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Cptn Corizon

Voices from the Past

Author's Note: This log takes place while Corizon et al were still aboard the Scorpiad fighter.

 

There was a long silence in the cargo hold of the Scorpiad fighter, at least from Corizon’s point of view. He felt his eyes flutter back into his head as the blood loss from his arm became more apparent. While Segami had stopped the bleeding, the combined effects of pain and blood loss took their toll on the valiant Captain.

 

Of course, he’d been here before, well not here, but captured. And everytime, he’d lived to die another day. There was a deep rooted will to survive planted in him that seemed to keep him alive, no matter what the odds where, and somehow he’d always managed to find away out. But as he lay against the warm, spongy walls of the Scorpiad fighter as it turned to face the Excalibur, he’d began to wonder how long his luck would continue to hold.

 

---

 

In the depths of his mind, thoughts and memories of the past resurfaced. Opening his eyes, a haze formed briefly obscuring his view. Where was he?

 

“Commander,” the haze began to give way to the dark, bleakness of an antiseptically cold room. The voice was familiar but he didn’t quite recognize it yet. “I am glad to see you’re finally awake. You had…quite the night.”

 

Reflexively wiping at his eyes the haze cleared more and he looked towards the only source of light in the room. Sitting across from him was a solitary Cardassian figure. Gul Mahet. He remembered now. “This isn’t real.”

 

“You know,” the Cardassian said smugly, picking up a glass of warm beverage. “Most prisoners seem to think that, why I haven’t the slightest idea—denial perhaps?”

 

Corizon struggled to move foreword—restraints, right. “You’re some figment of my imagination. This is a really bad dream.”

 

“Then why does it hurt?”

 

“It doesn’t.”

 

“Oh that’s right,” Mahet said, “Dog boy knows how to hide his pain.”

 

“Go to hell.”

 

“How can I do that if I am just a…what was it you called me, oh right, ‘figment of your imagination,” Mahet stroked at his chin.

 

“Something like that,” Corizon tried to wake himself up. It wasn’t working. What ever kind of nightmare this was, it needed to end. Even in a dream, he knew what Mahet was capable of doing, of what he’d done to him.

 

“Then why don’t you simply wake up,” Mahet questioned, intrigued by his subject. “And why am I an interactive nightmare anyway?”

 

That was good question. Why in god’s name would this be coming to the surface now, after all these years. “I am trying,” Corizon nearly barked.

 

“It won’t work you know,” Mahet resumed drinking. “But you can keep trying, I have all the time in the world.”

 

“Why won’t it?”

 

“Because I control you,” a sly grin came across the Cardassian’s features.

 

“Oh, the imagination controls me?” Corizon laughed despite himself. “Now that’s irony.”

 

“Something like that,” Mahet retorted. “Let’s just say that when you were released in that prisoner exchange I wasn’t quite done with you, Commander.”

 

Corizon blinked several times. Scaley bastards. “It’s Captain,” Corizon tried to remain calm. He wasn’t quite ready to accept what Mahet was saying, but he did know that the Cardassians were infamous for their torture devices.

 

“Oh, right. Made a Captain of you did they, I guess Starfleet was in need of officers, losing as many as they did and all.”

 

“You lost,” Corizon growled. “In fact Cardassia now has a big beautiful Federation station circling it.”

 

Mahet drew back, unconvinced. “Impossible.”

 

“Well that proves this isn’t real,” Corizon smiled slightly. “Everyone knows that the Dominion let Cardassia fall. You’re little more than a third-rate power now days, sucking charity from the Federation, Romulans and Klingons. Even the Bajorans are better off than Cardassia these days.”

 

“Maybe in your reality,” Mahet remained unmoved. “But in this one, I am the master.”

 

“This reality?”

 

“Well I might as well tell you, since you’re going to be spending lots of time here anyway.”

 

Corizon lifted an ear, “This should be interesting.”

 

“You see Comm…Captain,” Mahet leaned forewords on his desk, “Just before you were released in exchange for several high ranking Cardassians your government held hostage, the Vorta implanted me into your subconscious mind using telepathy. They’d hoped to eventually allow me to turn you into a double agent for our government, but apparently your mental control was stronger than we had anticipated and I was never able to manifest myself into your brain. Pitty.”

 

“So now that you’ve managed to finally creep into my psyche you’re just going to keep me here for all eternity, listening to you prattle on about the glory of Cardassia.”

 

“Of course not Captain,” Mahet grinned again. “I am going to let you go, but don’t worry…we’ll talk again soon.”

 

“It will be a very cold day in hell before I let you back into my psyche.”

 

“We’ll see Captain…”

 

---

 

Corizon felt a rush of air flow across his nose, he stirred. Pain radiated from his arm. Reality. Good to be back. “We need to find away to slow this thing…”

 

If that scaled Cardassian nutjob thought he was going to slow down Corizon, he had another thing coming. Pushing the all to vivid memory into the back of his mind, Corizon set up.

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