Broken Whore With a Knife

Posted on Sat Jul 26th, 2025 @ 7:24pm by Kaldri & Lieutenant Commander Victoria Cross & Ensign Mei Ratthi
Edited on on Mon Jul 28th, 2025 @ 9:17pm

Mission: Seven Souls
Location: Antechamber
Timeline: Mission Day 1 at 1935

[Antechamber]
[Kordra-Lisrit]
[MD 1: 1935 Hours]

The door slammed shut behind them—thick, metal, and final.

The transition from Subrek’s gaudy throne room to this narrow antechamber brought no comfort. If anything, the space was worse for its silence. Gone was the smell of spice and blood and decadence. Here, the air stank of oxidized circuits and recycled sweat, a low hiss of ventilation the only sound beyond the dull thrum of the ship’s heart. Harsh overhead lighting bathed the walls in a sterile glare, throwing hard shadows that shifted with the twitch of every breath.

From where she'd been dumped by the guards before their exit, Kaldri suddenly moved. Not a groan. Not a stir. But a jerk—violent and sharp—as her whole body convulsed against the floor. Kaldri’s limbs recoiled inward, one leg kicking reflexively before her torso twisted the other direction. She let out a low, guttural sound—something between a growl and a gasp—as consciousness began to claw its way up from the black.

Her fingers curled, nails scratching at the floor. Jaw clenched. Nostrils flared. The sharp, sour stink of blood and burnt ozone filled her nose, and for a moment she was somewhere else—still in the cell, still mid-stun, still falling. But the pain was real. Present. Her temple throbbed. Her chest burned. Her throat tasted like iron and rage. Then her eyes opened.

The black of them shone glassy, unfocused at first. But the moment her gaze found the walls, the shadows, the other figures in the room, something snapped into place. Kaldri sucked in air through her teeth, a wet, rattling inhale that ended in a hiss. She sat up with sudden force, nearly head-butting whoever was nearest, and twisted away like a cornered animal.

"Where is he?!" she spat, voice raw and edged with panic. Her head whipped toward the door. “Where—Subrek—where—” Kaldri tried to rise, staggered, caught herself on all fours, feral ferocity blazing in her wildly disoriented eyes. "Andrew," she choked out next, remembrance flaring as full consciousness returned to her. She remembered. That...and more. The blade. Her blade. Gone. Her chest heaved. She looked ready to lunge—not at her companions, but through the room if she had to.

The Sojourner was likely heavily damaged or destroyed, and help - of it could be contacted - would be days, maybe weeks from intercepting them, should that even be a possibility. Victoria shut her eyes and centered herself. Locking her hands together, she drew in a breath, and thought on all the logic and mindfulness her in laws had tried to push on her. All the tricks T'Kass had given her.

Positivity. Don't let fear and emotion in.

But fear was there. What if she never went home again? What if she and the others were trapped here forever? She pressed the coolness of her palms into her face and thought about home. Thought about her dad.

She exhaled.

Stay positive. Jim Kirk survived worse than this. Stirring behind her caught her notice. She turned, holding up a flat hand to Kaldri to try to calm her. "Ms. Kaldri, take it slow, please. You've suffered a head injury and we don't know the full extent of the damage. You're in a chamber of the Kondra-Lisrit, connected to the throne chamber. They took Ms. Mei and I here as well as you."

She planted her hands in her hips.

"Subrek is a mean cunt, but he's arrogant to think he's quicker than the three of us if we put our minds together. Ensign, now that Ms. Kaldri is gathering her wherewithal, what's your analysis of the situation?"

Mei wiped at her face with her sleeve. "We're in yet another dark spooky room. What else is there to say? Some wannabe dictator wants to scare us so he can feel superior for five minutes." At the ensuing silence, she looked over her shoulder and shrugged at her comrades in captivity. "What? It's the truth. Tyrants are cowards. Every last one of them. They rule by fear because they're terrified of losing power and status. They don't have the loyalty of their followers. They rule by meting out punishment or through other means of manipulation. With chemicals and other devices in this case." She idly waved a hand toward the door where, presumably, a set of artificially-controlled guards waited outside. "All through history, across the quadrants, tyrants fall. Their reigns don't last. Because they're cowards. In the meantime, ordinary people get crushed because some asshole feels small and decides to take it out on other people until someone stands up to him. That's my analysis of the situation as this team's cultural anthropologist." With that, she fell silent and folded her arms. Her jaw worked like she was holding back some emotion though her eyes remained dry.

Kaldri’s breathing came fast and sharp, her gaze snapping to Cross, then Mei, then the closed door like a predator weighing her odds. Her shoulders rose and fell with erratic urgency, each breath wheezing through clenched teeth. She likely didn’t hear half of what Mei had said. Her brain had latched onto only one thing: Andrew was not here. And that meant that somewhere--probably closer than they all thought--the man was being held and tortured for information. And all of it was her fault. She could have stayed on Hukatuse or demanded her shuttle from Kodak and taken off for inky space once again. But no...she'd chosen to stay on the Sojourner. Because the meals were warm, the beds soft, and the people kind. And because the Sojourner's Warlord--"Captain," she corrected herself--had treated her like a person rather than a weapon or a whore. But this was the price of their offer to help her...

Kaldri's hand slapped the floor as she pushed upright again, barely registering the smear of blood left behind from her hand there. And with that, the caged cat began to pace, loping across the room from wall to wall, fingers grasping at seams in search of...something? Some hidden latch, maybe, or a loose panel they could tear away to reveal sensitive electronics: reveal something they could sabotage to perhaps trigger the door to open. But with every claw of nails at the seams, all Kaldri found was staunch solidity. Nothing would budge. Nothing would open to her. And that meant her very worst fear had come true. She was, once again, Subrek's prisoner. And now, so were the others.

“Coward or no, I will kill him,” the Kazon woman seethed, the words low and hot and shaking. “I will regain my blade and I will cut Subrek open until he screams like I once did. Like your Captain's lover likely screams even now.” Her voice turned savage then, teeth bared like a cornered beast as her chest continued to heave in and out. The only thing that tugged at her higher reasoning was the sight of Mei who, despite being what the spritely woman had once called "just a junior officer," seemed to be the one with the most level head. "What do we do?" she asked, attempting to quell the burning need rip and tear at the walls some more.

Mei's eyes widened for a moment and her mouth dropped open. Then she seemed to collect herself and crossed the few steps to Kaldri. "First off, we're not going to try to tear down these walls with our bare hands." She took one of Kaldri's bloody hands in her own. "They're made of duranium or . . . something. I don't know, I'm not an engineer. Then the next thing we're going to do is stay calm. You're going to hyperventilate if you keep breathing like that, and none of us needs that, okay? And then? I don't know. Delay him as much as we can, I guess. Maybe you weren't awake when it happened, but some of the others got away. Noah, for one. He's an engineer." Mei let out a single, near-hysteric laugh. "Maybe he'll know what the bulkhead's made of. Or he'll know how to mess up the wiring and try to shut systems down. And I refuse to believe that Subrek's destroyed Sojourner. It seems like he would have given us proof of it, just to break us down a little more."

Victoria brightened as Mei gave her analysis of the situation. She nodded in concurrence, and paced away, arms crossed. The Sojourner wasn't destroyed, Mei has to be right. They would have broadcast it on screens, played audio recordings, shown any kind of evidence for their victory. Tyrants rule by fear, misinformation, cruelty. "That's an excellent point. He's bluffing. He has to be. Tyranny like his is weak, it must be projected constantly in order to survive."

She turned back to Mei and Kaldri. "We buy time as Mei has said, wait for the opportune moment, and then try to regroup with Noah and the others. Mei, after all this is said and done, you can expect a high commendation to the Captain." Victoria, bloody face and all, smiled as of it were a bright summer day.

"Ms. Kaldri, I will endeavor to do everything in my power to try to get everyone - including you - safely back home onto the Sojourner. Ms. Ratthi, err- As you were. I'm not going to lie, you've got a better grasp on this situation than me. I'm so caught up trying-" She sighed, looking to the ceiling for a moment.

"My dad probably died on a Jem'Hadar ship like this. I keep trying to ask myself, what would he do? I'm so stuck trying to be my father and a textbook officer that it didn't even occur to me that he could be lying about the ship. I can't let my father guide me through the motions anymore. It's pulling my focus away from the here and now. Let's drag this all out until we slip from our chains, eh?"

Mei nodded jerkily and let out a shaky breath, but she stood straighter. She glanced between Kaldri and Cross, then at the door. "So now what? Do we wait around for doom to fall around our heads, or– I don't know. Try to sabotage the door or something? Slow them down with. . . our socks and pocket lint? They didn't exactly leave us any tools."

"I mean, worth a try. Maybe. Uh. Maybe rip a floor tile from the ground?" She crouched, trying to find a seam in the floor. "Nope. No, smooth as glass. Uh. So. Well. Shit."

Victoria sat cross legged, crossing her arms in frustration.

Kaldri let Mei hold her hand for a second too long—her body twitching with the impulse to snatch it back—but something in the warmth and steadiness of the young woman’s touch anchored her. Not fully. Not even close. But enough. Moments later, however, she finally yanked her hand away, not in hostility but discomfort, standing a little straighter as her eyes flicked between Mei and Victoria.

“You two… are fools,” she muttered, voice still hoarse. “But brave ones.” There was no insult in it. Just a begrudging recognition that she’d underestimated them. Her pacing stopped. She moved instead to the far corner of the chamber, squatting low as her fingers traced once more along the floor’s edge—not frantically this time, but with a cold, calculating hunger. “You’re right, though," the Kazon sneered. "He would have shown us the wreckage if he’d won. Subrek is many things—coward, sadist, liar," the last was a snarl, "but subtle he is not.”

Her jaw worked silently for a moment. Then: “So we stall. Watch. Wait. And when the moment comes, I don’t care if all I’ve got is my teeth. I will spill his blood. If he and his warriors are watching and listening,” Kaldri looked up and around the room, trying to find any possible remote viewing devices, "that is a promise that will be collected on."

As if to punctuate the quiet threat, the lights in the chamber flickered once—then again twice in quick staccato. A shudder passed through the bulkheads beneath their feet, followed by the distant warble of a power fluctuation alarm. Something had gone wrong somewhere aboard the Kordra-Lisrit.

Kaldri’s head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “Maybe the others haven’t forgotten us after all. It is unlike Subrek to leave us to stew for so long when the opportunity to torture and gloat is at hand..."

"Some of the others escaped during that little brawl that broke out in the first cell," Mei said. "I saw Noah and Iry slip out, and one or two others, I think. If anyone can figure out how to sabotage the ship from within, it'd be Noah. It's just a matter of him hiding long enough to do it. Or maybe Sojourner has caught back up. You can't count out Federation engineers' skill to fix things where there are people to impress." A hint of Mei's usual smile appeared on her face, just for a moment.

"Starfleet Engineering is a good reason to still believe in miracles, Ms. Mei. If anyone can bust us out of this situation, it's Noah and Iry. I hope they're safe and - well, fucking up this hunk of junk." She slowly stood.

"We'll be out of here in no time. Ms. Kaldri, if you do kill Subrek, would you overtake him as leader of the vessel? There's a culture in the Alpha Quadrant that often promotes leaders through this way. They often wear armor on their back that's tougher than the front."

"A maje's rule can be challenged," Kaldri nodded, folding her arms over her chest as she stopped searching the walls and focused her gaze, instead, on Cross. "And should the challenger kill the maje then yes," she hissed ever so slightly, "they would take their place as First Maje. For a time, at least," the Kazon woman explained.

"But one challenge is an invitation for another. The original challenger could win," Kaldri shrugged, "but be inches from death after the effort. All another challenger need do," the assassin coldly explained, "is declare intent to rule and attack the weakened winner. Dominance battles for sect leadership," she quietly grumbled, "can sometimes go for days because of this. Challenge after challenge after challenge...and we will not have days," Kaldri stressed.

The women fell into silence as they, once again, turned to looking for hidden latches or loose panels they could pry open to escape. Those efforts proved futile, however, as the First Maje had clearly had this room designed for rather effective imprisonment. The time passed slowly—measured not in minutes, but in the creak of metal joints, the wheeze of stale air through overhead vents, and the distant, irregular flicker of ship-wide systems still stuttering under sabotage.

When the door finally hissed open again, it did so without ceremony.

Two guards stepped in. They were different from the ones before, but no less armed or sullen-faced. One barked something short in Kazon, the other gesturing sharply with his disruptor toward Cross and Mei.

“You,” he said, his accent thick and voice wet with disdain. “The Maje wants words.”

No explanation. No resistance entertained. The two Starfleet women were seized—firmly but not cruelly—and hauled to their feet, disruptors aimed center mass as they were herded back out into the corridor.

[Throne Room]
[Kordra-Lisrit]
[MD 1: 1920 Hours]

The doors opened again with a grinding hiss, admitting Cross and Mei back into the throne room. The air was heavier now, clotted with heat and the stale reek of sweat and blood. The guards prodded the two women forward, their boots landing hard against the polished stone, a cadence that echoed off the walls like a war drum. As the women were led up the steps of the central dais, the brutal centerpiece of the chamber came into view. Andrew Munro hung from the rack, unconscious, strung up like some grotesque offering. His chest and stomach were bare, the dark hair that covered them tangled and damp. Across the dense mat bloomed purpling bruises—deep, dark, livid. None of the strikes had been meant to break bones. These were beatings designed to inflict pain and send a message. His head hung forward, the slow, labored rise and fall of his ribs the only sign he was still alive.

Subrek stood nearby, holding the bloodied weapon in his hand—a thick-handled club of some kind, notched and stained. Blood ran in narrow rivulets down his arm where it had splashed. The First Maje looked unbothered, even pleased, as he wiped the edge of the baton against the leg of his tunic, the motion casual. His eyes gleamed as they flicked toward the returning women, and he gave a smile that never touched his eyes.

“While my engineers scurry to extinguish the sabotage your little crew inflicted, I decided to vent my frustrations the old-fashioned way,” Subrek said, his voice warm and awful, as if delivering news of a fine meal. “This one,” he gestured lazily toward Andrew, “sings with his bones. He bleeds well. But I think the good parts are yet to come.”

He turned to Mei, then to Cross, considering them both, before he let his gaze settle on the younger of the two. His tongue clicked softly behind his teeth.

“And you… such a clever one. Calm under pressure. Always watching,” he said to Mei with the air of a collector admiring a rare find. “I wonder how long that poise will last with your arms pulled tight and your back against the steel. Let’s find out," came out last, tongue licking his lips as a smug and daring gaze found its way to the watching Kaldri. "I bet 'Miss Mei' will give up what her compatriot," he gestured towards the unconscious Andrew, "did not, hmm?"

He turned suddenly then, giving a short nod of command to the two guards who immediately moved toward Mei. One seized her arm, the other her opposite shoulder. They began pulling her toward the vacant rack beside Andrew’s, a second cruel frame already prepped for use. The moment was quiet, save for the shuffle of her boots against the floor and the soft clink of restraint chains awaiting their next prisoner.

Behind them, Kaldri had gone still as she watched what was unfolding. Her chest rose and fell in rapid bursts, each breath drawn deeper than the last. Her black eyes locked onto Mei, then to the guards pulling her forward. Her pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out everything else. The room blurred around her. The memories surged in. Her sister’s screams. Her own helplessness. The smell of her own blood in the air. Her heart beat faster. Her fingers dug into her palms.

And then something snapped.

She shot forward with a roar, a sound raw and primal, born of agony and survival. With explosive force, she sprang across the space, clearing the distance to one of Mei’s captors in a flash of motion. The guard didn’t even have time to shout. Kaldri collided with him in a full-bodied tackle, her weight slamming him off balance. She landed atop him and sank her teeth into his neck, just above the collarbone. He screamed. She didn’t let go.

She clawed at his face, raking nails down his cheek, then lunged forward and bit again, ripping flesh with a sound that turned stomachs. The other guard froze, momentarily stunned, and Kaldri twisted toward him with a snarl that sent him staggering back. Her voice tore out of her like flame. “I will not let what happened to my sister happen again. Not to her. Not to Mei!”

Blood streaked Kaldri's face. Her hands were slick with it, and her eyes shone with violent purpose. She was an apex predator loosed from the trap, and Subrek’s guards would feel every ounce of her fury before they could hope to contain her.

And suddenly, with one guard down and the other wrapped up in the tangle of a Kazon tigress's claws and teeth, Mei was no longer held. Feet from Subrek--who looked genuinely surprised that an injured Kaldri could attack so viciously--the little scientist was no longer encumbered by the guards' grips and pulling force. But what would she do with her freedom? And what would Cross do, standing there as she was, covered by only one guard who seemed to share Subrek's surprise?

Mei took her chance then. It was probably a foolish one, but what else was there to do? Wait for things to get even worse? She planted her foot, and with a motion that was more studied than actually practiced, kicked Subrek as hard as she could in the knee. There was a horrid crunch. He screamed-- as much in surprise as in pain– and staggered, taking one step toward Mei before falling to the floor where he managed to land on his broken knee. He flopped onto the floor but had enough wherewithal to reach for the disruptor at his belt.

With an undignified squeak, Mei danced back a step then shook her head and leaped forward to stomp on Subrek's hand like it was a cockroach. The disruptor skittered a meter or so away. Mei took just enough time to kick Subrek one last time in the teeth, then darted away to grab the disruptor before a guard could.

Her hands shook as she leveled it at Subrek. She didn't know what the power level was, but she was certain it would hurt– badly– if she shot him. So she stood there, disruptor in hand, hoping that Subrek would stay down and that Kaldri and Cross could deal with the others.

A moment- that's all that Victoria needed. The guard looked away in surprise, and Victoria's hand shot out, firmly clutching a collection of nerves in the man's shoulder. With all of her strength focused into squeezing and compressing the cluster, Victoria caused the Kazon to collapse. Pins and needles across the entire body, but he would survive.

She took the disruptor, and turned it to Subrek in stereo with Meimdoing the same. She shouldered the stock and aimed down the sights of the weapon, aiming at the despot's center of mass. "Seems the tables have turned, Mr. Subrek."

Subrek groaned on the floor, his face twisted in a grotesque mask of fury and disbelief. Blood streamed from his split lip, and he clutched at his injured knee with trembling fingers. Every breath came ragged, not just from the pain but from the awareness of his audience. None of his guards moved. Not one dared to rush forward.

As Mei and Victoria stood with their disruptors trained on the First Maje, Subrek’s warriors stared, confused and uncertain because the sight before them was not one their hierarchy had prepared them to navigate. Their First Maje lay injured, beaten, and humiliated. And the one now stepping forward from the shadows of their own ranks was the last person any of them had ever expected to challenge his rule.

Kaldri approached in slow, predatory strides. Blood still streaked her jaw and hands. Her black eyes glinted with wild purpose. She said nothing as she reached him, only lowered herself into a crouch and, with a snarl of satisfaction, tore her dagger from the sheath at his belt. The metal came free with a hiss. She held it up between them, the blade glinting in the too-warm light, and pointed it directly at his face.

“This was mine,” she said, voice low and guttural. “And now so is your fate.” She spared a look to Vic and Mei, the latter of which her eyes--if not her voice--implored, Trust me, little one. Kaldri returned her snarl to Subrek. “I invoke the right of Ascent,” she growled, her voice rising now for all in the chamber to hear. “By blood and blade. You are challenged, Subrek. Before your warriors," she eyed them all before again looking to the Maje. "Before the eyes of your ancestors, if they still dare to look upon you...”

The tension in the room shifted. Not just because of the blade. But because of the act. To simply kill the Maje outright would have meant chaos: chaos and death. The guards would have struck back immediately. But an honor challenge, issued with form and witnessed by Subrek’s own men, had power. It invoked ancient rites that no warrior, no matter how corrupted by modern cruelty, could entirely ignore. If Kaldri killed Subrek through ritual challenge, not ambush, the leadership of the sect would pass to her—if only briefly. It might fracture loyalty, cause hesitation, disrupt the chain of command long enough for an escape to become possible. It was a gamble. But then, so was everything.

Subrek shifted slightly, dragging himself onto one elbow. His sneer was shaky, his bravado paper-thin. “You think this will save you?” he spat. “You think they’ll follow you? Some broken whore with a knife?”

“I think they’ll do what warriors do,” Kaldri answered coldly. “Watch. Wait. And respect strength when it’s shown.” She stood fully then, dagger still leveled at him. Her body trembled with restrained violence, every tendon tight beneath the surface of her skin. She turned slightly, speaking to the gathered guards now. “Let this be witnessed. She who once served beneath him now rises to face him. She who bears the scars of his rule returns them in kind. Challenge has been made. Let no Kazon deny it.”

Silence followed. But no one moved to intervene. No one raised a disruptor. No one defended their Maje. Satisfied, Kaldri looked down once more, the knife steady in her grip. “Get up,” she said.

And slowly—bleeding, limping, rage and shame boiling in his eyes—Subrek did. "I am going to enjoy mounting your battered skull atop my throne," he sneered before lashing out in a strike so sudden and unexpected that his clawing hand almost found Kaldri's face.

Having jumped back, a haughty laugh rang out from the assassin's throat. "You are welcome," Kaldri cracked a wide grin full of wild rage, "to try tacking it. But this whore," she spat, "is more skilled than you ever gave her credit for." And with that, she lunged forward in a strike of her own.

From somewhere, Subrek had pulled a knife: not as long or ornamental as the former-concubine's, but deadly-looking all the same. With a screech of metal on metal, the honor duel had begun in earnest...


=/\= A joint post by... =/\=

First Maje Subrek (the Narrator)
Kazon Commander

Kaldri
Former Kazon Concubine

Ensign Mei Ratthi
Science Officer

Lt. Cmdr. Victoria Cross
Chief Operations and 2nd Officer