Nightshade

by Laurell K. Hamilton

  Picard glanced around the room. Breck had taken up his station at the captain’s side. For once Picard did not protest. His recent incarceration had made him appreciate the paranoia of the planet. Or perhaps it was watching General Alick die?

  Talanne propped her feet upon the desk in an attitude of carelessness that was at odds to anything Picard had seen of her. He glanced at Troi. She widened her eyes a bit. Picard wanted badly to confer with Troi, not just for Talanne’s oddly relaxed behavior, but about Alick’s death. Picard wanted to know what they had found out and what Troi had sensed. “May I confer with my people in private?” Picard asked.

  “I think not,” Talanne said. “After Ambassador Worf’s display of bravado, I believe we should keep our eyes upon you.”

  Picard turned to Worf. He tried to think how to phrase his question in front of strangers without embarrassing Worf. He didn’t like to question his people in front of others. “What was so important, Lieutenant, that you would risk our hosts’ displeasure?”

  “We had reason to believe you were being tortured, Captain.”

  “Tortured,” Picard said. He felt his face collapse into surprise before he could stop it. “Lieutenant, are you telling me that you thought the Orianians would torture a Federation ambassador?”

  Picard stared at Worf, waiting for an answer. Worf did not look uncomfortable in the least when he said, “Yes, I did.”

  “Troi, did you believe this, as well?”

  Troi was staring at Talanne very steadily, the concentration almost touchable. She was sensing something. “The Orianians’ customs do allow torture of suspects and witnesses, Captain.”

  “What are the two of you talking about?” Picard asked. He had missed something, sitting in his cell.

  “Captain.” Worf stood to attention. “We have learned that the Orianians consider torture as part of their,” he looked down as if seeking the answer on the floor, eyes widened, “culture.”

  “In what respect?”

  “When we went to question people to discover the real murderer, Talanne herself offered us the opportunity to torture civilians. Innocent doctors who had done nothing but gather evidence from the crime scene.”

  Picard stared at Talanne. The look on her face was one of arrogance, unreadable, almost amused, but there was a tightness around the eyes that made it all a lie. It was still a masterful effort at keeping a blank face. The Orianians had no talent for it. That Talanne could do it at all meant she was a very quick study. “Is this true, Colonel Talanne?”

  “That we consider torture as a normal part of a criminal investigation, yes.” The false amusement slipped away, leaving her face bleak. “In fact, if Ambassador Worf had waited but an hour, he would have been right.” She stared at Picard, her face calm.

  “Excuse me, Colonel Talanne,” Picard said, “Are you saying that you do intend to torture me?” It was too absurd to say out loud. There had to be a misunderstanding somewhere.

  “You will be interrogated like any other murder suspect, Ambassador Picard. It is our custom.”

  “But surely, Colonel Talanne, there are exceptions for diplomatic missions,” Picard said.

  Talanne frowned. “Why should there be?”

  Picard made an exasperated sound. He looked at Worf, who said, “I told you, Captain. They are barbarians.”

  Picard didn’t even correct Worf, he was too taken off guard. “Colonel Talanne, I agreed to be arrested but I did not understand your customs. I did not realize that torture was part of . . . your routine.”

  “Are you saying that you would have fought rather than submitted, if you had known?”

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “You are all very surprised by this,” Talanne said. “Why?”

  “The Federation does not condone torture under any circumstances.”

  “Why not?”

  “I ask again, may I be allowed to speak with my people in private?”

  “I don’t think so.” Talanne stood in one sweeping motion, her cloak swirling like a solid wind around her. “We have no secrets from each other, surely. Speak the truth in front of us without fear.”

  Picard gave a small nod. “As you like. Counselor, what do you sense from Colonel Talanne?” He did not look at Troi but watched Talanne. He depended on Troi, but his own observations were always valuable to him.

  “She is truly puzzled, Captain. She doesn’t understand why we are shocked that they use torture. She feels no remorse or guilt. It all seems very ordinary, every-day, to Colonel Talanne. They have every intention of torturing you, Captain.” Troi’s voice was soft on the last word.

  Talanne was wearing her face bare as a compliment to the ambassador. Picard now saw that it was a mistake. The limited control she had of her expression crumbled. Every emotion crawled across her delicate features, plain even to Picard. Surprise, embarrassment. The Orianians had worn masks too long and had lost the knack of keeping blank-faced. But Picard asked aloud anyway, a perverse form of politeness, perhaps. “Is that accurate, Colonel Talanne?”

  “Yes,” the word was unsure, hesitant.

  “You intend to torture me in an hour?” Picard was still having trouble believing it. His diplomatic training didn’t cover this.

  “Your interrogation is scheduled in an hour, yes.”

  “We cannot allow this, Captain,” Worf said.

  Picard’s first instinct was to agree, but what would that mean for the mission? What would it mean for them getting out of here alive? The torture chamber was full of Talanne’s guards. They were outnumbered two to one, and the Enterprise was gone. Even if they fought their way out, where would they go?

  “What does the torture consist of,” he asked.

  “Captain!” Worf nearly shouted it.

  “Lieutenant, I need more information before I can make a decision.”

  “What are you saying, Captain,” Troi’s voice was breathy with fear.

  “Colonel Talanne, what does the torture consist of?”

  Talanne watched them all, openly curious. “You mean what will be done to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I cannot allow you to be harmed, Captain,” Worf said.

  “Nothing has been done to me, yet, Lieutenant. We are gathering information, that is all.”

  “Our laws state that a prisoner cannot be maimed or permanently damaged. Our devices are designed for maximum pain but minimum harm.”

  Worf made a sound very much like a growl. It curved through the room like the beginnings of a storm, and the bodyguards shifted uneasily.

  “Lieutenant Worf, at ease.”

  Worf scowled at the guards but gave a curt nod. “Aye, Captain.”

  “I give you my word that you will not be damaged. It is only pain, Ambassador. We are not complete barbarians.” She made the last word bitter.

  “Captain, may I speak?” Troi asked.

  “By all means, Counselor.”

  “Is Captain Picard the first human you will have tortured?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then there could be more extensive damage done than you realize. Human physiological responses may be very different from Orianian.”

  Talanne nodded. “Yes, that is a very good point. We will be extremely careful. I will supervise the interrogation personally, if that will ease your fears.”

  “I think I would feel better if you explained the mechanics of your torture devices. Perhaps that way we could understand the process better.”

  “Well, I don’t know, one of the principles of torture is surprise. If a prisoner knows exactly what to expect you have lost some of your power.”

  “Unless the torture is so frightening, that the anticipation is frightening,” Picard said.

  “There is that. Very well, I will explain our concepts of pain to you. If it will help.”

  “It might,” Picard said. Frankly if Talanne’s explanation was not satisfactory, he wondered if he could in good conscience fight his way out. It would be t
he death of the peace mission, and perhaps their own deaths as well. Picard did not wish to sacrifice his people for his own self-preservation.

  “All our interrogation techniques rely on stimulating the nerves of a particular section of the body.” She stepped to a small white object that was about chest high to her. There was a small cage like arrangement on top. “The prisoner kneels and the head is strapped into place. The nerves of the face and skull are stimulated. The worst aftereffect is dizziness, and some temporary memory loss.”

  She moved to a white frame from which cords dangled at regular intervals. The cords were obviously to bind ankles and wrists. “This reacts on the nerve endings in the skin. The pain is excruciating but once the machine is turned off, the pain stops instantly. There is no lasting damage.”

  “We cannot trust her, Captain,” Worf said.

  Picard tended to agree but he had to know. “Counselor?”

  “Colonel Talanne believes what she’s saying, Captain.”

  “I would not lie about it, Healer.” Talanne sounded offended. “We will do your captain no permanent damage until the execution.”

  The phrasing was strange, so Picard asked, “What do you mean?”

  “Assassins are tortured to death.”

  “You said these devices only cause pain, not permanent injury.”

  “There are levels of pain that the body cannot tolerate, Ambassador. It is not the injury that kills but the shock. The body’s own reaction is the method of death.”

  “Captain,” Worf said, “we must get you out of this place.”

  “No, Worf, I believe the colonel. I will submit to the . . . interrogation.”

  “No!” Worf’s voice filled the room. The guards drew weapons.

  “Worf, no!” Picard motioned his officer to be still. Worf froze with his hand on his phaser.

  “Captain, please . . .”

  “No, Worf, I will not endanger all of us because I am afraid of a little pain.” Picard was glad his voice sounded steadier than he felt. “You are not to try and rescue me, Lieutenant.”

  “Captain.”

  “That is a direct order, Worf.”

  Worf wouldn’t meet his eyes. He stared at the bodyguards then back to Picard. “Aye, sir.” The words were a growl of anger.

  “One more question, sir,” Worf said.

  “Yes, Lieutenant.”

  “Counselor, is anyone in this room planning to harm Captain Picard. Do they see him as an enemy?”

  Troi’s face grew blank, her concentration touchable. She shook her head. “They are doing their jobs. There is some worry over whether torturing him is wise, but no one is angry. It is all very practical.”

  “Must we discuss all this in front of your guards?” Picard asked.

  Doubt flashed across Talanne’s face. Did she realize how transparent her face was? She couldn’t possibly know, or she would never have shown herself maskless.

  “Colonel Talanne?” Picard made it a question.

  Her eyes flickered to his face then down. “I don’t know. It has been a very long time since this planet has seen a mind-healer of such power. I had heard stories of powers that could look into the very soul, but,” she looked away from them, her voice growing soft, “I did not believe.”

  Picard was tempted to tell her that her face alone gave most of it away. But Orianians were so uncomfortable without their masks that he would not compound their discomfort.

  Talanne turned to them, her face guarded, eyes uncertain. “I will allow you to speak in private to your people. The guards outside the cell block should have allowed Ambassador Worf to see you. You are still a Federation ambassador, and you will be accorded the accompanying privileges.”

  “We would also need to speak with the Greens,” Worf said.

  Talanne opened her mouth as if to protest, then smiled. “I suppose if we are to execute a Federation ambassador, you must be given full access to everyone involved.” She looked suddenly tired. “I will leave orders that everyone is to cooperate with you fully. There will be no other incidents.” She stared at Worf as she said the last. “If you have any urgent demands, Lieutenant Worf, simply come to me. I will expedite them without your having to go through all these heroics.”

  She smiled but it was not pleasant. “You have learned much about our ways this day, and I have learned that not all I hear of Klingons is true.” A look of genuine puzzlement crossed her face. “Who would have thought that a Klingon would have any qualms about torture?”

  “Honor does not allow harming innocent people.”

  “Yes, yes, I understand that now. Perhaps if we ever get this mess sorted out, you can tell our warriors something of the Klingon code of honor. It seems all we have heard about is the pain and barbaric behavior. Perhaps,” she said softly, “there is more to it than that.”

  “I would be honored to share the Klingon way with your people, Colonel Talanne.” Worf stood very straight, and the pleasure and pride at the prospect of sharing his honor code with an entire race was obvious even to Picard. The captain had never before realized that Klingon honor was almost akin to a religious system. Would he convert the Orianians? The thought of a dual culture based on Orianian and Klingon customs was not comforting.

  “You may go back to the ambassador’s cell and talk among yourselves,” Talanne said. “And then you may question the Greens. Though I will supervise that questioning.”

  “You are most gracious, Colonel Talanne,” Picard said.

  “It is not graciousness, Picard, as well you know.” She glanced at Troi. “It seems I cannot lie to you, so I will not try. If we do execute you in two days, the Federation will not be pleased. We are dying from our own war. We cannot possibly win a war against the Federation. My husband does not see it that way, more is the pity.”

  Picard found Talanne’s reaction to Troi’s powers refreshingly direct, as was her honesty. Honesty deserved honesty. “The Federation is not in the habit of making war upon,” he groped for a phrase, “less advanced societies.”

  “We are not even great enough to be worthy enemies, is that it?” There was anger in her voice.

  Picard sighed. “No insult was intended.”

  “We may be uncivilized, Ambassador Picard, but unless your people can prove your innocence, two days from now you will die. This puny, backwards planet will have at least one Federation death to its credit.” She took the mask from her belt and slipped it over her face. Then she turned a blank, unreadable face to them. “Do not underestimate us, Ambassador Picard. You do so at your very real peril.

  “The guards will escort you back to your cell. When you are finished talking in private, then you have only to tell the guards. They will fetch me, and I will go with you to talk to the Greens.”

  “Thank you, Colonel Talanne,” Picard said.

  “Do not thank me, Picard, please, do not thank me.” With those cryptic words she swept past them, two guards falling into step behind her. Her sharp footsteps echoed into the distance.

  It was Breck who broke the silence. “You heard Colonel Talanne. Take us back to the ambassador’s cell.” His voice held the certainty of an order.

  The faceless guards did not argue. They turned almost as one and formed a phalanx around the Federation group. Breck was very clearly grouped with the outsiders. If he minded, he made no show of it.

  Picard found himself almost relieved to be back in the cell. He had not thought that was possible. He had spent all day waiting for news, or anything else. The guards fed him but would not talk to him.

  It was like some awful anxious dream. Not only was the peace mission in ruins but he, a Federation ambassador, was thought a murderer. His own possible death was secondary. The total failure of their mission would doom thousands.

  The white cell seemed even smaller with Worf’s bulk. His head brushed the ceiling. The Orianians hadn’t planned for a prisoner of such height. Of course, Worf wasn’t the prisoner, Picard was.

  “How is the peac
e mission progressing, Ambassador Worf?”

  “I am no ambassador, Captain,” Worf growled. “The Venturies and Torlicks are still willing to talk peace but only after the stain upon the Federation’s honor is removed.”

  “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Proof of your innocence, or your death,” Worf said.

  “I see,” Picard said quietly. “Then we must find the real murderer.”

  “We have been trying, Captain.”

  “What have you discovered, Lieutenant, Counselor?” Picard sat on the pallet that he had slept on. There were no chairs to offer so he waved them to the floor.

  Breck slid easily to sit against the far wall, nearest the door. Counselor Troi sat near the captain on a corner of the pallet. Worf remained standing at attention.

  Worf gave the report, what little there was of it. “We believe that Dr. Stasha was telling the truth about finding your genetic print on the cup.”

  “Counselor?” Picard made the one word a question.

  “I wish I had more to add, Captain. I don’t think anyone has deliberately lied to us, except perhaps General Alick’s sentinel. He was extremely nervous and fearful when we questioned him. But it makes no sense for him to have anything to do with Alick’s death.”

  “Why not?”

  “If a sentinel’s charge is killed while he, or she, is on duty, then the sentinel is expected to commit ritual suicide,” Troi said.

  Picard glanced at Breck still sitting easily across the room. “If I die, will they expect it of you?”

  “Yes, Picard. Our laws are very strict on sentinels who fail their task.”

  “Though it seems harsh in this case, there is nothing you could have done to prevent this,” Picard said.

  “It does not matter, Ambassador Picard. Sentinels are one of the cornerstones of our government. There can be no excuses or exceptions. If one failure is allowed, then more will follow.”