GRAVITAS

Title: Gravitas, 8/26
Author: Jaye (Copyright August 2002)
Codes: VOY/TNG/DS9 Many Pairings NC-17

Disclaimer: Star Trek and all related characters and concepts are the property 
of Paramount. Gladiator belongs to Dreamworks SKG and Universal. No infringement 
is intended or profit made. This is NC-17 for adult themes, violence and sex. If 
you aren't interested (or aren't old enough), don't read it.

Archive: Drop me a note first so I know where it's going. Please keep the text 
(especially the disclaimer) intact.

Feedback: Sure but be kind, or at least constructive. E-mail is 
reader8901@fastmail.fm

Summary: Treachery raises the stakes and changes lives when the leader of the 
Terran Empire seeks to restore the Federation.

Note: Very AU, as this is basically the plot of the film "Gladiator" set in a 
Star Trek universe. Some scenes and dialogue closely mirror the film. No Maquis, 
no Delta Quadrant, etc. This is my response to Polly's Cha!Club challenge about 
movies. Sisko is older here than in canon.

***************

CHAPTER EIGHT

Sisko decided not to transport his fighters directly from his compound to the 
Colosseum. Instead, he forced them to walk the three blocks.

The gladiators would have preferred to forego this little trek. They were 
collared, as they had not been since the day Sisko had purchased them. A phalanx 
of guards surrounded the group, keeping them to a sedate pace so the throng of 
people in line to enter the arena could get a good look at the fresh meat. The 
display increased the likelihood they would bet for or against Sisko's slaves. 
Either way he got a slice of the action.

Chakotay was careful to avoid the holorecorders as he made his way with the 
others. Since now he was just one among hundreds of unfamiliar warriors entered 
in the games, he was no longer masked. He hid himself in the middle of the pack, 
careful to keep taller gladiators around him.

B'Elanna's eyes narrowed as she amused herself deciding the best way to kill 
each of the guards. It was simply a way of passing the time. The band around her 
neck ensured she would get no more than a few steps away from her keepers before 
being paralyzed by pain.

She switched her musings to the Imperial Guardsmen, however, after she saw the 
purple-shirted bullies stealing from vendors and knocking over old men, women 
and children. They picked on anyone who couldn't fight back. It reminded 
B'Elanna of the way she'd always been treated as a member of a "lesser species". 
Now apparently the humans were turning on their own. She was rather surprised at 
her own sympathy for the downtrodden.

Tuvok noted the Dorvan's careful maneuvering, the opposite of his own. He was 
hoping that his image *would* appear on a vidscreen, concrete proof that the 
reassurances he projected to T'Pel were not exaggerated. Of course, whether he 
survived this first combat on Earth had yet to be seen. He shrugged off his 
fears as illogical as he passed with his companions under the 15-foot-high arch 
that marked one of the "performer" entrances to the Colosseum. Their collars 
were removed as they crossed the threshold.

***************

They were led to one of the street-level holding cells so the crowds could 
continue to inspect the new gladiators. Chakotay was quick to retreat to the far 
wall, sliding down to sit and make himself as inconspicuous as possible. From 
his position he could hear Sisko arguing with a strange-sounding man in the 
corridor he had just left.

"This is unacceptable!" Sisko was trying to keep control of his volume and 
temper but it was a losing battle. "My fighters are the best, skilled in single 
and small-group combat with multiple weapons. Now you tell me you want them for 
a melee?"

"Not all of them, sir." The android Data once again wished he was still at the 
Academy. He---and all other non-Terrans---had been expelled soon after the new 
Emperor took the throne.

Only the merest chance caused him to avoid slavery by becoming the orator and 
organizer for Julian Bashir Picard's gladiatorial games. He'd kept barely a step 
ahead of the Guards seeking his arrest as a possible threat to the Empire when 
he happened to see the Imperial hovercar in a nearby street. Using his 
mechanically enhanced vocal apparatus he'd recited verbatim a complimentary 
piece on the Emperor that had appeared in a recent news report. Julian had been 
curious enough to seek out his loud admirer. And flattered enough to spare Data 
deactivation or a life in chains by ordering him to serve in the Colosseum.

So Data arranged and provided introductions for combats that had so far resulted 
in the deaths of 543 people. Some were trained warriors, but most were 
prisoners, political and otherwise. The Emperor was cleaning house by cleaning 
out the Empire's jails. Though his conscience bothered him, Data couldn't see 
any other option but to continue as he had begun. At least he knew the 
celebrations couldn't last forever. His attention returned to the irate slave-
owner.

Sisko fumed, "But they're my top five fighters. I've seen the set-up you have 
planned. You might as well ask me to go in there and slit their throats myself. 
It would be kinder but no less inevitable."

Data knew his strange golden eyes could be unnerving, so he stared. He also 
allowed his voice to become flat and truly mechanical. "Your people will report 
to the weapons room as scheduled. They will be joined by slaves from three other 
schools and they *will* perform as expected or you, sir, will suffer the 
consequences of defying the Emperor's will."

Sisko knew when he was beaten, but still complained, "If I'm wasting these prime 
gladiators I want more money. I'll need it to buy replacement slaves, or I won't 
be able to fulfill the rest of my contract."

"You will receive the agreed-upon compensation, nothing more." Data's expression 
offered a hint of sympathy as he admitted, "There *is* no more money." He tilted 
his head. "Hopefully the betting will provide the extra funds you require."

Sisko watched the android leave and regretted ever returning to Earth.

***************

Chakotay leaned his head back against the rough stone, wondering what exactly 
was in store for him and his teammates. He watched the shifting sea of people 
pass before the wall of bars across the room, their eyes running over the 
captives.

A slim boy wrapped both hands around the metal and peered in, staring at each 
person in turn. Finally his eyes rested on Chakotay. "Gladiator!" Lucien called, 
"Are you the one they call the Dorvan?"

Something about the child's eager face brought the faintest smile to Chakotay's 
own. He pointed at his chest and raised his brows. At the boy's excited nod he 
lazily got to his feet and approached the bars. Leaning against them, he 
regarded his young fan. "Yes," he confirmed.

"They told me you were a giant," Lucien said. "They said you could crush a man's 
skull with one hand."

Chakotay extended his arm and spread his fingers. "A man's skull? No." He eyed 
his hand and then the boy's head, as if comparing their widths. "A boy's? 
Perhaps." He winked.

Lucien grinned and wriggled, pleased that this adult would banter with him. He 
leaned back, light-brown hair gleaming in the sun. "Is it true that you're from 
the frontier?"

"Yes," Chakotay answered, sinking into a crouch to put him on the child's level. 
Something about the boy's smile stirred vague memories. "I've never been to 
Earth before."

Lucien nodded to himself, then looked up. "I like you, Dorvan. I will cheer for 
you."

"They let you watch the games?" Chakotay was horrified; the child was obviously 
not even 10 years old.

"My uncle says it makes me strong," Lucien said matter-of-factly.

"And what do your parents say?"

"My mother's dead. My dad---"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, young Master Paris, but you must take your seat now." 
The servant, Gerron Tem, bowed respectfully to his small charge.

"Your name is Paris?" Chakotay's eyes widened at the realization that he was 
talking with Tom's son.

"Lucien Picard Paris," the boy said proudly before he skipped away with his 
Bajoran attendant.

Chakotay quickly darted back into the shadows, his eyes now constantly scanning 
for his enemies.

************************************************************

Chakotay, Tuvok, B'Elanna and two others had been moved to a staging area 
underneath the bleachers. They could see the people beginning to file in, 
quickly filling the vast array of seats.

Chakotay stepped up to one of the arena workers. "Is the Emperor here?" he 
asked.

The old man, Boothby, shrugged. "If he isn't he'll be here soon. He never misses 
a day."

Chakotay nodded his thanks and moved to where his teammates were gathering their 
equipment. They were being provided with light chain-mail to slide over their 
tunics, and helmets with face guards reminiscent of animal visages. Chakotay 
chose a cougar; it covered everything but his eyes, mouth and chin. He was 
handed a spear with a narrow leaf-shaped blade at the tip and a long, 
rectangular shield that curved like half of a column.

The five assembled in front of the gate, armed and ready. Boothby's voice rose 
behind them as he gave final instructions. "You have the honor of fighting 
before the Emperor himself. When you salute him, you speak and move as one. If 
he deigns to address you, make sure you never turn your back on him."

The gate opened and they filed out, watching three other quintets emerge from 
different entrances. They gathered into a loose group at the center of the vast 
arena and waited.

B'Elanna's head tilted back as she strove to see the top rows of seats. The 
sheer scale of the building was overwhelming. She'd never seen so many people 
gathered in one place in all her life.

Tuvok stood with his eyes closed, communing for a few precious moments with his 
beloved wife before the fighting began.

Chakotay kept his eyes on the Imperial box, which sat in solitary splendor atop 
a black marble wall fifteen feet high. At least fifty Imperial Guardsmen formed 
a barrier of flesh and phasers on three sides of the handful of velvet-cushioned 
seats.

He heard the murmur of excitement sweep through the crowd. The Emperor had 
arrived.

***************

Geordi winced at the raucous cheers that filled the stands as Julian entered, 
his arms raised in acknowledgement and a benevolent smile on his face. He was 
followed by his brother-in-law and nephew. The Emperor's six personal bodyguards 
moved to stand in the back of the box, while the head of the Imperial Guard 
waited beside the Emperor's seat. As Julian sat the sounds died down. There was 
no mistaking the apparent popularity of the Imperial leader.

***************

Harry Kim tried not to look toward the Imperial box as he settled morosely into 
his own seat amid the crowd. The sight of Gregor Ayala attired in purple and 
black turned his stomach.

The last few months had been hard on the young man as he struggled with the 
burden of his secret and the fear of its discovery. Even now, most conversations 
on Fleet ships whirled around the disappearance of their much-missed Admiral 
Chakotay. Or speculated on how his records vanished from all their databases.

Morale was at an all-time low throughout the Fleet. Riker's suggested remedy was 
to send ships one at a time to places like Risa or Earth for some extended R&R. 
When his plan was rejected, he "arranged" for each vessel to require upgrades 
that could only be done at core-Empire shipyards. That's how Harry ended up in 
the Colosseum this day. The Enterprise was back in the Sol system, being 
serviced in the Utopia Planitia shipyards while its vast crew scattered to enjoy 
their time off.

Harry had been very grateful to Cavit and Riker. He'd been a bit of a wreck 
those first few days after Jean-Luc Picard's death. The two officers had thought 
he needed a change of scene, so he was transferred to the Enterprise to work 
with its new Captain. It didn't entirely ease his grief or anxiety, but it was 
enough to get him back on an even keel.

He sighed and got comfortable to experience his first gladiatorial games in 
person.

***************

Chakotay's jaw clenched as he gazed upon Julian. On one side of the man stood 
Greg Ayala; on the other, Tom and Lucien. His eyes narrowed at the cozy tableau. 
He calculated distances, angles and trajectories, but there was no way he could 
reach the Emperor for a killing blow from the arena floor. He looked away, 
breathing slowly and struggling to regain his focus. Now was not the time for 
vengeance; he needed to concentrate on survival.

***************

Lucien bounded to the edge of the Imperial box, pulling his father with him. Tom 
smiled and stood behind his son, wrapping one arm around the boy's shoulders and 
using the other hand to ruffle his unruly hair. "So where is your valiant 
champion, hmm?" he asked.

Keen eyes swept the now helmeted fighters, then with a triumphant "There!" 
Lucien pointed to a figure in the front of the group.

Tom looked down at the gladiators. "Are you sure he's the one you want to root 
for, mon cher? He's not as big and brawny as some of the others." Still, Tom 
conceded, his son's choice did have an aura of strength and power obvious even 
at this distance.

"Yes, him, the Dorvan. He's funny, and nice." Lucien's emphatic nod confirmed 
his decision.

"The Dorvan?" Tom murmured as his heart seized with memories of another native 
of that frontier planet, a man who was lost to him forever. His eyes returned to 
the gladiator as he silently wished the Dorvan luck.

***************

Julian settled into the cushions of his throne-like chair, gazing at the adoring 
crowd. His eyes shifted to watch Tom's figure for a few moments as he 
eavesdropped on the father-son conversation. When the Paris men turned to take 
their seats he greeted them with a smile. Everything was going according to 
plan.

***************

Data took his place at a small box that was on the same level as the Emperor's. 
At Julian's signal he gestured to the gladiators below.

***************

The twenty warriors formed themselves into ragged rows facing the Emperor. They 
lifted their weapons and in traditional fashion shouted, "We who are about to 
die salute you!" The crowd roared its approval as Julian gave a gracious nod.

Chakotay raised his spear so he wouldn't stand out, but remained silent.

***************

When the cheers died down Data sent his mechanically-enhanced voice echoing 
throughout the vast arena. "We gather here today to celebrate the memory of 
Emperor Jean-Luc Picard. Today we reenact in gladiatorial fashion one of his 
great victories: the siege at Armanden. There he personally led the Imperial 
forces to victory against the Andorian fleet by encircling their vessels and 
picking them off one by one. Until there was not a single ship or enemy left."

His outflung arm swept over the gladiators below. "Emperor Julian Bashir Picard 
gives you, ladies and gentlemen, that barbarian horde!"

Boos and catcalls thundered forth and hisses also snaked from the spectators' 
throats. The warriors ignored them; they were on alert for the first appearance 
of their opponents.

Data pressed a button on the console hidden beneath his box's ledge. The gates 
slid open as he roared, "And the valiant Imperial Fleet!"

Eight horse-drawn chariots flashed into view from the opened gates. Each vehicle 
had a single horse and two people: a male driver and a woman who wielded a 
complex crossbow. The chariot itself was dangerous as well, with foot-long 
serrated blades sticking out from the wheel hubs.

It was clearly a fixed fight. The warriors on foot would get one chance to throw 
their spears at the speeding vehicles, but themselves were vulnerable to being 
shot, slashed, trampled or run over. Data had made certain that the 
representatives of the Imperial Fleet would win, as the Emperor expected.

The chariots plowed through the group of gladiators, scattering them before 
their deadly wheels. Then the vehicles headed for the edges of the arena. They 
galloped along as if they were on a racetrack and started picking off the 
warriors trapped in the center of the ring.

***************

Chakotay watched the man beside him go down, a crossbow bolt in his throat. If 
he didn't act soon they would all be dead. His voice rang across the arena. 
"Join me! If we work together we can win!"

Tuvok and Sisko's two other male fighters immediately came to his side. The 
remaining gladiators, hearing the authority in the stranger's tone, also obeyed. 
Only B'Elanna remained outside, still too used to fighting alone. She raised her 
spear, determined to strike down her enemies.

Chakotay quickly arranged the fighters in a diamond formation. "Close shields! 
Lock them into position! Get down behind them! Heads and limbs in! Use your 
shoulders in the curve to hold them steady!"

The charioteers were stymied. The overlapping shields formed a solid wall that 
their bolts couldn't penetrate. One dared to set its blades against the 
protection, sparking and scraping along the united front. The driver failed to 
break the fighters' positions and returned to circling with the rest.

***************

The crowd had never seen teamwork on such a large scale in the arena. They were 
wildly cheering the apparent leader of this impromptu battle group.

Lucien joined them, shouting for the Dorvan and waving his arms. Even Julian was 
on the edge of his seat.

Other voices were shouting for B'Elanna, who stood alone still waiting for the 
right moment to attack.

***************

Two chariots left the outer ring, plunging straight for the tightly packed group 
of gladiators.

At Chakotay's command the fighters closed even more. The men and women in the 
center lifted their shields parallel to the floor. When they also were set into 
position, the group's defenses formed a solid shell with the people huddled 
within.

As the first chariot's left wheel hit the new arrangement, the gladiators tilted 
their shields slightly. The wheel ran up the slight incline and tipped over, 
crashing the vehicle to the ground and flinging out the two occupants. The horse 
stood trembling, its eyes white-ringed with fear.

B'Elanna ran over to sweep up an abandoned crossbow. She shouted in pain as a 
bolt from another chariot's archer sank into her calf. As she looked down to 
assess the wound, she lost track of the other vehicles.

The second chariot veered away from the apparently dangerous shield formation 
and headed for the lone gladiator.

Chakotay leapt from behind the protective barrier and ran toward B'Elanna with a 
shout of warning. He pushed the half-Klingon to the ground, and pressed himself 
as flat as possible. He felt the whoosh of air as the spinning blades passed 
mere inches above his back.

***************

The arena seats were empty. Everyone was on their feet, yelling and straining to 
see every second of this stunning spectacle. As Chakotay helped B'Elanna to 
stand they cheered his gallant, foolish act of bravery.

Tuvok saw an archer aiming for his friends. He desperately flung his spear. It 
struck the woman, going through her body and wounding the driver.

The horse went wild as the reins fell from the injured man's slack hands. As it 
veered around the arena, the chariot banged against the wall, disgorging the 
wounded and dead. The animal kept running until it crashed into a third chariot 
and both vehicles plummeted through one of the gates, never to emerge again.

***************

Five full chariot teams still circled the ring. Chakotay ran to the white 
stallion standing by the crouched gladiators. He used the blade from a broken 
spear to cut the animal from its harness. Leaping on its back, he wheeled to 
chase after one of the remaining pairs.

The archer saw him first, a helmeted figure swinging his horse from side to 
side, a difficult target. She fired her four bolts and knelt in the chariot, 
scrambling to reload her crossbow.

Chakotay urged his mount forward until he was even with the driver. Swinging the 
half-spear like a sword, he sliced the man's neck and rode away. The cart 
crashed into the wall. The archer grabbed her weapon and ran for cover.

***************

Chakotay halted his mount near the center, calling to the gladiators who were 
emerging to engage the opponents who had been spilled from their transports. He 
shouted, "Split into two columns! Drag the wrecks into the track! It'll keep the 
others from circling!"

Tuvok grabbed two abandoned spears as the men and women rushed to obey. B'Elanna 
took charge of one of the groups, using her shield to protect them as they moved 
the wreck. Tuvok tossed one weapon to the Dorvan and gripped the other, seeking 
a target.

***************

B'Elanna hefted her spear as one of the remaining four chariots flashed by. Her 
mighty throw penetrated the side of the vehicle and sank into the pelvis of the 
archer, killing the woman instantly. B'Elanna grunted in satisfaction as she saw 
the Dorvan's spear pierce the driver. The chariot with its two corpses continued 
to roll around the arena.

The other gladiators grabbed their spears and began targeting the remaining 
vehicles. They quickly dispatched one team.

Chakotay leaned down from his running horse's back and snatched up another 
spear. He flung it toward the chariot in front of him, hearing the thunk as it 
impaled the driver, pinning the corpse to the front of the vehicle. The archer 
soon fell before the other warriors' weapons.

***************

The last chariot's driver slapped the reins against his horse's back, focused on 
catching up with the cursed gladiator who had turned certain victory into utter 
defeat. He leaned forward, urging his mount on, drawing closer.

Chakotay glanced behind him, measuring the rapidly decreasing distance between 
himself and his opponent. When the other horse's nose was at his mount's tail he 
galloped his stallion toward one of the wrecks. The powerful animal jumped over 
it as Chakotay clamped his legs against its heaving sides.

The chariot driver pulled back desperately on the reins, but it was too late. He 
crashed into the broken chariot. He went sailing over the wreckage to land 
heavily on the floor, while the archer was slammed into the inside of the 
chariot. Both of them dazedly staggered to their feet only to be chopped down by 
the rival gladiators.

Chakotay stopped his horse and looked around. The few remaining "Imperials" were 
being mopped up by his "Barbarian" comrades. As he slid to the ground he was 
swept into the midst of the gladiators, B'Elanna and Tuvok in the lead. His back 
was slapped, hand pumped, and his ears were filled with grateful thanks and 
victorious shouts.

Their voices were drowned out by the roaring spectators. And thanks to the 
holocams, those cries of jubilant appreciation echoed throughout the Empire.

***************

Julian watched Lucien pounding his excitement into the ledge surrounding the 
Imperial box. He'd been standing there since the gladiators had knocked out the 
first chariot. A glance sideways revealed a stunned Tom, whose eyes were still 
riveted on the arena.

The Emperor caught the attention of his orator. "My history is a little fuzzy, 
Data, but didn't the Empire win the siege of Armanden?" he asked silkily.

Data nervously answered, "Yes, sire. I'm sorry, sire." He wondered if he would 
be sold into slavery or melted into scrap.

"I don't mind. It's been a most exciting surprise," Julian remarked, noting the 
android's human-like slump of relief. He pointed to the gladiator leader. "Who 
is he?"

"They call him the Dorvan, sire," was the immediate response.

Julian set slim fingers against the arms of his chair and pushed himself to his 
feet. "I think I'll meet him."

***************

The sweaty, exhausted, and in some cases bloody gladiators trooped toward an 
opened gate. They froze in their tracks when two columns of Imperial Guards 
appeared, marching in brisk formation onto the arena floor. They quickly boxed 
in the fighters.

A small door in the black marble wall slid open and Greg Ayala stepped forth. He 
quickly crossed to the group. "Throw down your weapons," he ordered the 
gladiators, who quickly dropped their spears and crossbows.

"You, Dorvan," Greg focused on the helmeted man. "The Emperor has asked for 
you."

"I am at Julian Bashir Picard's service," Chakotay replied. He saw a broken 
crossbow bolt laying on the ground in front of him. He quickly went to one knee. 
The rest of the gladiators followed suit. In the flash and clank of chainmail, 
he palmed the weapon, hiding the remains of its shaft behind his arm as he 
waited.

He watched Julian catch up with Ayala and continue his approach. Chakotay 
counted the strides left until he could strike.

Just before the Emperor was within range, a small figure dashed through the 
portal and ran across the arena. Lucien reached his uncle and grabbed his hand.

Julian indulgently swung the boy around to stand in front of him as he entered 
the living enclosure created by the Imperial Guards. "Rise, Rise!" he jovially 
commanded, then waited as the gladiators stood. He focused on the leader. "Your 
reputation is well-deserved, Dorvan. I don't think there's ever been a gladiator 
to match you. This fellow," he laid his hands on Lucien's shoulders, "swears you 
are as good as James T. Kirk would have been if he'd ever played in the games."

The Emperor regarded the man's hidden features. "So why doesn't the hero remove 
his helmet and tell us his name?" he asked.

After a moment of silent stillness Julian's voice and expression cooled 
somewhat. "You do have a name, don't you?" he inquired, tilting his head and 
narrowing his eyes.

Chakotay swallowed down his rage. He couldn't strike with Lucien in the way. "My 
name is Gladiator," he said and turned to walk away.

The crowd gasped. No one dared insult the Emperor by turning their back on him.

As Julian fumed, the Dorvan continued his exit. He gestured, and the Guards 
blocking the way drew their phasers. The defiant man stopped.

"Slave!" Julian commanded, "You *will* show your face and tell me your name."

Chakotay took a deep breath, then raised his hands to his head and drew off its 
covering. He turned to face his the man who destroyed his life.

Julian's face paled to the color of parchment. Greg Ayala gasped.

In the stands, Harry and dozens of other Fleeters held their hands to their 
gaping mouths.

Tom rose to his feet, his face reflecting his shock.

Data surreptitiously raised the volume on the speakers.

Chakotay's voice rang clearly throughout the Colosseum. "I am Chakotay of Dorvan 
V. Admiral of the Imperial Fleet and loyal servant to the *true* Emperor, Jean-
Luc Picard." His voice roughened. "Sole survivor of the massacre at Trebus. 
Husband to a murdered wife. Father to a murdered son." His gaze focused on 
Julian. "And I will have the justice their blood cries out for."

He and Julian locked eyes.

Then Julian gestured again. Greg Ayala swallowed a few times, but finally 
ordered, "Phasers set to kill."

The crowd erupted in cries of rage and denial, booing and holding their thumbs 
up for their new champion to be spared.

The Emperor looked at the hundreds of thousands cheering for his mortal enemy 
and knew their shouts echoed across the realm. Julian schooled his features back 
into their benevolent mask and stuck out his own hand, thumb up. The gladiator 
would live.

The people went wild, cheering and dancing. Then the chant began. "Chakotay! 
Chakotay! Chakotay!" It showed no signs of stopping soon.

Tom, Geordi, and a few other attending Council members looked at the mob turned 
into a coherent force, drawn together by their admiration of a single man. Their 
eyes kindled with mingled hope and speculation.

Chakotay turned away again and left the arena floor. This time the Guards didn't 
try to stop him.

Julian waited until his enemy disappeared into the shadows under the stands, 
then turned to make his own way back to the palace. He had plans to make.

He swore this time Chakotay would not escape.

TBC