"Confinement"

[Guest Fiona Weber]

Fiona was in hell.

 

Literal, painful, burning, excruciating. Hell.

 

It wouldn't stop screaming. And crying. And acting like she was its mother and was supposed to hug it, and cuddle it, and tell it that everything would be all right. Or that somehow she was supposed to magically produce "wa-wa".

 

Bloody hell. What had she done to deserve this. Absolutely nothing. Nothing at all.

 

Why. Why was she stuck in a cage. Why was she stuck in some alien subhumans' cage with a screaming child that vomited on her. Why was she going through living hell. If they were going to torture her, they could at least do it right. The five basic pain-groups. Hot, cold, blunt, sharp, sound. "Sound" they got right, but she still didn't think that "child" really fell into the categories.

 

Fiona was frustrated above all other things, and if she really thought about it, she knew even little Gunner wasn't to blame for it. She hated being locked in here. It felt worse than a prison; she hated feeling like there was some alien scientist that thought it had the right to experiment on her The thought made her more ill than the prospect of eating the clicking insects and pasty-paste left in the cage.

 

Whatever she'd done to offend some minor deity or vengeful spirit... well, Fiona wasn't sorry for whatever she did, but she was very sorry that she'd ended up here as a result. She was a Starfleet officer. She was... above this sort of thing, and if she ever found out who -- deity or alien scientist -- was responsible for her being locked in this cell, they would pay very dearly for it.

 

Tugging at the torn, now-fraying leg of her uniform, Fiona sighed. Hopefully they wouldn't be such poor lab-rats that they'd be freed soon, or at least the obstinate aliens would explain why they were being held here in the first place. Until then, she was stuck in confinement with the Robinson child, insects, and a burning desire to dig out her chip and mercifully die before this day could get any worse.