<USS Avalon> Re: "Shock Trauma"

In the past...


                 Gul Nariska Messar, of the Cardassian Fourth Order, smiled 
grimly. Officers of the Second Order were vacating the premises of a rather 
non-descript outpost, and she was taking over. 
                 Of course, it was all according the the revitalization 
efforts of the Empire. Too late they had seen their folly, and thus had paid 
dearly. She, one of the highest ranking women in the Cardassian military--few 
women 
even joined the military, let alone made it as far as she had--had been sent 
to command this unimportant moon base and given orders to make something of it. 
To make it important. And that she would.
                 Messar decided now was the time to take a tour of the 
primitive holding cells located along  an underground tunnel. Although she'd 
seen no 
evidence, there were rumors of a sex-slave operation at this facility, and 
she wanted to see for herself...whatever she would see. Cocking her finger at 
her aide, she said, "Take me down to the holding cells."
                 One of the officers whom Messar's people were replacing 
stood abruptly. "You don't want to go down there. There's really nothing to see 
in 
the pens."
                 His demeanor told her otherwise. "I'll be the judge of 
that," she replied coolly, and marched forward.
                 Both the officer who had spoken and her aide trailed 
helplessly as Messar led the way down a flight of stone stairs and into the 
short 
hall where the cells were, the "pens" as they were called. There was very 
little 
lighting here, the doors to the cells themselves made of a heavy metal with a 
small window. The walls were also made of stone. Six cells in all, three on 
each side of the short corridor.
                 "Where are the keys to these cells, lieutenant?" she asked 
the officer. 
                 Reluctantly, he retrieved them from from a hook on his own 
belt. Messar was not going to be happy when she saw what four of the pens 
contained. The gul had a reputation throughout the Orders as a ball-busting, 
take-no-shit kind of officer, but she was still a woman. Everyone who knew her, 
or 
even knew of her, knew what her stand was on the treatment of women in any 
race, and she wasn't shy about voicing her opinion. Finding the girls was going 
to 
piss her off royal, expecially when she saw the condition they ere in.
                 Not like they didn't fucking deserve what they got, he 
thought to himself.
                 He opened the first cell. It was empty. The second held an 
Andorian female, a young one. The third cell's occupant was Bajoran, as was the 
fourth's. The fifth was empty, like the first. The last cell held such a 
pitiful creature, Messar's breath caught in her chest. She walked inside the 
cell 
as the door was opened, and saw a battered, broken form on the floor. The 
girl--woman?--didn't even move when she reached down and gently picked her up.
                 Fire was in the gul's eyes when she turned around. "I want 
each and every one of these women transported to my ship. Immediately," she 
barked fiercely. "If so much as one more hair is harmed--on any of them--I will 
shoot you myself."  
                 Not waiting for a response, Gul Messar carefully stood and 
walked out of the dingy cell. She had no doubt her orders would be followed. 
Carrying the woman in her arms slowly up the stone stairs, she called out to 
one 
of the warrant officers to transport her to her own quarters on her ship 
right away. Mere seconds later, Messar was aboard the Hellstrom, and as she was 
laying the young woman on the bed, her first officer contacted her over the com 
to let her know the other women had been transported into the infirmary. 
                 "I want them to be treated well," Messar ordered. "Make sure 
the doctor treats their injuries, and see to it they are bathed and fed a hot 
meal. Then assign them quarters on the VIP deck."
                 No doubt her XO was grumbling about the orders. He was a 
man, after all, and didn't really care for her or her ideals. Messar didn't 
give 
a damn what he thought, his job was to do as he was told.
                 Surely she ought to have taken this one to the infirmary as 
well, she told herself as she covered her with a blanket. But something about 
the strange woman had intrigued her. She had pointed ears covered in a fine 
hair and a tail with the same. Messar had never seen her species before, and 
was 
hoping she was not too incoherent to answer a few questions. 
                 Rising, she went to the replicator for a large bowl of warm 
water and a cloth. Starting with the woman's battered face, she gently cleaned 
off old blood and dirt. A moan escaped the lips of her charge, but no other 
sound. She didn't even wake. Messar continued her ministrations, hacing to 
change the water in the bowl four times before the woman was clean. She then 
gently slid over her head a nightgown made of the softest silk from her own 
closet, 
a gift from her last lover, then replaced the blanket.
                 Leaving the sleeping woman on her bed, Messar walked out of 
her bedroom and into her living room. The space was small, as were most of the 
cabins on a Galor-class warship, but there was room enough to lounge 
comfortably, and to accomodate a small dinging table and a desk. It was to the 
desk 
she headed, and sitting behind it, opened a channel on the standard Federation 
frequency. Several minutes passed before she got a response.
                 "This is Captain Pierce Kerrigan of the Starship Farragut. 
Who are you?"
                 "Captain, I am Gul Nariska Messar of the Cardassian Fourth 
Order, commander of the Warship Hellstrom. I've recently taken over a facility 
in the Lopa Sector, and I made some...disturbing...discoveries," Messar said 
slowly.
                 "And your reason for contacting the Federation, Gul Messar?" 
Kerrigan asked.
                 His trepidation was not altogether unexpected. Although the 
war had ended several months ago, and her people had turned on their Dominion 
allies, Cardassians remained one of the least trusted species in the known 
universe. 
                 Messar continued. "The discoveries, Captain, that I made are 
people. Four women who were apparently kept on this facility by it's former 
proprietors for the purpose of fulfilling their sexual needs. It is not an 
action that we were aware of, and I assure you it will not go unpunished."
                 Kerrigan scoffed. "I don't particularly care what you do 
with your own people, Gul. But since you are contacting us, I assume you wish 
to 
return these women?" he asked.
                 Messar nodded. "Yes. They've been severely mistreated, and 
will require medical attention. You have my word that your ship will enter the 
sector unmolested.
                 "And whether you choose to believe me or not, I am very 
sorry about what happened to these women."


*****


                 It was almost six hours before the Farragut arrived in the 
Lopa Sector. True to her word, Gul Messar's people did not try to stop them or 
harass them--in fact, not one of the patrol ships even tried to make contact.
                 When the ship reached the moon where the base was located, 
they were met by the Hellstrom. Kerrigan himself accompanied Dr. Chevington 
onto the Cardassian ship to retrieve the former hostages, and met briefly with 
Messar. 
                 "I will be looking into the base's records, to see if there 
are others," she told him. "Perhaps I will be able to find more."
                 The look in her eyes erased any doubts he'd had as to her 
sincerity. "Let's hope you don't," he replied solemnly. 
                 Back on the Farragut, as they were heading back toward 
Federation space, the captain stood watch in Sickbay as Dr. Chevington and her 
team 
cared for the injured women. The two Bajorans and the Andorian were actually 
in pretty good shape, with mostly bruises and abrasions to treat. The fourth 
woman was another story. A scan had showed several fractures along with her own 
cuts and bruises. She even had a nasty black eye.
                 "This one looks familiar to me," Kerrigan remarked. "Her 
species, I mean, although I'm certain I've never seen anyone like her before."
                 "The computer says she's Tuathan. They're not a member 
species," the doctor replied, concentrating on repairing the broken bones. "I'm 
running a DNA sample through the database now, perhaps it will tell us more."
                 Just then her medical assistant came over, a shocked 
experession on the ensign's face. "Um, Doctor, Captain---this patient is one of 
us. 
She's Starfleet."

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