Exhausted.

Hrelle was so, so exhausted.

His fingers hurt like all hell and where his claws once were bled constantly. The numbness that followed was even worse; but there wasn’t any time to complain. No time to fight. He wouldn’t be able to survive another beating. Deep inside the ground, Drekar V had a rich source of an ore–some ore that the universal translators couldn’t translate–and all the able bodied people who got taken by whatever had taken him were forced to mine it. If they weren’t mining it, they were doing something else.

The caves were spacious and well lit–but crowded. It was hard to get a move on if not in ones specific position. But nonetheless, Runt still heaved up the pickaxe with a muffled cry, and slammed it down. Normally, he’d put his claws out to help ease his anxiety, but…

“M’Hark.” Hollis’ voice called. Runt turned his head to the side, staring with wide eyes. “You okay?”

“. . . .okay as I can be.” Runt grunted as he looked down at the slightly soaked bandages across his fingertips. “Is it almost lunch time?”

“Yeah.” The Ferengi couldn’t help but frown as he glanced back at Runt. Despite all three of them having taken a beating, de-clawing had to be the worst. Hollis had a fractured bone around his left eye, and Amira wasn’t seriously harmed; they need a doctor. Lunch time came in blocks for specific prisoners. Hollis and Runt were consistently placed in the same group–most likely because Runt was labeled as a flight risk, and Hollis was a ”calming factor” as Amira recalled in the medical files–and the routine was the same every time. Eat, barely speak, and then hesitate to go back inside. Now, it was time to do it all over again.

“Alright.” One of the guards stepped up. “Block F, you’re up! Lets get going!”

. . . .

“This is disgusting.” Runt hissed under his breath as the two poked at their food. Whatever the soupy mixture was, it had bugs crawling around in it and what could only be mold growing on the side.

“No kidding.” Hollis winced as he gently applied pressure to the skin above his eye. “…M’Hark.”

“Uh-huh?” Runt looked up, ears still flat against his head. A vacant look was in his eyes.

“..Nevermind.” Hollis sighed, looking back down at his food. It was nearly impossible to even speak to the cat for the past few days. But something was on his mind; how in the world had the Morro Bay not come to look for them yet? The ship wouldn’t be able to do well without it’s doctor.

More silence passed between the two as Runt stared blankly down at his food. Hollis’ mind couldn’t help but wander to what exactly was awaiting them. Yes, this was a black market, but the ones imprisoned were so sheltered and kept out of the loop, nobody fully knew what was going on. Runt was taken somewhere shortly after they arrived, and hasn’t spoken about it since he got back.

“Actually,” Hollis cleared his throat. “Do you. . . .want to talk about what happened?”

“….No.” Runt looked away from Hollis, frowning. “They didn’t…hurt me. If that’s what you’ve been so concerned about.”

“Then what did they do?” He sat up straight. “Runt, if there’s something that could help us escape-”

“Hollis! M’Hark!” A voice boomed from across the cafeteria. A larger, more roughed up looking Kaelthri started to walk up to them. Hollis noticed instantly how Runt started to change seats to be next to him.

“Hello.” Hollis stared up at the man. “How can we help yo–”

“Cut the starfleet bullshit.” He sneered, grabbing both of the men and heaving them upwards. “Big Guy wants to speak to you.”

“What?!” Hollis cried as fear started to settle in. Anyone who saw the ‘big guy’ never found himself coming back to their cell. “Why? Have we done anything wrong??”

“Nope.” He snickers. “We’re just having some job changes.”

It didn’t take long for the two to be dragged up several flights of stairs; each time M’Hark tried to speak, he was met with a elbow to the maw. His wide, terrified eyes met Hollis’ as the security lessened with each floor, but the firepower increased. Whatever the hell Hollis was about to face, it couldn’t be good.

Eventually, the stairs ended, and the two were thrown forward onto a red carpet. Standing tall in front of M’Hark and Hollis were large, imposing red doors. They looked nearly stabbed into the earth–with golden designs sprawling along them and pointing at the handle; nearly enticing one to come open it. Two larger guards stood; one that neither could recognize, and the other a. . . .Vaadwuar.

But not just any Vaadwuar.

“Ivvën?” Runt’s voice cracked as he stared in disbelief. The guard turned for a second, before his eyes widened and he nearly dropped his rifle. There, standing with a scarred face, was the USS Morro Bay’s former ally during the Vaadwuar invasion. He looked ever so slightly different–his posture was more rigid, gaze shifty, and he had a nasty scar along his right eye.

“I-” He cleared his throat, looking down at Runt. The faces from Hollis and M’Hark were making was enough to make him look away in shame, face running hot.

“Ivvën!” For the first time in days, M’Hark’s face had lit up. A smile crept across his bleeding lip. “You–are–what…”

But it slowly faded as he put things together.

“…You’re working with them?” The cat’s ears shot back as Hollis sneered at him, spitting on the ground.

“You’re disgusting.” The Fengeri hissed. “You’re praised as a hero back on the ship, and now you come here and work with the men who beat us? You-” Before he could finish, one of the men slammed a fist into Hollis’ side, which made him gasp out for air and double over. He didn’t say anything after that, but the Lieutenant kept his furious gaze on Ivvën. Before anyone else could say anything, however,

The doors swung open.

“Boss will see you now.” A voice called from within the doorway. “Don’t waste his time.”