Prologue

Trip Tucker lay gasping for air. He knew he had broken bones and internal bleeding but he also knew no one cared. He wouldn't last long if he wasn't treated soon. The pain in his head was almost unbearable, but having been kicked in the head numerous times with those massive boots, it was understandable why.

He coughed several times and blood spilled out of his mouth causing the pain in his chest and his gut to scream for attention.

"Now, what is your name?" his assailant asked him. Trip did not speak, partly because he was afraid to, partly because he couldn't summons any words forth.

"It's… n-name…is…" he choked out. What was his name anyway? Did he even have one before this day? He didn't know what day it was, so did it even matter?

"Animal!" the torturer shouted, "I asked you- what is your name?" and brought a massive whip down upon his flesh once more.

He cried out in pain and tried to think. "What did they used to call me," he said inside himself, desperately trying to remember something seemingly so simple.

"T-Tr..ip,"he gasped. "N-name…is..Tr…ip, T-tuck…er."

"That is not your name," his tormentor said as he grabbed him by his hair and looked into black, swollen eyes. "I think you like being beaten! So shall it be!" the vicious host bellowed.

"W-wait!" Trip cried as he lay on the floor and tried to move. "C-Charles," he said.

"And the rest of it?" his overseer asked. He kicked the battered form in the back and demanded an answer.

"C-charles…An…tho…ny…Tuck…er," he said with everything left in him. "P-please s-stop, now."

"Oh, my little animal. If you had not been so unique, so different, so beautiful. I would have had no interest in keeping you," the brutal being said as he lit what resembled a large cigar, but it had a foul smell that made Trip sick to his stomach.

"You are special," he said. "Do you think I have allowed all of my pets to sit at my feet and sleep in my bed?" Then he laughed and bent down to the floor. He rubbed Trip's face. "There, there, now. Perhaps I should have mated with you from the beginning," and licked Trip's face. "So, so sweet. Perhaps that would have caused you to become more submissive and this disciplinary training would not have been necessary. But I did not think your fragile body could bear it," he said and laughed a loud, viscous belly laugh and put out his cigar against already damaged flesh.

"No matter, too late for regrets now. I only asked one thing of you today, and you could not obey me. Now I demand that you tell me! What is your name?"

"T-told…you," Trip trembled with fear. "I- did…I told you! "

"Yes, but that is not your name, it is Beautiful One! Yet you refuse to say it!" With that Master Klegg drew back his huge whip and struck is victim several more times. "Now!" he demanded, "say your name!"

He was about to lose consciousness, or perhaps even die. That would be better, he thought to himself. "B-b…b-beau…ti…ful….w-wone, he slurred and darkness claimed him.

Trip screamed and kicked the covers on his bed. "No, no!" he cried out. "No…ooo!" He felt hands shaking him and heard someone calling his name, his real name.

"Trip," the delicate voice called out and shook him trying to wake him. "It was a dream, it was only a nightmare. You are here, on your ship, and you are safe." Trip jumped to a sitting position. He looked around as if he didn't know where he was, gasping for air.

His companion hurried to the kitchenette and poured water. She brought it to him quickly and helped him to drink a bit.

"It has been quite some time," T'Pol said, "since you had a nightmare like this. Would you care to talk about it?" He shook his head, no.

"I'm…okay," he said. "Thanks. I'm… sorry I woke you, g-go back to sleep." They both laid back down in the large bed they shared. But, he didn't go back to sleep. He would never close his eyes and fall into darkness again. Not if it meant revisiting the past. Not if it meant being there again, seeing "him"…reliving his torture at the hands of a demon straight from the pit of the darkest abyss.

"He can still torment me," Trip thought, "even in death! …Why the hell am I dreamin' about that bastard anyway? Why now? Haven't thought about that crap in a long time, haven't thought about "him." He's dead! He's dead I tell you; don't have to be scared… he can't do anything to me!"

But Trip kept jumping and looking around at the slightest sound or movement.Then he curled up into himself, and tried to wrap his arms around his entire body, as he silently rocked himself, checking every other minute or so to see … if he was still in his bed; if he was still on the ship; to see if he were still alive; that he had not been returned …to hell.