The Hold

Posted on Sat Jun 2, 2018 @ 12:25pm by Lieutenant Nicole Anderson

1,056 words; about a 5 minute read

Mission: Divide et Impera ~ Chapter 2: Heralding the Chase
Location: Cell

A muffled groan escaped Alec's lips as he slowly returned to consciousness. He was lying on his side on a cot and couldn't move.
A fact discovered by the tugging of his hands and finding them tied behind his back by what felt like stout rope. His feet were tied in
a similar fashion. He looked around but could see nothing, Wherever he was, it was absolutely pitch black. No light whatsoever penetrated
the prison he was in.

"Hello? Anybody?" He called out and hearing the echo bounce back at him, he realized the room was empty save for him. "Think Alec."
He told himself, the last he remembered he and Cassandra were following the suspected smuggler one Captain Hunter. He had followed
him to a cargo bay and was grabbed, knocked out with a hypospray he assumed and found himself here wherever here was. What about
Cassandra? He wondered had she been grabbed as well?

He struggled with the ropes trying to find some weakness in them but whomever had tied him knew their stuff. He sighed and stopped. For
the moment the captor, whoever it was, had won but the battle was far from over. His thoughts went to Rhea and her reaction when she heard about this. He knew with absolute certainty he didn't want to be in his kidnappers shoes when she came after them.

A door to the room opened, flooding it with light directly in Alec's face. A silhouette filled the doorway and then walked into the room, carrying a small tray. His face was partially obscured by a covering over his eyes, blocking out the extreme light in the corridor. He set the tray down and grunted, "food," and grabbed a knife from his belt, cutting the binds on Alec's wrists before backing away, letting the blinding light shield him. As the doors closed again, plunging the room into relative darkness, a small utility light in the corner came on, giving a candle-worth of illumination.

All Alec could see was a dark form thanks to the light flooding into the room and a harsh, gruff voice announcing food as he heard tray being set down and his wrist binds being cut. Bringing his hands around he rubbed them to restore his circulation. His eyes struggled to adjust and just when they had the form backed away and his eyes were again overwhelmed by the light. He heard the door being slammed shut even as he bent down to untie his ankles. Thankfully there was a small utility light casting a dim sallow light in the room. What? No wine? The room service here stinks!" He yelled into the emptiness. Blinking several times as his eyes became accustomed to the dim light. Looking about the room, he saw a sink and a toilet in the corner. "Well, all the comforts of home. Now all I need is a breath mint." He quipped sourly.

Getting up he walked around the room looking for any possible weakness or a way to escape. There were no windows and only the one door, thereby limiting his options. He stopped his search and put a hand on the wall, "No vibrations." He observed. He bent over and repeated the process with the floor and again felt no vibrations. So wherever he was, he wasn't in space at least not yet. That was a small consolation in his favor but the question remained, where was he? He strained to hear any identifiable sounds but the walls effectively muffled and muted all noise. "Frackin great!" He groused. He may be a imprisoned but he wasn't helpless, He had his mind and his wits. He walked back to the cot and sat down. Time to plan. Sitting there, he remembered his cricket phaser, he had tucked inside his waistband. Yet his initial jubilation turned sour when he realized the phaser was gone. "Time to come up with Plan B."

He looked at his tray and the 'food' it held. It looked like well it was brown and then inspiration hit him and escape plan. It was simple but it just might work. After all his mother always said what an actor he was. A small self satisfied crossed his face. Using the plastic knife and fork he ate, whatever it was. After a reasonable amount of time had passed he rolled onto his side and curled into a fetal position and started moaning, screaming at the top of his lungs. *This ought to bring them running* He thought with satisfaction.

A purple beam washed over the room, bathing it in an almost ultra-violet color. A moment later, a hatch in the door opened and a tray was pushed in with a glass of water and two white tablets.

Alec sat up as the light bathed the room and then a tray containing glass of water and two white tablets was pushed through a hatch. "What the hell?" He exclaimed, this wasn't the reaction he was hoping for. "Okay Alec, think, you have to get them to come in here so you can get out." He said to himself. He looked about his cell, his eyes falling on the cot and the thin blanket atop it. He walked over and sat down, taking the blanket in his hands he was relieved to find he could tear it. Another plan began to form.

The other plan failed as well. Day 2 didn't fare much better. The sick prisoner gambit, the call for help, trying to rewire the door, pulling a screw out of his bunk to use as a weapon or tap a message. Over the course of three days, over a dozen plans were either foiled or ignored. Hunter wasn't willing to give up, but demoralization was settling in, and as his meals were regularly delivered, he began to succumb to routine.

Alec was sitting on his cot. His food had just been delivered again like clockwork. He had to get out of here! But how? Nothing he tried worked, Whoever his captors were they were taking no chances with him. He moved his fork around whatever the food was and then in a fit of anger he threw it against the wall. Maybe just maybe that would get then to come and he could have a chance at escape.

 

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