RESISTANCE

Part 6

 

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

 

Archiving:  Perfect Misfits and The Vinculum are always welcome.  Anyone else, please ask.

 

Thanks to D once again for his efforts!

 

Feedback:  Yes please, I wouldn’t post otherwise.  [email protected]

Part 7

Part 8

==================

 

The tall, iridescent blue cylinder of the Warp Core thrummed steadily in the heart of Main Engineering.  For the last nine days it had lost its brilliance, crippled because of the power regulator failure.  Engineering had been working frantically with the supplies retrieved by Commander Tuvok and Neelix.  The Warp Core power was up by 35% and continued to rise steadily.  Illuminated by its radiance, Chakotay gazed at the shimmering aquamarine cylinder as he entered, relieved that at least one thing was going right.  After a few moments, he pulled his eyes away to stare at the two recovered tricorders lying on a nearby workstation and hoped his hunch was correct.  Vorik waited at the console and watched the Commander expectantly, still wondering at the importance of the two recovered instruments.

 

When Harry Kim hurried into Main Engineering, Chakotay beckoned him over and then sprang into action.  “Vorik, what did you do with the data extracted from the tricorders?”

 

“Normal procedure, sir.  I downloaded the information into a workstation buffer where any relevant data could be transferred into the main computer,” Vorik explained.

 

“So you can easily carry out a data comparison then?” Chakotay asked for confirmation.

 

The young Vulcan nodded.

 

“Right, let’s hope B’Elanna hasn’t forgotten her old ways.  Run a data check on both sets.  I want to know if there are any discrepancies in file size.”

 

Vorik raised an eyebrow at the request before punching a few commands into his console.  Seconds later, he looked up at the Commander in surprise.  “The data stored on the tricorder is several quads bigger than the downloaded files,” he reported. 

 

The First Officer fleetingly thought he could hear the astonishment in Vorik’s voice before remembering that he was Vulcan and therefore unable to express emotion.  However, Chakotay could and did feel emotion, and right now his heart was hammering in his chest.  B’Elanna hadn’t let him down.  He explained the hunch to his confused colleagues.  “When we were in the Maquis, B’Elanna developed a system to increase the chances of important data getting back to Headquarters.  If we were under fire and likely to be captured, we transferred all accumulated data to another person’s data recorder.  The information was encrypted and stored on piggyback so that if examined, the recorders would only reveal one set of data.  All that had to be done was to decode the encryption to reveal the hidden files.”

 

“And you believe that Lieutenant Torres transferred data from her tricorder to Commander Tuvok and Neelix’s tricorders?” questioned Vorik.

 

“I’m certain of it.  Once we decrypt B’Elanna’s code, we should have a whole lot more information that could help us break that shielding.”  Chakotay’s face was triumphant as he finished. 

 

“There is no way of knowing whether any of the information B’Elanna transferred is relevant,” Harry pointed out.

 

Chakotay was confident though.  “She wouldn’t have bothered to do it unless she believed it to be of value,” the Commander returned.

 

“Sir, I must point out that the last exercise Lieutenant Torres ran involving her own Maquis encryption codes was halted after eighteen hours, when the team were unable to break them.  The only person on Voyager who has successfully cracked her codes is Seven of Nine.”

 

The triumph on Chakotay’s face melted away abruptly.  “Harry, enlist every Maquis who used codes.  B’Elanna won’t have made the code too difficult, I’m sure.  Start with all the standard Maquis encryption techniques first,” he issued the young Ensign his orders.

 

Harry nodded almost continually as Chakotay spoke, his mind already focused on the task ahead.  He just hoped that the Commander was right and that B’Elanna had made accessing the information relatively simple.  He also hoped that the information that she had carefully hidden away was relevant and useful to the current predicament.  Otherwise, it would be even more time wasted, and Harry felt sure that time was not on the Captain’s side.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The tortured wails of agony Janeway and Seven heard spurred them both on to free themselves.  Seven worked her hands frantically, tugging erratically whenever another chilling cry pierced through the walls.  At first, her only emotion was the abject fear of losing B’Elanna.  When the screams stopped and silence prevailed, the fear turned to cold hatred for the perpetrator of the crimes committed against the half-Klingon.  The silence continued, yet it focused Seven and from somewhere, she found even more strength to combat the restraints.   

 

Janeway, knowing that she lacked the strength to break free, watched Seven desperately, her ears straining for any sound of B’Elanna.  The silence drew on, becoming agonising for the auburn-haired woman as she wondered over the fate of her Chief Engineer. 

 

The solid metal band that secured the manacles together produced a stressed groan before finally breaking.  Seven rested her arms onto her lap for a moment, before flexing and extending them several times to ease her taut muscles.  The ex-drone stood up and approached Janeway.  “I will have a better purchase on your restraints,” she told her as she gripped the Captain’s manacles.

 

Before she could begin however, a slight sound gave her enough warning to leap back to her bunk, raising her hands high, to meet the restraining ring.

 

The cell door opened suddenly, the action stilling the occupants as the harsh yellow light from the corridor illuminated the small room.  Two guards entered aggressively, compression rifles raised to their shoulders, and they visually inspected the prisoners.  Satisfied that they were still secure in their manacles, the taller of the guards nodded at the doorway, prompting whoever was waiting outside to enter the cell.

 

A tall, thin blonde woman stepped through the door carrying what appeared to be a heavy tool kit.  Barely sparing the captives a glance, the pale engineer walked up to the wall containing the surveillance equipment, heaving the kit onto the bunk closest to it.  She wiped her hands on the grubby, tan coloured overalls she wore before flipping the lid of the container silently.  The engineer studied the contents before selecting an implement and commencing her work.

 

The guards watched for a few moments, eyes flicking between the working woman and the detainees.  Eventually, they started shifting position, an indication of the boredom that they were experiencing.  After a shared glance, they nodded at each other slightly and exited the cell, leaving the engineer to continue, secure in the knowledge that the prisoners were unable to interfere.

 

Janeway couldn’t believe her luck.  Not only did the maintenance *team* comprise of a single woman who did not appear to be overly strong or armed, but the guards had left them unattended.  The auburn haired woman looked carefully at Seven of Nine, who had remained stock-still since the door had been thrown open.

 

The ex-drone raised her eyebrow, the ocular implant rising high onto her forehead in an unspoken communication before turning and looking closely at the engineer, assessing her carefully.  As the pale native bent down into her task, Seven stood up in one fluid movement, careful not to disturb any part of the broken restraints to prevent them making any noise and alert the engineer.  Continuing her mission, the tall Astrometrics officer closed the distance between her and the maintenance engineer rapidly and placed a borg enhanced hand over the woman’s mouth before executing a swift Vulcan neck pinch.  It took mere seconds to render the engineer unconscious and Seven lowered her gently to the floor to keep the sounds emitted from the cell to a minimum.

 

The ex-drone got up carefully and searched the tool kit thoroughly.  Finding what she believed to be a cutting implement, Seven got to work on Janeway’s manacles, freeing her quickly and quietly.  She silently handed Janeway the tool and the Captain removed the remainder of the wrist restraints from the Borg’s hands, wincing as she saw the damage to Seven’s bloody wrists. 

 

Not breaking the silence, the two women approached the doorway to the cell and looked outside cautiously.  The two guards had retreated back to the sentry station to converse with another guard.  There didn’t appear to be any other guards around, but Janeway expected that the Moderator would have some with him.  She looked carefully at the door that led to where she believed B’Elanna had been taken.  It was shut but the Captain did not suppose that it was locked.  When she looked at her companion, she noticed that Seven too was staring intently at the door.  She laid a hand gently on the ex-drone’s arm and gave a reassuring nod before beckoning her back into the cell.

 

They stood at the far end of the room, away from the door.  Janeway glanced quickly at the unconscious woman sprawled on the floor before whispering urgently at Seven.  “We’ve got to move fast.  The guards aren’t going to leave us unattended for too long.  We’ve got an opportunity to increase the level of surprise now though.”

 

Seven’s face clouded with confusion.  “How?”

 

“Get into the engineer’s overalls.  If you free your hair, it should put up a partial disguise and your implants will be less obvious.  Approach the guard station confidently and they probably won’t even spare you a glance.  I’ll be right behind you.  Once we’ve overpowered them, we can look for B’Elanna and then get the hell out of here.”  Janeway spoke assuredly, not allowing any doubt to creep into her voice or demeanour.  As she hoped, Seven was boosted by her confidence and nodded determinedly at the plan of action.

 

Quickly stripping the felled engineer, Seven stepped into the overalls, wrinkling her nose in slight disdain at their shabby appearance.  Had the situation not been so serious, Janeway might have laughed at the younger woman’s actions.  However, her mind was already focused on the task ahead.  It was difficult enough not to let her mind race on to the next mission of finding and rescuing B’Elanna.

 

Seven secured the lid of the tool kit before hefting it into her borg enhanced hand.  All the time she was preparing herself, her mind was racing.  They now had an opportunity to escape and rescue B’Elanna, but she was frightened as to what she might find.  Her cries had stopped some time ago.  Was she dead?  Seven tried not to even contemplate that awful question, yet it thundered through her mind continually.  The young, blonde ex-drone was not sure that she could continue to function if B’Elanna was no longer alive.  And what if she was alive?  There was no telling what horrific injuries she had endured, physical *and* psychological.  Seven had no idea how she would be able to help the raven-haired engineer, or even if the woman would be receptive to Seven’s assistance.  Seven had never experienced such inner turmoil before.  It was a most unpleasant sensation, yet perversely, it intensified her feelings for B’Elanna. 

 

She sighed heavily.  Seven wanted so much for her love to be reciprocated and yet had no idea if that was possible.  The Astrometrics officer was sure of one thing though.  She wanted the opportunity to be honest with B’Elanna and tell her about her feelings.  It would be the honourable thing to do.  She just hoped that it wasn’t too late.

 

With a final adjustment to the overalls and her hair, Seven looked at Janeway, seeking assurance once more.  The older woman nodded back at her, resting a hand on her arm.  Together, they approached the cell door quietly and surveyed the corridor once again.

 

Seven strode confidently from the door towards the guard station, mentally rehearsing how she was going to combat the guards.  As she neared the men, she realised that Janeway had been right.  The officers had not even looked at her, believing her to be the maintenance engineer returning after completing repairs.  The two who had accompanied the unfortunate maintenance engineer had their backs to her, talking with on officer who propped his feet up on the station desk, rocking his chair lazily on two legs. 

 

As soon as she was in range, Seven swung the tool kit at the nearest guard and struck the second before any of them had an opportunity to react.  The third sprang to his feet only to be met with a mesh encased fist that sent him flying back over his chair to land heavily on the floor, unconscious.

 

Seven returned her attention rapidly to the first two assailants.  The one struck by the tool kit was preparing to attack her again, the other was exchanging blows with the Captain.  The blonde Astrometrics officer squared up to the dazed man and waited for him to strike.  As he lunged forward, she used his momentum to pull him off balance toward her and wrenched his arm viciously.  Even as he cried out, the ex-drone used her free hand to strike him behind the head with a forceful punch, rendering him unconscious.  Seven span round to assist Janeway just in time to see her commanding officer despatch the tall man over her shoulder, crashing him into a nearby table.  He did not get up.

 

Janeway rolled her shoulders, trying to release the tension that had built there, before wiping away the trickle of blood that ran from her split lip with the back of her hand.  She looked at Seven and then down the corridor.  Despite their initial efforts to be quiet, the fight had ended up a noisy affair and she was concerned that the commotion had alerted others.  Fortunately, the corridor remained still.  Grabbing the compression rifles from the felled men, the two women hurried down the hall, towards the door adjacent to their cell.

 

Seven stood in front of the door and kicked it, her boot landing centrally with devastating force, sending it crashing.  The sentry standing just beyond stood no chance.  He landed in a heap in the far corner of the room, the debris from the door falling around and on top of him.  It took just a fraction of a second to assess the room, yet even as she did, Seven could feel her anger rising exponentially. 

 

It was a square room, well lit and ventilated.  Around the walls were benches cluttered with equipment ranging from technologically advanced electronic probes and sensors to crude metal hand tools, the purpose of which could only be guessed at.  Above the heavy metal benches were wall racks displaying more gruesome implements, some of which were bloody from recent use. 

 

She noted the Moderator standing in the centre of the room, eyes and mouth round in surprise for an instant before a visage of angry hatred replaced the look.  Next to him was a large chair, obviously designed for him to perform his torture.  Strapped in the chair, covered in blood and sweat was the pale, unconscious body of B’Elanna Torres.  Her clothes were torn, displaying patches of slick red skin underneath where her flesh had been flailed from her body.  The shirt covering her chest was dark with the staining of blood and sweat but it moved in uneven, shallow waves that were accompanied by dry rasping breaths, indicating that, for the moment, she was still alive.  Seven’s eyes widened at the sight of her and her pulse accelerated, relief surging through her as she realised that B’Elanna was still alive.  Torn between her emotions for the engineer and her hatred of the Moderator, she stood frozen for a moment, unable to act.

 

No longer interested in maintaining the silence, Janeway charged in towards the Moderator.  He braced himself for her onslaught, ready to defend himself with a long thin blade he grabbed from a nearby table.  He never saw the blow.  His head snapped back as his jaw took the full force of the fist, teeth mashing together and biting his tongue as his body followed the trajectory his head set and fell backwards over the still form of B’Elanna and then onto the floor.

 

Janeway stood over him, rubbing her fist, eyes burning with anger.  The Moderator moved suddenly to retaliate, his sword arm whipping up but the Captain swerved deftly and then knelt quickly, placing her knee over his neck, allowing her body weight to crush his windpipe slightly.  “You bastard.  If I had time, I’d flay you alive for what you’ve done to her,” she told him through gritted teeth.  As he shifted to try and dislodge her, Janeway punched him again, grimly satisfied as she felt his nose crunch under her knuckles.  “Don’t even think of moving,” she told him.

 

Unable even to swallow, the Moderator’s eyes widened as he started to panic over the slow asphyxiation.  He forced his body to become calm and still, allowing slightly more oxygen to enter his system.

0

“So, now it’s my turn to make demands,” Janeway hissed at him coldly.  “How do we get out of here?”

 

The blond man made no attempt to answer the woman.  He had tortured enough victims in his time to know how to play the game.

 

“I’ve already told you, we don’t have time for this,” Janeway reminded him as she increased the pressure slightly.  “You can either tell me in the next five seconds, or I’ll kill you.  Unlike you, I don’t derive pleasure from torturing people.”

 

Her statement frightened the man.  He had seen the look in Janeway’s eyes.  After years of practice, he knew how to read a face.  She meant every word she said.  However, he was a proud man and would not crumble before her.  “You’ll never get out of here alive,” he told her assuredly, his voice rasping and weak through his occluded airway.

 

“Well you won’t be alive to know,” the auburn-haired woman retorted matter-of-factly as she upped the pressure on his throat again.

 

Seven of Nine had initially felt a stab of anger towards the Captain for pre-empting her and attacking the Moderator.  It dissipated as soon as she focused on B’Elanna.  Satisfied that Janeway had control of the situation, she dropped her weapon and quickly assessed the unconscious half-Klingon, wincing as she detected injury after injury.  She was aware of how resilient B’Elanna was, but was astounded that the engineer could still be alive after such systematic abuse.  Knowing that if she returned her attention to the Moderator, she would kill him, Seven decided to make sure that she would be unable to attack him.  She retrieved the compression rifle and slung it over her shoulder in case it was needed later.  Gently, the Astrometrics officer released the restraints holding B’Elanna’s limbs and body, before gathering the woman into her arms carefully, pausing when the dark haired engineer moaned slightly as she was picked up.  When she was satisfied that B’Elanna was settled comfortably, Seven turned back to Janeway and the Moderator.  She raised an eyebrow as Janeway stood up.

 

“He won’t be torturing anyone else,” the Captain told Seven, a grimly satisfied expression etched on her face. 

 

For a moment, Seven wondered at Janeway’s actions.  Had Seven killed the Moderator, she felt sure Janeway would have taken a moral stance and given her guidance on her judgement.  Pushing the thought away for future investigation, she nodded towards the door.  “I suggest we leave here.  We may discover a way of contacting the ship outside the confines of this prison.”

 

Janeway agreed, picking up the rifle she had dropped just prior to hitting the Moderator.  She followed the taller woman to the door before spinning suddenly and leaping towards one of the benches that lined the walls.

 

Lying in the centre of the table were three gold communicator pins, one badly damaged, as though it had been dissected for examination.  Next to the pins were their tricorders.  There was no sign of their phasers.  Snatching the equipment, and juggling it in her hands briefly, Janeway hurried after Seven.

 

Part 7

 

Seven made her way back to the guard station.  After a quick perusal of the computer, she lowered B’Elanna onto the floor, looking at her anxiously as the Klingon moaned gently at the movement.

 

“What are you doing, Seven?  We’ve got to get out of here,” Janeway reminded the younger woman, tense as she continually scanned the corridors for more guards. 

 

The ex-drone glanced at the Captain.  “Setting decoys,” she replied cryptically.  The blonde woman did not see Janeway frown at the remark as she returned her stare to the computer terminal.  After a moment’s hesitation, Seven hovered her borg enhanced hand over the workstation.  Two assimilation tubules snaked out and pierced the terminal.  The Astrometrics Officer remained motionless for a few moments and then retracted the tubules.

 

“I have accessed the schematics for the prison layout and the security logs.  There is a less well patrolled exit that we should use,” she explained as she bent down and scooped B’Elanna into her arms once more.

 

“And the decoys?”

 

“I have set a number of timed alarms to trigger.  It should distract most of the guards on our route,” Seven replied, settling B’Elanna into a more comfortable grip. 

 

Janeway was impressed.  It hadn’t occurred to her to get a map from the prison computer so they could make their escape easier.  Nodding her approval at Seven, she turned down the corridor.  “Let’s go.”

 

The two women continually looked around them as they hurried down their escape route.  Seven indicated the route but Janeway took the lead, her stolen compression rifle shouldered and ready as she searched each corner carefully before nodding at the blonde woman to continue.  Seven moved carefully, trying to keep the journey as smooth as possible for her precious cargo.  At every pause, she glanced down at the woman cradled in her arms, her blue eyes dark with concern.  The half-Klingon made occasional whimpers or moans but showed no real signs of stirring.  Seven’s concerns were rising exponentially.  B’Elanna needed urgent medical attention.  They had to get back to Voyager, and quickly.

 

It did not take long for the women to meet another threat.  As Janeway peeked round a corner to inspect the next corridor, she caught sight of four guards headed directly towards them.  Whipping her head back round, she looked at Seven and mouthed the word “Trouble,” at her.

 

Seven nodded in understanding before looking back down the passageway.  They were some distance from the previous junction.  There would be no way to avoid conflict.  Quickly, she lowered B’Elanna to the floor, leaving her in the recess of a doorway that would provide at least some shelter.  Janeway backed off and stood opposite the doorway, weapon raised towards the corridor intersection.

 

Seven stood protectively over B’Elanna as she took aim.  As the guards rounded the corner, the Captain sprang the ambush and the leading guards were despatched effortlessly.  The trailing guards managed to get a few phaser bolts back at their foe but were overcome quickly.  Seven hurriedly picked up B’Elanna after shouldering her weapon once again and the group continued at an increased pace, concerned that the fire-fight had drawn attention to their location.

 

Janeway and Seven followed the corridor that led to the outside, stopping for skirmishes that increased in frequency the closer they got to the exit.  The element of surprise worked in their favour and their combat proficiency was barely tested.  At first, Janeway was concerned that their escape and progress would be reported to all the security officers, despite Seven’s decoys.  However, as they battled their way through, it became apparent that the guards they encountered were either too disorganised or undisciplined to use their communication system, if they even had one.

 

“Perhaps it is standard practice to leave inefficient guards in place when investigating alarms,” suggested Seven wryly after despatching another patrol easily.

 

“Well I can’t see Tuvok embracing that as a new security strategy,” rejoined Janeway as she waited for Seven to point her in the right direction once more.

 

Rounding a bend brought them to the outer door: a large, imposing barrier.  Janeway rushed to inspect the opening mechanism, eager to finally escape.  Seven followed closely, prepared to tear the door down with her fingers, if necessary. In their haste to leave the prison, the running women failed to spot a pair of guards returning from their patrol.  Seven took the first phaser bolt straight in her abdominal implant.  She collapsed instantly, dropping B’Elanna as she crumpled to the floor.  Janeway spun at the sound and fired a quick volley before diving for cover behind a corridor corner.  The auburn-haired woman paused briefly before sticking her head round to assess the scene.  She retracted quickly as phaser bolts exploded on the wall just above head height.  Other than seeing her colleagues lying motionless and exposed, she had been unable to determine where the shots originated.  She had to take another look.

 

The two guards kept their position, knowing that they had the final escapee trapped.  Each time she attempted to look round the wall, they loosed more fire in her direction.  Smiling grimly in satisfaction at each other, the two blond men were quite happy to play this little game until the woman made a mistake and they scored a hit.  As they shot off another round at their target, one of the guards frowned at his companion, a look of surprised pain on his face.  Realising that he’d been shot, the other guard darted his head round, trying to locate the origin of the phaser bolts.  As his dark blue eyes made contact with a pair of blazing brown eyes, it was already too late.  He clutched his chest belatedly as he keeled over, dying before his brain registered the pain of the phaser bolt.

 

The compression rifle clattered as it fell from the Klingon’s hands.  B’Elanna grunted as she got onto all fours.  Crawling over to where Seven lay, the raven-haired engineer checked her vital signs, sighing with relief as she found a strong, regular pulse beating at the blonde woman’s neck.  She saw the lacerations that surrounded Seven’s wrists and her eyes widened in horror.  “Were you both tortured too?” she asked Janeway, her voice weak and hoarse.

 

“No,” replied the Captain.  “Seven got those wounds breaking free of the manacles,” she explained as she inspected all the points of egress for any unwanted visitors.

 

The dark-eyed Klingon exhaled audibly, relieved that the others had not had to endure the horrors that had been inflicted on her.  Hurriedly, B’Elanna ran her hands over Seven’s abdominal implant as she inspected the area for damage.  She hissed as she saw the charred edges of the wound to the ex-drone’s implant.  The engineer looked up, head spinning slightly, as she heard the Captain approach, returning Janeway’s emotional smile with a brief smile of her own, words unnecessary.  Her features clouded over again as she returned her gaze to the fallen woman. 

 

Silently, Janeway offered the lieutenant a tricorder to investigate further.  The Captain was relieved that B’Elanna had at last gained consciousness but was alarmed at how her hands shook whilst using the tricorder and how pale and waxy her skin looked. 

 

As B’Elanna finished her scrutiny, Seven groaned and her eyes opened.  Her heart leapt when she recognised the woman crouched over her.  Focusing on the Chief Engineer’s face, Seven managed a weak smile.  “I was supposed to be looking after you,” she told her, somehow managing to keep her tone indignant.

 

B’Elanna saw the glint of humour and relief in Seven’s eyes and grinned back at her.  “How about we look after each other?” she suggested softly.

 

Seven’s pulse quickened at the possible connotations of B’Elanna’s words but she quickly clamped down on her soaring hopes.  The women were trying to escape a vicious prison and now, two of them were injured.  B’Elanna was only referring to the current crisis.  The blonde Astrometrics Officer couldn’t help but wonder if she could construe any other meaning from the statement though.  Perhaps, when they were no longer in immediate danger, Seven would finally be able to reveal her feelings.

 

Janeway immediately resumed her role as leader.  “Can you walk?” she asked both Seven and B’Elanna, eyes shifting round continuously for any other unwanted surprises. 

 

The Klingon engineer persuaded her body to make the attempt to stand upright, feeling a strong arm assist her to her feet.  Swaying slightly, she looked at the older woman unsteadily and hacked a dry cough before speaking.  “Now what?”

 

“Now, we get the hell out of this place and work out why Voyager hasn’t already beamed us out,” replied the Captain firmly.  She turned quickly as she heard Seven yelp.

 

The blonde woman looked almost surprised at herself.  As she tried to stand again, the abdominal implant protested, shooting an intense pain through her body.  Seven sat back down awkwardly, annoyed that she could not overcome the pain and get herself upright as B’Elanna scanned the woman once again. 

 

The dark-haired woman looked up from the tricorder, her eyes narrow with concern.  “Have we got any tools?”

 

Janeway shook her head.  “Only the tricorders and the communicator pins,” she replied.

 

The engineer shook her head in frustration, but held her hand out to receive the gold communicator badges.  B’Elanna lowered herself down by Seven’s side, wincing as she aggravated her own injuries, but fully focused on trying to help Seven.  After several attempts, the Klingon was eventually able to liberate the part of the communicator she was after, but her trembling hands were impeding her progress and she growled in disgust as she dropped the gold pin for the third time.

 

“Can I be of assistance?” Seven enquired, a frown etching her alabaster skin as she tried to understand what B’Elanna was trying to do.

 

“Thanks, but I think I’ve got it,” was the absent reply, B’Elanna’s thought processes far ahead of her dexterity.  The darker woman used her forearm to wipe away the beads of sweat that trickled down her forehead and then blew her cheeks out in an exaggerated sigh, steeling herself for the next part of the process.

 

“Can we get a move on, we could be discovered at any minute,” Janeway reminded her needlessly. 

 

“Then keep guard,” B’Elanna snapped back, forgetting who she was addressing.  “If I don’t do this, Seven won’t be going anywhere.”

 

Seven looked at B’Elanna sharply.  “What do you mean?”

 

“The phaser bolt has fused some of the circuitry in your abdominal implant.  I thought it would just cause you a bit of discomfort until we got out of here.  Unfortunately, when you moved, the damage triggered some sort of cascade effect on all of your borg systems.  Unless I can make a temporary fix, your implants will all start to fail.”

 

Seven seemed to defocus her eyes momentarily as she performed as much of a self-diagnostic as she could.  “I cannot detect a problem,” she demurred.

 

“Check the tricorder,” retorted B’Elanna irritably.  All the questioning was making her head spin and her fingers quiver all the more and she shook her head in an effort to clarify her vision.

 

Seven followed the advice and studied the tricorder, noticing with her peripheral vision that Janeway was patrolling the area diligently.  Realising the truth of B’Elanna’s words, Seven was shocked that she was now so vulnerable.

 

“You should leave me here.  I am hindering the escape,” Seven suggested.

 

B’Elanna snorted derisively.  “Very noble Seven,” she retorted caustically.

 

“It is not noble,” contradicted the younger woman.  “Just logical.” 

 

Her remark earned another disgusted look from the half-Klingon.  “If you’ve been logical about the whole escape attempt, then how do you explain carrying me out?  Surely the logical option would have been to leave me there while you sought help?”  B’Elanna was shocked to see Seven’s face blush in reaction to her comments.  Before she could pursue the issue, she was interrupted.

 

“What are you going to do?”  Janeway interjected.  As B’Elanna looked up to answer the auburn-haired woman, Seven shot the Captain a look of grateful relief.

 

“I’m going to put in a temporary make-good circuit.  I have no idea how long it’ll last, but it should get Seven back up and running for a while,” B’Elanna told the older woman, her eyes returning to the circuitry and tricorder she was dismantling quickly as her attention was focused once again.

 

“I had no idea that you were so well informed about borg technology,” Seven remarked softly, the rosy blush of her cheeks dissipating quickly as she won her battle to control her emotions.

 

“Well, I thought I might be able to figure out a way to re-program the circuitry to make you less irritating,” replied the engineer, her head bent closely over Seven’s abdominal implant.

 

“It is a shame then, that you do not possess borg implants,” dead-panned Seven.

 

B’Elanna started to laugh but cut herself short as pain shot through her chest.

 

“You’ve been taking lessons in humour again,” the shorter woman accused good-naturedly, shifting slightly to ease the discomfort she felt in her body.

 

“Yes, but not from the Doctor,” replied Seven cryptically, earning a narrowed-eyed look from B’Elanna.  “You still have not explained your expertise in borg technology however,” the golden haired woman pursued.

 

“I make it my business to know about all technology on Voyager.  I’d be a pretty lousy Chief Engineer if I didn’t,” she continued.

 

“It is flattering to know that you consider me to be your business,” returned Seven impassively.

 

“Hey, I didn’t say that,” protested B’Elanna until she noticed the trace of humour in Seven’s eyes.  “You’re getting too good,” she complimented the ex-drone.

 

“You are an excellent teacher of sarcasm,” returned Seven with a slight inclination of her head.

 

B’Elanna frowned once again, surprised that Seven had taken such an interest in her.  What bothered her more was that she felt good about the attention.  Tom had never tried to comprehend B’Elanna’s particular brand of caustic humour.  It was gratifying that someone saw past the acid remarks to understand her.  Her relationship with Seven had definitely changed.  There was a familiarity and easiness to their interaction that the mercurial engineer had at one time thought would be impossible to attain, even had she wanted to.  Pushing the thoughts aside, she prepared herself for the procedure she was about to perform.  “Seven, this is going to hurt, probably a lot, but I haven’t got the means to make it any easier,” she apologised.

 

Seven nodded in understanding before tensing in anticipation.  B’Elanna placed the makeshift circuitry in the hole the phaser had made.  She smiled reassuringly at Seven as her hand hovered over the point of insertion.  Seven nodded once again and B’Elanna swiftly introduced the circuitry into the abdominal implant.  Seven arched back, her face pulled into a rictus of agony.  There was a loud crack as the circuitry was accepted and the pain stopped instantly, causing the Astrometrics officer to slump onto the floor in relief.  A jolt of energy pulsed through B’Elanna’s hand and her arm spasmed back, it’s trajectory throwing her own body clear of Seven and she bumped back along the floor.

 

Janeway hurried over to the two women. The raven-haired woman wiped the perspiration from her face.  The area was not hot, but her injured body was protesting at the amount of energy the Klingon was expending and every movement was painful for her.  Her hand and forearm were now throbbing violently after the shock she had just received.

 

Seven sat up and looked accusingly at the hybrid engineer.  “You did not tell me that you would injure yourself when you performed this procedure,” she protested angrily, her irritation a barrier to mask her concern for B’Elanna.

 

The Chief Engineer smiled defensively.  “I couldn’t see another way of completing the repair,” she explained as she rubbed her hand.  “I knew you wouldn’t let me do it if you realised that it could be dangerous for me.”

 

Seven kept her anger in check, knowing that B’Elanna had acted in her best interest.  She stood up carefully, waiting for another burst of pain but raised her eyebrows when she realised that it was not coming.  “Your make-good circuit was successful, B’Elanna,” she informed the Klingon. 

 

“Then it was worth frying my hand for,” rejoined B’Elanna as she got herself upright slowly.

 

“Do you think you can make it out of here?” Janeway directed her question at both women.

 

“For the moment, I am functioning adequately,” replied Seven.  “I think it would be expedient for us to move swiftly, whilst that is still the case.”

 

“Agreed,” concurred B’Elanna firmly.  Her face belied the strength of her voice though and Janeway looked at her with concern.

 

Seven noticed the look and felt sure it was mirrored on her visage.  “Are you sure that you can continue?” the young blonde woman probed.

 

“I don’t see us having an alternative option,” rejoined B’Elanna wryly as she picked up the phaser rifle and handed it to Seven.  Normally she would have held onto it herself, but knew that she was in no fit state to carry anything.  In fact, she had been surprised that she had been able to despatch the two guards.

 

Janeway’s eyes widened slightly at the action and realised that B’Elanna was seriously compromised.  However, dwelling on something that none of them could do anything about would not help the situation.  “Come on,” she ordered, as she returned her attention to the door.

 

Seven held her gaze on B’Elanna for a fraction longer, but switched her focus to the door when the dark-eyed woman acknowledged her concern with a slight nod.  Seven had been tempted to shoulder her weapon and carry the smaller woman again, but decided that now B’Elanna was conscious, she would be mortified at such a gesture and expend more energy objecting than she would just walking out herself.  It would also be safer for the blonde ex-drone.  She might be stronger than B’Elanna but she was sure that the Klingon could break her jaw with an anger-fuelled punch.

 

The door proved to be no obstacle and the women shouldered it open, surveying the exit.  As they had not entered via this door, it would be important to orientate themselves before looking for a safe haven and attempting to contact Voyager.  There was one problem though.

 

“Where the hell are we?” whispered B’Elanna, as she squinted out at the horizon.

 

Part 8

 

“Kim to Chakotay.”  The Asian’s disembodied voice sounded over the comm. system on the Bridge.

 

Chakotay automatically raised his dark brown eyes as he responded.  “Go ahead.”

 

“Commander, we’ve broken the encryption codes.  You might want to come and have a look at this.” Kim’s voice held a barely contained excitement at his success.

 

Chakotay pushed himself up from the Captain’s chair as he answered, unable to subdue his own elation at the news.  “We’re on our way,” he replied as he strode toward the turbolift.  “Mr Paris, you have the Bridge,” he told the sandy-haired helmsman.  He nodded at Tuvok, now recovered enough to insist on returning to duty.  Despite Chakotay’s initial reservations, he had allowed the dark Vulcan to resume his place at Tactical.  With Voyager’s senior staff level seriously depleted, he needed the Second Officer’s support and skills.  Together they stepped onto the turbolift and turned round together to face the exit as the doors slid shut, Chakotay’s last image being Paris switching places from the Conn to the Captain’s chair.

 

Once at their destination, Chakotay wasted no time in examining the decoded data, the soft blue shimmering of the warp core illuminating the computer terminal in Main Engineering reassuringly.

 

“It seems that we have a society with a shielding generator powerful enough to cloak the entire planet,” Kim told him as he studied the workstation.

 

“How the hell didn’t we detect this on our initial scans?” the Native American asked, frowning at the information displayed.

 

“One of the functions of the cloaking system is to disguise itself,” Kim returned, assurance seeping though every pore now that he had discovered some of the planet’s secrets.

 

“How then, do you propose to combat this cloaking system so that we can locate the away team?”  Tuvok, as always, was straight to the point.

 

“With B’Elanna’s readings, we can determine how power is generated to create the cloak.  I’m hoping that once we identify the power sources, we should be able to isolate them and neutralise them.  Once inoperative, the cloaking system will fail.”  The young Ops officer was practically falling over his words in his eagerness to pursue his course of action.

 

“And how will you detect those sources when Voyager is incapable of detecting the planet at this time?”  Once again, the dark-skinned Vulcan cut to the chase.

 

Kim hesitated for the first time.  It was at this point that he needed to take an intuitive leap, but he was far from confident.  “I’m hoping that the information B’Elanna collated will give us a template for the energy signature.  If we can adjust sensors to look specifically for that pattern, the planet should become visible to us.”  Harry ran a hand through his thick black hair, his body language telegraphing the nerves he felt over his supposition.

 

“Certainly sounds feasible,” commended the First Officer with a nod.  “Any ideas why we managed to transport Tuvok and Neelix, but not the others?” he probed, wondering if the young Asian officer had found a solution to that particular part of the puzzle.

 

“A generator that cloaks an entire planet must be huge.  My guess is that it took a few moments for the shielding generator to become fully charged.” 

 

“That would certainly explain the degradation of signal quality from the comm. link,” Tuvok inputted, having read Voyager’s logs of the incident thoroughly.

 

“Exactly.”  Kim’s face was once again triumphant.  “As soon as the generator became powerful enough, it destroyed all our links with the surface and made the planet vanish.  If we can identify and then disable the generator, we should be able to find the Captain and the others.”

 

Chakotay put a large hand on the young Ensign’s shoulder.  “Good work, Harry,” he congratulated.  “Let’s get that generator deactivated.”

 

 

* * *

 

The three women surveyed their surroundings in silence for a few moments.  The exit to the prison was at the top of a long switchback path of metallic grey steps, wide enough for two people to walk side-by-side.  The steps stopped some distance below them and then the path opened up onto a large square, with several road junctions leading out symmetrically away from the prison and into the distance.  Uniform, two-storey buildings stretched out below them in a neat, tessellating pattern.  On the roof of each sandy coloured building was an identical array of metals and cables.  Perched on top of each of the structures were flashing mauve lights, each one offset from the others, providing a dazzling flash effect that pulsated far into the distance.  The effect was both disorientating and hypnotic and the remaining members of the away team forced their eyes away from the glare to focus on less mesmerising aspects of the architecture.

 

B’Elanna used one of the remaining tricorders to scan the area thoroughly.  “Remember those energy readings I picked up in the market?” she asked Seven, her voice hollow as she concentrated on the data displayed on the instrument in her hand.

 

Her tall, blonde companion needed no further prompting.  “These buildings are the origin of those readings.  It would appear to be a massive generator.”

 

“Generator for what though?” mused Janeway.

 

“Captain, when you contacted the ship just before our capture, did the signal degrade?”  B’Elanna, despite being physically exhausted, somehow managed to garner some enthusiasm for her thought processes.

 

“Yes.  I noticed the reception getting poorer when I contacted you, but it broke down quickly when I was communicating with Voyager,” Janeway confirmed, wondering what the Chief Engineer was onto now.

 

“Then I suggest that we’re looking at some sort of shield or cloaking generator,” B’Elanna voiced her hunch, allowing a hand to sweep across the vista of buildings.

 

There was another silence as Janeway and Seven tried to appreciate the sheer scale of the device.

 

“Are they shielding the entire planet?” the Captain wondered out loud.

 

B’Elanna narrowed her eyes as she studied the buildings thoughtfully.  “Unless the locals are incredibly inefficient in utilising the power generated, I think you’re right,” the dark Klingon agreed.

 

“With the shielding in place, Voyager will be unable to locate us,” stated Seven somewhat redundantly.

 

“Then we have to find a way to disrupt the shield,” decided the auburn woman.  “But first we have to get away from the prison and try and find a place of safety,” she reminded the younger women, casting a glance over her shoulder and back into the foreboding building.

 

B’Elanna and Seven followed her glance and stared into the doorway for a moment before switching their attention back to the Captain.

 

“Let’s go,” invited Janeway and she gestured towards the steps with the muzzle of her rifle.  Immediately comfortable steering the group once more, Janeway led the way down the metal steps, the heels of her boots resonating as they made contact with the new surface.  B’Elanna followed carefully after Seven gestured for her to take the middle position.  Fully aware of her weakened state, the Chief Engineer realised that she would be no good in one of the fighting positions so she readily accepted her placing in the group.  Somehow, the Klingon hybrid felt more secure knowing that Seven was guarding her back.

 

Seven frowned at B’Elanna’s readiness to be protected.  It was totally out of character for the proud woman to admit weakness, particularly when it involved conflict.  B’Elanna’s acquiescence indicated the severity of her injuries.  She might be conscious, but Seven wondered how long the Klingon would be able to remain that way.  Determined to protect the woman she loved, Seven concentrated on her role, diligently observing the path they had already trod, her weapon primed for immediate use.

 

B’Elanna managed the first flight of steps before hissing and leaning against a wall.  She coughed heavily and was alarmed to see blood on her hand as she brought it away from her mouth.  The Klingon looked around her to see if the others had noticed further evidence of her frail state before wiping her palm on the remains of her white undershirt.  It was already almost completely dark with blood from her time spent with the Moderator.  One more stain would not stand out.  Her redundant Klingon physiology was not designed to continue working long after her primary systems were affected.  In a way, their role was similar to Seven’s make-good circuitry.  They were a temporary stopgap until she could be repaired.  B’Elanna grunted in amusement at her own analogy before looking up into cobalt eyes, darkened with concern.

 

“B’Elanna,” Seven began, uncertain how to phrase her concern without angering the volatile engineer.

 

“Save it, Seven,” returned the dark-haired woman, hoping that the irritation she projected would hide the pain she was in.  B’Elanna pushed herself off the wall she was leaning against and propelled her body down the next flight of stairs.  Four steps prior to the next landing, she stumbled, her head dizzy and her vision blurred.  The Klingon groaned as she landed in a heap, too disoriented to try and break her fall.  The engineer closed her eyes in an effort to stop the spinning sensation, and heard the rapid syncopated footfall of her companions as they approached where she lay.

 

“B’Elanna,” the tall ex-drone repeated softly.  “Let me carry you,” she requested.

 

The smaller woman shot her eyes open in disbelief.  “Are you insane?” exploded B’Elanna, her pride taking full control of her emotions.  Unfortunately, the outburst led to another bout of coughing, and this time, there was no hiding the bright frothy blood from her companions.

 

“B’Elanna,” explained Janeway gently, “the quicker we get down these steps, the quicker we can find a safe hide-out.”

 

The half-Klingon allowed the mutinous look to remain on her visage for a few seconds more, before nodding minutely.  Seven exhaled loudly, earning surprised glances from both the Captain and the engineer but she ignored the looks as she shouldered her weapon.  Without warning, she bent and swept B’Elanna into her arms, provoking the raven-haired woman to exclaim in protest.

 

“Don’t struggle.  You’ll put me off-balance,” advised the blonde Astrometrics officer as she adjusted B’Elanna’s weight carefully.

 

Not trusting herself to provide a civil reply, the engineer decided to remain reticent.  As Seven began to descend the next flight of steps, B’Elanna could feel her head getting heavier.  She nodded forward and rested it in the crook of the Borg’s neck as blackness washed over her.

 

Seven, feeling the woman she was holding relax totally, adjusted her grip slightly to keep her in the same position.  She could feel her heart pounding and wanted nothing more than to stop and check B’Elanna out but knew it would be illogical to stop and restart.  Satisfied that she could feel the gentle swell of B’Elanna’s respirations, she hugged the dark woman into her tightly, willing the woman that she loved to hold on just a bit longer.  Her thoughts became locked onto that one focus, repeating it in her head continually like a desperate mantra.

 

Once they were finally at the bottom, Janeway did a brief reconnaissance of the area before indicating that Seven should follow her.  The Captain was unsure exactly what she was looking for, but knew that in order to stand any chance of survival they had to find a secure hideaway for Torres.  After leading them deep into the heart of the generator buildings, the auburn woman gestured for Seven to standby while she checked one out. 

 

Janeway set to work on the small, oval control panel situated to the left of the barrier.  Fully conscious of the time ticking away, the Captain worked as quickly as possible, sure that she could break the code without having to resort to using her rifle.  Several attempts later, the Captain straightened her back as the door slid back, revealing the inner workings of the generator.  The indicator panels on the equipment it housed dimly lit the area inside.  Janeway hesitated before entering and once again used her tricorder to scan the room.  Satisfied, she stepped through the doorway, closely followed by Seven. 

 

The ex-drone’s eyes adjusted to the altered lighting instantly and inspected the area closely.  She noticed the stairwell at the end of the room and pointed it out to Janeway before gesturing up at the ceiling.

 

The Captain had no problem interpreting the signal and she motioned for Seven to remain where she was as she waited a fraction longer for her sight to regulate before approaching the stairs.  When she was ready, Janeway cautiously ascended the steps, her compression rifle still raised and ready.

 

The upper level contained nothing more exciting than the connection relays for the metallic arrays on the roof of the building.  Satisfied that they were alone and safe, at least temporarily, Janeway skipped back down the flight.  “It’s clear up there.”

 

The younger woman assessed the room carefully before selecting a niche in the furthest wall from the stair access.  Seven strode over and then lowered the unconscious half-Klingon gently to the ground.

 

“Captain, B’Elanna’s running out of time,” Seven spoke in an urgent whisper as she got herself upright again.

 

Janeway looked up from the readings displayed on her tricorder.  “I know,” assured the older woman.  She approached the workstation in the centre of the room.  “This building and most of the others that surround it appear to be slave stations.  If one of the slave generators goes down, the power drop is minimal and the other stations compensate for the loss.  There’s nothing we can do here that would interrupt the power generator enough to get Voyager to see us.”  Janeway couldn’t hide the frustration from her voice as she discussed her findings.  Determined to get something positive from the console, she continued to scan the readings displayed in front of her.

 

Seven looked up at her commanding officer.  “If the master station can be located, the command sequencing could be breached, forcing the shielding to collapse.”

 

“Good idea,” agreed the Captain.  “But how do we find it?”

 

“We may be able to locate the master station from the databases,” Seven suggested, forcing her mind to work on the current problem rather than dwell on the fate of the Chief Engineer.

 

The blonde ex-drone joined Janeway at the console and her hands flew over the controls as she sought out the relevant information.  After several minutes of searching, Seven paused the display.  “This is a map of the generator array.”

 

The Captain studied it closely, trying to decipher the alien symbols and detect the building she wanted.  Both Janeway and Seven were drawn to one particular place, convinced that it was the locus of the power grid.

 

“Seven, take B’Elanna to the upper level and stay put.  I’ll find this building and disable the generator,” Janeway was back in full command mode, at last seeing a real chance to get off the planet.

 

“It would be more logical if I went, Captain,” demurred Seven, despite not wanting to leave B’Elanna for a second.  “My technical skills are greater than yours and I have superior strength.”

 

Janeway saw past the arrogant statement and realised that Seven was merely stating the facts as she saw them.  “I know,” she admitted.  “However, I do not have a make-good circuit in me that could fail at any second and cripple me,” she countered. 

 

Seven blinked, not having taken that into consideration.  She stared at Janeway for a long moment while she considered the options, limited though they were.  The tall blonde woman then turned to the unconscious engineer and once again lifted her up and cradled her.

 

Janeway followed them upstairs and then sat down with Seven.  “We have two remaining tricorders and one comm. badge.  I’m going to set the tricorders for telemetry so that you can keep track of what I’m doing.  If I set it to perform a botanical scan, you’ll know that I’m in trouble.  Of course, I might not get the opportunity to do even that, but it’s the best idea I can think of.”  The Captain worked on one tricorder as she spoke. 

 

Seven adjusted the other tricorder herself.  “I will do the same.  I have also set a location beacon for the tricorder signatures.  It is crude, but should you get into trouble, I will be able to find you swiftly.”

 

“Hopefully, you won’t get discovered, but at least up here you have a good defensive position.”  Janeway moved the conversation back to Seven and B’Elanna.

 

“Agreed,” Seven concurred.

 

Janeway looked at the young woman compassionately.  “Look after B’Elanna.  I’ll be as quick as I can.  Knowing Chakotay, as soon as the shielding is breached, we’ll be located and transported back to Voyager.”  The auburn-haired woman squeezed Seven’s hand.  “Good luck.”

 

Seven nodded and watched silently as the Captain made her way to the steps.  As Janeway disappeared down the stairs, the tall blonde spoke softly.  “Good luck, Captain.”

 

“I didn’t think that the Borg believed in luck,” a quiet, dry voice interrupted Seven’s musings.

 

Seven spun round at the words.  “B’Elanna.  You are awake.”

 

“I know,” B’Elanna retorted wryly.

 

Seven found herself grinning at the response and hurried over to the Klingon hybrid, helping the woman into a sitting position.

 

B’Elanna leaned back against the wall and wondered fleetingly if she looked as bad as she felt.  Her mouth was dry and she felt cold and weak.  Her head was still spinning and she couldn’t shake the feeling of nausea she had but overwhelming all of this was the emotional relief that she was still alive and that she was not alone.  She could feel the heat radiating from the ex-drone seated next to her and found herself leaning into the warmth and onto the taller woman’s shoulder.

 

Seven forced herself not to recoil from the sudden invasion of her personal space and instead willed her body to relax and allow the raven-haired engineer to rest against her.

 

“So what’s the plan, Seven?”  B’Elanna’s voice sounded alien to her own ears.  It was weak and sighing.

 

“The generator array works in a master/slave operation.  The Captain is going to locate the master generator and cut the energy to the shielding.”  Seven felt B’Elanna’s head nod in approval.

 

“I like simple plans.  Always less to go wrong,” the half-Klingon whispered tiredly.  “And the Moderator?”

 

Seven had felt B’Elanna’s body stiffen just prior to the question but it still caught her off-guard.  Realising that her own body had reacted in a similar way to the smaller woman’s, she responded just as quietly.  “The Captain made sure that he would no longer be able to harm anyone.”  She was surprised to hear a short stab of laughter.

 

“She killed him?  Wish I’d been able to see that.”

 

“I wish that it had been me that killed him,” responded Seven, an icy hardness steeling her voice.

 

B’Elanna pulled herself away from Seven’s shoulder awkwardly and was fleetingly surprised that she missed the contact instantly.  “Why?” she asked simply.

 

“I promised you that I would avenge you, B’Elanna.  I have been unable to fulfil that promise.”  Seven was alarmed to feel tears pricking the back of her eyes but blinked them back as she regained her composure.

 

“Vengeance isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, Seven,” the dark Klingon told her carefully.  “Take it from one who knows.”

 

Seven paused as she looked into the pallid, drawn face of the Chief Engineer.  Swallowing, she continued hesitantly.  “It is the broken promise that bothers me, B’Elanna.  Not the vengeance.”

 

B’Elanna looked steadily at Seven for a few moments, instinctively reading between the lines.  “Seven,” she began, not knowing how to broach the subject and yet determined to talk honestly with the ex-drone.

 

Seven jumped up suddenly, frightened at all the possible things that B’Elanna might say and not wanting to hear any of them except one.

 

“B’Elanna, let me speak first.  I have to tell you how I feel -- what I feel -- before you reply.”  The tall Astrometrics officer started pacing, her nerves displayed quite openly.

 

“Seven, I...”

 

“No,” interrupted the ex-drone forcefully, halting her parade and grinding on a heel to look at the darker woman.  “Please let me speak.”  Seven halted her speech quickly and drew in a large breath, hoping to calm the raging emotions inside of her.  “I love you B’Elanna Torres.  I can think of no other emotion that it could be that I feel for you.  You consume every waking thought.  I crave your company and miss you when you are not near.  When I thought you were dying…” Seven’s voice cracked but she swallowed convulsively and forced herself to continue.  “When you were taken by the Moderator, I thought that I would lose my reason for existence.  I cannot function if you are not with me.  I need…”  Seven suddenly broke off, her right hand wrapping round her body to clutch at her abdomen as a look of agony etched itself on her face.  Without warning, her legs collapsed beneath her and she fell into a heap on the floor, her human arm clenched at the abdomen whilst her borg-enhanced arm began to twitch spastically.

 

B’Elanna had listened to Seven’s disclosure, surprised only that she realised that her words did not come as a total shock to her and that she had been aware of Seven’s sentiments for some time now.  What had amazed her the most was her own reaction to the now spoken feelings.  She didn’t feel horrified or aghast.  She didn’t object because she was already married, in fact she forced herself to say nothing until Seven finished, knowing that Seven needed to vocalise her feelings and that she would not accept any response until she had related all of the information.  What she did feel was the certain realisation that she felt *something* in return.  What that something was, she couldn’t be sure of.  But it alarmed her that it felt so *right*.

 

When Seven collapsed, B’Elanna pulled herself over to the woman.  “Seven!  What’s wrong?”

 

The tall ex-drone dimly heard the words but could barely force her mouth to respond, she had never felt so much pain.

 

B’Elanna grabbed the tricorder that had been left and scanned the woman, though she knew without analysing the results that her make-good circuitry had failed.

 

“Seven, I need to replace that circuitry, but I have to figure out a way to make it last a bit longer,” she told the borg reassuringly, absently wondering if the EMH would commend her on her bedside manner.

 

Seven nodded in comprehension, but felt her teeth grinding against each other as the pain continued to consume her.  Vaguely, she became aware of a problem and forced her jaw to unclench so she could speak.  “B’Elanna, the Captain set these tricorders for telemetry.  If you take it apart, we will have no way of knowing where she is.”

 

B’Elanna looked at the ex-drone.  “I can’t leave you in this pain Seven.  Your borg circuitry is starting to fail.  I have to do something,” she objected, wiping the sweat from her brow with her forearm as her own body protested once again at its mistreatment.

 

“No, B’Elanna.  If you take apart the remaining circuitry, we will have no functioning Federation technology.  It will make it harder for Voyager to locate us.  And we can’t abandon the Captain.  We have no choice.”  Seven’s voice held in solid resolution.

 

B’Elanna thought for a moment and realised that there really was no choice.

 

 

To be continued.

 

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