Enlisted Rank 2nd
Class Beurrel was unjustly proud of his day-old promotion. He’d served in the Cardassian military for six
month before receiving the first of, what he hoped, would be many promotions.
His father was also an enlisted man, having served 29 years in the glorious
service of the state.
Beurrel wanted to
achieve more than his father. He wanted to accomplish more and see more. He
wanted to lead a platoon of men. He wanted them to do as he ordered. He wanted
to complain about his soldier’s boots not being shined, about their uniforms
not being well pressed, about their plasma rifles not being maintained.
The young soldier
wanted to strut around the barracks and have younger solders snap to attention
and have them hang on every word of sage advice he had to impart.
Growing up the
son of a soldier had been hard. His dad was often gone and his mother, a clerk
at one of the cities many weapon’s shop had her away from the home a lot so
Beurrel had spent much of his time alone. He wasn’t good at sports, had few
friends and was not very good in school.
It wasn’t that
the potential wasn’t there it was because Beurrel was lazy. He didn’t see it in
himself, but others saw it in him. He was so like his father who was also the
type of person who would do only as much as he was told and nothing more…and
sometimes less. Beurrel’s father had been reduced in rank twice in his long
career for failing to follow through on orders he was given.
Beurrel did not
want to lose the rank he’d earned and vowed he’d worked to achieve more. He’d
keep his nose clean and keep out of sight of the officers who were always
around giving orders and making the enlisted personnel fetch some piece of
equipment, replace a broken instrument, march in parades, fight in battles
where people would be killed or mop some hallway.
Beurrel hated all
of those jobs. He knew he was destined to lead, not be a lackey to the puffed
up officers.
As he lay in bed,
the first morning after receiving his promotion, he ignored Enlisted Rank
Primary Stents when the lower-ranked soldier suggested the newly promoted Cardassian
get up and make his bunk before the squad leader appeared at the door. He
wanted to enjoy the ability to ignore the lower-ranking man.
Just as he’d
pulled the single blanket higher to cover his head and hide the bright lights
in the barracks, the squad leader entered the room. The man was a huge
Cardassian with a single battle medal hanging on his uniform. He was missing
half his left hand and was scarred along his face. Rumor had it he was one of
the few survivors of a battle in which the Cardassians had been beaten soundly
by one of the many foes the Cardassian Union faced every day.
The squad leader was
never a pleasant man and this morning he was particularly testy for reasons
known only to him.
“Beurrel!” the
squad leader bellowed in a voice which everyone in the squad agreed would sound
better on a female.
Beurrel jumped
out of his bunk, trying to look like he was already in the process of getting
dressed, but the squad leader knew better. “Get your lazy hide out of that bunk
aand report to Glinn Venton’s office ten minutes ago. Get going! Hurry! Go, go,
go!” the squad leader’s voice droned on as Beurrel dressed in his work uniform
and pulled on his boots. The squad leader wasn’t going away so there wasn’t a
chance to use the bathroom before being hurriedly rushed out of the barracks by
the squad leader. He hadn’t even had time to groom himself as he knew he
should, but Glinn Venton was only the assistant to the deputy for Gul Madred
and had been busted in rank before coming to this station and was not as
arrogant as many of the other officers. Beurrel knew the young officer wouldn’t
be as attentive to his uniform this morning as it was still very early for
everyone.
He arrived at
Venton’s office just as the assistant to the deputy was picking up his satchel
in preparing to go somewhere. Beurrel snapped to attention in the middle of the
door frame. The door almost irised closed on him before the officer noticed
him.
“Enlisted Rank 2nd
Class Beurrel, reporting to the deputy assistant Venton to the Madrid, as ordered, sir!”
He’s messed up his introduction, messed it up bad. It was too late to take it
back.
The only good
thing was it looked like the Glinn hadn’t noticed his botched introduction.
Instead, the
officer nodded off-handedly in his direction while stuffing padds into his
satchel.
“Soldier, I need
you to take this,” he said reaching into his bottom drawer and pulling out a
small device with a simple on-off switch, “and press the ‘on’ switch when you
hear the cue from the next room.”
Beurrel took the
device and tried it several times.
The officer
slapped him. “Not now fool!” he screamed. “When you hear Madred in the next
room ask the question ‘How many lights do you see?’ then you turn on the device!”
Beurrel had
almost dropped the device when he was struck and he quickly turned it back to
the ‘off’ position.
“I have to leave,
but make sure you turn the device ‘on’ when you hear the phase ‘how many lights
do you see’ and not before. Do you understand me?” The officer had leaned close
to the young soldier to make sure he had his full, undivided attention.
“Yes, sir! I do,
sir! When I hear Gul Madred say ‘how many lights,’ I’m to switch this to the ‘on’
position.”
“Good. Until
then, do NOT leave this room!”
“Yes, sir!” the
officer left the room without looking back at Beurrel.
After a few
minutes Beurrel began to get bored waiting for anything to happen. He decided
to look around the small office to see if there was something to interest him.
Through a spy
hole near the back of the room he could see a prisoner dressed in dirty smock.
The bald-headed human was clearly alone in the room. There was a single desk
and the prisoner sat in a chair in front of the desk.
Beurrel watched
for several minutes hoping the prisoner would do something, like try to escape.
Then Beurrel could capture him and be a hero and maybe advanced in rank some
more.
He watched long
enough to realize the prisoner was sleeping.
Beurrel got bored
of watching the sleeping prisoner. It seemed to be it was going to be a long
wait so Beurrel started looking around for something to slake his thirst.
Thinking about water made him remember he hadn’t yet gone to the bathroom this
morning. The latrine was down the hall.
The officer had
told him not to leave the room, but the more he thought about it, the more he
had to go.
He looked back
through the spy hole and the prisoner was still sleeping. He rationalized that
no one would know if he slipped out for a few minutes to use the latrine. The longer
he waited the more he had to go.
One last look
through the hole to assure himself nothing was going to happen for the next few
minutes, Beurrel left the room and dashed for the bathroom.
Madred entered
the room with Capt. Jean-luc Picard destroying the control device that had
inflicted so much pain that had been left on the desk. Their conversation wasn’t
long. Madred had arranged for a fifth light to be turned on to make Picard
admit there were five lights hanging behind his torturer and not just four. For
Madred it would be a breaking of one of the strongest willed Star Fleet
officers he had ever met.
For Picard, it
would seem as if his mind had broken and that he really was seeing five lights.
“How many lights
do you see?” Madred asked conversationally.
“Four lights!”
the beleaguered Picard cried out. “There are four lights!”
Mardred knew then
he had won. He knew his deputy’s assistant would have turned on the fifth light
and Picard would see five lights. But the man was now just saying four lights
as a parting shot at his torturer. There were three other officers in the room
now who had exposed some of the lies Madred had told Picard about the
destruction of the Enterprise.
Picard was being
repatriated, but Madred knew, without a doubt, Picard had seen five lights and
had lied. It would tear at his mind for the rest of the Federation captain’s
days, that in the end, he’d seen five lights, just as Madred had said.
When Picard was
escorted out of the torture chamber and the other Cardassian officers had left
Madred alone, the evilness of his plan made him smile.
Madred turned,
knowing he too, would see five lights.
Beurrel rushed
back into the office he’d not been supposed to leave. He peered through the spy
hole and saw Gul Madred staring up at the lights. He was saying something
Beurrel could easily hear.
“Where in the
Darkest Pits of the Worst Plague Victim’s Ugliest Festering Sore is the fifth
light? I swear to all my ancestors, someone is going to die a painful, long and
terrifying death for this!”
Beurrel knew he’d
just screwed up. He dropped the device and ran.
