((Bondon's Quarters -- Skarbek))
::Bondon waited in his quarters, door open with a view of hallway, as all the members of the cell filed in and out of the prisoner's room. The Docs, their shady Vissian friend, even their drunk engineer. She scared him, with her mechanical arm and violent accent. He could barely understand her.
::When she staggered out Bondon stood to peek out. He was biding his time. Back on Schulman he'd heard rumors they had a prisoner. He'd caught a glimpse of her when they brought her to the quarters. She knew something. Something important. He prided himself on knowing things. Sometimes he wasn't supposed to know them, but that made it all the sweeter when he did.
::He'd learned a lot from his older brother about surveillance and transmissions. Dardon was an officer assigned to Arkania Base and, thankfully told Bondon all about his work. He had planned on following in Dardon's footsteps when he was old enough to join the military. But rules and regulations... He never did like being told what to do. So the Maquis it had been.
::Which is how he found himself now on the Skarbek, fighting those Cardies nearly everyday. There were some rules, but not nearly as many as in the military. He could handle those. He'd not heard anything explicitly forbidding interrogating the witness. So he would do what needed doing.
::About to step out he noticed the tall, broad shouldered form of their "leader." What little rules they had he was fairly strict about. But only when he knew what happened. So Bondon would have to use all his skills to make sure he wouldn't get caught.
::He waited a bit longer until Brunsig left, then slipped into the cold, sparse quarters.
::He'd not actually seen the black-collared woman before and her small frame took him a bit off guard. At least they'd had the good sense to keep her cuffed. She was leaning against the wall, muttering to herself about being alone in her quarters. She had a faraway look in her eyes. Time enough to take care of that.
::Bondon grabbed her, spinning her body towards his.::
Bondon: If you're quite finished.
::She hesitated a fraction too long, trying to bury her head in her hands instead of looking at him. He rammed his boot into her stomach to teach her a lesson.::
Bondon: No, no. Stay down. You and I need to have a conversation. Or rather, you need to talk, and I want to listen.
::She knew something that could help against the Cardassians. Being Starfleet ensured that. Being intelligence only confirmed it further.::
Reynolds: I'm not… ::she wheezed, still struggling to catch her breath,:: giving you… those codes.
::He raised an eyebrow. Codes. What sort of codes, he wondered. Definitely useful.::
Bondon: Oh, Commander. As they say in your line of work, "trust, but verify". We really need to be sure, don't you think?
::Again, that fraction of a second delay revealed her true intentions. Her ragged breath came in fits. So much for trying to play it nice. He kicked her again, harder. He heard the satisfying sound of a bone cracking. Surely that would get her to talk. He let her drop to the floor, contemplating her future.::
Bondon: So. One more time. The codes?
::The woman didn't respond. She gasped in air, muffling the grunt of pain with each inhale. She stayed down. He rained down more kicks to her body. Blood spilled profusely from numerous lacerations. So be it.::
Bondon: We'll talk more later. Think about what you'd like to say.
::She'd come around. In the meantime he would watch and observe what everyone else did. Sometimes they didn't know what needed doing.::
Maquis Comms Specialist
Lieutenant Commander Trellis Vondaryan