Chronicles of The Omniverse Archived Temardo Waystation

[Tiko]

as written by Ylanne

For their massive size, the boulder hiding the entryway into Têmardo Waystation should have made some equally jarring sound, scraping, rumbling, something. But it was strangely silent, muted -- mercifully -- through the artful work of a mage who had lent her talents to the hidden base's construction. The door itself was innocuous, appearing from a passing glance (even with the boulder absent) to be nothing more than a razor-edge slit down the rockface, with no more depth than the next slab over on the side of the mountain. Upon closer examination, the mage's work grew more apparent. Cleverly designed to fool sensors and eyes alike, the entryway expanded as one approached, but that still left the barriers maintained to keep intruders out and unwelcome guests very much inside.

Some passing bird of prey, a qortpi or y'ngamo perhaps, had tried to claim the apex of the doorway as its perch, only to be struck instantly dead. Amira Qahtani could not determine whether one of the force fields or one of the mage's hexes had done the deed, but the maggots poking through the bird's eye socket were enough to keep her attentive to the escort's instructions. That, and the excellent view she had of the sheer drop tens of thousands of feet below them.

"One hand there," indicating a camouflaged palm scanner, "and -- stop. Don't put your foot down there. A little to your right. There. Now." Haroun Kim wore a computerized headpiece affixed to his skull, a strange and delightful contrast from his traditional grey-green mage's robes and wispy attempt at a wizard's beard. This man -- or whatever he technically was -- spoke quite timidly, but moved with the grace and confident strength of a leopard staking out its territory. "The prisoner is inside. No, not roaming about. Still unconscious. Her gear, her clothes, everything is in the other room. I, ah, tested it all. Radio, infrared, electromagnetic, psionic, magical... Everything's clean. Oh, and, she's not ... We had extra clothes."

There. Qahtani recognized a qortpi's long, mournful notes soaring across the valleys between the cresting mountains, offering a melodic eulogy for its fallen mate. Moments later, the majestic bird soared into view, all three layers of its wing feathers catching the glint of sunlight long enough to illuminate the brilliant splay of purples and greens famous in the species.

"I've informed Nida-Kule. They know she's here, and that, ah, the Director might take personal interest in this one." Haroun led Qahtani through a small warren of tiny halls, barely wide enough for a hand truck -- or a wheelchair or a baby stroller, she thought absently -- to pass. After only five minutes, Qahtani felt her mental faculties strained. Something must have shown on her face, because Haroun added, with a faltering smile, "That's the second mage's work. She set some disorienting spells into the stone. So if, uh, if there were an intruder ... or an escape, I guess."

The Aschen agent, Marlene Angel, had been detained in a small, bare enclave carved into the rock and reinforced with the same metals, force fields, and spells used to secure the rest of the waystation. She'd been left to lie on the rock slab serving alternately as bench and bed, wearing a plain t-shirt and loose-fitting pants possibly left behind by one of the place's former guests. From outside the door in the secured hallway, on the other side of what she'd been told amounted to one-way glass, Qahtani noted with raised eyebrows the glowing cuffs circling her wrists and ankles. "What, exactly, are those?" she asked Haroun, picking at the edge of one of her eyebrows.

"Oh, ah, those were specially designed -- Leopold had someone working on them," Haroun responded, clasping his hands tightly in front of him as he peered through the door's window too. "They're not just physical restraints. They're meant to inhibit any, ah, psionic, magical, supernatural ... type abilities. You understand." He gestured toward the door, moving back simultaneously. "Well. Whenever you're ready. I'll be in the guest quarters. You have your backup out here." He indicated the two guards who'd accompanied Qahtani out to Têmardo when she'd brought the detainee. "I'll prepare something to eat." And with that, the strange man had gone, leaving Qahtani outside the door, feeling rather alone despite the presence of the two guards close by her.

 

[Tiko]

as written by barney_fife

Marlene's eyes slowly slid open and she took in the rocky surroundings around her and frowned, slowly she pulled herself to a sitting position on the stone slab and looked down at her restraints.

She brought her wrists up close and inspected them carefully. They utilized some kind of inhibition field, this prevented Marlene from accessing the parts of her brain that manifested her alteran abilities, not that they would be any good without the amplifier.

She swung her legs over and looked at the one way mirror, there was no hiding what it was from her.

She shook her head slowly as she looked at her new clothes, and then scoffed. Wherever she was; it was deep underground. She wondered if the subspace transponder was working properly relaying her location to the rest of her team.

Michael had carefully trailed her, and even if they didn't have her specific location, she knew at the very least he had an idea of her general location. When enough time passed he would orchestrate her escape.

But for now she inspected her restraints, every metal and electronic piece, the material of the chains, the cuffs themselves as she tried to find a way to circumvent the restraints.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ylanne

Qahtani watched Marlene for several long moments, perfectly aware that the Aschen woman knew someone (or more than one someone, potentially) was behind the one-way mirror. Even though Qahtani knew Marlene could not see her directly, she felt a distinct discomfort with the situation. She was no warden or skilled interrogator; this was not her arena. Qahtani had been to Têmardo before, but always as a passing stop on the way to some other assignment. It was strange to think of the place as a prison -- more than a makeshift detention facility, since it had been intentionally designed with the idea that the Bureau might wish to use it for that purpose, but on the other hand, it hadn't been constructed to serve as a permanent, let alone long-term, prison.

When friends joked, half-seriously, about the Bureau's black sites, Qahtani laughed it off, pretending she had no clue what they meant. She'd been able to do that too, never having had to confront the reality head-on much before. Her work lay in field operations, and those activities did not usually result in capturing enemy combatants. The Bureau's strength was in subterfuge, not overt militaristic action. Effective intelligence required developing assets, carefully planting counterintelligence, identifying and analyzing chatter, placing long-term moles. Detainees were a separate matter entirely.

Qahtani decided she would wait. Give it at least a few hours, and then approach the Aschen agent. Until she received further instruction, and the Director had asked her to wait, there was little else she could do then check if Saigo had any other update waiting for her, and for that, she'd have to pester Haroun for the access protocols. She'd leave the weird little man alone for now. He'd intimated that the Director was coming.

 

[Tiko]

as written by barney_fife

Marlene continued to sit in the detention cell, quietly staring at the mirror in front of her. By now her hands had gone back into her lap as her mind began to wander, sifting through the fog of the inhibitor as she sat.

She was sensing the nature of the field, trying to understand it, but it was to little avail, and so she sat there, chewing on the side of her cheek before she leaned back.

The IIA agent was calculating her next move, plotting what was to transpire next. She had been in this very situation numerous times both in foreign and Aschen custody. The IIA had trained her well. She knew the longer she had to wait the more she could hone her mind.

All was going according to plan.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ylanne

An hour, or perhaps five, since Marlene had gained consciousness, the door swung open, soundless, revealing little beyond it except for an unadorned corridor undoubtedly rigged with technological or magical traps of some kind or another. The mages had been perhaps a bit overly enthusiastic. Qahtani had to suppress a smirk at that thought. If Haroun was any indication, the mages had likely been so excited at the opportunity to actually put their skills to work they'd all but shat themselves trying to outdo one another.

She'd changed from her earlier outfit, now wearing something sleek and black, designed for combat, hardy boots, her hair now tucked under an unassuming black scarf that hung deceptively loosely about her head. Qahtani held no illusions that anything about her appearance would serve to intimidate the Aschen woman in any way, but she also knew that a sloppy, casual look would do nothing to help in that department either. So she stepped through the doorway, one arm akimbo, posture suggesting ease and calm, looking askance at the detainee.

 

[Tiko]

as written by barney_fife

"I was starting to wonder if you had ever shown." Marlene said quietly, she was looking down at her hands as she brought her eyes up to bear.

"I derived a great deal of pleasure from ending the lives of your compatriots." She said offering a smirk. "One could say I was getting off on it." She said, letting her hands rest in her lap.

"I'm surprised Drulovic hasn't shown her face, I'd like to see how her scars are healing." She said, taking in every subtle movement, every gesture, while Marlene herself remained still, in a seated position with her ankles crossed.

These restraints are unessecary, there's plenty of magic to keep me in here; how do you expect me to go to the bathroom like this? I thought the TIB was better than this, at least we give you a can to shit in." Marlene added.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ylanne and barney_fife

So Drulović had been right. Sometimes all you had to do was let the interrogation subject talk themself. All the better to gain a sense of where the subject wanted to take the conversation, what the subject wanted. At the mention of the Director's scars, Qahtani pondered, though she let nothing show on her face. She and half the agency had wondered exactly how that had happened, and how long ago at that. If Marlene could be taken at her word ...

"I've been busy," Qahtani replied curtly, perhaps a bit more than was strictly necessary. "And trust me," she added, nodding toward the toilet on the other side of the small cell, "you can manage fine on your own. I have no doubt you're perfectly capable." She chose to ignore, for now, the comment about Nasiphi and Nudos. It was an easy, quick barb, designed to anger her so she would lose control. Qahtani would not let it find its mark.

____

Marlene offered a chuckle, before she made a gesture as if checking her watch. "Their screams and pleas for mercy were satisfying, they weren't very good agents though, I broke them so easily it was trivial." She said, looking up at the ceiling and letting her mind wander. She then focused her attention back to her counterpart.

"I do enjoy a good chat; but unfortunately we both know why I am here, and how little time there is. Tick tock."

Marlene simply chuckled mockingly. "So tell me, why did you join the TIB; was it out of some notion of honor, serving your country? Keeping people like me from destroying what little freedom and independence you have left?"

____

As Marlene spoke, Qahtani found herself wondering exactly how Nasiphi and Nudos had fared in their last moments. It must have been terrifying. She couldn't imagine either of them turning traitor, though, giving up the precious secrets each of them was sworn to protect, even at the cost of their own lives if duty so called. Marlene was lying. There could be no doubt. The slow dust accumulating over their not long dead bodies had evidenced the somber milieu of their final resting place. Not one of begging in vain for mercy that would not come. Not from this ... whatever she was, gloating over her version of their murders. And that's what it had been.

So Qahtani made no visible acknowledgement that Marlene had said anything at all, instead speaking before Marlene had quite finished her last sentence, with no sign that she cared about the interruption. "Why did you give yourself up?" She eyed Marlene pointedly. "Come on, it's an obvious ploy. You weren't defeated, not by a long shot. And you might be some kind of coward, but you're not that kind." Qahtani remained where she'd entered, keeping her arm akimbo. "And since you clearly think so little of us, you most certainly wouldn't have surrendered because you were actually afraid. So go ahead. Why? Why surrender?"

____

"I wanted a front row seat to the final days of your organization." She said, holding her hand out and looking at her nails. "I really need to get a manicure." She said, turning her wrist over and letting her hands rest in her lap again.

"You're not going to answer my question? How rude."

____

"Final days, huh?" Qahtani halfway scoffed at that, shaking her head in disbelief. "You really are an arrogant bastard, aren't you?" The way she spoke, it was less a question than a statement. Qahtani had heard things about Marlene's temperament, her rumored sadism, her inability to be reigned in much by her superiors, but it was quite a different matter to be standing in the same room as her, listening to what the Aschen woman no doubt thought were slick, barbed witticisms.

Qahtani cocked her head to the side, an eyebrow raised. "Listen, I'll tell you what." She smiled a bit, though there was something of a cold viciousness in the look. "I joined the TIB because I like what I do -- namely, stopping scum, like you, and a few dozen others I could name, from going through with whatever idiotic plans they had up their sleeves. Even if I died trying. It would be well worth whatever it took." Qahtani's smile faded. "Somehow, I'm not getting the sense that the same applies much to Marlene Angel."

And Qahtani remembered how Drulović had impressed most urgently upon her agents the very real possibility that they could be taken captive or killed. That if captured, it was not required of them to break the capsule, but that it was a choice they would each have to weigh heavily, in deciding whether it would mean more for them to live or for them to die. The TIB was a significantly smaller counterpart to the Aschen's IIA, but for its relative lack of resources and intergalactic power, it was all the more cunning. The Director had had to be, and Qahtani knew without a doubt even beginning to float in her mind, that no matter what the Aschen threw at them, they would survive. They always had.

____

Marlene kept looking at her hands, or rather what appeared to be her hands. Her eyes were subtly directed elsewhere; she was still analyzing the bindings.

She took in Qahtani's words, every syllable rang clear through her mind. She was analyzing the facial expression, the subtle body gestures. The agent appeared smug in her mind, but Marlene was just as calculating.

"Scum, like me." Marlene retorted, letting her arms fall limp into her lap. It's amazing what perception does, it carves out our national and ethnic identities, our day to day interactions. You see, Miss Qahtani is it? I can speak with many people who disagree with your sentiment, that you're the scum and I'm the good guy. You're the terrorist and I'm the Agent laying her life on the line to put a stop to your actions." Marlene retorted, appearing not even the slightest upset.

"I joined the IIA to do my small part on furthering the will of the people of the Aschen Empire across the Stars." She said. "Putting down insurgents and rebellions such as yourselves. From my point of view, and the point of view of my people; I'm the good guy." Marlene said. "And you? You're little more than a cockroach, it's actually quite silly how easy it would be for us to completely obliterate your world, but for one reason or another, my superiors see it prudent to play these little games of tit for tat." She said, holding up the binders.

"These binders are uncomfortable, I'd like you to remove them. There's nothing to fear, if I wanted you dead; you'd be dead."

____

"Not sorry. They're staying." Qahtani's voice was flat. "Procedure," she said, as if in explanation for the restraints staying on Marlene's wrists. She didn't acknowledge Marlene dropping her name. "But of course, I can always take complaints to the customer service department. Oh wait. That would be the Director. Aaaand ... yes, well, she's not here right now."

Contrary to Marlene's perception, however, Qahtani was neither particularly smug -- though she was annoyed and dismayed at the Aschen agent's cavalier attitude and gloating over her colleagues' murders -- nor was she particularly afraid. Qahtani was a realist, and she knew Marlene was a formidable fighter who had gone down suspiciously easily.

Qahtani glanced behind herself toward the hallway, then back at Marlene, letting her hand fall from her hip. "Well, if that's it ... if you've had too much of the cockroach for the day, then, have at it." Qahtani started to go. "I'd rather not listen to the odious sound of your voice anymore. Unfortunately, I'm acting under orders."

____

The IIA Agent remained silent for several long moments, as Qahtani turned to leave, Marlene spoke up with a rather unusual inquiry.

"Do you have children?" She asked, looking up from studying the handcuffs. The question was fairly direct, was it an innocent question, or a query for Marlene to target family, even though targeting family was not typically her MO.

"I do, two boys." She said.

"A shame you have to leave so soon, you're going to miss the festivities."

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ylanne

Snake in the grass.

"I know," Qahtani said, when Marlene mentioned her sons. They'd each managed to acquire their own dossiers in the TIB's voluminous archives, the one more notorious than the other by far. Raphael McGregor's exploits and misadventures made for great conversation fodder when one needed to feel simultaneously sobered and amused. The Aschen were a constant presence in the TNG's history, though Qahtani knew the Director played a much longer game and looked at a much bigger picture than she could fully conceptualize in her role as a ground-level operative. The Director so often adopted this distant look, fully present yet somehow not quite there, scribbling in her tiny notepad. Qahtani half wondered whether that was how Drulović conducted her interrogations, too.

The TIB had no official directive either explicitly authorizing and condoning torture or else forbidding it. The standing policy simply indicated that detainees should not be subject to any techniques that would be likely to inhibit candor, veracity of information provided, or intergalactic relations -- in that order of priorities. An additional section also noted that operatives conducting interrogations should inform their handlers, and avoid inflicting unnecessary pain or discomfort. Within those guidelines, they had plenty of leeway.

Qahtani had found, much to her distaste, that some of her particularly eager colleagues preferred to construe the term "unnecessary" as narrowly as possible, giving rather liberal interpretations to the entire policy as a whole. She'd once found a detainee chained by all four limbs to the floor, face bloodied, emitting a pungent odor. That one, at least, had resulted in dismissals, and Qahtani had heard afterward that Drulović had personally taken over the remainder of the interrogation. The Director was an oddball for an administrator, always focused on subtle changes and rifts in socio-political/economic relations throughout the known galaxies, even those far removed from Terra's homeworld of Valore, yet still happy to provide warm, home-baked pastries to complement the cafeteria's standard fare at Nida Kule.

At Marlene's final comment, Qahtani suppressed an incredulous look of her own, instead, half-turning, almost speaking over her shoulder. "Yeah? And you want to elaborate on what exactly these festivities entail?" She did not, of course, expect a straight answer, but she knew she'd glean some information from whatever Marlene said in reply.

 

[Tiko]

as written by barney_fife

Marlene shrugged as she watched Qahtani. "Core detonation." She replied, before putting her hands together.

"Boom." She said, emulating the sound of an explosion as her balled intertwined fingers came apart, and she made the obvious gesture of an explosion.

"And we're all going to die, well. I'm not, I can't die." She bragged, looking at the door.

Unlike the TIB, the IIA Had broad authority regarding interrogations, as well as several effective methods of torture outlined in their handbooks, One of Marlene's personal favorites was something known as the Tantalus torment, the detainee was deprived of food and water, restrained, and presented with a gourmet meal three times a day; a gourmet meal that was just beyond reach.

She grinned as she recalled one TIB Agent they had managed to capture, the agent was beaten, brutally tortured, and then starved. It took them two weeks, two weeks to try and gnaw their own arm off to get out of the restraints.

She recalled how the agent tried their suicide pill, which had failed spectacularly. She grinned even more at their look of horror when they woke up from Reverse-Necrosis, the torture was going to continue with no way out.

The TIB Agent broke in one month's time, spilling everything they knew, before they were publicly executed.

Marlene simply grinned quietly, the look of sheer malice flashing ever so briefly through her eyes.

 

[Tiko]

as written by Ylanne

"Somehow, I doubt that," Qahtani said, in response to Marlene's assertion that she was unable to die. Whatever technology the Aschen possessed -- or supernatural abilities existed within Marlene's body -- there had to be some way that would ensure Marlene would remain dead rather than returning to haunt the living with her ghoulish presence. The TIB agent would never admit it or allow it to show -- keeping her true feelings pushed so far down she could almost pretend they no longer existed -- but there was something deeply unsettling about Marlene's vicious expression. It was the look of someone who knew enough to bury Qahtani.

Marlene talked about a core detonation, but years of experience had taught Qahtani to question anything the enemy said -- if Marlene spoke the truth, there was some deviousness in it, some horrifying twist. If Marlene was lying, the true nature of the Aschen's plans would be much worse than the images that thought of a core detonation might conjure. But it was not for Qahtani to evaluate the veracity of each of Marlene's claims. That responsibility lay with the agency's analysts, working with all intelligence available to them -- the carefully placed tidbits of misinformation equally important as the nuggets of truth.

"But if that's what ends up happening, well, guess I'll meet you in some hell or another," Qahtani finally said, shutting the door firmly behind her. The lights in the detention cell remained on.

***​

It was another two hours before Haroun Kim came escorting a small, older woman and her security detail through Têmardo's twisting paths. Qahtani immediately rose to attention, instinct not lost in the remote waystation, straightening her jacket out of habit and some long-internalized sense of propriety in the presence of older authority. "Director." Drulović waved Qahtani's formalities away, something twitching in the corner of her eye for a moment. From rumors, Qahtani suspected the Director had tried leaving her security detail behind too, but thankfully, Leimgrüber had been insistent on accompanying her. You never knew what dangers awaited, particularly when their dear parliamentary republic was on the cusp of war.

"The Director, ah, wants to see the detainee," Haroun Kim said, head bobbing up and down as he spoke, eyes darting between the members of the Director's security detail and Qahtani. He avoided looking directly at the older woman. "I think, perhaps, you should go with her. Not that I'm suggesting there would be a problem if you went alone, Director. I just ... I have some magical reinforcements to work on in a separate corridor. If there's nothing else I can do for you ... "

"Of course, Mr. Kim," Drulović said, nodding to the mage. "It's always good to see you. I'm sure we'll meet again someday soon."

Needing no further encouragement, Haroun scurried away, leaving Qahtani to take the Director toward Marlene's place of confinement to a soundtrack of boots pounding against the floor. On the way, she summarized what Marlene had already said, giving a somewhat disbelieving look as she recounted Marlene's arrogant threats of core detonation and violence against her jailers. Drulović hardly responded as Qahtani spoke, and for a moment, Qahtani's voice caught in her throat, as if she was unsure whether she'd perhaps said the wrong thing. But then Drulović motioned for her to continue, so Qahtani finished with her description of the Aschen detainee's demands and mockery.

Once at the door, Qahtani gave a questioning look to the Director's security detail. "Are you ...?"

"I'll be fine by myself," said Drulović in her characteristically impassive tone.

Leimgrüber shook his head. "Director, if I may, I don't think that's particularly wise. I would strongly prefer to accompany you inside."

"Do you fancy yourself my babysitter now, Mr. Leimgrüber? Some bureaucratically-appointed minder to watch as I go about my business?"

The security chief bit his tongue at the Director's sharpness. "My job is to safeguard your life so you can continue to serve the TNG, Director. Now. I'm not asking. I'm telling you, with all due respect, that I won't allow you to go anywhere in this waystation, but particularly here, without protection."

Drulović's expression soured for a moment. "I don't suppose you'd consider finding the nearest precipice." When no response was forthcoming, she shook her head. "Fine, then. Ms. Qahtani? If you would, please wait for me here. I don't expect to be long here." The younger agent nodded, indicating that the additional members of the Director's security detail should wait with her and the guard stationed in the hallway, out of sight or hearing, but ready and waiting for the Director's return. The older woman looked at the door, the lines and marks on her face thoroughly unreadable, before she disengaged the locks following the mage's directions. The Director was dressed in muted colors -- equally at home in the board room or a field station, her appearance almost entirely forgettable if not for the physical impairment and the scars.

"Good day to you, Ms. Angel," Drulović said. She met Marlene's eyes with no sign of fear or things remembered.