Suspects' Holding Cell

[etcircenses]

The vans drive for what seems like an hour before they come to a stop, and Peacekeepers blindfold and forcefully drag even the most cooperative suspects into a building.

The suspects are all held in one cell, a large, metal room with a thick door and a single ledge that serves as a bench. Bright fluorescent lights beam from overhead. There are no windows and no clocks, no sign of where they might be.

The Peacekeepers take off the blindfolds, though without much care for whether they come off all the way or chafe or stay slung around the suspects' necks. The suspects' hands are left cuffed behind their backs, and even the most ingenious of them won't be able to pick the lock on their restraints, but they're otherwise left to roam freely through the space.

Suspects are removed, one at a time, at unpredictable intervals, by Peacekeepers armed with tasers. Some take three hours to return, while others are back within only a minute. Each of them comes back having been clearly roughed up and pressed for information that they may or may not hold; some are bleeding or sporting the beginnings of black eyes.

They'll be sleeping here tonight.

Comments

[carsassian]

The simple answer was, of course, that the Terran races hadn't quite managed to understand this wisdom ever as a unified entity. They turned from it entirely, actually, in Garak's time. And quite sanctimoniously at that.

"Well, my dear Mister Carlos, the goal is to be slightly less crippled than the other dubiously intelligent lifeforms." It wasn't that he couldn't see the charm in discovery for its own sake. Goodness knows, he'd taken enough creative liberties in life to appreciate the act of doing or learning something simply because one could. But practically speaking, discovery was only as good to his people what they could do with it. He was still a Cardassian, after all. He still held their philosophies of public austerity and courtesy above all else.

Speaking of which-- Garak blanched, the limited pink fading almost entirely from the grey ridges of his face. "You must think me incredibly rude. My name is Garak. Just Garak. And it's lovely to meet you, Mister Carlos, the circumstances of our encounter very much notwithstanding."

[youbarium]

"No, not at all. It's easy to forget introductions and pleasantries when you're being held in jail by an amoral, terrifying government." He sounded remarkably un-terrified, though.

Carlos wondered if it would be rude to ask about Garak's home. He clearly wasn't human, and probably had some very interesting stories to tell.

[carsassian]

It was the tone of that response that transformed Garak's smile from thinly polite to almost genuine. It wasn't unlike one he would use in the same situation. The conditions of life under totalitarian governments simply bred that variety of irreverence. "Nevertheless, manners matter. They can make all the difference in certain situations and there's hardly ever a good reason to be impolite. Please accept my most sincere apologies."

[youbarium]

"Apology accepted," Carlos said simply, finding himself warming to Garak despite himself. "So -- if you don't mind my asking, where are you from? Like I said, I'm a scientist, so I'm very curious about other worlds."

If he was going to be shut away in here with nothing to do science to, Carlos might as well use the time to learn.