Worthy of Survival

Posted on Wed Jul 19th, 2023 @ 4:00am by Lieutenant Commander Lyra Cassiel
Edited on on Wed Jul 19th, 2023 @ 4:10am

Mission: S1 Episode 5: Ex Post Facto
Location: Unknown
Timeline: Date 2371-08-20 at 0445
4740 words - 9.5 OF Standard Post Measure

ON

Lyra stirred. Her fingers twitched against the barely padded surface she was sleeping on. Her body was so stiff; she could tell she hadn’t moved an inch in many hours. She didn’t dare open her eyes yet and her mind churned like a cold engine that had just been started up after a long period of disuse. Images and memories slowly started to come to her, but they were hazy at best; she remembered voices… so many voices, confusion, pain. She was still trapped in this little room and she… she was going to die.

They were going to come for her soon, how soon she didn’t know, but she knew it would be soon. Then they were likely going to run some sort of genetic experiment on her… and she would die. Lyra grit her teeth against that reality and just as she was about to push herself up, she heard the tap of boots on the deck. It wasn’t the flat footed step of the Numiri nor the unnaturally fast and bouncing step of the Baneans - this was a heel to toe, confident stride of a Terran. Despite herself, her heart leapt; it sounded confident and powerful. She opened her eyes and looked up, her lips parted with his name on them.

Then she saw the face and rage swept away her hope like a crashing wave.

He knelt down next to her nearly at her eye level and flashed a charming, pearly grin while his green eyes looked into hers.

“Not the one you thought would be here in the end, hm?” He taunted her and then chuckled, reaching out to touch her cheek. His hand felt warm.

He was right, though. The last man she thought she would see had certainly not been Christoph Ivers. Yet here he was.

“Poor Lyra… they really did leave you alone here to die. I’m so sorry.” He sighed and caressed her cheek with his rough fingertips. “It never needed to be like this, Lyra. We could have worked things out. I know we have a past, but I was just a kid looking for approval, it wasn’t my fault.”

Christoph pulled her to sit up and she found she couldn’t - or maybe didn’t - resist him.

“I really did care for you, I really did love you… and I forgive you for what you did. We can still be together. I can take care of you; you’ll never have to question where my love is, where my loyalty is..” His fingers brushed her dirty hair back from her face and he smiled at her again, that damned easy smile.

Lyra had never allowed herself to even entertain the thought he was proposing, but in the back of her mind, in the recesses that still belonged to that little girl in Brazil, she knew that there was a very good chance that she would have ended up as Lyra Hale, wife of Christoph Ivers.

“Come with me.” He coaxed her, his hands on her cheeks as he began pulling her closer. His lips danced near hers. “Come away with me. I’ll take you away from here, I’ll take care of you.”

She felt herself moving with him. She was so tired and still in pain; she felt so weak.

“Christoph…” She breathed out, grabbing his wrists and closing her eyes as she leaned in closer to him. Her lips nearly touched his, and for just a fleeting moment, she considered his offer.

Then the rage came rushing forward again.

Lyra let out a yell as her hands found Christoph’s throat and she launched her body off of the bed into him to bring him down onto the floor. He clawed at her hands, but she wouldn’t be moved. “Yours?! I would never be yours, you vile creature. How dare you even presume to know what I need or want? You know nothing of me!” She lowered her head down to bring her face close to his, she listened to him choke.

“You are dead, I am not. But I swear by all the gods Christoph that when I do cross the river, I will burn through the fields of Elysium to find you and your pathetic family and kill you again and again until the gods themselves tire of your weakness and END YOU!”

She could feel his windpipe giving, she could see the light going out in his eyes again. She lifted his head by his neck and smashed it down onto the deck, doing this again and again until -

Lyra startled awake, gasping loudly as her body jerked and then immediately, painfully protested the sudden motion. Her fingers flexed and she found her wrists still bound. It had been a dream, but she could still feel Christoph’s pulse slowing against her fingertips. She licked her dry, cracked lips and pulled herself up to a seated position.

It had been a dream, yes… but the reality was she was hastening toward the river. She could feel it in her bones, that sense of impending doom. Where the fading beat of a pulse was on her fingers she now felt a sliding sensation like something actively slipping through them; her hopes, her dreams, the vision she had seen so clearly for her future now all slipping away. She would die alone, forgotten, no legacy or name.

Unacceptable.

Opening her eyes again, she scowled with determination. If she was going to die, she was going to take as many of these filthy animals with her as she could. Her goal had been survival up to this point, focused on maintaining until the Vengeance arrived to rescue her, but she knew that within a few hours, her life was over and there had been no indication that her people were coming for her. Her eyes closed again and she took a slow, deep breath. She pushed back the pain and the undercurrent of panic she was feeling and focused on the task.

Immediately she looked toward the door after opening her eyes once more. Even if she could get it open, she would be vulnerable and without weapons; while she knew she had an above average ability to be stealthy, too many factors would be against her in this place. No, she would have to wait for the guards to come to retrieve her. They usually arrived about an hour before the procedure to take her to their medical bay so everything could be set up and they had time to study her… touch her. A hateful shiver ran down her spine.

Focus.

She looked down at her wrists bound together by the heavy metallic cuffs that reached nearly up to her elbows; one wrist was over the other to prevent her from grabbing anything with both hands. She had already tried to no avail to pull them apart as she had with the cuffs the Baneans used - the Numiri were smarter than their bird brained neighbors, apparently. Lyra frowned and looked around for something to help her get free. This would be the only chance she had - even if she didn’t die, she remembered what had happened to her after her last “extraction” and she wasn’t sure she would make it through another. Even now her control was tenuous at best. She didn’t dwell on it, it would have been a complete waste of time. The Numiri had done a very good job at not leaving her anything she could use as a tool to help herself, so she had to at least give them credit for that. What she really needed was a strong enough electrical discharge to disrupt the circuits that were providing the power to the magnetic field holding the manacles together. She looked up at the light above and unconsciously licked her lips. The way it was inserted into the ceiling wouldn’t work for her - she would have to reach in with her hands and there would be no guarantee enough charge would go through her to where it needed to go.

“Fuck.” She hissed under her breath. She could feel her anxiety starting to rise; she was like an animal trapped in a cage. She grit her teeth and took a slow, deep breath.

It hit her suddenly then, and the realization brought a strange sort of calm for a fleeting moment. Lyra shifted her body around to where she was relatively certain that if there was a surveillance device watching her it wouldn’t be able to see what she was doing and then lifted her arms, bringing them in close and at an awkward angle. She grabbed onto her belt and began to undo it - she had enough practice undoing Andrei’s belt nearly daily with one hand that it was a nonissue for her, even bound as she was. She held the buckle in her hand and though she couldn’t see it, her thumb ran over the details she knew so well. This would be decidedly less than pleasant, but it was the best option available to her. She placed the buckle down on the edge of the bed where it had the most support, took a few deep breaths and then lifted her arms up, bringing the manacles down on the fleet’s crest there. The sound of metal hitting metal filled the room, but nothing more. She repeated it several more times, her brow furrowing with each unsuccessful attempt until finally, she got her intended result.

Lyra stopped the cry of pain in her throat, instead making a few near choking noises as her body was consumed by the sensation she hadn’t felt for many years now. She breathed against it as best she could and fought the instinct to grit her teeth against the pain; that was a good way to end up with broken teeth, she had learned. As her muscles spasmed and twitched, she did her best to try and pull her upper arm away from the lower. It didn’t budge… yet. The discharge of the agonized would intensify the longer she was in contact with it, but of course so would the pain. Flashes of the experiences her younger self had endured entered her mind and her vision, but she pushed them away; they had no place anymore. For another five minutes she remained as she was and to her credit, she didn’t scream, but tears were rolling down her face and she was panting to the point of hyperventilating. Just as she thought she would have to surrender and find a new plan, the manacles around her arms gave a strange hum and there was a sudden pop as they sparked; where her arms had been attached together, there was suddenly space and the smell of burned flesh. The pain would come, but right now her world was engulfed by the pain of the agonizer.

It took a Herculean effort for it to be done, but Lyra successfully pulled her arms away from the smashed and malfunctioning belt. The pain instantly subsided and she collapsed heavily against the wall. Through pain, freedom. Though she was understandably dazed, she had enough sense to keep her arms in relatively the same position they had been. Her restraints were no longer functional, so she didn’t have to worry about them locking back together again. As she recovered, the first thing she did was to turn her head into her shoulders to wipe away the shed tears, embarrassed by them even if they were a natural response especially when vocalization of pain wasn’t an option. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to ignore the burning pain now on her wrists and forearms.

Through pain, freedom.

Now it was a waiting game, and while she usually didn’t mind the waiting game, this was different. She was waiting to begin the series of events that would most certainly end with her death, and she really didn’t want to die. Not yet. She hadn’t even begun to live her life - her real life. There was so much ahead even if they were stuck in the Delta Quadrant for the rest of her lifetime. Yet here she was just hours from losing all of it… because they had never come for her. Why hadn’t they? She grit her teeth against that question and the feelings it brought with it; it wouldn’t serve her now. Her dark eyes closed slowly and she adjusted to a slightly more comfortable but still obscured position to let her body relax and concentrate on what was to come, going over her plan and the contingencies to it should they be needed which they usually always were. Though both her mind and body tried to drift, she didn’t allow it; she had to be focused on the moments to come.

Lyra wasn’t sure how long had passed, but eventually the door opened and the two guards who had taken to escorting her walked in.

“Awake already, Terran? Good.” One of them sneered as they drew closer. “Get up.”

She took a deep breath and remained very conscious of how she was holding her arms as she complied, making sure it appeared as though she were still restrained and avoiding the “Baneans” yanking on her arm to pull her up which would have immediately revealed the deception. She stood slowly and looked at them, her usually unreadable expression showing her clear disgust of the masquerading creatures before her.

“Look, she does learn. Let’s go.” The one that spoke turned to lead the way out of the room and she followed him, the second falling in step behind her. She went three steps and stopped, swaying slightly like she was dizzy. The one in front didn’t notice until the one behind her spoke.

“Hey, keep going.” He spoke and nudged her forward with his rifle.

Her constant compliance over the past few days had lowered their guard and suspicion. It had been exactly as she wanted.

The one in front of her didn’t even get the chance to fully stop. Lyra whirled around, her hands free, and grabbed the rifle from the bottom at the front and middle. They never walked with their fingers on the triggers even when escorting her - that was their own mistake. He was so startled that she easily lifted it out of his hands and in the process caught his nose which broke with the force of being hit; his hands came up to instinctively cradle his nose. Lyra’s hands adjusted on the rifle to grab it by the back while she simultaneously turned with speed and swung the business end of the rifle out. It connected with the side of the head of the man in front of her as he had been turning into it, and he immediately fell to the ground with his rifle flying across the room. Lyra knew hitting him with the weightier back end would have been better, but she also didn’t want the business end of an unfamiliar rifle pointed at her in any way. Her grip adjusted again and this time she brought the butt of the heavy rifle to the back of the first “Banean”’s head and delivered a precise strike where his skull and vertebrae met. He instantly hit the deck. The one with the broken nose however grabbed her in a bear hug. Now, this was generally a very simplistic thing to get out of, she had done it thousands of times and was a maneuver that literal children were taught, but she didn’t want to break away and get into a fight.

At least not a fair fight.

She dropped the rifle and began to squirm in the man’s arms, pushing them out with her hands but not completely away from her. He struggled against her and cursed her but she paid him no heed. Lyra knew how to move her body quite well to the despair of many and the pleasure of - currently - one. This man most certainly was not that one. Quickly enough, she had turned herself around in his arms to face him and when she looked into his confused, surprised eyes, she felt a rush of excitement that she hadn’t felt since she had accompanied Andrei to Romano’s quarters and impressed upon him how very poor of a choice he had made by even attempting to touch Mika. Despite everything, the pain, the anxiety, the sliding grasp of her control, the near guarantee of death… she was elated at the prospect of watching the life drain from these creatures. A twisted grin of glee suddenly lit up her face and it only grew with the man’s deepening concern.

“Hi.” Lyra greeted, her voice syrupy and terrifying all in one. Without hesitation she leaned in and bit down into the side of the man’s neck as hard as she could and began to pull back and shake her head as if she were some sort of animal savaging him. In a way, she was. He screamed and shoved her back, but that maneuver only succeeded in her being pushed back with a large chunk of his skin in her mouth. She stumbled a bit but caught herself and immediately spit out what she had torn off. There was the metallic taste in her mouth, but also a strange bitterness. The man was desperately clutching his neck to try and stymie the blood pouring out of it and she could see quite clearly that he was bleeding black as opposed to the Banean crimson. It simply confirmed what she knew without any doubt already.

“I wondered what color you animals were on the inside.” Lyra hissed and then spit on the ground. She took a step toward him and he stumbled. He certainly was leaving quite a mess everywhere bleeding out like he was. While usually she might take great delight in watching this particular scene play out, she was a bit pressed for time. She scooped the rifle up off of the floor and began to advance toward the man who started to flee, fell, and began scooting frantically toward the door. She moved to his side and kicked him over. He was pleading with her, but she wasn’t listening to him. She brought the rifle down on his temple and he too fell. Two broken necks later and she stepped out of the room where she had been held, but this time she was armed and filled with purpose.

There had been no alarm that she could hear, but that didn’t mean anything when it came to security as she knew full well. She began to move immediately and glanced down to the rifle as she walked to figure out how to turn off the stun setting which she supposed she did; she’d find out soon enough. She moved quickly and quietly down the route she had been taken every day, she’d committed it to memory and the nondescript hallways and doors didn’t phase her. The pain she was experiencing even now was kept at bay by the adrenaline coursing through her body. Her heart was racing, everything felt sharp and vibrant, but this was all borrowed time. Physically and mentally. At least for the moment she was herself again and if she could help it, she would die as herself.

She came to the door and took a deep breath, relishing the moment before it had even come. She was broken from the moment by the sounds of alarmed voices coming from the direction she had come. Cursing under her breath, she wasted no more time and opened the door, stepping into the medical bay with the rifle at the ready. The first two to fall were the guards she knew were inside and knew exactly where they would be, the panicked screams and yells filled her ears like the sweetest of symphonies. The nurses fell immediately after, and that left her with the three she was most interested in.

One of which had a pair of balls, it seemed.

She felt the impact of a body hitting her own and stumbled slightly. She hit her head against the wall hard and near immediately felt the warm wet of her own blood pouring down the side of her head and face. She cursed, he grabbed the rifle, and they struggled with it for a moment though Lyra eventually won out given she had a better grip on it and shot the lead doctor point blank in his core. He stumbled back, eyes wide and still alive for a brief moment, though the absolute gaping hole in his middle would make sure that particular state was short lived. Her attention then turned to the last two “Baneans” in the room - the female doctor and the younger doctor who had been so very fond of putting his hands on her.

Looking toward the woman first, she spoke in a hissed command. “Stay there and don’t move or I will tear you apart. Do you understand?”

The trembling body, the eyes full of fear, and the nod were enough. The woman was frozen - she had likely never seen such violence even though they were in the middle of a war. Lyra’s dark gaze turned to the younger man cowering on the floor and he immediately began to scurry back, lifting a hand as if it would stop her. “No, please! Spare me!”

Oh how she wanted to toy with him, make him suffer so very terribly, bat the mouse around before devouring it… but there simply wasn’t time. She put the rifle down on the bed she had often been strapped down to these past few days and reached for him. He started to scream and beg louder. Lyra all but snarled and her hand snapped toward him into his mouth. Her fingers curled around his teeth and tongue and her thumb sat squarely under his chin. She began to pull and shake like she was playing tug-o-war with a dog over a favorite toy. He clawed at her, she used her other hand to bash away his resistance. His struggles only made her project easier.

The grotesque sounds that occurred as she finally plucked her prize from the man’s face were incredibly satisfying and after considering it in her hand, she threw it over her shoulder like a piece of garbage, grabbed the rifle and walked toward the female while leaving the mutilated man to finish bleeding out and die from his catastrophic injury. The woman was pale and looked like she was legitimately going to pass out from being frightened.

“Shhh, I’m not going to hurt you.” Lyra assured her, her voice gentle though the fact her mouth, chin and neck were still covered in blood as were her hands and the side of her face most definitely didn’t help her case. “Listen, I know you tried to help me… tried to make things better. You tried to make sure I didn’t die. That is enough for me to do the same. Help me now and you will be spared; you can go home to your family. Or you can join your colleagues.”

“I - I’ll help.” The woman managed to stutter out.

“Good.” Lyra grabbed her by the shoulder and they walked to the door. It opened and Lyra’s side immediately blossomed with pain as a beam from one of the rifles grazed her. She immediately moved with the doctor down the hall and away from the guards in front of them, returning fire and landing hits herself but most of them were glancing given her attention was divided and it was also becoming increasingly hard to ignore the pain from her wounds and in her head. Finally she found the turn off to another corridor and guided the doctor in that direction.

“Take me to the control center of this place. Now.” She growled to the doctor, squeezing the woman’s shoulder dangerously. Thankfully, this one seemed to value her life enough that there was no debate; she did as she was asked. They moved quickly, Lyra exchanging fire with her pursuers while she followed the woman guiding her; at this point she just had to hope she wasn’t being led directly into a trap. This facility had to be a small one given she hadn’t been swarmed by armed soldiers yet, but she had no doubt they were coming.

“Here. In here.” The doctor spoke, out of breath and afraid but still seeming quite compliant.

Lyra turned to see they were standing near a large double door. “You first. I suggest you duck and cover immediately.” When the woman hesitated, Lyra all but growled. “Do it or I will kill you right here.”

The woman burst into tears again but did as she was asked. She walked into the room and Lyra followed, without missing a beat she fired on the handful of people inside. One reacted fast enough and was able to return fire, but Lyra was able to duck out of the way and only be hit by a few errant sparks. She dropped the remaining man and then looked down to the floor where the doctor was cowering. “Get up. Show me where I can send a subspace message.”

She didn’t immediately follow the doctor and instead turned toward the door. She yanked the panel next to it off and reached in, grabbing hold of the components and ripping them out, then shooting inside for good measure so that the door would remain sealed for at least a few minutes longer. When she turned, the doctor was standing next to one of the consoles looking so very hopeful through her fear, like she truly believed that her compliance would buy her life. She stepped over the bodies of the fallen Numiri - such ugly creatures they were - and moved over to her compliant hostage.

“Here?” Lyra asked.

“Yes.” The woman nodded and indicated the console. “Target coordinates and input here, the message is sent here.”

Lyra made sure she understood the controls before she looked down at the woman and gave a sweet smile. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”

With that, she lifted the rifle and shot the woman point blank in the chest - she died instantly of course, and Lyra had given her a small mercy for her help and obedience. There had never been any true intention to spare her. As she lowered the rifle, Lyra was now acutely aware her body was starting to feel heavy. The adrenaline was wearing off, the pain was becoming harder to ignore, and truthfully she was just exhausted beyond reason. She tapped at the console with her long, delicate fingers and sent the simple message out, hoping it would reach the Vengeance and maybe, just maybe, they would come back and at the very least avenge her.

Her final cry sent, she looked at the rifle and raised it again, aiming it at the door where the two halves met in the middle. She took her time to fuse it just as she heard the voices outside. At least this way they would have to cut through the door or blow it up. She had bought herself a little time, but for what? She bid her tired legs to move once more and positioned herself behind one of the free standing consoles in the back of the room. Finally, she sank down to the floor and placed the rifle next to her. With nothing else to work toward, her mind began to drift again and though she tried to fight it - as much as it disgusted her - a few tears slid from her dark eyes.

Her end should have been better than this. She had been meant for so much more. They had been meant for so much more.

OFF