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“You were alone?” asked Flenarrh.

Picard shook his head. “There were some forty of us being held there.”

“Forty survivors,” Robinson mused.

“Precisely,” said Picard.

“What about Worf?” Hompaq demanded.

“To my immense relief,” Picard told her, “Worf was among that number though the Cardassians had opened a dangerous-looking gash in his temple. Looking around, I saw Astellanax, Sturgis, and Thadoc as well. Also Corbis, and his friends the Oord and the Thelurian. And Dunwoody, though he was holding a limp and painful-looking arm.”

“And Red Abby?” asked Robinson.

Picard nodded. “Our captain was there, too, though I didn’t notice her at first. She was kneeling, tending to one of the wounded. Though she had been bruised and battered as badly as any of us, she managed somehow to maintain an air of defiance.”

Bo’tex smiled. “I see where this is going.”

“So can I,” said Dravvin.

“This woman inspired you,” Bo’tex speculated. “She gave you hope in the midst of despair.”

“And when the Cardassians let their guards down,” said Dravvin, “you attacked them and freed yourselves.”

Picard chuckled grimly. “Had you been there, you would have known an uprising was an impossibility.”

“Indeed,” said Flenarrh. “Charging your captors would no doubt have cost you dearly.”

“I believe so,” Picard agreed. “And even then, we would not have gained anything. We would still have had to escape our cargo bay.”

Flenarrh leaned forward. “And with the Daring’s transporters under the Cardassians’ control, they could have beamed in all the reinforcements they required.”

“Aye,” said Robinson. “Or beamed out you and your comrades, one at a time. The Cardassians held all the cards.”

“Still,” Hompaq snarled, “if it had been me in that cargo bay, I would have gone for a Cardassian throat.” She glared at Picard. “And if I had died, at least it would have been a warrior’s death. Only a coward allows himself to be herded like a pack animal.”

Picard, of course, knew a few things about Klingon ethics. He had, after all, been the Arbiter of Succession the man who picked Gowron as the leader of the Klingon High Council.

“Only a fool wastes his life on a useless gesture,” he told Hompaq pointedly. “I had a mission, remember a duty to Starfleet. In order to fulfill that duty, I had to survive my captivity.”

Hompaq bared her teeth, less than thrilled with Picard’s tone. For a moment, he thought she might pull a concealed weapon or at the least throw herself across the table at him. In the end, however, she made a sound of disgust and stayed in her seat.

Not that the Klingon was fearful of facing him. Quite the contrary. Rather, it seemed to Picard, she had a healthy respect for the establishment in which they were seated.

For the Captain’s Table.

“As I was saying,” Picard continued, “we may have thought about an uprising, but we didn’t attempt one. We simply waited, exchanging grim glances, until the Cardassians received an order via the ship’s intercom.”

The Tale

I UNDERSTOOD ENOUGH Cardassian to make sense of the order. Apparently, my fellow prisoners and I would shortly be beamed to the enemy’s warship. It was better than being destroyed out of hand, I thought.

A moment later, my comrades began to disappear, two and three at a time. Corbis and his friends were among the first to go. Worf, Thadoc, and Sturgis came soon after. I myself was among the last.

We materialized in a place not unlike the one we had left. Of course, the bulkheads around us were of a decidedly darker hue, and the recessed lighting gave off a smoldering, orange glow, but it was clear we were in a cargo bay.

A Cardassian cargo bay. It was a chilling thought, to say the least.

Once all of the prisoners were assembled, a stocky Cardassian officer entered the bay with something like a tricorder in his hand. Glancing at it, he scanned our ranks until his eyes fell on our captain, who endured his scrutiny with a scowl.

The Cardassian pointed at her. “You,” he said in a tongue she could understand. “Come with me.”

Astellanax and some of the others looked