fredbassett | Fic, Silk and Steel, Part 55, AU, 18

Title : Silk and Steel, Part 55
Authors : fredbassett & munchkinofdoom
Fandom : Primeval
Characters : Lester, Leek, Lyle, Ryan, Thomson, Miller, Rees
Rating : 18
Disclaimer : Not ours, no money made, don’t sue
Spoilers : None
Summary : Ryan’s interrogation continues as Lester is forced to watch.
Warning : Slave!fic. This part contains scenes of interrogation and violence, including torture.
A/N : Captain Thomson appears by kind permission of

deinonychus_1 , and Matt Rees by kind permission of

telperion_15 .

*****

"Is this entirely necessary?" Lester asked.

Leek admired the man’s air of detached impassivity as he surveyed the preparations taking place in the Interrogation Room. Lester's tone was mild enough to fool anyone who had not worked for the man as long as Leek had, but he knew that the calm was only skin-deep. Lester was rattled, and with good reason.

"I can assure you that Captain Ryan is at no immediate risk," answered Thomson. "Extensive research has demonstrated that this method achieves the best results in the shortest possible time, with the least amount of physical harm being inflicted."

“Isn’t it customary to try other methods first?” Lester said, raising one eyebrow enquiringly.

“You did say earlier that there were no prizes for dragging this out, master,” Thomson countered, smoothly. “When conducted properly – and I can assure you that Sergeant Miller has particular experience in this manner of questioning – the subject will incur no lasting damage.”

"Someone tell that to the poor bastard on the receiving end," Lyle muttered, still standing to attention and staring into the one-way glass separating the Viewing Room from the Interrogation Room.

"Do you have something you wish to add to the proceedings, Lieutenant?" Thomson drawled, his eyes like flint.

"No, sir." Lyle's face was studiously devoid of all expression. "My apologies for speaking out of turn, sir," he added when Thomson's stare hardened even further.

Thomson turned back toward the viewing panel, his eyes catching Leek's gaze. "With respect, Mr Leek, it might be wise to keep your guard-dog on a tighter leash."

"Of course, Captain," Leek answered as he dragged his attention away from the sight of the damp towel being placed over Ryan's forehead and eyes as the hose continued to drip water onto it, trickle by trickle. "Lieutenant, must I dispense with your services for the duration of this questioning?"

Lyle's eyes widened for a moment and he gave a minute shake of his head. Leek held his eyes and repeated his own short nod toward the door, eyebrows slightly raised in an unspoken question, tacitly offering Lyle a way out again if he wanted to take it. Lyle shook his head again, his eyes pleading.

The atmosphere in the Viewing Room was heavy with tension and Leek noticed the sharp smell of human sweat in the air. Lester had lost this round and everyone in the room knew it. If he’d had anything resembling a free choice, Leek would have preferred to be anywhere other than there, at that moment, but backing out now wasn’t an option, and in that highly charged atmosphere Leek was thankful that he still had Lyle watching his back for the duration of his senior officer’s torture. For torture it was. Leek was in no doubt about that, whatever the British Government and their transatlantic friends cared to claim.

Leek exhaled quietly, wiping any expression from his face when Thomson glanced at him. Leek returned the stare, knowing that it would not be a good time to give ground. Thomson broke eye contact first, turning his attention back to the scene unfolding in the Interrogation Room.

Ryan's breathing remained slow and steady as the water dripped onto the towel over his covered eyes and the excess trailed down his temples and into his hair, darkening its strands and plastering them wetly to his skull. Then Leek saw Ryan take a deep breath as Miller’s hands grasped the corners of the towel, opening it out and spreading it out over his nose and mouth.

For long seconds, water dripped from the hose suspended over Ryan’s head, directly onto his mouth. The soldier's chest stilled, his hands tightened into fists, but the only sound that came over the speakers in the Viewing Room was the steady, dull drip of water onto cloth.

The water fell interminably, the silence broken only by Lester's own sudden gasp for air. Leek understood the phenomenon. He'd found himself holding his own breath in sympathy during the first few waterboardings he’d witnessed, only to find himself suddenly gasping for air as his lungs protested.

Ryan still didn't react, and Leek could only assume it was a testament to his training that he was able to hold his breath for so long. But Leek knew that the soldier couldn't hold out forever. No one could. That was why this particular method of questioning had proved to be so popular on both sides of the Atlantic. It delivered results, fast.

And then, as though in reaction to Leek's thoughts, Ryan's chest arched and the sodden material over his mouth was suddenly sucked in as he tried desperately to breathe while instinctively fighting the intrusion of the water. Ryan coughed and the towel moved slightly, in reaction to his tongue pushing against it.

But the water continued to drip relentlessly. Second after long second, long enough for Leek to hear Lyle's restless movements, long enough to see Lester's hands clench in reaction until Ryan's body arched against the restraints, the muscles in his arms and legs bunching as he fought desperately for air.

Then the towel was lifted from his mouth and nose, leaving only his eyes covered by the sodden material. Beside Miller, Matt Rees was focussed on his watch. Leek had counted to 25. Fifteen seconds short of the allowable maximum according to the Government guidelines that he had helped to draw up during his sojourn in the Prison Service.

"Who ordered the sabotage?" Miller asked, his voice loud and threatening after the relative silence of just the water.

Ryan coughed and shook his head.

"Who told you to cut those wires?" Miller demanded, slapping one open palm sharply against Ryan's cheek, the sound echoing in the room. Ryan coughed up water and struggled to breathe.

Miller reached forward, grasping the edge of the towel, and Ryan flinched. But Rees's hand shot out over Ryan's face, forestalling the sergeant. He looked down at his watch and shook his head. The minimum time recommended between ‘treatments’ hadn’t yet expired. Miller glared at the medic and then turned his attention back to his target.

Leek tried not to shiver at the open malice in the sergeant's expression. It had not been so long ago that the sight of a naked man strapped to an interrogation couch would have had him hard, aching for the relief offered by one of his favourites, or indeed any convenient body wearing a collar. Now, to his surprise, he just felt sick, and more than a little afraid, and wondered vaguely at what point in the last few months his tastes had changed quite so dramatically.

The problem was, in spite of the abuse he’d meted out to him on various occasions, Leek knew that Captain Ryan was a good man, loyal both to Lester and the Anomaly Project. Leek couldn’t explain the discrepancies between the two lots of security footage, but he’d been at the sharp end of enough difficult jobs in his time to know when to trust his own gut feel for a situation, and he knew bloody well that whoever the traitor was, it wasn’t the man currently being tortured. But there was nothing he could do to change the course of events taking place in front of him.

Miller leaned in, placing one large hand heavily on Ryan's covered forehead and turned the captain's head toward the sound of his voice.

"Tell me who you are working for and this can all stop now," he crooned, the menace clear in his tones.

Ryan coughed again and then tried to speak, his voice breaking before he managed to steady it long enough to speak. "I was in Sir James's quarters all night."

Miller growled and shoved Ryan's head away from him. Then he looked up at Rees, who consulted his watch before nodding.

Leek swallowed bile again and wondered how long Ryan would be able to hold out before he started to lie, just to bring his torment to an end.

Miller held the hosepipe above Ryan’s head again and sprayed the water over his forehead, building anticipation. “How did you distract him, Ryan? How did you get out of the rooms without Sir James’s knowledge?”

“I was there all night,” said Ryan, every muscle in his body trembling with reaction and the knowledge of what was about to happen to him again.

“No you weren’t,” Miller countered in an almost conversational tone. “You know that and I know that, so why the lies, Ryan? Who are you trying to protect?”

Without waiting for an answer, Miller played the towel over Ryan’s nose and mouth again and, instinctively, Leek sucked in his own breath in sympathy. He knew that Lyle and Lester were both unconsciously doing the same, whereas Thomson appeared wholly relaxed as he watched his sergeant’s actions. Leek wondered just how much experience of this sort of thing Thomson had gained to enable him to keep his breathing even and his slight smile fixed in place.

Ryan outlasted his watchers again then, as abruptly as before, he started to convulse as his gag reflex kicked in and he tried to rid his body of the invading water. Rees’s hand flew up immediately, but Miller was slower to react than before, only directing the water away from Ryan’s face and onto his chest and groin when the young medic reached out to snatch the hose from the Miller’s hand.

Rees glowered at the sergeant as he removed the towel from Ryan’s face and draped it over the end of the inclined couch. “He gets the full recovery time and there’ll be no more bloody tricks like that,” the young medic hissed. “When I say stop, you fucking stop.”

Miller smiled and stared down at Ryan while the captain coughed and spluttered. “There’s nothing in the rules that says I can’t carry on questioning him, sir.” He slammed a fist hard into Ryan’s stomach and water shot out of the bound man’s mouth as he strained against the webbing straps holding him in place. “Who are you trying to protect, Ryan?”

“No one,” Ryan gasped painfully.

“What about your little friend, Temple? You were quick enough to come to his defence not so long ago, weren’t you?” Miller reached down and wrapped his thick fingers around Ryan’s balls. “Fancy him, do you?” He backed up his words with a cruel twist that must have sent pain lancing through Ryan’s body. “Has he been doing your dirty work for you? Wiping security tapes, sabotaging his own machine? Kids died, Ryan, innocent kids, let’s not forget that.” He squeezed hard and Ryan’s face contorted in pain.

Miller glanced down at his own watch, obviously gauging how long before he could recommence the waterboarding. Home Office guidelines specified a minimum period of two minutes between each application of water to the face and mouth to enable the presiding medic to check that the subject was breathing freely again.

This was by no means the most extreme interrogation that Leek had witnessed, but he had to admit that Miller knew his business. He was going to take Ryan right to the brink of his endurance and there was nothing that anyone could do to stop him, not if he remained within the rules. His own flesh crawled as memories flashed into his mind of masturbating in the toilets of Wandsworth Prison after one unfortunate subject, being dealt with by a less skilled torturer than Miller, had come very close to choking in his own vomit. A hot flush of shame crawled up Leek’s cheeks and he was thankful that Thomson’s eyes were fixed on Lester, rather than on him.

“Come on, Captain,” Miller said, his voice coaxing. “You’ve done SERE, the same as me. You know you can’t hold out much longer.” Miller was referring to the Special Forces ‘Survive, Evade, Resist, Extract’ training, otherwise known as SERE. “You’ve been under twice now. Not bad going. But no one makes it out of this without spilling their guts. You know that as well as me, so let’s cut to the chase.” Miller leaned on the inclined couch, bending his face close to Ryan’s. “Who’s pulling your strings?”

Ryan stared up at Miller, his grey eyes burning with loathing. Before the big sergeant could step back, Ryan hawked roughly and spat a mouthful of water into Miller’s face.

The sergeant recoiled and struck Ryan hard across the face, snapping his head to one side before Matt Rees had any chance to intervene. Leek flinched in sympathy and shook his head slightly before he was able to stop himself. He knew exactly what Ryan was trying to do. The captain was attempting to goad Miller into hitting him hard enough to knock him unconscious, which, according to the guidelines, would bring this session to an end.

Regulations prescribed no more than two two-hour sessions in any 24 hour period and, if the subject – or rather the victim – became unconsciousness or unresponsive to normal stimuli, the session was to be terminated. Ryan was clearly playing for time, hoping Miller would knock him senseless.

Ryan coughed again, bringing up more water, this time tinged with blood.

Matt Rees stepped forward and quickly examined the inside of Ryan’s mouth. “The subject has sustained a split lower lip,” he stated, flatly.

Inside the Viewing Room, the smell of sweat was now even more pronounced. Leek’s own armpits were clammy and he could see beads of sweat standing out on Lester’s forehead, but other than the fact that he was obviously digging his fingernails hard into his palms, Lester had remained as unmoving as a statue. His eyes remained riveted on Ryan’s body, still strapped to the table.

“You have permission to continue, gentlemen,” said Thomson without any visible trace of emotion other than the same slight smile he had worn throughout the interrogation.

Miller walked over to the tap on the wall and adjusted the flow slightly, reducing it by a fraction, before walking to the head of the inclined table and staring down at Ryan. “I’ll ask you again, sir. Did you sabotage the Detection Device?”

Ryan opened his eyes and started up at Miller. “No.”

The sergeant smiled down at him. “I don’t believe you, sir. We have witness testimony and the evidence of the security cameras which places you in the atrium at the relevant time.”

“The witness is lying and the footage is faked,” Ryan panted, swallowing convulsively as Miller played the water over his forehead and eyes. “I spent the whole night in Sir James’s rooms.”

“The witness stuck to his story under stringent questioning,” Miller said, letting a few drops of water splash on Ryan’s cheeks. “So Sir James lets you sleep in his bed after he’s fucked the arse off you, does he?”

“He likes me ready for him,” said Ryan, his eyes now squeezed tightly shut.

“Are you sure he doesn’t let you fuck him?” grinned Miller.

Leek glanced over at Lester, wondering how the man was reacting to this line of questioning. His eyes were narrowed and his lips had set in a thin, hard line, but he stared resolutely ahead. The only thing that betrayed his feelings were the white knuckles on both hands, still bunched into fists. For a moment, Leek wondered how far Lester’s relationship with Ryan had actually gone. There was nothing to state that slaves couldn’t fuck their masters, but in Lester’s position it would be seen as a sign of weakness on his part, the sort of thing that could easily lead to blackmail.

Ironically, in a world in which Leek’s own depredations could pass virtually unnoticed and unchecked, an equal relationship between a master and a slave would attract almost universal opprobrium in the higher echelons of government, undermining the confidence of their political masters in their appointee. And allowing himself to be fucked by a collared slave would be invested with significance far beyond the mere act itself.

But if Ryan – or Lester – broke now, Miller would have his answer.

“No,” Ryan ground out, ending the silence.

“So who are you working for, Ryan?” The sergeant struck Ryan twice in quick succession, once on each cheek, then punched him in the stomach again and, as Ryan gasped for breath, Miller draped the towel over his face again and immediately started running the water directly above Ryan’s nose and mouth. “I’ll give you one more chance and then I want the truth about everything.”

Matt Rees immediately started timing the process on his watch and Leek did the same. A moment later he noticed Lester’s lips moving silently as he counted each second as it passed.

Ryan reacted more quickly this time, straining so hard against his restraints that the wide webbing straps cut into his skin. Abruptly, 20 seconds into the torture, all resistance from Ryan ceased, although Leek could see the towel being sucked into his nose and open mouth. A moment later Ryan lost control of his bladder, and urine dribbled from his limp penis over one muscular thigh.

“He’s fucking drowning!” Lyle’s voice held more urgency than Leek had ever heard from the lieutenant, even during the climactic moments of the siege in the ARC.

Leek stared through the one-way glass, trying to will Thomson’s medic to bring an end to the proceedings, but before Matt Rees could react, Lester stepped forward and hammered on the glass.

“This stops now!”

Rees reached out and snatched the hose out of Miller’s hand, throwing it to the floor. In one fluid movement he dragged the towel away Ryan’s face and moved a lever on the couch that brought him upright, hanging limply from the restraints. When Ryan didn’t show any sign of breathing naturally, Rees drove the heel of his hand hard into Ryan’s sternum. All that happened was the captain’s head jerked and lolled onto his chest.

Leek’s heartbeat had rocketed at the moment of Lester’s outburst and it continued to rise as Matt Rees delivered another, even harder, blow to the unresisting man. A second later, Ryan coughed, expelling the water from his lungs before drawing in a deep, shuddering breath and coughing again. Deep, wracking gasps shook the captain’s body as he continued to spit water out of his mouth and snort it out of his nostrils at the same time.

Lester’s shoulders sagged with relief and Leek watched as the other man leant his forehead against the cool glass. Suddenly aware of the oppressive heat in the room, Leek reached up to loosen the collar of his shirt, not caring any more what impression he gave to the other captain.

The slight smile on Thomson’s face vanished as his eyes stared hard at the back of Lester’s Savile Row suit.

The burly soldier stepped forward and placed one hand firmly on Lester’s shoulder. “Sir James Lester, by the power invested in me as a lawful servant of the Crown, I deem that your action in purporting to halt a duly authorised and properly conducted interrogation into an offence punishable by death constitutes the obstruction of a soldier in the exercise of his duty in a Prohibited Place. I must ask you to surrender your authority immediately, pending full investigation of your actions.”

The first noise that Leek heard in the silence that greeted Thomson’s words was Lyle’s sharp intake of breath from behind him.

A moment later, Lester turned to face Thomson, his face white and strained. “What a very impressive speech, Captain Thomson. How many times did you have to practice it in your head to get it right first time?”

The sound of Ryan’s laboured breathing relayed over the speakers into the Viewing Room was the only answer he got.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

lukadreaming.livejournal.com

Waaah! Fuck! Scariest bloody thing ever, and what a cliffhanger . . .

From:

fredbassett

Th research for this one was pretty scary, too.

Fic, Silk and Steel, Part 55, AU, 18

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