starfleet does not exist here. You do not exist to Starfleet. You are not a doctor. Where is your clinic? Where are your patients? Tell me – what are you?”
“I. Am. A. Starfleet. Doctor.”
“You are stubborn ... and more than a little stupid. Enjoy.” He pressed the button again. He did not let go for a long time.
* * *
Day 88“Ah you’re awake. We may continue. Before you do, would you are for something to eat?” He indicated the bowl of gruel laid near to her head. I believe they may actually have used actual fish heads tonight for the gruel. It seems my superiors believe you deserve a reward for being so useful to the Cardassian Empire."
She looked over at the gruel. Beside a copper vessel held dirty water. Without a word, she shuffled towards it.
Greedily she supped on the water oblivious to the dank smell or foul taste. She needed water so she had to drink.
The plate she pushed aside. She would only vomit it up again if he were to shock again. Which he would.
“What are you?”
“I’ve told you already. Do you expect to break me? Do you think I have vital secrets? I don’t. I’m just a doctor.”
“But you are so much more ... and so much less.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I know and you keep getting the answer wrong because you don’t.” He pushed the button. She flinched in anticipation. The shock did not come. She twisted her neck to look a the chip imbedded to her neck. She saw it intact and flashing. She followed the cord as it snaked towards the power source on the wall. All checked out.
Looking back at the Cardassian, she questioned her luck and his motives.
He returned her shocked stare with a grim smile that broke into a harsh laugh. “Half the delight is the anticipation of the pain. I momentarily disabled the charge. Next time I won’t.”
“As I was saying you are so much more. And so much less. Was your father disappointed?” She frowned. “When you did not follow him into a Starfleet career. Was he disappointed? Or was he secretly relieved you would not let down the family name? A very proud man the Admiral.”
She shook her head disbelievingly. He smiled as he asked and answered. “What are you? You are an Admiral’s daughter.”
He let her sit in silence.
“You are to be married are you not?” She was careful not to say or do anything for she did not know the ramifications if she were to admit anything. “But of course you are. You met him at the Academy. He, a dashing young officer on the fast track to command. You, a student doctor. What strings must have been pulled to get a posting together!”
“What are you? You are a wife to be”
Confusion crossed her face. Their engagement was not official.
“Tell me doctor did he propose before or after you discovered you were pregnant?”
She sobbed and bowed her head. The grief poured back. Her child. Her hands reached for her scarred midsection and the unborn baby torn from her womb. How did they know so much about her?
“What are you? You are a grieving mother. An empty husk.”
Through tears and clenched teeth she demanded from the floor, “How dare you? Who told you these things?”
“What are you? You are a widow. A betrayed widow.”
“No ... no that’s not possible.”
“I’m afraid it is. He did not play the game.”
“Game?”
“The game is to survive. Now answer me ... what are you?”
Her grief was overwhelming her. She had no answer to give. No words to express. She just shook her head.
“Wrong.” He pushed the button.
* * *
Day 138She shivered. Pulling her knees up to her chin to gather as much of her body in on itself for heat she knew she was the image of a surrendered foetal position. She didn’t care.
She saw him digging dirt out from under his nails.
He waited patiently, gnawing on a torn ragged nail and spat it out at her.
Her fingernails gripped the cold stone floor and flew at the receptacle on the base of her neck.
“I wouldn’t advise it. If you were to wrench it free a failsafe sends a continuous shock to the system. Unless of course you want to end it. But you needn’t grasp and flail about to do so. Look at the far wall. A red button. A green button. The red button will automatically send a fatal shock to your system. You can end it anytime you want. You can be with your lover and your unborn child.”
She said nothing. Instead, her eyes bore into the green button. He saw and smiled.
“The green button opens that door.” He pointed to a rusted heavy door with a small rectangle window shaft exposing grimy light through its dirt packed glass. “To the outside. To others from your ship. Those still laive. Those playing the ultimate survival game. You need only press it and you will be free of this cell.”
“But be warned you may not like it out there. Your people are playing for themselves. Hunt or be hunted. Kill or be killed.”
“You mean you make us fight each other like savages.”
“What are you? A plaything; an animal; an experiment; whatever I deem you to be.”
“I won’t play your games. I’m a doctor”
“The question you should ask yourself is: are you a survivor? It’s the only question that matters. That and whether you press the red or the green button.”
“What are you? A survivor or a quitter? Take tonight to make your choice.”
* * *
The night came. A long lonely night. They had all been lonely nights ever since they had taken her child. Ever since they had taken Matthew to such a cell. Ever since they had come and taken her to this isolated cell. This cell she had now occupied for more than seventy days.
And then she was told he was gone too her isolation and desolation was complete. She cradled herself and rocked herself in her foetal position. Her eyes bore into the two deactivated buttons.
She knew the Cardassian wanted her to spend the night in contemplation. She knew too that was part of his sick game. To make her wait. To make her feel helpless. To diminish whatever choice and decision she made by trying to control how and when she would make it.
They had taken her freedom. They had taken her fiancé. They had taken her child. They had taken her ability to mourn. They had taken her ability to fight. They had taken her control.
She stared at the buttons and the different escapes they offered. She had the third option of remaining here in this cell. Playing his mind games. Taking his punishments. Becoming his pet, his experiment, his plaything. Nothing.
His voice echoed in her head. What are you?
A quitter?
An animal?
A killer?
She laughed. After all his sick mind games she realised that even then his choices weren’t even that simple. He could be lying altogether. The buttons might be duds to test her. They might be wrongly wired. So she controlled nothing in the end.
* * *
Day 139The door creaked open. The Cardassian entered and approached her. She sat up against the far wall as far away as possible.
“Good morning. Time to decide.” He beckoned her to the far wall, where the lights activated.
She refused to move or say a word at his entreats. He frowned then grasped her by the arm and tossed her over to the wall. She hit the dirt. The helpless yelp escaped her lips before she knew it. Last night she was determined not to show any weakness. She did not want to give this Cardassian the satisfaction of seeing her flinch, scream or betray any sign of suffering.
“That is not a game we are going to play. You will make your decision. I will ask what are you and you will answer by pressing the button ... or you may prostrate yourself in front of me if you wish to become my pet. Understand?”
She locked eyes with him.
“Should you choose to play the game of survival ...” He threw a disruptor at her prostrate form. Her eyes bulged as it clattered along the ground to within centimetres of her torn, bloodied fingertips. He relished at the confusion on her face. His contorted scaled face broke into a gale of laughter. A harsh bitter chesty laugh escaped from his lips causing the Cardassian to hock up phlegm. Phlegm he then spat into her hair.
“Go ahead, reach for it.”
His eyes beckoned at her to grab for the gun. Her eyes flickered from the gun to the Cardassian. She tried to assess his motives. Did he think to test her reflexes? She guessed it was no reflex test. Not at this time when he was testing so much else about her.
She knew too they needed no justification or excuse to torture them. They no longer existed. They had played non-stop the Federation Newsnet coverage that reported their vessel lost with all hands. Browbeating their spirit letting them know no rescue attempt was coming.
She shot forward for the disruptor. His heavy booted foot rammed into her ribs tossing her onto her back. He dug his foot in again. She curled up into a ball on her side as he repeated the savage kicks again and again and again. With each vicious kick he ridiculed her.
“Did. You. Think. I. Would. Let. You. Shoot. Me?” Each word punctuated with a kick. She felt two ribs break. “Did. You. Think. Me. Stupid?”
The wails she wished she could cry did not come forth. She knew in the recesses of her mind that she did whimper. A small internal grief and shame for the unborn child in her womb destroyed by just such a beating ripped through her soul.
“You. Stupid. Federation. Whore.” He stepped back immensely pleased with his efforts.
Her left eye was almost blind. The bone around her octal lobe shattered. Blood poured from the wound. With her good eye she spied the disruptor and she pulled herself across the bloodstained floor by the fingernails towards it. She hauled her broken damaged body towards the disruptor, expecting at any moment to feel the steel-tip toe of his savage kicks.
They did not come.
Her broken fingers tried to wrap themselves around the butt of the gun. Limply she picked it up as she rolled onto her side and faced his garish smile. Why did he let her get so far?
She decompressed the trigger. Nothing happened.
He laughed once more. “The disruptor is disabled within this room.”
He hunkered down in front of her. His cold reptilian hand reached out and gently cupped her chin with his grey knobbled index finger.
“I do like that you try so. For that reason I will give you this information. Through that door...” he turned her head towards the door indicated, “the dampening field does not work and you can shoot the disruptor.”
She felt a surge of emotion. Was it relief? Hope? Joy? Foreboding? She looked to him and then back to the door and then down at the disruptor in her hand. “Once you go through that door you can shoot what you will.”
Confusion reigned on her face. “But of course there is a catch. You are not the only one with such a weapon. There are shipmates within the warren of buildings and trenches you will find. Shipmates and others. At least four Klingons. A Gorn. Some Ferengi may yet be alive! Your only challenge is to stay alive. How you do so is entirely up to you. Do you decide to hide and wait the task out? You could do. But this one has currently run for one month already. You will have to find found and try not to be discovered when you do. You could team up with some of the others but how do you know they won’t betray you. Simply put you don’t. Your fiancé already betrayed you in a feeble attempt to save his own life. Or do you hunt the others down seeking to be the last one alive? The choice is yours.”
She looked to the door release button and to the Cardassian. He saw the turmoil behind her eyes. “But of course you are a doctor. You help people. How could you possibly kill another? You don’t need to. You can offer yourself up. Or point the disruptor to the side of your head and be done with it. Others have chosen such a noble course.”
“Or take the easy way. Hit the red button. The shock is so high it will kill you in an instant. No pain. No anguish just blessed release from all this.”
“Red or green?”
“What are you?”
She took hold of the disruptor in her broken hand. She pulled herself over to the buttons. She met his eyes with her defiance.
She saw him try to read what she would do next. Which button would she press? She saw him calculate in his mind how much he felt he had broken her. She saw him lick his cracked scaled lips in anticipation.
She smiled.
He had seen them smile before at this juncture. They felt they either cheated him of breaking or killing them if they took their own life or else they imagined out in the game they could return to exact a revenge on him. But her smile was so self-satisfied and smug he gave him cause to panic for an instant.
“What am I?” She spat blood out through her broken teeth. “I’m a survivor. And I’m one smart bitch.”
She slapped the red button and they both screamed as the electrical surge rammed into their bodies.
He collapsed to the floor gasping for breath. He looked at her wide-eyed and stupefied. He saw the fire in her eyes and understood then what she had done.
In the late of the night she had determined to take back her control. She unwired the buttons in the dim shaft of moonlight. She had rerouted the power into the floor.
She hissed at him, “What are you? Red or green?”
He could only croak, “No.”
She slapped the buttons again. They both screamed and rolled about as the floor crackled with energy.
He tried to scramble to his feet but she turned and kicked the button with her foot inflicting another shock upon them both.
“Stop! Guards! Agh!”
She slapped the button again. And again and again.
“It is not a question of what am I? It’s who am I?” She grasped him by the throat as her other hand reached out to the buttons. “Who am I?”
“No!” He choked.
“Wrong!”
She slapped the button. They both convulsed. But she recovered quicker. “Who am I?”
“You’re ... you’re Ryan. Dr Caitlyn Ryan.”
The End
