Grounded -- Cmdr Ivanova XO - Underground Noturan Kidnappers

Posted on Mon Jun 9th, 2014 @ 4:42am by Admiral Rochelle Ivanova

2,395 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: In the Dark

Grabbed. Flipped. Sat astride like some beast of burden. Rochelle tried valiant to twist and buck like some ill trained horse, desperate for escape. Her arms were quickly jerked over her head, each slim wrist easily held painfully captive by one rough, large hand. She couldn't see them, but she could smell them -- their foul odor wafting hotly over her neck and face as she twisted... Or at least she thought she twisted. The great rodeo in her mind only amounted to awkward twitches as her cold and rug fatigued muscles screamed and refused to obey their mistress. Even her lungs and heart labored under the added weight and adrenaline that surged wickedly through dilated veins. "Get off!" She managed to cough, her fingers curling to dig once perfectly manicured nails into the fleshy hand they found.

"Feisty one, that," the one holding her wrists remarked, and the other leaned even closer, ignoring everything. His milky skin shone brightly against the darkness as his pale tongue escaped his grin and touched Rochelle's cheek, licking its entire length with noticeable excitement. The other man licked his lips, "on't be too greedy, leave some fer me," he shifted slightly, but his strong grip did not waver.

"There be plenty bird for us both," the other answered, and his eyes, now only a few inches from Rochelle's shone with madness.

Staring up, she could see the man's eyes shining in the pin lights, could slowly begin to make out his contorted features in the dark. Monsters really did exist, and one was sitting on her... Licking her. She almost vomited as she arched her back as best as she could muster and turned her head to the side. Her cheek, the one not being offended, pressed into the damp dusty floor beneath them. Few things could be worse. So very few. Rochelle could think of none at the present time. The feeble clawing had done nothing in her favor. "No bird!" She hissed, trying to jerk her hands away, landing both sets up against the rocks for one painful moment in time. "Get off!"

And though the man didn't get off her, he did smile slightly, hungrily coming in again for a second approach, his arms moving up to support his weight, his lips hovering over Rochelle's face. His eyes closed in anticipated ecstasy, his lips parted again, and the man behind her head grunted. Something fell to the dust, releasing some of the pressure of her arms. The man above her paused and opened his eyes in surprise, his gaze rising to check on his friend, but his gesture was stopped abruptly, his entire body flew off Rochelle's and collapsed to roll over on the dust.

"What the fuck are you two nimwits think you're doing?" a voice boomed, and the echoes reverberated the dust on the ground.

In a heartbeat Rochelle's worst nightmare gave way to hope. Hope that someone had followed them and found her. Hope to hear the strong voices of Almar or Landon. Hope that was set to flight and shot down in quick succession with the sound of a voice she'd never heard before. One that knew these creatures... One that spoke of authority. She rolled as best she can, moving to get out of the way as adrenaline fought to over write the dulling of her nerves and impulses from the cold and chloroform.

"Egh," a voice answered miserably, "we-- ow! Stop! We didn't do nothing," he cried out. "We'd have shared," the other chimed in from the other side of the floor, but that, too, was followed up with a pained huff.

Shred. The word bubbled in Ivanova's veins. Shared. Like she was some sort of toy. Still, she remained silent and wide eyed in the dark as she waited and watched and listened, wrapping her arms protectively around herself.

"What did I tell you when I brought her here?" The gruff new voice retorted angrily, "this one's not for sharing. Did you forget?"

"Eh," the one called Sork answered miserably. He did forget. He also mistakenly hoped the boss forgot. "That's not fair.." he tried, but another kick tossed dust into his face and he cringed, shuffling backwards towards the exit. His friend joined.

"I don't do fair," the bossy voice replied and kicked more dust onto the two men's faces. "Now off, go off to the others. There's food and fire there, and you better take care I don't see you here again."

The first one started an answer, then thought better of it and moved backwards, shuffling after his friend to the exit.

A soft clicking sounded and suddenly the cave was full of yellowish light, producing a dancing show of shadows on the walls. The man held his torch to the side of his body and looked down at Rochelle, his expression hidden behind a bushy dirty beard.

"Did they damage you?"

The sudden flood of light stung Rochelle's eyes. She was quick to shield her face and eyes with a protective arm and hand, squinting to get a better look at the new player in this game. He was an unkempt thing. Strongly built and vaguely familiar in other features. Not unlike the well dressed Noturan delegates. "Couldn't handle a woman in power so you kidnapped me." She all but spat, ignoring his question. Damage her? They had not. The rocks, however, had cut her fingers, head and legs. Bruises would compliment the pretty peaches and cream complexion of her skin. She'd had worse. Much worse. The darkness would never again be her friend between the attack on Whydah and whatever the Hell this was. "Release me. Star Fleet will rip this place apart if you don't."

Praised be adrenaline. The crash would be horrific, but for now she had enough stamina to battle verbally.

The man stared at her silently for a moment, a trace of a smile stretching his bearded face. "Yes," he agreed finally, "they probably will, but they need to find you, first, and then they need to get through those tunnels," he gestured with the torch, making the shadows dance violently.

"It will not be today, or tomorrow." He noted, looking at her seriously again. "We will have to..." his eyes narrowed with humor above his tangled beard, "handle your power for a while longer. And don't worry about them two," he gestured at the cave door again, "they will not bother you again. I suggest--" his smile grew bigger now, exposing two rows of yellowing teeth from under the beard, "-- you don't try to leave. I will not be able to keep them from taking you if you try to run."

"Don't be so naive." The cold little Commander scoffed, posturing as best she could. "We have a ship that has extremely sensitive sensors. They will find me and when they do?" She snapped her bloodied fingers, instantly regretting the decision "Lights out for you and it's considered an act of war against the Federation." Rochelle blinked coolly, trying her best to appear in control, to hide the pain and the cold and the ill-effects of the drugs that left her trembling. It was all a charade, a game to the demented. She watched him, angered by his smile and his thinly veiled threats. "And if I stay put I get a cookie?" She quipped, unable to stop herself. Andrea would have been mortified.

The man's humored expression vanished from his eyes almost immediately, replaced by the blazing fire of fury. He took an angry breath and tossed the torch to the ground, its fire licking the the sand near Rochelle's feet, and then stepped forward quickly; in a move that seemed almost animalistic, he bent, grabbed the petite Commander by the throat, lifted her up like a rag doll and pinned her to the wall.

"You spoiled wretched wench," he raved, his eyes intense - and insane. Three more figures slipped in through the door, adding to the maniacal show of shadows, but the big man raised his unoccupied hand and they stopped, watching silently.

"You top dwellers pushed us around for the last time," he growled, "I could snap you like a twig and let your stars fleet find your bones," he stared at her intently, "or never find you again," he emphasized by squeezing her throat. "You are not in control here. You understand?" he raved, "Yes?? nod yes, you sun loving bitch, nod, or I have no more use for you."

It was Rochelle's turn to smile as she watched the amused light fade from her keeper's eyes, and smile she did. There was that five letter word again. Chuckling even as she shook her head . His advance caused her to stiffen, but even the adrenaline was no match for his swift attack. She had no ability to prepare, no ability to respond with anything more than flailing arms, a gasp, and a wince as her body hit the rocks once more. Before she knew it, she was choking. Her neck screaming from the pain of supporting her dangling trunk and limbs. Grabbing his arms, she clawed at his hands as her eyes widened and her lungs began to scream for fresh oxygen.

And then she found her out. Her ability to fight back. Her feet found purchase against a thin lip of rock, enough to support herself, enough to launch an attack of her own. She coiled, her body stiff as she still struggled for air. Time was running out. He was demanding on her something she wouldn't give.

"You were always so damn stubborn," The voice, soft but firm, came to Rochelle's ears from the inside as loudly as if its owner stood next to her, clinging to whatever remained of her brain's oxygen supplies. "But I didn't think you'd let your own stubbornness kill you, Rochelle."

The voice still came from inside Rochelle's head, but Andrea Levine's face appeared blurry from behind her attacker's head, and time stood still.

"You're so busy remembering your combat tactics, you forgot about the strategy. And isn't strategy your strength?" Andrea leaned over the man's head and poked at the young Commander's brow gently, "thinking. Planning. Strategy. Isn't that your strength, Commander Boom? THINK." She stared meaningfully. "Save your strength; pretend to bow down; make them underestimate you... so you can THINK. And do what you do best: plan a fight that has an actual chance of success."

"Or," the Captain's shape blurred, "you can fight now, and die now," the vanishing figure's head tilted meaningfully.

"THINK."

In her haze, so close to blacking out, so close to death, Rochelle looked at the blurry vision her mind had created for her. Hope sprung eternal as she looked at the familiar face and listened to what the mirage had to say with tears stinging the corners of her eyes. Tears from the sensation of choking, tears from the pain radiating along her body and back as she was held so violently fast against the cold shale. Her heart jumped in her chest.

Andrea.

Her lips, starting to turn blue, tried to form words that just wouldn't come without the lack of breath. One of the Commander's bare heels slipped from the tiny moss covered ledge, forcing her weight back onto her neck and sending her scrambling for her footing once again in a fight that would end unfairly.

Andrea... She began to fade, her words slowly sinking into the tactical mind of the young officer. The woman had taught her patience and diplomacy, and who was she to simply throw it away? Who was she to piss those years down the drain simply because she refused to relinquish her iron grip on control? The point had long ago been proven that she was indeed mortal, so very strong and so very talented, but so very mortal. And then... Andrea was gone, almost like the light in Rochelle's beautiful Prussian blue eyes. She'd have screamed for her friend to come back, screamed for her guidance and her gentle hand -- that's when it clicked. She'd have to do as the ghost instructed, concede, if she ever wanted to see any of them again. She wasn't afraid to die... She just didn't want a death without meaning... A foolish death. Not when she could win in the long run.

The struggle stopped. Rochelle's fighting fingers fell away from the hands and wrists of the violent keeper. Her eyes flirted with disaster as they peered deep into the insanity before nodding, as best she could with her neck being held hostage, and darkness slowly crept back over her vision as a swarm of black and purple spots.

"Good," the man nodded and let go abruptly, letting Rochelle collapse to the ground. He turned around and picked up the dying torch, then blew on it twice, rekindling the flame, before turning sticking it a crack in the wall.

"No one will bother you again if you don't get stupid and try to leave," he repeated without looking at her, turning to the entrance, then nodded at the three others. One of them ducked behind the entrance and pushed a small tray into the light.

"There's water," the big man gestured absently, avoiding eye contact. He was, quite visibly, trying to control his rage. "And food. It's not what your stars fleet gives you, but it will keep you warm." He nodded at the others, and they, silent as shadows, snuck out of the cave door.

Coughs erupted from her oxygen deprived lungs. Coughs and wheezes and gags as she lay on the cold floor, touching her bruised throat and trachea with shaking and bloodied fingers. In her oxygen deprived mind, she cursed him. Rochelle refused to look in his direction, instead she listened to the sound of his footfalls, the scrape of the tray, the squeaking of rusted hinges on the door. She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Instead she'd play the injured bird -- the role wasn't such a stretch. She was alive, for now, and soon she'd either escape or the Vindicator would find her. For now? Rochelle would concentrate on breathing, finding warmth and calculating her next move.

Commander Rochelle Ivanova
Executive Officer
USS VINDICATOR

Creepy Underground Noturans
apb Mooeypoo

 

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