Familiar Voices in the Dark

[NDak 0]

The hand had grabbed him so fast, Destorie didn't have time to defend himself—let alone identify his captor. His last conscious thought was something about the parentage of the elements before passing out.

 

To say he was confused when he finally came around would be an understatement.

 

“What the hell?”

 

There was no response. Of course since he couldn't see his own hand in the darkness, he wasn't exactly surprised. Frowning, he oriented himself. He was on what appeared to be a cot in what he assumed to be a holding cell of some fashion. Feeling no pain, he assumed that his captors had not beaten or tortured him, yet.

 

A low humming noise ruminated from the darkness a few feet away, which Destorie reasoned was either a forcefield of a recording device of some sort, he wasn't entirely sure which.

 

He sat up and felt around his immediate surroundings, finding a wall nearby. Though he hadn't been tortured, whatever his captors incapacitated him with left a rather nasty headache and he leaned against the wall, blinking multiple times.

 

Crossing his arms, he assessed the situation. With any luck he was the only one of the group who'd been captured. That way, they could at least get back to Talon and try to return to the proper Universe.

 

The information that the crew had obtained was of utmost importance to the survival of the Empire. The Tal'Shiar could not be allowed to continue building up their forces. If they did, he knew it would be only a matter of time before they struck openly at their longtime nemesis the Galae. And when that happened...

 

The thought of such a confrontation was almost too horrific to visualize...

 

“Sheuiji, Son of D'Lvon, House of N'Dak.”

 

The voice had startled him. Not only because it had come some completely out of nowhere, but because of the tone, the inflection and the use of his familial name—Sheuiji. There was something about the voice. Something...close to home.

 

“That is your name, correct?”

 

Unsure of which direction he was being spoken to from, or who was speaking to him, Destorie lifted a brow. “That is correct. Whom addresses me?”

 

“That is unimportant.”

 

“Depending on your perspective.”

 

Silence. “Under what charges am I being held?”

 

Again, silence.

 

“Or stay hidden behind the shadows,” Destorie said sardonically. He was careful to keep annoyance or anger from his voice, even if he was feeling a bit frustrated internally.

 

“How did you arrive at this station?”

 

“N'Dak, Destorie. 456-Y-A23K.”

 

“You always were too stubborn for your own good.”