“Fine art is the only teacher except torture.”

George Bernard Shaw, (1910)

Major Silak knew everything there was to know about her craft.

Everybody thinks that they know everything that is known about torture….despite never actually having been the instigator or recipient of what is undeniably most brutal and amoral interpersonal interaction that it  is possible for two (or more) sentient beings to experience.

But they are mistaken.

On an intellectual level, we may be able to comprehend the rudiments of what is involved in the judicious application of the repugnant techniques that constitute torture. We have all seen images that imply the awful mechanics of the torturers trade and history itself is alive with the macabre inference of those who have undergone this degrading and destructive transaction throughout the ages.

In our minds-eye, our own primal fears center around the morbid fear of experiencing agony and the pervasive invasion of our inviolate individuality that tends to ‘fill in the blanks’, despite our lack of misfortune or zeal that would find us in such dire dilemma, if either case was reversed.

With reasonable empathy we are able to project some of what it must be like to have no control over the pain being inflicted upon you, powerless to stop the psychological and visceral effects of being tortured.

Harder still, but just as eminently possible or probable for those who lack the sociopathic tendency to actual relish the thought of instigating such a morally – reprehensible act, to a certain degree we can also project what it might be like to be the torturer. Although the extent to which we furnish and self-actualize such projection casts some worrisome things about our psyche and probably makes us a person that makes others decidedly nervous should they become aware of such fetishisms.

You may consider yourself a compassionate person, given to reasonable empathy. Likely you were raised by decent and loving parents that saw to your emotional and physical wellbeing, needs and ultimately you were loved absolutely and completely.

Such a person is unlikely to become a torturer, so we tell ourselves.

It’s a convenient conceit that most societies harbor, mostly derived from a sense of moral self-preservation that is (to whit) – any person who becomes a torturer is one whose social development has in some way become warped and perverted from the course of ‘normal’ life and that visualization helps to neatly compartmentalize them, erecting an invisible moralistic-barrier to separate us from them so we can all sleep at night.

However we need to cling to this reassurance, it is patently untrue.

Both inverse – ends of these base criteria could be argued applicable to both torturer and victim before they assume their respective roles in the wheel of horror. The defining element that separates sufferer from persecutor is so razor thin that, at the end of the day, it balances on just one thing.

Choice.

The victim does not choose to be the recipient of torture, though they surely become irrevocably defined by the act.

The torturer consciously chooses to become (and be similarly transformed as) the very instrument of pain, precisely because they do not perceive the act as evil, rather it is a key and necessary method to achieve a given end and thus they likely do not lose any sleep over it.

They do not change at all. This is the natural state of things, to thier mind.

To the mind of the successful Torturer, they are no more likely to be defined by the act then they are to be defined by a tax – return. True, the profession does attract an inevitable number of pure psychopaths who are attracted to the work as it offers an undeniable opportunity to inflict pain and suffering on another – but this is typically an act of self – satisfaction and rare yields tangibly fruitful outcomes.

For the pain to stop, the victim will tell you anything you want them to, but rarely what you actually need to know.

As Major Silak knew all to well, the key to unlocking the pre-eminent truth from the bluff of secrets that all people harbored inside was ‘levers’.

With a lever you could move not only  worlds but define them and the outcome of any successful interrogation came not from the careless application of brute force (although at times it admittedly had its uses), rather it stemmed from a disciplined psychological evaluation of the subject to understand what emotional, attitudinal and moral compunctions shaped their worldview & motivated their behaviour.

Their ‘levers.’

Once the competent torturer had these levers in their grasp, the interrogation was effectively over before it had even begun. It was just a matter of choosing the right combination of levers to manipulate and deciding how much pressure to apply to each to produce the desired outcome.

And Major Silak was undeniably one of the best at this task that the Tal Shiar possessed amongst their depleted ranks.

She considered this as she stood at Commander Navain’s shoulder, her slim hand rested lightly on the back of the captain’s chair, as she watched the fragile burning arc of the ruined Starfleet vessel transcribe it’s final swan – song dive towards the unforgiving planet’s surface.

For his part, the Free States Navy Commander was in equal parts embarrassed that such a comparatively mis – matched foe had been able to take the RFSV – Rihanhansu by surprise, inflicting notable (but survivable) damage as a result of her undeniably brave but suicidally – foolhardy attack and angry that this catastrophe had taken place in the presence of the infernal Tal Shiar Agent at his shoulder, who would doubtless ensure that this failure would get back to his superiors.

“Targeting!” Commander Navain rasped like an ill – tempered viper, trying to compensate for the attendant lack of face suffered by inflicting suffering on another. “Reacquire the target and destroy them. We’ll finish the task we started!”

Before the D’deridex tactical officer would comply with this command, Major Silak sighed dismissively and countermanded the order.

“Belay that order.” Silak commanded acidly and the Sub-lieutenant paused in his task, looking from his captain and then to the Tal Shiar officer, unsure who held primacy and whose order to obey.

One of the advantages of being a member of one of the most fearsome secret – policing organizations within a government as avowedly militaristic as the Romulan Free States was, was the degree of autonomy one wielded as a result of that position.

Major Silak had the lassitude to be able to order Commander Navain to airlock his entire bridge crew, should the whim take her and the man knew that he would have to do it. Of course, the Major would never do such a thing just because she could. It would be wasteful and she would have to answer certain pointed questions, put to her by someone as equally talented as herself, if she did.

Besides, it would be wasteful and Silak positively abhorred waste in any form.

So, when she conferred gently into Navain’s ear, it came out as a purely casual entreaty, but the Commander would have to had been suicidal to construe what she said as anything but a very definitive order.

“Let’s not waste our efforts, Commander?” The Major smiled thinly as she leaned in meaningfully to invade his personal space. “Even if in the unlikely event that the Starfleet vessel does survive reentry and impact, the planet itself will soon finish them off, as it has done the others. Should they, by some miracle, be able to make orbit again – this vessel is more that capable of ‘finishing-the-task’ if they do, is it not?”

The question hung poignantly between the pair for what seemed like an eternity, before Navain cleared his throat uncomfortably and glowered at the Major before barking at the Sublieutenant, his voice thinly petulant.

“Stand down the weapons and re-engage the cloaking device. Engineering, I want a full assessment and report on the damage to the port-side nacelle and estimates of best time to restoration of full operational capacity.” The Commander ordered, feeling the need to re-establish his primacy within a remit he felt more comfortable in and hating himself for needing to do so.

Silak smiled glacially as she regarded Navain. His particular lever was pride. The Major always found this one of the more amusing and rewarding levers to manipulate and toy with. After all, should work as grim such as her was sometimes, not be without its amusements from time to time?

The visible spectrum of light around the Rihanhansu shimmered and warped – fractalizing the visual delineation of the jade-green hull of the Warbird as the cloaking – generator masked the outputs of her drive and systems, the steely raptor melting back into the darkness to lay wait for other prey foolish enough to cross her path.

Major Silak smiled and thumped the back of the chair, making the Commander tense and deriding a modicum of vicarious joy as he did so.

“Well now, with that distraction now behind us, let us turn our attentions back to our original endeavor shall we?” Silak regarded Navain with rapturous-intent. “What progress have your away teams made in penetrating the vault, Commander?”

Commander Navain hated the Tal Shiar agent, particularly for how she interrogated him thus before his crew in what he saw as a deliberate attempt to belittle him and diminish his authority before his people. However, no one more than he appreciated how truly dangerous the woman really was and it spoke as much to his sense of self – preservation as it did to his powers of self-control, that he managed to keep his voice level (even if his dignity was in tatters) when he responded.

“The progress we made when we were able to penetrate the Northern command – bunker network has regrettably slowed Major.” Navain replied carefully. “The technology we are dealing with presents too many unknowns at this time and the planetary environment has taken its toll, in terms of manpower. We lost another engineering – detail just this morning.”

Major Silak’s expression was unmoved & glacial when she replied, thus Navain felt the chill of her ire creep along his very spine.

“I should not have to remind you, Commander, of the importance our superiors place in acquiring potential technologies that would ensure that the Free State regain its rightful place of dominance in galactic affairs.”

Silak spoke slowly and pointedly, punctuating each word with dreadful inflection. “If what we learned from the scientists aboard the Selquar holds true, that vault could contain a treasure – trove of theoretical military secrets that could very well see the dream of Romulus – reborn become a reality.”

As she let the implications sink in, Major Silak’s straightened and smoothed the front of her severe uniform and added brightly.

“Entry to the vault is currently your only priority, Commander Navain. If you have to waste the lives of everybody aboard this ship by hurling their bodies against that vault until it opens, then that is what you shall do.”

The very embodiment of menace, Silak nodded her ridged greyish brow and promised.

“If it’s a matter of ‘technology’, then I shall visit with Sub-commander Thecal once more.” The Torturer confirmed. “My work with him has progressed to the stage where he is sufficiently motivated and has no desire to join the remainder of his crew on Hectate#7b to share their fate. Let’s see what more light he may be able to shed upon the extent of their discoveries before we joined them in orbit.”

“It will be as you say, Major.” Commander Navain acknowledged tersely. Silak could see that it was taking the man every vestige of self-control that he possessed not to spring from his seat and throttle her. This pleased her immensely because it showed that her hand was firmly holding the right lever.

“Of course it will. There? See what you can achieve when you set your mind to it?” Major Silak smiled patronizingly and without apparent humour.

Commander Navain wisely said nothing in response and counted the moments until the infernal woman was no longer on his bridge.

As the Torturer made her long – legged gait carry her to the turbolift, she turned as she entered the cylindrical car and as the doors hissed shut, she departed with a final stinging-jibe.

“Always remember, Commander. Mind is the great lever of all things.”