Resistance Part 9
Janeway pressed her shoulders hard against the wall of the building she had been walking past, lying flat onto it. Trying desperately to keep her breathing silent, she concentrated on the pattern, forcing her respiration to slow by using her nose to breathe in and her mouth to exhale and not to take on gulping breaths that could possibly alert an attentive guard to her presence. She had heard something as she approached the next intersection between buildings and now strained her ears, desperately trying to pinpoint the origin of the disturbance and if it was an immediate threat to her. It was difficult to isolate any alien sounds over the pounding of her heart and the rushing ebb and flow of her respirations. Her mind raced as she kept her body tensed and she could start to feel the strain as her leg started to tremble in protest at the locked rigidity of her stance. The auburn haired woman had been cautious to the point of paranoia ever since she left Seven and B’Elanna in one of the generator buildings. All hopes on their rescue were firmly placed on her shoulders. It was a burden she was willing to carry but with the responsibility came the tiny voice of doubt that was now muttering in her head. What made things worse was that all the time she was not fixated over getting discovered, she was dwelling on the incidents leading up to their escape. The image of the Moderator slowly asphyxiating as she crushed his trachea with her knee seemed to be burnt onto her retinas. Every time she blinked or de-focused slightly he would appear before her, struggling weakly and changing colour as she deprived him of oxygen. It was the look in his dark blue eyes that she obsessed on. His hatred for her was plain to see, but he had a look of respect in his eyes. She didn’t want his respect. He was a vile, evil man who had delighted in torturing other people and he had revelled in his work, particularly with B’Elanna. He had taken joy in inflicting pain on people – just as she had taken joy in killing him. The Starfleet captain swallowed convulsively, feeling the bile scorching the back of her throat as she forced it back down. She had never killed someone in such a personal way before. Phasors, torpedoes, plasma bolts all had the ability to isolate the deed from the perpetrator. She could justify opening fire on all the peoples that she had entered into conflict with. She was having difficulty justifying her actions over the Moderator. She knew she had exacted revenge on him for his treatment of B’Elanna. She could take the moral high ground and say that by killing him, no-one else would be forced to endure the horrors he so delighted in. But it was far more primeval than that. She killed him because it made her feel good.
Snapping her mind back to the task at hand, she realised that the sound she had heard had been the echo of her own footfall. Cursing her stupidity, she moved forward, rolling her feet this time in order to minimise the sudden contact with the ground and reduce the noise she was making. Slowly, she moved on. The similarity of the buildings was disorientating but she had maintained a careful concentration on her direction. She knew where she was headed and she pressed on, closing the distance between herself and the Master station.
* * *
Seven could hear B’Elanna next to her but it was too painful to open her eyes. The left side of her head seemed to be on fire and every time she moved her optical implant, the agony magnified instantly. She concentrated on trying to lie as still as possible. This was made impossible by her cybernetic arm twitching continually that in turn forced the rest of her body to move. The resulting tremors in her body triggered more pain and she felt herself being sucked into a never-ending cycle of excruciating torment. The tall, blonde ex-drone could hear B’Elanna muttering softly but found it impossible to focus her hearing to discover what she was saying. The recursive cycle of agony consumed her. A deep-seated fear gripped her as she began to believe that she might never break free from it.
Vaguely, she was aware of warm hands placed gently on her, one of them softly but thoroughly examining her abdominal implant and the surrounding area whilst the other rubbed her back slowly in small circles, trying to soothe her or at least offer her comfort. She felt her eyes sting as a pin-prick of tears welled up at the gesture and was aware of the hot path her tears traced as they betrayed her will and broke from the corners of her closed lids to run down her face. She knew that she was dying, but at least B’Elanna was next to her, trying to ease her pain and extinguish her fear.
* * *
The steady thrum of the Warp Core could barely be heard over the activity taking place in Engineering. Ensign Harry Kim was tapping away furiously at a console, extrapolating the latest set of results passed to him by one of the engineering teams. He paused for a moment and then struck the workstation with a clenched fist. It had been frustrating enough to try and break B’Elanna’s encryption codes but at least he had attacked that task knowing that the half-Klingon engineer would have made them breakable to someone on board Voyager. Following his own hunch through was decidedly more infuriating, simply because he couldn’t be sure that his method of approach was the correct one. They had been trying for several hours now to isolate the power signatures and adjust the scanners so that they could detect both the planet and the cloaking mechanism. So far, all Harry had located was failure after failure. Sighing, he ran a hand through his thick black hair, trying to compose himself again. His display hadn’t gone unnoticed by the others but he was in charge of this project and if he gave in to emotional outbursts then his team would crumble too. He was surprised when the slight form of Nicoletti approached him hesitantly.
“Take a break, Harry,” she advised him quietly. “Get something to eat and come back when you’re ready.”
Harry’s eyes widened at her suggestion and then grew larger as she grinned at him.
“You have no idea how much you resembled Lieutenant Torres when you punched the console,” she confided. “We always tell her to take a break when her frustrations get the better of her.”
Harry snorted. “I can just imagine how she reacts to that,” he responded.
Nicoletti shrugged indifferently. “She can be a bit awkward to persuade sometimes,” she expanded.
“Then you might as well know that I can be as stubborn as her,” returned the young Ops officer. “I’m not going anywhere till they’re back on Voyager.”
“It’s a well kept secret in Engineering, but she always gives in to us in the end,” confided Nicoletti in a near whisper, as if by saying the revelation any louder would exact the wrath of the Chief Engineer on her, despite her absence.
Harry’s eyes widened again. “How the hell do you manage that?”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you. But get yourself out of here and get something to eat.” She grinned as the Asian ensign’s stomach growled loudly in agreement.
Harry returned the grin half-heartedly and was gladdened to hear Nicoletti refer to B’Elanna in the present tense. He had just been starting to drift towards referring to the away team in the past tense and it was a welcome feeling to know that no-one in Engineering had given up hope yet. “Who volunteers to tell her?” he enquired, still curious as to how B’Elanna could be manipulated by her staff.
“We draw lots,” the engineer replied laconically. “If it’s good enough for her, it’s good enough for you. Off you go.” She made sweeping motions with her hands as she shooed him out the doors.
“Are you telling me you got the short straw for asking me to leave?” Harry asked incredulously.
“I *always* get the short straw, Harry,” Nicoletti revealed as she continued to herd him towards the exit.
The young Asian officer allowed himself to be removed from Engineering and realised as he turned away that his stomach had been protesting vociferously for some time about his lack of intake, but unfortunately he had chosen to ignore it’s cries. Knowing that rectifying his neglect would boost his energy reserves and perhaps allow him to think of something else, even if only for a fraction of a second, he strode down the corridor towards a turbolift and the mess hall. He was surprised to find himself salivating as he got closer.
* * *
Seven felt B’Elanna’s hand examine her abdominal implant again. This time, the pressure the Klingon exerted seemed far stronger and, despite her pain, Seven was curious to know what the raven-haired woman was doing. Suddenly she felt a click and a sudden release as the pain wracking her body dissipated, ebbing away as the tremors subsided. She lay for a moment, savouring the pain-free sensations her body was now experiencing and then sat up suddenly, comprehending what B’Elanna had done, even as she took in the remnants of the tricorder and comm. badge discarded on the floor next to the dark Klingon.
“You used the tricorder,” she accused angrily. “How could you abandon the Captain like that?”
B’Elanna gazed steadily at the blonde borg before answering.
“We haven’t abandoned her, Seven,” refuted B’Elanna, her voice betraying the sheer exhaustion she was experiencing.
“What would you like to call it then?” Seven was furious with B’Elanna for breaking the link with the Captain when she was in danger. More compelling was the feeling of guilt that now consumed her. How could she enjoy the sensation of a pain-free existence at the expense of the safety of the Captain? “Betrayal?”
The dark engineer flinched at the word. “No, Seven. Common sense.”
Seven stared at the older woman balefully, waiting for her to justify her last comment.
The half-Klingon sighed slightly as she sagged back to lean against the wall once more. She closed her eyes as she continued. “Which one of us was going to go to her rescue, Seven?” she asked quietly. “You, who couldn’t even move for all the pain you were in, or me, who can’t…” B’Elanna stopped abruptly as she realised she was about to reveal how badly incapacitated she was. She knew herself that she could no longer even stand up straight without collapsing with dizziness. She had been losing blood from wounds all over her body continually, but could sense that she was bleeding internally too. She didn’t have much time left, but she knew that Seven’s chances for survival could be improved dramatically if she could solve the problem of the make-good circuitry. Equally, if Seven could survive for a while longer, then maybe she could hang on too. The engineer had made improvements following her examination of the younger woman and had even discovered a way of integrating the circuitry without suffering the flashback surge, but she knew that it would still only be a matter of time before that circuitry failed. She just hoped that Janeway could get to the master station and interrupt the power supply to the cloak before it did.
Seven realised immediately the logic of B’Elanna’s actions and berated herself for reacting in such an emotional and irrational way. She sat down next to the dark-eyed woman and hugged her knees in tight. “I am sorry B’Elanna,” she whispered softly.
B’Elanna opened her eyes and turned to look at the young drone. “It wasn’t an easy decision, Seven. I feel like I’ve betrayed her anyway.” The engineer’s voice was hoarse with emotion. Seven began compulsively to swing an arm round her in order to offer support in a tactile gesture even as she wondered why she should suddenly want to become more demonstrative, but was suddenly reminded of her revelation just prior to the make-good circuitry failing. She tensed and looked at the Klingon hybrid nervously, wondering what to say next.
B’Elanna saw the turmoil reflected in Seven’s cobalt eyes and realised what the ex-drone was contemplating. She leant her head back against the wall and looked up toward the ceiling before speaking. “Seven, you’ve given me a lot to think about,” she began softly.
“You don’t have to say anything, B’Elanna. In fact, forget I said anything,” interjected Seven, suddenly afraid of what was about to be said.
“I can’t forget what you’ve said,” returned the smaller woman. “Nor can I ignore it.” This time, B’Elanna stopped on her own volition. She cursed inwardly. Why was this so difficult? Surely she should just be able to brush off Seven’s remarks the same way she brushed off Vorik’s advances and even Freddie Bristow’s all those years ago. Seven’s revelations had spun her into turmoil though, and all the time she had been working on repairing Seven’s circuitry, she had been examining her feelings towards the ex-drone and her emotions regarding Tom. “Seven, I don’t know how I feel about you,” she continued truthfully. “What I do know is that I need time to analyse my feelings and to deal with them.”
Seven felt physically crushed. Despite her best preparations she had still held onto the hope that B’Elanna might willingly reciprocate her love. Her cheeks burnt as the humiliation coursed through her and she felt an invisible band squeeze round her chest. Reflexively, she hugged her knees in tight and felt her throat constrict and dry as she tried to formulate a response. “I am sorry B’Elanna. I will not bother you again with this. I should not have said anything.”
B’Elanna knew all too well how Seven felt. She might have a predilection for emotional outbursts but they were of the hostile, defence-mechanism variety. Very few people got beyond the protective wall she built around her true feelings. The longer that wall had remained in place, the harder it was to break through it. She might have berated Seven for being emotionless in the past, but she was just as guilty in some aspects. Now that the young ex-drone had opened up to her, her own barriers had become painfully obvious to her. She wanted desperately to deal with this and give Seven some honest answers so that they could deal with the situation. But it was not going to be easy.
“You can’t take back what’s been said, Seven,” she whispered softly. “I need time though,” she repeated. “And it’s not just about me and you. I have to deal with Tom too.”
“Deal with Tom?” echoed Seven in confusion. She mused over the statement carefully. If B’Elanna had no feelings for Seven, why did she need to deal with Tom? The spark of hope that had been extinguished by B’Elanna’s earlier words ignited again but Seven tempered it carefully, not wanting to get carried away with the possible connotations of the Chief Engineer’s words.
“Yes, Seven. Deal with Tom. I need to be honest with myself and those closest to me.” B’Elanna shifted her gaze slightly and stared at a new part of the ceiling. “But it’s not going to be easy.”
* * *
Janeway waited a full five minutes before approaching the door to the master station. There were no guards outside but the scuffed appearance near the doorway suggested that the place was visited frequently and she suspected that it was already occupied. Realising that she could potentially wait all day for anyone to emerge, the Captain forced herself to take more positive action. After careful scrutiny of the walkway, she crept over to the entrance and opened her tricorder. Immediately, her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she discovered that she no longer had telemetry from the other piece of equipment. Torn between heading back to discover what was wrong and continuing with her mission, she hesitated.
She felt a swoosh of air behind her and realised far too late that she was about to be struck. Janeway reacted anyway and the blow fell slightly to the side of her head, throwing her sideways onto the path. She blinked back the stars that were pulsating in her eyes as she instinctively rolled, using the momentum of her fall to dodge the next blow. As she turned over onto her back, she trained her weapon in the air, trying to find the source of her attack.
Her jaw dropped as her grip on the rifle tightened as she stared into the eyes of the Moderator.
To be continued…