Fleeting Revelation

Posted on Sun May 21st, 2023 @ 9:22pm by Lieutenant Commander Lyra Cassiel
Edited on on Sat Jun 10th, 2023 @ 8:20am

Mission: S1 Episode 5: Ex Post Facto
Location: Unknown
Timeline: Date 2371-08-16 at 0900
2415 words - 4.8 OF Standard Post Measure

ON

Light.

Pain.

The two things that immediately filled her senses as her eyes cracked open. She was laying on something barely cushioned. It wasn’t the floor, she could tell she was elevated. Her chest hurt, her head was screaming. She shifted slightly and despite herself let out a pained groan as her body objected to the motion. Her wrists and ankles were still bound together; her mind struggled to remember why.

Lyra’s eyelids fluttered closed again.

“My name isn’t Madeline and you are not my father!”

The slap that followed sent her to the floor immediately. She was so stunned that for a moment she just remained right where she was, supported on her knees and one hand while the other automatically came up to her cheek. She could taste the tang of blood on her lips.

She immediately burst into tears, sobbing.

“Enough.” Alexander Cassiel’s voice was low, commanding… cold. Not the voice of a father. He reached down and with massive hands pulled Madeline up off the floor by her shoulders and forcibly put her back on her feet. “Look at me.”

She resisted and it was promptly rewarded with a backhand to the other cheek. This time, however, she didn’t fall as he was still holding her by the shoulder.

“Obey, Madeline. Look at me. Now.”

Fighting through her sobs and the pain now in both sides of her face, Madeline complied and looked up into Alexander’s cold brown eyes. She wanted her papai, wanted the warmth and love, the hands that had never been raised against her.

But he was gone.

“Everything that is going to happen from this moment in your life is a direct result of Renato’s weakness and foolishness. I will not allow you to succumb to either.” Alexander’s hands came up to cup her cheeks, gentle now. He slid his thumbs over her cheekbones to dry her tears. “Let’s begin.”

He used his hands to turn her around and moved her into the tall cylindrical chamber, closing it behind her. “Remember, my daughter, why are you here - Renato. The longer you scream, the longer you will be in here. Pain is not something to fear; it is an inevitability in this life that you will learn to accept with serenity and then to use it to better yourself.”

Little Madeline looked up, her hands on the walls of her prison. She didn’t know what this was, not really, but there was some vague recognition that it was not a good place to be. She looked back to Alexander and was about to speak, but suddenly everything simply went red and her world stopped. She screamed.

Light. Pain.

Lyra’s hands flexed, and her nails clawed at the mat underneath her as if she were trying to claw her way out of the dream - the nightmare. It wasn’t exactly a rarity, but right now it was much more disconcerting than usual. Her body shifted, and with some effort she was able to push herself up into a sitting position with her back against the wall. Her chest ached, but despite that she began to take slow, deep breaths. The Baneans… no, they weren’t Banean; she had figured it out near instantly. The Numiri. Had they been behind this entire farce? Why? They’d come and taken her from the cell… and they’d shot her. She was going to kill them.

But she didn’t know where she was. There were only fleeting moments of consciousness between being stunned in her cell and wherever she was now, but they had been enough to know she had been transported - and it hadn’t been a short ride. She opened her eyes then slowly and grit her teeth against the spike of pain in her head when she did. She was in a small, dimly lit room sitting on a cot. There was a single door to the front left side of the room from where she was sitting, but there was nothing else. Likely this had been some sort of small storage area that had been cleared out; it wasn’t a prison cell.

Her head drifted back against the wall, her heavy eyelids closed again. Where was Andrei? Was he here somewhere too? Was he captured? They said he had left… maybe he had. If he had left, he was going to come back dragging the fury of all the hells behind him. Through the pain, that thought did make her smile, though it was small. She felt herself drifting again.

“Kill this animal.”

Madeline didn’t hesitate. She swung the dagger in a flash of motion against the throat of the green skinned alien. She was sixteen; he was younger. She watched the blood run down his skin, the way his hands came up and made the futile attempt to stop the bleeding; she listened to the pained gurgling sound he made and watched the light go out in his dark eyes. She felt nothing at first, and then suddenly a deep sense of satisfaction and power.

“Well done, Madeline. Now give me the blade, wipe your hands and go back to the party.”

“Yes, father.”

And she did. She went back to the celebration they were holding for Carnival at the Cassiel estate on Luna. She was old enough now to dance in the Carimbó and dance beautifully she did, a picture of grace and poise despite it being her first time. The men eventually joined the women, and when her partner stepped up to her they locked eyes. There was a warmth and playfulness in his gaze which was coupled with a charming, mischievous grin. He was a few years older, she didn’t care. She liked the feel of his hands on her body and the way his long hair brushed against his face as they took part in the lively number. The Carimbó dance wasn’t her only first, in the end.

Even stuck in the dreaming memory, Lyra was aware of the footsteps gradually growing louder outside.

Footsteps outside. Madeline was angry and in her room, ripping things out of the closet and throwing them into her bag. Her door opened and Alexander stepped inside without any regard for her privacy.

“Here I thought you’d be happy you were going to the Academy.”

“I wanted to go for me, not because of Christoph Ivers.” Madeline hissed back and threw the shirt in her hand on top of everything before she turned to face Alexander. “I have done everything that you and mother have asked of me. It wouldn’t have interfered with anything!”

“And now you are going. What does it matter the reason? You have the greatest role to play in the success of this family, Madeline, and you will play it. Now, since you’re so eager to play soldier, I have one more lesson for you before you depart tomorrow.” Alexander lifted his hand and motioned forward. Two men appeared in the doorway behind him, Madeline frowned.

“You should be prepared for what happens to women who are captured in war. These gentlemen are here to educate you.” Stepping aside, Alexander gestured them into the room.

Madeline’s eyes widened.

Lyra grit her teeth.

“Be done by 0400.” Alexander commanded and exited the room, the door closing behind him. The men walked forward.

With a herculean effort, Lyra opened her eyes and tore herself away from that moment in time that had been triggered by the footsteps. When the door opened and brighter light flooded in only to be immediately blocked by the figures of several Banean men entering the small room, her adrenaline surged, her heart began to race. She grit her teeth again and took a few slow, deep breaths.

“Take her, and be careful.” One of them spoke and she thought she recognized the voice.

As they walked toward her, she didn’t move. Obviously, they didn’t want her dead. There was a reason their weapons had been set on stun when they had taken her from the Baneans. What did they want, though? One used some sort of remote and the tension holding her ankles together suddenly broke, but still she didn’t move. That wasn’t the play here. Right now she had to take a gamble that they weren’t about to lead her like a lamb to slaughter. As they grabbed her by her arms she didn’t struggle and instead stood up quite peacefully. “How’s the neck?”

The leader simply glowered at her. It was obvious to Lyra that he wanted to hit her or retaliate in some way, but for whatever reason he bit his tongue. Delightful. He turned and walked out of the room and Lyra’s escorts walked her forward while holding her by the arms while they could, but they did eventually have to let her go so they could fit through the door. Again, she could have tried to bolt but it wouldn’t have gotten her anywhere, so she simply walked out of the door without fuss; this came as a surprise to the leader who had a rifle leveled on her when she walked out. Once she was secured by the men who followed her out, he turned without a word and began walking. She was of course compelled to follow.

She observed, she calculated, she studied; her dark eyes moved keenly, taking in her surroundings and looking for hints that might give her a location. She would randomly slow down walking to the point where it wouldn’t be as noticeable when she purposefully did it any time they passed a junction that split off into another hallway. The Baneans seemed none the wiser and would only pull her forward when she slowed too much. There wasn’t too much information to be gleaned immediately except that she was possibly not on the planet anymore. The air smelled recycled and there had been no windows to be seen, but those could have just been incidental. She would dismiss nothing though.

The group approached what appeared to be a junction to a larger corridor and as she slowed once more, she finally caught something solid, something that made her tense and her anger spike. There was a figure near the middle of the long corridor who was entering one of the rooms. A figure that was decidedly not a Banean.

Numiri.

Lyra had her suspicions from the start; none of this had made any real sense and of course there were the not quite Banean weapons they held. Her eyes went to the back of the “Banean” in front of her, her gaze attempting to bore through his skull. What was their play here? Were they going to try and frame the Baneans in some way? If that was all it was though, what was the point of the song and dance framing her for murder?

As she mulled it over, she was vaguely aware the pain in her head was becoming worse. She didn’t have long with her thoughts as they finally paused outside of a door and the leader input a code. She watched. Carefully. The door opened and she was herded inside; immediately, she registered she was in some sort of medical space and her body tensed. She pulled back against the men holding her and planted her feet. “I already had a physical on my ship, thanks.”

There were more “Baneans” inside dressed in what their equivalent of surgical gowns were. There were no other patients, and the bed they were trying to lead her toward stood away from the rest, brightly lit and ominous. They pushed, she pulled, and for a brief moment there was a struggle. Then there was a flash of black and white, a place that wasn’t here; it was enough to break her focus and to allow her captors to get her to the bed.

“Hurry up!” One of the doctors demanded.

Lyra came back to herself and began to struggle, her face a scowl. Their filthy alien hands were all over her and they were working to restrain her to the bed. Her adrenaline was spiking not only from this, but the sudden and rapidly worsening pain in her head she was again feeling. Her vision flashed; she saw herself again, and heard her voice being spoken to her. Then she herself spoke with the voice of a man, her eyes falling on herse - Madeline - no, herself. A sharp, high pitched sound invaded the scene and she was sure she could feel them doing something to her mind.

“I swear to all the gods you are all going to die, by my hand or that of my people.” It wasn’t a threat, it was a promise spoken through gritted teeth. The pain and foreign sensation in her head threatened to make her cry out, but she refused.

She would resist.

What lasted in reality for eight minutes felt like an hour for Lyra. Relief was only brought through the motion of the blade that ended Jalak’s life, though Lyra herself felt every inch of the steel being buried into her abdomen. She had found peace in the pain - it had been constant and only varying in intensity, it hadn’t been hard to slide into that pocket where a certain level of disassociation could occur. When her mind returned to the present, it was hazy, but she could hear the Banean-Numiri speaking around her. She caught only passing words and phrases, but it was enough to string together into some coherence.

Extraction.

Something wrong.

Physiology.

Can’t sedate her.

Try again.

Lyra’s eyes opened and closed slowly a few times and she tried to shift, but found herself restrained still. Everything was still in a fog and for the first time in a long time, she felt vulnerable. It made her sick.

“Take her back to the cell. We’ll see if we can figure out what went wrong and try again when the next cycle comes if we feel confident enough.”

There were the hands again.

Lyra struggled to rouse herself, but felt something being pressed to her shoulder. Everything went numb and her eyes closed.

Darkness.

Peace.


END