RESISTANCE
Part 3
Disclaimer: Yes, Paramount owns it all – I am just
having some fun with their characters.
Summary: An away mission goes badly wrong when some
of the team are captured.
Rating: PG-13
for the moment
Pairing:
B’Elanna/Seven
Thanks to D
once again for his efforts!
Feedback: Yes please, I wouldn’t post otherwise. [email protected]
==================
Chakotay
hesitated at the doorway of Sick Bay to take in the scene before him. Neelix was lying on his side, asleep, one arm
dangling over the side of the bio-bed, a silver blanket rucked across his
abdomen and his chest rose evenly as small regular snores escaped his open
mouth. Tuvok was on an adjacent
bio-bed. The Security Chief lay on his
back, arms against his sides, staring at the ceiling. His breathing was slightly stilted, as if it pained him to take
deep breaths. The EMH was seated in his
office, frowning at the monitor on his desk, periodically punching at a data
padd.
Resuming his
step, Chakotay headed for the Chief Medical Officer. “Doctor, I need to talk to your patients. Any objections?” the broad, dark-haired man
asked as the EMH looked up at his approach.
“No,
Commander,” he answered. “I’ll be
keeping them both in Sick Bay for observation until tomorrow but they should be
up to some questioning. The blaster
injuries they suffered have been healed, though Commander Tuvok may experience
some mild discomfort until his abdominal musculature recovers fully."
Chakotay
nodded before turning towards the bio-beds.
The Doctor rose to join him, discarding his data padd onto the desk.
"Tuvok, I
have some questions about what happened on the planet," Chakotay began,
speaking quietly so as not to disturb Neelix.
He would get the small Talaxian's version later.
The ebony
skinned Vulcan nodded and shifted his weight slightly to sit up more, his
ever-present frown deepening with the pain he endured from the manoeuvre. "I endeavoured to annotate everything
on the report I submitted, Commander," Tuvok stated, his voice stilted
slightly as he tried to control his breathing.
"I'd like
a few more details," explained the Commander. "You've provided me with the bare facts of the mission. I'd like to have it a bit more fleshed
out. It might help with the current
situation," he advised.
Tuvok nodded
slightly. "I take it from that
remark that the remaining members of the away team have yet to be
located."
"At this
moment, the planet still needs to be located," rejoined the First Officer
grimly. "Whatever they're using to
hide themselves is incredibly effective."
"What
additional details do you require, Commander?" Tuvok returned to the
original topic.
"Just
describe what happened once you reached the town and established contact with
the locals. Tell me anything that you
think may be significant, right up until we beamed you out of there."
The dark
Vulcan lay back slightly and paused.
Chakotay noticed how Tuvok's eyes became unfocused as he recalled the
events on the planet. After a moment,
Tuvok began his narrative.
"The away
team made good progress toward the designated pocket of civilisation. Once on the outskirts of the town, Captain
Janeway assigned an area for each of us to investigate. As soon as enough supplies were bartered
for, we were to report in and return to the original set-down point in order to
beam back to Voyager…”
As luck would
have it, Janeway and Tuvok stumbled on a trading area almost immediately. After advising the other members of the away
team, the Captain and Security Chief made their way to the remotest part of the
market area. It was difficult to make
leeway through the bustling crowds.
Shops traded briskly and noisily.
Tuvok remained tense and alert, his eyes flicking continually round
their surroundings.
Janeway
stopped him and pulled him to one side.
“My tricorder readings indicate that the shop just opposite us is rich
with dilithium and fluorixitine alloy.
Let’s just hope we have something they want,” she remarked wryly.
Tuvok nodded
and allowed Janeway to lead the way once again.
* * *
Seven halted
and surveyed the market uneasily.
“What’s the
matter, Seven?” B’Elanna asked softly as she stopped next to the taller woman.
“I feel
uncomfortable. The size of this crowd
disturbs me,” Seven explained haltingly.
The
half-Klingon snorted disbelievingly.
“Seven, you came from a collective of billions. A few hundred people shouldn’t worry you,”
she reasoned.
“While part of
the Collective, I was privy to everyone’s thoughts. There was no reason for me to be on my guard. This is more difficult,” the blonde woman
explained awkwardly.
B’Elanna was
surprised, narrowing her eyes slightly at the admission. She moved slightly closer and looked up at
the ex-borg and winked at her. “Don’t worry, Seven. I’ll protect you,” she offered, with a grin.
Seven raised
an eyebrow, her ocular implant rising to accentuate the action. “I am quite capable of protecting myself,”
she told the raven-haired woman. She
saw a momentary flash of emotion flicker across the Klingon’s expressive face
and realised that her words had hurt the engineer somehow. The realisation stunned her. A few days ago, Seven would not even have
bothered to analyse any emotions the engineer displayed, confident in the belief
that B’Elanna held her in total disregard and found her only to be an
irritating nuisance, a state of mind she was willing to reciprocate. During this last crisis however, Seven had
begun to understand B’Elanna more. The
Klingon’s unpredictable temper was, more often than not, a reflection of the
frustration she felt when not able to solve problems instantaneously. It often served as a catalyst to B’Elanna’s
thought process and would give rise to the most astonishing leaps of
intuition. The engineer’s ‘hunches’ as
she liked to describe them had a success rate that far outstripped the
probability of chance. The Astrometrics
officer had no choice but to accredit B’Elanna’s unorthodox approach to
engineering as an inefficient yet highly effective method; one that the
ex-drone envied. Borg logic allowed her
to approach problems systematically and thoroughly but did nothing to enhance
ingenuity; a talent B’Elanna had in abundance.
Once Seven had
seen past her own prejudice about B’Elanna’s work practices, she at last began
to see the real woman behind the engineer.
The tempestuous hybrid was honest and forthright, traits shared by
Seven. The raven-haired woman valued
her own feelings and they augmented her character. The Klingon was driven by passion, whereas Seven was driven by
control. As far as their temperaments
were concerned, they were total opposites, yet in the last few days they had
complimented each other; Seven calming and focusing B’Elanna’s boundless energy
to solve problems more effectively and at the same time benefiting from
B’Elanna’s pragmatic approach when logic failed to provide Seven with a
solution. The blonde ex-drone had never
felt so stimulated by someone else’s company and discovered that she missed not
being in B’Elanna’s presence.
Yesterday she
had struck up the courage to comment on this new twist in their relationship,
expecting B’Elanna to mock her naivety but the smaller woman had looked at her
seriously, almost shyly, remarking that at long last she had seen past her own
arrogance and realised that she valued Seven’s company; her friendship. The last two words had stuck in her mind and
the Borg heard them repeated many times mentally before the words sunk in and
she realised that they indeed shared a friendship. It was still in its infancy and held with tenuous bonds but Seven
had an unshakable faith that their amity would grow and develop into something
far deeper and substantial. It was that
thought that alarmed her the most.
Dragging her
mind back to the present and her last comment, Seven struggled to appease her
friend. “However your offer is
reassuring.” Seven found it difficult
to engage in ‘small talk’ at the best of times but hoped that she didn’t sound
too gauche.
B’Elanna
smiled faintly at Seven’s attempt at diplomacy, realising that Seven had once
again accurately read her features. The
half-Klingon found it disconcerting that Seven could so easily recognise her
reactions, but in a bizarre way, B’Elanna found it comforting that Seven was
interested in how she felt. The stress
of keeping Voyager functioning over the last nine days had been made easier by
Seven’s presence and indefatigable determination. Together, the engineer felt that they had performed
miracles. More importantly, she had
finally seen past Seven’s aloofness and superior attitude, recognising a
vulnerable young woman behind the act.
A woman who had difficulty fitting in with the new society foisted upon
her when she was severed from the Collective, yet at the same time holding that
Collective in contempt for the way it behaved towards other species. B’Elanna knew all about not ‘fitting
in’. She was disgusted with herself for
not understanding Seven’s predicament sooner until she realised that it was
part of her own intrinsic personality to be suspicious of everyone and
everything, keeping a barrier up to protect herself from other people’s
feelings. How ironic that they should
share that trait. She couldn’t identify
exactly when it was that her feelings for the ex-drone changed from disdain to
camaraderie but the tentative alliance was cemented yesterday when Seven opened
up to her, insecure in her feelings yet trusting that B’Elanna would
understand. The gesture had earned
loyalty and respect. To the Klingon,
they were as important as honour. More
to the point, B’Elanna *liked* being Seven’s friend and she knew that she would
do anything for her now; a stark contrast to her initial actions towards the
Borg.
“Come on,” she
spurred her companion. “We’ve got
shopping to do.”
* * *
Seven moved
towards the cell door as she heard the guards approach and positioned herself
opposite the door in order to get the best view of the security mechanisms when
it opened. Janeway lounged across one
of the bunks surreptitiously, also hoping to get a good view of the outside
area.
The door
clunked as it opened and bathed the room in bright yellow light. There was a shadow as three forms blocked
the luminescence followed by a muffled grunt as one of the shadows was
propelled forward and dumped unceremoniously onto the floor of the small
cell. As suddenly as the light pierced
the room, it was extinguished; the ominous finality of the door slamming giving
solemn reminder to the women of their status as captives.
As soon as
they were alone, Janeway and Seven leapt for the slumped figure in the middle
of the cell.
“B’Elanna, are
you okay?” the Captain asked, one hand stroking the hair away from the
engineer’s face. She gasped when she
saw the ugly slash across B’Elanna’s face but swallowed her anger. It would be better directed when the time
came.
“I hurt like
hell, Captain,” whispered B’Elanna honestly.
“But I’ll live.” She grimaced as
she got onto all fours, determined to make it onto a bunk without asking for
assistance.
Seven decided
that B’Elanna’s pride was irrelevant and swept the engineer into her arms,
placing her gently onto the nearest bunk after ignoring the gasp of protest
from the dark-haired woman. She felt
her stomach lurch as she watched the Klingon curl into a foetal ball, backing
right into the corner of the bed, trying to protect herself instinctively.
“What did they
do to you?” she asked, her voice barely audible yet projecting the horror she
felt.
B’Elanna
closed her eyes for a moment, a single tear squeezing past one of her eyelids,
stinging the torn facial tissue as it ran down her cheek. She barked out a dry cough before
swallowing, desperate for saliva to moisten her vocal cords. “Have you found the monitoring device?” she
rasped.
Both the
Captain and Seven frowned at her. “What
monitoring device? You know they took
our comm. badges,” Janeway told her, confusion tainting her voice.
B’Elanna
swallowed again. “The Moderator said
that he had been monitoring our actions and words. How?” The raven-haired
woman had reflexively flinched as she spoke of her torturer, but managed to get
her point across.
Janeway
groaned audibly. Seven sat down next to
B’Elanna heavily. They had both been so
tied up in wondering what was happening to the Chief Engineer and how to get a
good look at the door that they had failed to identify one of their source
problems. What made it worse, almost
sickening, was that B’Elanna had clearly endured all sorts of terrible torment,
yet had retained the presence of mind to remember what the Moderator had
revealed.
Pinching the
bridge of her nose, the Captain tried to recall any significant conversation
she had held with the ex-drone.
Fortunately, they had kept the talk brief and had not discussed any
escape plans. The auburn-haired woman nodded
towards Seven, wondering if her scanning of the cell for weaknesses might also
give indication of the location of any observational equipment. She noticed that Seven’s eyes had become
de-focused slightly and realised that the blonde woman was accessing her
eidetic memory for just that purpose.
Seven looked
at the Captain sharply and quirked her eyebrow, the ocular implant rising high
on her forehead. Janeway took the
glance to be positive and sat down on the opposite bunk, waiting to take her lead
from the younger woman. Perhaps at
last, they could do something positive against their captors.
The ex-drone
covertly adjusted the tubules on her borg-enhanced hand. She stood up and approached the toilet area,
as if to use the facilities when she stumbled and steadied herself with her
Borg hand. The calculated manoeuvre
positioned her hand right over the surveillance equipment and the tubules
whipped out lightning-fast, shorting out the circuitry instantaneously with an
audible crack. Her job done, Seven spun
round and returned to B’Elanna’s bunk.
“Are you damaged?” she asked,
her voice thick with concern.
“I’ll
survive,” replied the darker woman grimly, her eyes remaining closed.
“We haven’t
got long before they discover we’ve deactivated the monitoring. What happened?” Janeway questioned softly,
sitting on the floor next to Seven.
There was a
long pause. B’Elanna remained still
except for the shallow rise and fall of her chest, accentuated by her arms
wrapped tightly round her body. “I can’t
talk about it,” the Klingon breathed, inwardly cursing as another tear burnt
down her cheek, indicating her true feelings for the atrocities against her.
Automatically,
Seven reached out and wiped away the tear carefully. Janeway’s eyebrows rose at the intimacy of the action before she
realised that Seven would probably not view the gesture in such a way.
“I will avenge
you, B’Elanna,” Seven vowed softly, growling out the words.
“I just hope
I’m alive to know about it,” B’Elanna returned, only half joking. She felt her hearts quicken at Seven’s
caress, and speed up more at the words she had said but decided to put all
thoughts about the possible implications of Seven’s behaviour into a deep
recess of her mind. The Klingon could
not afford to dwell on the sudden new sensations she was experiencing. It was making her too vulnerable, too
confused. She knew that the Moderator
would return for her and every second that passed served to fuel the dread of
his arrival. He merited her total
concentration and commitment. She would
not survive with anything less.
Tuvok cleared
his throat, attempting to do it quietly in order not to disturb the snoring
Talaxian in the adjacent bio-bed.
Neelix coughed in an identical manner before muttering slightly and
rolling over, one hand pulling the silver blanket over his shoulders
sub-consciously. Within seconds, the
small, furry chef’s breathing became heavier and noisier, indicative of his
slumbering state.
Tuvok raised
an eyebrow in a typical expression before continuing his narrative. “The Captain and I entered the shop and
approached the vendor to strike a bargain.
Mr Neelix joined us after unsuccessfully scouring the section that had
been assigned to him. The Captain then bargained a price with the vendor over
quantities of dilithium and fluoroxitine…”
Neelix tugged
on Janeway’s mauve sleeve and pulled her away from the blonde vendor to a
discrete corner of the establishment.
“Captain, are you sure you’re willing to pay this much for such a paltry
amount?” the Talaxian whispered loudly, aghast at the Captain’s obvious lack of
bartering skills.
“We don’t have
time to haggle, Neelix,” Janeway reminded the small ex-trader in an equally
loud hiss. The shop was musty and
poorly lit. The Captain was starting to
feel its oppressiveness close in around her and she wanted nothing more than to
break free from the claustrophobic conditions and return to the open market,
even if it was teeming with the local populace.
“I’m sure
there are other places that would be more obliging,” Neelix persisted,
oblivious to Janeway’s mood. Her hard
stare was more effective.
The Morale
Officer ruffled slightly but then acquiesced and completed the exchange. His countenance was not improved as he
recognised a triumphant look on the trader, one he had often worn himself
during his previous occupation as a junk trader. Tuvok observed the exchange non-committally, remaining near the
shopkeeper. His priority was returning
from the away mission successfully with the goods and the team intact.
The bargain
sealed, the three away team members left the premises, their goods stowed
carefully in a backpack carried by the Security Chief. Inside the premises, the young vendor
retreated to the rear of the shop and began operating the large transceiver
situated in a dank, dusty corner.
Squinting into
the brighter, natural light, Captain Janeway scrutinised the swarming market in
the vain hope of catching a glimpse of Torres and Seven. She noted absently the similar traits of the
inhabitants. Nearly all of them were
tall with fair hair and pallid skin. It
would appear that their skin pigmentation did not darken under natural light. Most males had a triple set of dark horns
adorning their foreheads. The women had
three dark spots in place of the growths.
Janeway surmised that the few pockets of differing looking people were
aliens too. She observed that these
bands stuck closely together, looking round constantly for some unseen threat.
Their
skittishness affected Janeway. She wanted
the whole team together and to return to Voyager as expediently as
possible. Glancing at Tuvok, they made
their way to a quieter area, away from the market place where there was less
likelihood of them being observed.
Taking a final
look round, she tapped the communicator pin that had been hidden carefully
under the collar of her mauve jacket.
“Janeway to Torres,” the Captain hailed in a hushed tone.
* * *
Seven surveyed
her surroundings, unable to dispel the anxious feelings despite being unable to
locate any obvious threat. The two
women strode through the market purposefully, finding small alcoves
periodically in which to scrutinise the readings they were recording
surreptitiously on their tricorders.
They had quickly appraised the area and had narrowed their search
pattern to an area in the south-east of the main market square. The ex-drone felt certain that the crowds
were staring at them, or more accurately, B’Elanna. Seven was equally sure that the looks were more sinister than the
natural curiosity she expected from the local populace. The Astrometrics Officer conducted a final
visual sweep of the immediate vicinity. Satisfied that there was no impending
peril, she stepped back into the alleyway they were currently occupying and
returned her concentration to her companion.
“Lieutenant…”
“B’Elanna,”
the half-Klingon corrected without looking up from her tricorder, though Seven
was positive that the engineer had rolled her eyes after correcting her use of
nomenclature for the third time that day.
She started
again. “B’Elanna, have you found any of
the required materials?”
Torres didn’t
hear the question. She was buried deep
in the analysis of the fascinating readings her tricorder was displaying. A sharp nudge in the ribs broke her concentration. “Ow!
Seven!” she protested, rubbing the affected area for dramatic
effect. The ex-drone pinned B’Elanna
with an expectant look and the Klingon realised that she had missed
something. She smiled
apologetically. “Sorry, but what do you
make of this?”
Seven opened
her mouth to protest at the distraction but no words came out as she scanned
the data. She suddenly understood why
the dark engineer had been so engrossed.
“This is remarkable,” she finally commented, dragging her cobalt eyes away
from the screen.
“That’s close
enough to what I thought,” agreed B’Elanna with a cheeky grin. “I’m just wondering how the hell a
civilisation with *this* level of technology can generate that sort of power.”
Seven’s eyes
widened at the remark. “Curious though
I am to investigate this phenomenon more thoroughly, we do have orders,” she
reminded the shorter woman.
“I know that,
Seven. I’m just wondering why there are
such powerful generators nearby. What
are they providing energy for?” she voiced her thoughts quietly. “It can’t be the town, the power output is
ridiculously large for such a small area.”
Without waiting for an answer, she continued, her eyes shining as an
idea formed in her head. “More to the
point, *how* are they providing that energy.
Could we harness it in some way?”
“B’Elanna,”
warned Seven, not wishing her colleague to get over-enthusiastic without
thinking things through. “It would be more logical to restore Voyager to its
original condition before attempting to integrate new technology into the
systems.”
The Chief
Engineer snorted. “Oh, except when it’s
Borg technology,” she rejoined, incredulous that Seven could use such an
argument.
“Borg
technology is not new to me,” Seven’s face held the ghost of a smile; satisfied
that she had won the point. Her smile
broadened when B’Elanna opened her mouth to retort, only to shut it again and
curl her lip in open disgust, accompanying the gesture with a resigned sigh. The look was fleeting however, replaced with
a smile to mirror the blonde woman’s.
“It’s a good
job I like you, Seven,” B’Elanna commented as she snapped the tricorder shut
with a flourish. “Otherwise we could
end up having some very ugly fights.”
With that, the raven-haired woman tucked the instrument into a concealed
inside pocket and stalked towards the nearest shop that held promise of useful
materials.
Seven stood
and looked at her for a moment, about to point out that they had in fact shared
many ‘ugly’ arguments when she realised that B’Elanna was being facetious. Grinning widely at the thought that the
Klingon now felt comfortable enough around Seven to tease her, the Borg happily
followed the smaller woman into the premises.
Her eyes
adjusted quickly to the change in luminescence. The shop was cluttered and untidy, the wares spilling out of
containers and onto unkempt shelves.
For a moment, Seven doubted that the place contained anything of use
whatsoever but raised her eyebrows when she noticed what B’Elanna was haggling
for. The crate contained more
fluoroxitine alloy than they could ever have hoped for. Admittedly, it was difficult to assess the
quality of the goods but the quantity was astounding.
Seven joined
the engineer and listened politely to the exchange.
“I’m sorry,
but you can’t tell me that this is popular stuff, it’s got the thickest layer
of dust I’ve ever seen,” B’Elanna objected to the vendor’s latest claim.
“We live in a
dusty area,” protested the tall blond seller weakly. He was too distracted by the stunning appearance of the exotic
off-worlder to put any real effort into his bargaining. He coughed, in a vain attempt to focus on
the task at hand but faltered again as B’Elanna smiled at him.
The ex-Maquis
could sense that the vendor was preoccupied with her appearance. Part of her was flattered by the attention,
the other amazed that she could beguile anyone. She stepped in closer, hoping to put the shopkeeper off even more
and repeated her offer for the materials softly into his ear.
Seven was
astounded. She had never seen the
engineer behave in such a manner before.
The dark Klingon’s actions were an illogical attempt to coerce the goods
from the shopkeeper by distracting him with her body language. Seven’s mouth went dry when she evaluated
her own reactions to B’Elanna’s method.
She could almost sympathise with the shopkeeper because had she been the
focus of B’Elanna’s attention, she would have agreed to anything the smaller
woman asked for.
The vendor
swallowed convulsively before nodding eagerly at B’Elanna’s request. He stumbled backwards and put some distance
between himself and the raven-haired off-worlder, before busily stocking a
heavy duty bag full of fluoroxitine, hands fumbling in his hurry to please the
beautiful buyer. With the container
full, he struggled to lift it and extend it towards B’Elanna. His eyes shot open as she accepted the heavy
bag effortlessly, slinging it across her shoulder before extending her other
hand with the payment.
Just as the
exchange took place, he heard a muffled chirp and a dismembered voice call from
the folds of the dark-haired woman’s leather shirt. He locked eyes with B’Elanna but her face remained impassive and
she made no move reply to the hail.
“You’re from that ship aren’t you?” he accused, free from Torres’ spell
as he realised the women’s identity.
“What ship?”
enquired Seven tonelessly, for all intents and purposes totally disinterested
in his query.
The vendor
narrowed his dark blue eyes and scrutinised his customers carefully. “The ship that wanted supplies. The Moderator was dealing with them a few
days ago,” he explained, studying the two women’s faces intently for any sign
of reaction.
He saw
nothing. Not even a flicker of
recognition, or a look of concern. That
total absence was enough to convince him that he had been correct with his
assumption, but he had heard that these people were powerful, with incredible
technology. He had also just witnessed
the amazing strength of the dark-haired woman when she shouldered the bag he
had just traded. On his own, he would
be over-powered before he had the chance to inform the Moderator of this
development. “My mistake,” he
apologised, dropping his eyes submissively.
He could put on an act too, when necessary.
B’Elanna
nodded and exited the shop silently, Seven following on her heels. As soon as they were outside, the engineer
spun to face Seven. “He’s on to us for
sure. We have to get out of here now.”
The tall
blonde woman concurred. She darted into
the nearest side turning and quickly surveyed the area before speaking
again. “Let us just hope that the
timing of our hail is more propitious,” she remarked dryly as she reached
inside her heavy ruby-red shirt to activate the communicator pin.
* * *
“Seven, you
took your time,” Janeway hissed an admonishment as she answered the
Astrometrics Officer’s call.
“Captain, we
believe that our identities have been discovered and that the safety of the
away team has been compromised,” Seven’s faintly distorted voice carried over
the link.
Janeway pulled
a face at the comment. “We need to get
the hell out of here,” she agreed, cutting to the chase. “Get to the rendezvous point as quickly as
you can. We’ll meet you there,” she
ordered and severed the link. She
looked at Tuvok and Neelix, her face hardened by grim resolve. “Come on.
Let’s get these supplies back.”
They heard the
shots before they could identify their origin.
Instantly shifting into defensive mode, Janeway, Tuvok and Neelix
sprinted back into the alleyway and proceeded to circumnavigate the market via
the back streets. A sudden shout
revealed that they had been discovered and then the race was on, each of them
ducking or swerving periodically as shots ricocheted off walls or destroyed
local adornments. The crowds that had
been milling through the market panicked, scattering as they searched for any
safe area to hide from the phaser fire.
The three away team members used the confusion to their advantage. Darting through the gaps of the melee, they
made themselves far more difficult to target.
“Janeway to
Voyager,” the Captain hailed breathlessly.
She was sprinting hard and could hear the small Talaxian gasping right
behind her and the syncopated footfalls of Tuvok slightly further back
“Go ahead,”
Chakotay replied, his voice tight with concern as he heard the lack of control
in Janeway’s breathing.
“Get us out of
here, Chakotay,” she ordered. She
stopped and spun round suddenly as she heard an agonized yelp from Neelix. He was lying on the floor, motionless. As Tuvok stooped to pick him up, he received
the full force of a blast wound into his chest.
She ducked
into a recess to protect herself from the oncoming fire. “Chakotay,” hailed Janeway desperately,
pulling out her phaser and shooting at the oncoming troops. Her action stalled them briefly as they
dropped for cover.
“We’re having
trouble getting a lock on you,” explained the First Officer, not even bothering
to keep the emotion from his voice. The
link was more distorted now and she had trouble hearing the native Indian.
“Beam Tuvok
and Neelix up first, they’ve been injured,” Janeway rationalised. “Though I have no idea how Seven and
B’Elanna are doing,” she continued as she let off a volley of shots, tightening
her lips in grim satisfaction as two guards keeled over.
Seconds later,
she saw the two prone bodies bathed in shimmering blue light as the transporter
locked on and removed them from the planet surface.
She let off
another round of fire, waiting for her turn.
Nothing happened. “Janeway to
Voyager, what the hell is happening?” she called. The comm. link returned static only and Janeway realised with a
sinking feeling that she was alone and had no way out.
* * *
At first,
B’Elanna and Seven moved through the crowd casually, not wanting to draw
attention to themselves by appearing to hurry away. They made good progress and were approaching the outer periphery
of the town when they were halted by the view of several similarly attired men,
all holding weapons closing in on their location.
“Come on,”
urged B’Elanna as she slung the backpack onto her other shoulder. The two women turned and headed down a
nearby alleyway. As soon as they heard
the demands for them to stop, Seven and B’Elanna broke into a run, zigzagging
down the narrow path in an effort to avoid the phaser fire.
As they broke
free of the buildings, they sprinted across the open land towards the
rendezvous point but were pulled up short by two pockets of guards, flanking
round them and closing in rapidly.
Seven yanked at B’Elanna and they dived for cover behind a small
out-cropping of rocks and bushes.
“Torres to
Voyager, two to beam up,” demanded the Chief Engineer, wondering why the hell
she hadn’t thought of that in the first place.
She swerved
her head to avoid a phaser bolt and looked angrily at its originator as the
shot passed by, millimetres from her face.
He was already sprawled on the ground though. Seven had un-holstered her phaser and was picking off the
aggressors efficiently. The Klingon
grabbed her weapon and joined in grimly.
“Voyager has
failed to respond to your hail, Lieutenant,” Seven remarked, pushing a stray
filament of hair out of her eyes.
“That’ll
explain why we’re still here getting shot at,” rejoined B’Elanna sarcastically
as she drilled another guard with a central hit to his chest.
“The
probability of escaping here without Voyager’s assistance is…”
“Use your
communicator,” interrupted B’Elanna tersely.
She hated hearing bad odds.
Seven’s
communicator transmitted only static.
The two women looked at each other briefly.
There was a
sudden crash and one of the uniformed aggressors leapt into the recess where
B’Elanna and Seven had holed in. The
ex-borg reacted instantly, stepping forward and twisting his neck, killing him
immediately. She straightened and came
face to face with several other guards.
Now too close for phaser fire, she grabbed the closest man and swung him
into the second before he had an opportunity to react. In her peripheral vision
she glimpsed B’Elanna deep in combat with several aggressors. They were both heavily outnumbered. It would only be a matter of time before
they were overpowered. It galled her to
admit defeat to these inferior creatures, but Seven knew when it was more
prudent to surrender. “B’Elanna, stop,”
she called loudly as she stood up and raised her hands.
The Klingon
hybrid heard Seven’s plea but it took several moments to register. In that time, she despatched another guard
with a heavy punch to his jaw and was about to fell the next when she noticed
Seven’s submissive stance. Forcing the
battle-rage from her body by reasoning that she had no hope of victory if Seven
had surrendered; she too capitulated and held up her hands. She just hoped that the others had got away.
B’Elanna’s
continued resistance to the torture she endured had taken its toll on her. She knew it was important to discuss any
possible escape plans but she was emotionally drained as well as physically
fatigued. In her present state, the
half-Klingon knew she could not concentrate or give proper attention to their
current predicament so she made no attempt to sit up and confer with Janeway
and Seven. Fortunately, neither of her
companions felt the need to force her to join in and they retreated to another
bunk, able to freely discuss their plans now that the surveillance equipment
had been deactivated.
B’Elanna found
that she could not relax. The fear of
the Moderator’s return played heavily on her.
Eventually, she found that by concentrating on the voices of her
co-prisoners, she became lulled into a more ready state for sleep. Hugging her knees in even more tightly, she
vaguely became aware of how sensual Seven’s voice sounded, wondering how she
had failed to notice it until now.
Eventually, the exhausted engineer fell into a fitful slumber. She remained tucked into a ball and emitted
the occasional whimper as she slept.
Both the Captain and Seven wondered at what terrible dreams she was
suffering as they sat on an opposite bunk, discussing their options.
“Did you get a
good look at the door?” Janeway asked, keeping her voice low so as not to
disturb the dark-haired Klingon.
Seven
nodded. “The door mechanism is simple
to operate or overcome. It is the
force-field that is the problem,” the Astrometrics Officer told her.
“I agree. I hate to say this, but I think we stand a
better chance of breaking out of here when they return B’Elanna, not when they
come to take her,” the Captain sighed, the words painful to express.
Seven tensed
at the implication. “So you are
prepared for B’Elanna to endure torture a second time?” she accused coldly.
Janeway
flinched but replied steadily. “If our
escape attempt fails, it will be a lot worse.
If B’Elanna were awake, she would agree with me. What we have to do is be ready and stack the
odds in our favour as much as we can.
Anything less would be letting her down.”
“To wait until
she is returned is not ‘stacking the odds in our favour’,” objected Seven. “We have no way of predicting how
incapacitated she will be. It is better
to go now, while the damage to her is less severe.” Seven swallowed as she spoke, having difficulty controlling her
emotions.
Janeway
sympathised but had thought about this intently. “They are more likely to suspect an attack when all three of us
are together. We have no idea when they
will come for B’Elanna but can anticipate B’Elanna’s return, and they are less
likely to expect us to break out when she is debilitated,” the Captain listed
her rationale steadily.
Seven sat and
stared at the Captain for a long moment as she digested the comments. Coming to a decision, she nodded her head in
agreement. “I apologise, Captain,” she
remarked softly. “I was speaking
subjectively. We must maintain some
sort of objectivity in this predicament.”
The Captain
pinched the bridge of her nose wearily.
“It’s difficult to be objective, Seven.
I don’t want B’Elanna to go through another round of torture
either. I just can’t think of an
alternative option.”
“I am finding it increasingly difficult to
remain objective, Captain,” Seven confided, transferring her gaze over to the
opposite bunk. She watched B’Elanna for
a long moment, studying her respiration rate and body temperature.
Janeway
paused, waiting for Seven to continue.
When nothing was forthcoming after a few moments, she prompted the
ex-drone. “Seven?”
Convinced that
the raven-haired woman was fully asleep, the ex-drone returned to look at the
Captain steadily. “How do you know if
you are in love with someone?” Seven asked simply.
Janeway rocked
back, stunned by the question. “Do you
think you’re in love with B’Elanna?” the older woman replied with a question of
her own.
“I do not
know,” answered Seven miserably. She
sat back on the bunk and brought up her knees, hugging them tightly, an upright
copy of B’Elanna’s foetal ball. “I have
never experienced such an intensity of emotions concerning her until very
recently. My thoughts and behaviour
have become irrational. I think of her
obsessively. From what I have
researched from the ship’s database, I can only conclude that I may be in
love.” Seven sighed deeply after the
revelation, resting her chin on her knees.
She felt uncomfortable airing this topic with anyone and the present
conditions were less than ideal for exposing her deepest thoughts. However, if Seven could confide in anyone,
it would be Kathryn Janeway, her mentor and friend.
It was Seven’s
turn to wait for a response from the Captain.
Janeway’s mind spun as she tried to formulate a constructive
sentence. She shifted her position to
sit cross-legged on the bunk and face Seven directly. Janeway then started with her most pressing concern. “Seven, B’Elanna’s married.”
“Unfortunately,
my feelings cannot be tempered by B’Elanna’s marital status,” returned Seven
sadly.
“But it’s
something that you have to consider,” the Captain continued.
“I have
considered it a great deal. She is
married to a fool who treats her badly,” demurred Seven vehemently, her hushed
words coming out as a venomous hiss.
“In your
opinion,” added Janeway pointedly.
“B’Elanna may view him differently.”
Seven snorted
derisively. “They are a poorly suited
couple. They have few shared
interests. Her intelligence and
strength are far superior to his.” She
turned to face the Captain once more.
“I believe the expression is ‘she is too good for him’,” she finished.
Janeway paused
to consider what she had heard. Seven’s
timing couldn’t have been worse. The
Moderator was intent on doing serious harm to B’Elanna for his own satisfaction
as well as trying to coerce Janeway into giving up Voyager’s technology. If he got wind of Seven’s emotional
attachment to the Chief Engineer, he would use that as another lever for his
demands. She clasped her chin and
tapped her lips pensively as she mulled the revelation over. “Seven, you have a number of options open to
you,” she began, trying to offer what she hoped would be appropriate guidance.
Seven quirked
an eyebrow and waited for the Captain to continue.
“You can
either ignore these feelings, and hope that they diminish with time, or harbour
your feelings and keep them secret, in the hope that one day they may be
reciprocated should B’Elanna no longer be romantically involved with Tom, or
declare your feelings for her and see how she reacts,” Janeway listed what
options she could see available to the blonde Astrometrics Officer.
“None of those
alternatives hold any appeal, Captain,” Seven retorted. “I cannot ignore my
feelings, they are too powerful for me to suppress but I am frightened to
reveal my love for her.” Seven’s hands
clenched reflexively, an external expression of the frustration she felt. “However, I cannot think of any other course
of action than one of the options you have just listed.”
“Love is one
of the most difficult emotions to deal with Seven. I’ll give you all the assistance and support I can, but
ultimately, the way you deal with this will be your decision alone. It’s never easy, but that’s one of the
reasons why love becomes so important to us.”
“I am not sure
that expanding my humanity was a good idea,” Seven remarked. “When I thought like a Borg, interaction was
simpler, more efficient and less painful,” she qualified.
“Perhaps,”
agreed Janeway softly. “But was it as
fulfilling?”
Seven looked
at Janeway sharply. “The Borg used
communication as a tool. There was no
need for any in-depth interaction.
Friendship and love were irrelevant,” she told her.
“Are they
irrelevant now?” Janeway quizzed.
Seven shifted
slightly under the continued scrutiny of the Captain. She switched her gaze from Janeway to B’Elanna and paused
slightly before whispering her answer.
“No.”
Feeling
uncomfortable after unveiling her innermost thoughts, Seven sought refuge in
switching topics. “I take it that the
plan is to overpower the two guards returning B’Elanna and then force our way
out,” she stated, regaining her composure almost instantaneously.
“With an
element of surprise, they should fall quickly.
There is quite some distance from the cell door to the guard station
though. It’s not going to be easy,” Janeway
fell back easily into the prior discussion, recognising Seven’s need to change
the subject.
“For any of
us, Captain,” agreed the blonde ex-drone.
“And what if B’Elanna is too incapacitated to assist?” she asked, trying
to keep her voice flat.
“Don’t worry
Seven. We all leave together or we
don’t go at all,” vowed Janeway grimly.
“We may have to carry her out, in which case I’ll leave that to you
while I lead the way. She’ll be with us
though,” the Captain reassured the younger woman a second time to underline her
commitment to the plan.
The ex-drone
was appeased by Janeway’s words and relaxed slightly. “Thank you, Captain. I
would not have been able to leave her,” she confessed.
Janeway placed
a reassuring hand on the blonde woman’s arm.
“Nor would I,” she admitted.
* * *
Chakotay
stared at Tuvok for a moment after he finished his version of events. “So you had no physical contact with
B’Elanna or Seven once you split up to search the town?”
“No. Our only communication was via the
communicators,” verified the Security Chief.
There was a
glimmer of hope forming in the recess of Chakotay’s mind. “Where’s your tricorder?” he asked.
Tuvok frowned,
unable to follow the First Officer’s thought process. “I can only assume that it is in the back-pack I carried, along
with the dilithium and fluoroxitine alloy,” he answered, a frown gracing his
dark face.
Without
explaining further, Chakotay slapped his communicator pin. “Chakotay to engineering.”
“Engineering
here,” Vorik’s slightly distorted voice carried over the link.
“Vorik, what
have you done with the tricorders that were retrieved from the away mission?”
the normally quiet, pensive man asked abruptly, almost rudely.
“They were
about to be wiped clear of data and then reissued, Commander,” the young Vulcan
engineer replied. Chakotay could
visualise the man frowning deeply.
“Don’t do
anything to them till I get to Engineering.
Is that understood?” There was
no need for the First Officer to qualify his command to Vorik, but the
importance of the order compelled Chakotay to underline the instruction.
“Understood,
Commander,” the Vulcan confirmed.
The link
closed, Chakotay turned to the Security Chief.
“Tuvok, you’ve been a great help,” he commended the dark-skinned
man. Without waiting for a response,
Chakotay headed for Engineering.
“Thank you,”
replied the Vulcan to Chakotay’s retreating back. “However, I am uncertain as to how I have helped,” he finished
before looking at the EMH quizzically.
“Don’t ask
me,” demurred the Doctor sardonically.
“I just work here.”
* * *
Janeway was
stretched out on one of the bunks with her eyes shut. Seven had ended their earlier discussion abruptly, obviously too
uncomfortable to continue revealing her private thoughts. She had told the Captain that she needed to
rest, as she had no access to a regeneration alcove. It was a poor excuse considering the ex-drone had completed a
cycle just prior to the mission, but Janeway understood that Seven needed some
personal space, if such a thing were possible in such confined quarters. The blonde woman had lain on the bunk
opposite B’Elanna and closed her eyes eventually. Janeway wasn’t sure if the Astrometrics Officer was asleep or
not, but her actions gave the Captain time to order her own thoughts.
It was times
like this that Janeway disliked the most.
Many Starfleet cadets dreamt of their own command. Few realised the connotations involved. The Moderator’s attempted coercion would
fail. She was simply too stubborn to
give in to his demands. However,
Janeway was deeply affected by B’Elanna’s torture. She wondered if the tough Klingon could really understand her
stance over this. The Captain was
unsure if she would be able to understand had the positions been reversed and
hoped that she would at least be given an opportunity to explain her actions to
the lieutenant. Starfleet protocol had
a lot to answer for.
Janeway had
also found it curious that Seven decided to reveal her feelings toward B’Elanna
now. There was more to the disclosure
than Janeway had first surmised. The
Captain believed that Seven thought B’Elanna was going to die. The tall blonde had told Janeway because she
wanted to voice her feelings while B’Elanna was still alive. This was obviously important to the ex-drone. Perhaps it made the declaration more valid
if the engineer was still alive. The
older woman wasn’t sure but knew that whatever the outcome, she would have to
offer a lot of support to Seven and, indeed B’Elanna, for she was determined
that her Chief of Engineering *would* survive.
The two women were the closest things Kathryn had to daughters. The thought that she could lose either of
them was almost unbearable.
The cell door
opened with a loud crash and three armed guards stormed in, their compression
rifles raised aggressively.
The women
reacted instinctively to the commotion, rolling off the beds and crouching into
defensive stances, facing the origin of the noise. The sudden effort took its toll on B’Elanna and her breath was
ragged as she pushed her body to react.
There was a
brief pause at the stand-off until the tall familiar shape of the Moderator
stepped through the doorway, his long blond mane swaying gently as he
walked. “Sit on your bunks,” he
instructed mildly, but there was no mistaking the menace burning in his eyes.
Janeway,
Torres and Seven complied slowly, glancing at one another silently as they
tried to project support for each other.
Once they were
seated, the tall interrogator gestured slightly and watched impassively as one
of the guards stepped forward to manacle each of the three captives once again.
When they were
secure, the Moderator approached Janeway and sat next to her, his weight
dipping the mattress slightly, having the effect of rolling them closer together. Janeway refused to alter her position,
convinced it would show weakness.
The tall
blonde interrogator smiled amiably.
“When can I expect my goods then, Captain?” he asked brightly, his face
uncomfortably close to her.
“I’ve told
you. There will be no deal,” Janeway
reiterated.
“You know,”
remarked the tall man conversationally, “I’m actually glad you said that. I have *so* much unfinished business with my
friend here,” he told the red-haired woman, nodding towards B’Elanna as he
spoke.
B’Elanna
refused to be intimidated by the Moderator, but this time it was much harder.
The
interrogator looked carefully at each of the prisoners before continuing. “I was surprised that you managed to
deactivate the surveillance system.
Such an inconvenience as I have had to arrange for a maintenance team to
repair the damage. It does of course
mean that you’ll remain shackled for a lengthy period while they perform
repairs.” He paused briefly to stare
pointedly at Janeway. “Although in your
case, I think that you might find some perverse justice in being made to endure
at least some discomfort while your colleague samples some of my finer
work.” His face displayed a malevolent
smile.
Without
waiting for a response, the tall man leapt from the bunk to inspect the wound
on B’Elanna’s face, grabbing her chin roughly, even as a guard dug the muzzle
of his weapon into her temple. “Well,
well. You *do* heal quickly, my beauty,”
he crooned as he wiped his thumb gently along the scabbed incision. As he drew the digit back he flexed it
viciously, tearing open the wound and gouging
his thumb deeply into her cheek.
Somehow,
B’Elanna stopped herself from crying out.
She could feel her fingernails imbedding deeply into the palms of her
hands and concentrated on that pain instead.
Seven sprang
from her bunk, seemingly unimpeded by the manacles locking her wrists together,
appalled at the sheer malice of what she had just witnessed. The Moderator stood up and evaluated her
stance clinically. “I believe that’s
the second time you’ve attempted to render aid,” he told her coldly, as two
guards forced her back down. “Am I to
read something more into that action?” he probed professionally.
“She’s just
another crew member on our ship,” B’Elanna told him. The raven-haired woman tried to keep her voice flat and
disinterested as she continued. “She’s
only reacting the same way anyone else would.”
“An
interesting explanation but I’ll reserve judgement,” the Moderator retorted
before reducing the space between him and the half-Klingon once again. “Gratifying though it is to hear your dulcet
tones, I suggest you save your voice for the screams I am going to extract from
you, my beauty.”
Before the
three prisoners could react further, he signalled to the guards. Both Janeway and Seven were secured to
holding rings on the cell walls, their arms stretched taut painfully. B’Elanna was hoisted to her feet by the
guard standing next to her. Keeping a
rough hold on her arm he propelled her out the doorway. B’Elanna refused to turn to look at the
Captain or Seven. She did not want them
to see the fear she believed she displayed.
Seven
continued to stare at the doorway long after it had been slammed shut. B’Elanna had described her as ‘just another
crew member’. The words hurt, despite
Seven telling herself that the Klingon had said those words to protect
her. Could she ever really tell the
mercurial engineer her true feelings?
Janeway could
read Seven’s face easily. She was
shocked as it was usually so difficult to do so. “Seven, she didn’t want to draw attention to you. She wanted to shield you from him.”
“I know,
Captain,” responded the ex-drone brokenly.
“I am behaving irrationally.”
“Then put your
mind to use to stop thinking about her,” ordered Janeway sharply. The older woman wanted nothing more than to
hug and reassure the Astrometrics Officer but knew that she had to get Seven
back on track if they were to come up with a solution to their present
predicament.
“I need you to
find a way out of these bindings. Is
there any way you can get free?”
“I can try,
Captain. But it will not be simple,”
replied Seven, her composure returning as she found a new focus.
“I just hope
you can do it before the maintenance team arrives,” remarked the Captain
sincerely.
Janeway
attempted to free herself from her manacles but to no effect. She hadn’t really expected to be able to do
so, but it was frustrating watching Seven struggle and make minute progress.
“How are you
doing?” the auburn-haired woman asked.
She had been watching the blonde ex-Borg struggle and writhe for almost
an hour now. The effort was beginning
to show on Seven’s face. A fine sheen
of perspiration shimmered on the young woman’s skin that was now flushed by the
effort she had put into trying to break the bonds. The areas around Seven’s wrists were bloodied and chafed from the
continual movement, but the ex-drone disregarded the discomfort.
“Only
marginally better than last time you questioned me,” responded Seven through
gritted teeth, unable to mask her irritation at the monotonous query.
“I’m
sorry. I’m just getting anxious. We have no idea how much time we have,”
explained the Captain.
“You have a
plan then, if I succeed and break free before the arrival of the maintenance
team?” Seven asked, slightly breathless from her exertions.
“Yes. While you’ve been trying to free yourself,
I’ve been thinking. What we should
do…..” Janeway stopped as she heard the
sound. Seven also desisted her
movements and the two women listened together, stock still, waiting to hear the
sound again. A few minutes later,
another keening wail resonated throughout the area. It was a terrible sounding cry, animalistic and raw. An unimaginable pain must have drawn out the
howl. The sound was unrecognisable but
the Captain and Seven both knew without doubt that it had originated from
B’Elanna. The Moderator had broken her
at last.
To be continued…