Nightshade - Laurell K. Hamilton [61]
The problem was that the real danger to Troi was something that neither warrior could protect her from. Only one person could help her walk safely through the pain and despair that was the jails of Oriana, and that was Troi herself.
Sounds came from down the corridor. The guards all turned at full attention to face the noise. A group of three masked and cloaked Orianians came into view. Their black and gold cloaks almost glowed against the whiteness. Troi found her eyes drawn to the color. This unrelieved whiteness was exhausting to the eye. Perhaps that was the point. Even the walls themselves reminded you that this was a prison, as bleak in its own way as the outer planet.
‘Greetings, Ambassador Worf, I am sorry to keep you waiting. The guard that came to tell me you were here had some trouble locating me.” It was Talanne’s voice, but she made no offer to remove her mask and show her face. “Open the door for us.” Her voice was quiet, but it was definitely an order.
A guard moved to obey. He, or she, pushed the door wide, holding it with an arm. He stood aside to let the ambassador’s party enter.
‘Please, enter,” Talanne said. “All guards will remain outside the door.”
‘But Colonel Talanne…” a guard protested.
‘I have spoken,” she said.
‘Ambassador Worf,” Breck said, “shall I remain outside, as well?”
‘Yes.” Whether Worf wished it or not, custom dictated that if Talanne had no bodyguards, then he would have none. In fact… “We are honored that Colonel Talanne shows such trust in us.”
‘I am trying to behave like a civilized leader.” The bitterness in her voice could have cut glass.
Troi was relieved that even standing next to Talanne, she felt nothing. She was blocking out Talanne’s empathic broadcast. There was only a faint buzz like the humming of insects, ignorable if she worked at it. Troi was relieved more than she would admit. But how could she help Worf and the captain if she refused to use her powers?
Worf ducked through the low doorway into the cell. Troi followed him because that was her job, but fear was growing in her, her own fear. Fear of failing her duty out of cowardice.
The harsh, bright light bounced off the glaring whiteness of the walls. The room swam in brightness like burning water in a glass globe. Audun sat against the far wall, his large brown eyes staring dully at the door, as if he did not really see it at all. Liv was huddled on one side, her back to the door. Her shining white-blond hair spilled onto the floor, a line of darkness staining it. Marit lay on her back, one arm slung carelessly outward as if in sleep.
But her face was too pale for sleep.
Worf moved swiftly to kneel by Audun. Troi just stood for a moment staring at Marit. The buzzing in her head was growing louder like someone had turned up the volume. No, she thought, no, I can’t feel this. Not again. Please.
Talanne stepped in behind them. Perhaps she couldn’t see around them, perhaps it took a moment to realize what had happened. Or perhaps, the full horror of it slid slowly into her mind, because she simply didn’t want to believe it.
‘Audun, what has happened here?” Worf asked. He was feeling for a pulse on Liv. He did not bother with Marit. The Klingon knew death when he saw it. “Audun, can you speak?” Worf asked.
Troi stepped toward them, slowly. It was like a nightmare where no matter what you did, it was too late, always too late. If only they had discovered the Orianian attitude toward torture sooner. If only… two of the most painful words. Words that Troi told her clients not to use. If only: words to torture yourself with.
The buzzing in Troi’s head exploded into a scream. It shattered her barriers like brittle glass. A shriek was ripped from Troi’s throat. She whirled and found Talanne just behind her. Another scream tore through Troi