Echoes of Captivity

Posted on 02/29/2024 @ 10:40am by Captain Cornelius Harrington & Colonel Loval
Edited on on 03/02/2024 @ 11:18am

1,263 words; about a 6 minute read

Mission: Mini Mission: The Odyssey of Prisoner 39471

On:

A resonant groan filled the confined space as Neil extended his hand, struggling to elevate himself from the ground. Sighing, he tried to regain his balance. Opening his eyes, he called out, "Adira," attempting to sharpen his focus on the darkened surroundings. An unsettling feeling lingered. He had been in countless scuffles before; his senses rattled multiple times, but this was an unfamiliar experience.

His efforts to concentrate were hindered; his eyes simply refused to cooperate. Rising proved challenging, and a subsequent attempt sent him back to the floor. Something was wrong. His hands explored the ground, and he remarked, "dirt." As the room slowly came into focus, he recoiled towards the wall. The dimensions confined him within a cramped 5x5 space. A makeshift bed occupied the left, a crude toilet on the opposite side. Panic set in.

Fingers pressed against his face, but an unsettling realization dawned. When had he grown a beard? Though he'd always had facial hair, this was different—thick, unkempt strands suggesting years of neglect. Desperation drove him to the nearest wall, searching for his reflection on the cold metallic surface. His left hand touched his chin, perplexed by the unfamiliar face staring back at him.

His mind raced through memories, attempting to recollect his whereabouts—the last coherent thought: a call to meet Greg in some bar on the station. Struggling to focus intensified his pounding headache. He paced the room, touching every surface, desperately calling out, "Hello," slamming his hand against the wall. "HELLO," he shouted, abruptly interrupted by a blinding light filling the room.

"Prisoner three, nine, four, seven, one… comply with conditioning," a robotic voice echoed.

Neil covered his ears, collapsing to the floor. "Jesus," he hissed. Calmness, if he had any, evaporated. Panic set in as he muttered, "What Prisoner."

Outside, the voice conversed with others, followed by agonizing screams. He despised this uncertainty, curling into a corner. Time blurred—seconds, minutes, hours—while he tried desperately to remember how he ended up here.

The door swung open, revealing an aged Romulan male. A table and chairs materialized, and the Romulan, gesturing, said, "Prisoner three, nine, four, seven, one, please sit."

Neil resisted. The man produced a small black device, pressed a button, and gazed at Neil with pity. Instantly, Neil dropped to the floor, pain coursing through him. The Romulan stated, "You've been here almost a decade, Lieutenant Commander; when will you learn? Your precious Oberon is not coming to save you. You're a prisoner of war. Your ship and crew gone."

Seating himself, the Romulan commanded, "Now sit, please."

Neil's mind grappled with the revelation. "Ten years... The Oberon... Lieutenant Commander." It hadn't registered. Examining his uniform, the familiar red trim replaced by the tattered remnants of a purple-trimmed one, Neil pulled himself into the chair.

"Now, let's begin again, Prisoner three, nine, four, seven, one..."

Loval sat from the observation room. What had begun to transpire was not new to the Chief of the Tal Shiar. They attempted to make Neil Harrington believe he had been an undercover Romulan agent. If they could succeed they could send him back and receive high level Federation secrets. But that would be for another day far in the future. In the immediate it seemed that phase one had begun with little to no effort. If Harrington would speak to the Sub Commander that was with him that would be an excellent start.

"Colonel, Doctor Regnal would like to know if he should proceed with prosthetics." The Centurion's words disturbed Loval's intent viewing of the proceedings. However, it took time to get the measurements and make someone believe they are of a race that they were not born too. "Yes, Centurion, inform the Doctor to proceed. However, he is not to affix them until I give the order." The Centurion saluted and left. Loval turned his face back to the screen, transfixed as someone who viewed a work of art for the first time.

From inside the sealed room, Neil slammed his fist into the table still protesting. He had pushed through the pain, but was growing tired. "I demand to speak to a Federation Representative," he ordered, like he really had some authority here. He couldn't believe what they were telling him. He refused.

"Enough of this game," he spoke.

Loval leaned forward and activated an internal comm system. Harrington would be able to hear him but would not know where the voice came from. "Agent Harniclium welcome home. There is no Federation Representative and even if there were you will not need one. For you are a Romulan citizen and are being brought home. Your mission is over, and you are a credit to the Empire." Now Loval would wait and see how Harrington took this news. If this experiment went well the data combined with the data from Igion would go far to further the Empire's needs.

When the voice caught him off guard, Neil was about to speak, "Agent...Harniclium .. romulan." He paused; he refused to believe it.

Sitting up further in his chair, "Harrington, Neil Captain. Serial Number CH-2354-051201," he sat there stoic, refusing to participate further.

"Yes our training in both physical and mental has gone far. We know you would react in this way. It is why we are going to deprogram you by showing scenes of your home, your family. You are a Romulan and have been a sleeper agent for some time. But, as I said your mission is over. We will talk again soon. In the interim rest." Loval turned the comm channel off and continued to watch Harrington the next day or so would be the most crucial. They would have to make him believe, make buy the lie.

Neil repeated the line that every Starfleet Officer knew, "Harrington, Neil Captain. Serial Number CH-2354-051201," he sat there perhaps a little more determined. This game had gone too far, "I demand to speak to the local Federation representative."

Loval did not respond, instead he keyed a command into the console in front of him. A large screen mounted into the wall of the cell that held Harrington began to display a video program. This video showed a Romulan with Harrington's face interacting with various Romulans. A female showed prominently, as well as children. There were pictures of this Romulan Harrington with Loval, as well another Romulan who could have been the Praetor if one was to judge by the way they were dressed. This video continued for some time as Neil had no option but to watch it.

Neil continued his protest this time with more force, there was no truth to these lies and he was not going to give in. "Harrington, Neil Captain. Serial Number CH-2354-051201," he sat defiantly looking at the Romulan.

Loval knew that this would not work in one session, and yet, he was still disappointed. He hoped that there would have been some steps in the direction he wanted. He sighed heavily and turned on the intercom. "Yes of course dedicated Starfleet Captain until the end. No matter in due time you will remember everything. For now enjoy the stroll down memory lane." Loval closed the intercom and turned to the Centurion next to him. "Notify me if he begins to speak other than what he has already said." With that Loval left for his quarters. It had been a hectic couple of days and a rushed plan, rest was what he needed most at the moment.

To Be Continued...

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