A group of fifty prisoners was marched into a central hub, their hands bound in fetters. Jem’Hadar guards pushed the stragglers with their polaron rifles. In a loose formation, Federation, Klingon, and even a handful of Cardassian and Romulan prisoners stood facing a Jem’Hadar with a stern expression.

“This is Internment Camp 376. You are here because you were enemies of the Dominion. Victory is life, and you have failed. Now you are dead; you just didn’t know that until now. I am First Vor’kan. Names are for the living; you no longer possess one. From now until you draw your last breath, you will think and refer to yourself by your prisoner number. If you do not… there will be consequences.”

The First paced before the front row of prisoners, contempt in his expression. He stopped before a Klingon. The massive warrior was badly injured, having taken something to the face. His right eye was swollen shut, and infection had set in on the wound.

“Pathetic,” Vor’kan sneered. “What is your designation, Klingon?”

The Klingon spat on Vor’kan’s boots. “I am Gravax, son of Torak.”

Vor’kan did not react to the Klingon’s spit. He simply drew out a small black device and pointed it at Gravax, depressing the button. The Klingon howled in agony; his screams echoed off the walls, a sound that sent shivers down the spines of even the most hardened combat veteran.

The Klingon collapsed to the deck, and a pair of guards lifted him up to face Vor’kan once more. “What is your designation Klingon?”

“Gra…vax… son… of… Tor…ak.”

Vor’kan pressed the button once more, and the guards dropped the hapless Klingon to the deck with a heavy thud. He writhed in pain, lurching. His screams had long been cut silent. After five minutes, he spasmed one last time, lying lifeless where he had been dropped.

“Any questions?” Vor’kan asked as he walked in front of the prisoners. He paused at a blonde human female. “You are a female,” he said, disgust in his voice. “Weaker than the already weak males of your species.”

She looked over at the dead Klingon, ‘What a waste. Pride will only get you killed here’. She looked back at the Vorta in front of her and the Jem’Hadar who flanked her. She cocked her head as she appraised the Vorta and smirked, “Not as weak as you think.”

“What is your designation, human?”

‘Human? Sure I guess,’ she glanced down at her dirty clothes half expecting to see a number there then let out a chuckle, ‘Like the Dominion would waste time on prison uniforms…’ With a shrug, she responded, “8472.”

“You can learn.  Perhaps you will survive longer than most,” the Jem’Hadar First said contemptuously. “Tell me, what suits you best? Construction of weapons or the mines?”

She pursed her lips and looked around at the other prisoners, “If I had to choose can I go for option three? Relaxing on the beach?”  

The Jem’Hadar backhanded her, “Sass will not be tolerated.  You will be assigned to Barracks 5 where you will make torpedoes. Fail to meet the quota, you die.  Sabotage or deviate from standard specifications,  you die.”  To emphasize his point he pointed his remote at her. Unlike the Klingon, it wasn’t set to kill,  but cause every pain receptor in her body to activate.

The prisoner looked at the Jem’Hadar with venom in her eyes as she held in a scream. As the pain subsided involuntarily shuttered and almost fell to the ground but was able to steady herself. She had expected this given her response but she wasn’t going to push them to the point they killed her, that would do no one any good.

“Do not test me human. You wouldn’t be the first, and you will not be the last.”

Up next in line came an older, light blue male.  He didn’t even give the Jem’Hadar the time to ask.  “Designation 2460.  Construction, if possible.”  His voice came out raspy, as he hadn’t had enough water in a while.  

“Your species must be able to learn faster than humans, and certainly Klingons. Do not forget these lessons today. Barracks five.”

She looked over at the other prisoner and hid a smirk. ‘He knows how to play the game, or is a coward…’

“Take them away,” Frist Vor’kan said. He had made his point.

Barrack Five

Less than five minutes later they found themselves outside a heavy metal door with ‘B5’ written on the door. The lead Jem’Hadar soldier quickly entered a code into a small panel beside the door causing it to swing open. 

“Your new home, until you die,” he growled and shoved the blond woman known as Prisoner 8472 through the door roughly.

She caught herself before falling to the ground moments before the blue-skinned male and a Cardassian were pushed in and the door slammed behind them.

With an exhale she pushed herself up and brushed off her clothes as she looked around. The room was rectangular and had five bunk beds along each side, most of which were empty. “Well, looks like our new home could use some decorations. It’s a bit drap.”

As she spoke she look in all the details. ‘Now, how can we escape,’ she thought to herself.

Checking around himself, Xarin took in the room before directing his attention to the human female with him  “If you’re planning on trying to escape, you’ll want the empty bed three-quarters of the way back.  The way this room is built blocks anyone at the entrance from seeing that particular bed, however, the ones all the way back are too visible just to discourage escape.” Saying this, he set himself up one bed in front of the aforementioned bed before examining the bedframe itself.

She glanced back at him and nodded in agreement as she walked the length of the room, “I had the same thought myself.” As she stepped up to the bed beside the one Xarin took she sat down on the lower bunch and rolled her shoulders before laying down. “That shock device they have is unpleasant.” As she lay there she smirked as she noticed a screw was partially undone, as she reached up and began to see if she could twist it she glanced at the other officer, “So, how’d they get you?”

Xarin grunted, “Was unfortunate enough to be the engineer on the Benimaru when it came down over Tanvas IV. Was also unfortunate enough to survive.  Lived in the wilderness for a week with the other survivors before we were cornered and taken in.  How about you?”  He started pulling the bedframe itself apart, managing to pry loose one of the bolts.

The screw slowly began to turn but she had to jam the nail of her thumb into the small groove to gain enough leverage. “Honestly cannot recall, was on shore leave then in a cell. It is rather…” she growled as she gave the screw one hard twist, “…disconcerting.”  A second later she pulled her thumb back and looked at the ripped nail and blood dripping down her hand, ”Damnit, that stings.” She wiped her land on her pants and tested the screw several times to ensure she could get it out when needed before looking at the other prisoner, “Any idea how long you were captured?”

“Here” Xarin handed her a piece of scrap metal he had twisted off of his bedframe. “This should work better.  As for how long it’s been, your guess would be as good as mine.  I lost consciousness during the attack on the Benimaru.  She went down in the Cardassia sector and I woke up on the ground.”  He bent over, holding the frame still so she could better unscrew it.  “Apparently I was useful enough to be evacuated from the area when the Federation attacked again. Though I doubt I’d survive a second time.”

She glanced at it quickly before taking it, “Cheers.” Sitting up she let out a sigh, “Was hoping we had an idea of the stardate.” She glanced at the other prisoners in the and each shook their head in turn. She was about to speak again when a klaxon sound and the lights flashed red for a moment and a loud voice came over the speakers.

“LIGHTS OUT IN ONE MINUTE. ALL PRISONERS MUST BE IN THEIR RACKS OR THEY WILL BE PUNISHED.”

The next several days passed in a blur. Prisoner 8472, as she jokingly thought of herself at times stumbled as she was pushed back into the barracks before falling to her hands and knees. Behind her the door slammed and the laughter of several Jem’hadar soldiers could be heard. She pulled herself onto the nearest bed before she wiped a trickle of blood from the corner of her mouth and brushed her wet and matted hair from her face. “They do get sadistic pleasure out of treating their captives like shit.”

Xarin stood from his bunk with difficulty and made his way to Prisoner 8472 to offer his hand.  “Even if we don’t defy them, they find their ways to entertain themselves.”  He coughed, his skin looking rougher than even when they arrived.  “Ever since that Voorta caught on that my species is aquatic, he’s taken a perverse pleasure in dehydrating me.” His cough sounded through the barracks, sounding drier and rougher.  Once 8472 was up, he stumbled back to his bunk. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help again.  On the bright side, there’s so few of us left that they haven’t been bothering with heavy surveillance.”

“They will get what is coming to them, they aren’t as smart as they think they are,” she said with a cough before standing and making her way to her bunk. As she passed she placed a hand on Xarin’s shoulder and smiled, “Stay strong hold out for as long as we can. Take some of my water at the next meal. I got my fill during my last chat with the Vorta.”