SHORT STORIES AUTHOR: halfofone RATING: PG13 CODES: T/7 GENRE: ST: Voyager WARNINGS: These stories include same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further. ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where. DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't. No infringement of copyright/trade marks is intended. STATUS: Complete
TITLE: Too Late
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: PG13 CODE: J/7
SUMMARY: Janeway returns from a shuttle mission and decides that life is too short not
to make her feelings plain to the one she loves.
WARNINGS: Angst
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
"Regeneration cycle incomplete" announced the computer. Seven of Nine opened her eyes and stepped forward. Her gaze fell on the slight athletic figure of Captain Kathryn Janeway, with her arms folded, leaning against the control panel of the alcove.
"Captain you have returned." Seven noticed that Captain Janeway was paler than normal and looked a little tense.
Kathryn smiled sweetly and offered Seven her hand. The Borg looked at her enquiringly but took the proffered hand.
"May I help you Captain? Are you well?"
"I need a little company Seven. The past few hours have led me question things which I believed were absolute." Seven was openly puzzled. The Captain waved her free hand vaguely "You know how it is, in the quiet watches of the night ..."
"You wish to have a philosophical discussion Captain?"
The Captain put her head back and closed her eyes tiredly. "I wish for a little more than that Seven." Seven noticed a dark bruise on the Captain's left temple. She dropped the Captain's hand and touched her fingers very gently to the bruise.
"Captain you are damaged. I will call the Doctor."
"Seven it's nothing, just a bruise. The Doctor can examine me tomorrow." She opened her eyes and looked at Seven with a trace of her usual energy. "Let's go somewhere more comfortable Seven. Computer, initiate an untraceable site to site transport, Seven of Nine to my quarters. Authorisation Janeway, pi alpha." Seven was surprised at the Captain using her authority so frivolously. It was uncharacteristic but she grinned at Seven of Nine as the latter shimmered in the transporter lock.
Seven materialised in the Captain's quarters to find Janeway already there and still looking at her with a mischievous grin. The grin faded and the Captain's eyes seemed to darken to the colour of blue slate.
"Seven what do you feel about me?"
"You are an impressive and resourceful leader." Seven paused before adding "You are often autocratic and rash."
Janeway's response was harsh. "Seven I did not want your opinion of me as Captain, I want to know how you feel about me, Kathryn Janeway." Seven was confused and seeing this Janeway moderated her tone. "I was imprecise Seven, I'm sorry but this is hard for me. I am not in the habit of allowing my crew, or anyone else, to judge me. It makes me jumpy." The fearless leader of the starship Voyager stood nervously with folded arms biting her lower lip.
Seven hesitated. She had never seen the Captain like this and was not sure what was required. She was saved from trying to decide by the Captain speaking quickly in her low firm voice.
"Okay, I will go first. I have been a coward Seven, hiding behind four pips and a mountain of protocol. I have risked my ship, my crew and my closest friends for you but I never told you the truth, never told you how I felt."
The Captain closed the distance between them and placed her hands on either side of the Borg's face. "I loved you from the first hour you stepped out of a dark alcove on that soulless mechanical Borg cube. You were beautiful and arrogant. And impossibly angry and passionate. 'I do not want to be what you are.' " Kathryn quoted from distant memory.
The Captain's hands were cool against her cheeks and Seven of Nine shivered a little. "I would like to kiss you Seven. Is that acceptable?" Seeing the expression on Seven of Nine's face the Captain continued "Don't be frightened Annika."
"I am not afraid Captain." Seven's wide blue eyes belied her words. "You may proceed."
Kathryn Janeway smiled her wonderful lazy smile and Seven of Nine knew an instant of perfection.
The small, fragile body pressed against her own and Seven could hear the blood pounding in her own veins. She knew she should breathe but could not remember how. The former drone could not attach words to what she was feeling. And then the Captain's cold lips touched her own and rational thought vanished in the urgency of their kiss.
The jangling of the red alert klaxon jolted them back to reality and the Captain stepped back, saying calmly, "Report to astrometrics Seven of Nine." The former Borg slowly regained control of her body and mind.
"Aye Captain." Seven acknowledged the order and then mumbled uncertainly "I will see you later?" .
"Yes, later Annika. And Seven call me Kathryn."
As Seven of Nine stepped out of the Captain's quarters she heard a broadcast announcement from Chakotay. 'Seven of Nine, Commander Tuvok and the Doctor report to the transporter room for away team duty with full environmental suits.'
She arrived in the transporter room at the same time as Tuvok. The Doctor was already there fussing over his medical supplies and looking grim. After changing into the environmental suits they took their places on the transporter pad.
"What is our destination and purpose Commander?" Seven's voice shook a little. She had yet to recover her customary composure.
Tuvok noticed and lifted an eyebrow but said without inflection. "The shuttle Rutherford is now within transporter distance. We are to board the shuttle, rescue any survivors and salvage the shuttle. You and I have been selected to assist the Doctor because of our higher tolerance of heat and radiation."
"The shuttle was damaged on the away mission?" She queried and then looking at the Doctor "There were casualties." Seven was perplexed. Why hadn't the Captain mentioned it to her?
"The shuttle appears to have been attacked and severely damaged. We found it drifting twenty minutes ago not responding to hails. Sensors show high levels of radiation inside the craft and very high temperatures, probably from onboard fires. We believe there may be several casualties. We cannot transport them out because of interference from the radiation."
"But why would the Captain not tell me this?"
Now it was Tuvok's turn to be mystified. "The Captain is one of the three crewmen aboard the shuttle, she could not have spoken to you as the shuttle has lost all communication and transporter capabilities."
"Commander it is not possible. I spoke with the Captain less than ten minutes ago."
What she said was lost in the transporter whine as it whisked them away from the safety of Voyager to the crippled dying vessel. They materialised at the front of the shuttle, farthest from the fire, but the heat was intense even in the environmental suits. Seven took a step forward and tripped over a body, kneeling down she could see it was a badly burned Tom Paris. The Doctor quickly examined the fallen pilot and shook his head. Tuvok attached a transporter signal booster to the body and called for immediate transport. A few feet away lay the charred body of Ensign Jimmy White. There was no sign of the Captain.
Tuvok touched his comm badge and reported "Commander Chakotay we have found the bodies of Ensign Paris and Ensign White, they have been returned to Voyager. I have not yet located the Captain. We will report again in ten minutes."
"Seven of Nine check the shuttle logs while the Doctor and I attempt to control the fire in the aft bay."
Seven of Nine felt confusion and fear, she could not process the conflicting information "The Captain, she cannot be here Tuvok. I spoke with her, on Voyager." But her voice was stifled by lacerating panic and Tuvok did not hear her words. Trying to calm herself she peered out into space through the forward transparency and gasped.
Tethered and floating peacefully five metres from the shuttle was a Federation space suit. Then the shuttle shuddered causing the suit to roll ninety degrees and Seven saw Kathryn Janeway's blue eyes and white face gazing sightlessly at her from within the space helmet. Seven backed away from the window pointing and screaming but no sound would come. As her knees gave way and darkness swept over her she could hear a gentle laconic voice, "Later Annika." And knew it was a lie.
The End
SHORT STORIES AUTHOR: halfofone RATING: PG13 CODES: T/7 GENRE: ST: Voyager WARNINGS: These stories include same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further. ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where. DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't. No infringement of copyright/trade marks is intended. STATUS: Complete
Author: halfofone
Rating: Over 13 Status: Complete
Description: Valentine challenge story only I lost the Valentine somewhere
Feedback: Constructive feedback welcome.
Archiving: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
Disclaimer: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom.
Date added: 2001-02-25 Alternative rating: PG
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
"I'm not listening Seven. Nothing can make this right."
B'Elanna was walking so quickly that even Seven, with her long strides, had difficulty keeping up.
"B'Elanna Torres, you are being foolish."
That got B'Elanna's attention and she skidded, too quickly, to a halt. Seven stopped and faced her.
"What did you say?"
"I do not believe your hearing is deficient Lieutenant although your manners certainly are."
B'Elanna clenched her fists and glared at her but was too angry to form words. She started walking again. A passage devoid of people formed in front of them, and the mess hall emptied as wary looking crew began to take their leave, suddenly remembering urgent paperwork.
B'Elanna stalked to the counter.
"What's on the menu today Neelix. And if it's anything to do with hearts or flowers then I would consider taking your break now."
Neelix started and then looked a little shifty, fearing for the future of the large purple Valentine's day heart hanging glittering above the food counter, the half-Klingon was eyeing it with some disfavour.
"Not to worry Lieutenant I have some of your favourite Khil'Tar beans left from the day before yesterday, somewhere around here, I hope." His voice faded anxiously as he started to burrow about in the nether reaches of the kitchen looking for the promised food.
Seven, her arms folded, watched the Klingon impassively but there was something about her stance that made the few remaining crewmen in the mess hall edge themselves further away. This row looked to be shaping up to be legendary.
"I don't know why you are still here?" said B'Elanna without turning round.
"I do not wish or need to be elsewhere." replied Seven stonily. "B'Elanna do not take out your ill-temper on Neelix, your quarrel is with me."
A muffled cry of triumph announcing the successful discovery of B'Elanna's meal distracted them. Neelix put the plate on the counter but his beaming smile was soon gone. B'Elanna poked at the less than inspiring and somewhat dusty looking repast with a fork. She methodically put the fork down beside the plate, folded her arms and proceeded to glare with considerable ferocity at the small Talaxian.
"It's a little old," he said defensively, " but it will look better when I reheat it."
"Better than week old targ manure?" inquired B'Elanna brightly her dark eyes glittering and she picked up the plate.
Neelix smiled weakly and then again with relief as he saw Tom Paris enter the mess hall. The blonde helmsman took in the scene. B'Elanna holding a plate, bristling aggressively with her back to the obviously equally angry Seven of Nine. He breathed out slowly and started to make his way over. 'Here we go again.' he thought.
"B'Elanna, Seven, Neelix." He said in the friendliest tone he could manage.
"Tom, don't bother," said B'Elanna, "she has gone too far this time."
Trying not to lose patience Tom said firmly "Listen to me, both of you, this can't go on. You know what Janeway said the last time. She'll throw you both in the brig and anyway it is not fair on your friends or anyone else."
"Lieutenant Paris," interrupted Seven, "mind your own business. If B'Elanna chooses to make a fool of herself then that is between her and me."
B'Elanna spun on her heel to face the Borg. "I'm the fool?" "Is that so?" she continued when Seven inclined her head in agreement. The half-Klingon took a threatening step towards the Borg.
Tom decided to try one more time. "Please, one of you, tell me what has happened."
Never taking her eyes from the ex-drone's perfect face B'Elanna gritted out an explanation.
"She destroyed my Targ."
"Toby!?" Tom looked at Seven horrified, this was worse than he thought. "You destroyed Toby."
"It was attacking me" said Seven shortly.
"We are still talking about Toby, the stuffed, fluffy, toy Targ." said Tom with the sickening feeling that he had just stepped through the looking glass into wonderland.
B'Elanna yelled in frustration "It wasn't attacking anyone, I was playing with him, just trying out the remote control unit."
"If you had informed me that you had installed a remote control unit I would not have perceived it as a threat." said Seven her voice rising.
"Who in hell perceives a 12 inch purple toy as a threat?"
Seven was silent but raised the implant over her eye a few millimetres as though amused by the half-Klingon's outburst. The implied superiority was too much and B'Elanna's temper boiled over, she hurled the plate of beans at the far wall. It shattered with a satisfying crack and she immediately felt better in the absolute quiet that followed. A short lived relief. A gravel edged voice broke the silence.
"I hope you intend to clear that up Lieutenant." Captain Janeway looked hard at B'Elanna and the Chief Engineer could almost feel the air around her begin to burn.
Tom closed his eyes. Now there was going to be trouble, he steeled himself to try and deflect the captain's righteous fury.
"Captain I know this looks bad but B'Elanna is not herself."
"Mr Paris. Shut up." She returned her baleful attention to the two women. "I do not want an explanation for your behaviour. I have no interest in any ludicrous little feud that you have cooked up between you. This has to stop and until it does you are both confined to quarters."
B'Elanna had paled but she recovered enough to exclaim "Captain, that is not necessary .... and we are really busy in Engineering."
"For the next two weeks they will just have to cope without either of you. We all will." pronounced the Captain with a barely visible smirk. "You will return to your quarters now and Mr Neelix will send your dinner in. I am told the 'Dream of Love' meatballs are to die for. Dismissed." The Captain dismissed her troublesome Chief of Engineering and Head of Astrometrics from her mind and walked up to the counter smiling, she looked at the festive offerings and seemed to flounder a little but recovered to continue smiling politely at the Talaxian. "Actually I'm not very hungry Mr Neelix. Some coffee and toast in my ready room would be fine." She moved away to the far side of the room to speak to Lieutenant Ayala.
B'Elanna stepped backwards and bumped into Seven who placed her hands on the woman's shoulders to steady her. The tired half-Klingon leaned against the taller woman who wrapped her arms around her and rested her hands protectively on the Klingon's stomach, B'Elanna tilted her head back on her lover's shoulder.
"I'm sorry Ani, I just wanted today to be perfect and now we are stuck at home. As usual I have messed up. You could never say living with me was easy."
"Stuck at home with each other," corrected Seven pensively, "I understand this is not a typical Valentine's Day tradition but it could be our tradition, could it not? I am sure we can occupy the time efficiently." She tightened her embrace and nibbled the beloved Klingon ear.
B'Elanna grinned and turned to face the Borg, drawing her head down to kiss her. "One of the many things I love about you Ani, is your efficiency."
"You know I am going to have to camp outside their door until the damn baby arrives." grumbled Tom as he watched them leave the mess hall hand in hand. "Or they will kill each other."
Neelix was more sentimental "No they won't, I have never seen two people more in love, but I must say it was unexpected that Seven would suffer such empathic mood swings. If there is any suggestion of having another child anytime soon, I rather suspect that the Captain will maroon them both."
Tom grunted. "Hmm. She'd have to beat me to it, if they have another child before we get back to the Alpha Quadrant ....... " He grimaced, the prospect of another nine months like the last nine was too horrible to even contemplate.
THE END
Author: halfofone
Rating: Over 13 Status: Complete
Description: A sad answer to the flower challenge.
Feedback: Constructive feedback welcome.
Archiving: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
Disclaimer: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom.
Date added: 2001-01-15 Alternative rating: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
B'Elanna was in a good mood. Voyager was in good shape, her personal life was as good as it had ever been. Tom was still prone to annoying her but on the whole he tried hard and she loved him. Occasionally she wondered whether she would have put up with him long enough to have married him if they hadn't been trapped on a small ship 50 years from home. But life was good. Even the sight of Seven of Nine striding proprietarily through engineering didn't phase her the way it would have once. In fact B'Elanna felt a certain amount of pleasure. Seven often came by to see her and a friendship had grown between the two of them. She saw the tall blonde looking round, hunting about engineering with her eyes.
"Hey there!" she called. Seven turned towards her and the concentrated expression on the narrow face lightened.
"Lieutenant Torres" she said warmly. "I require your assistance in Astrometrics."
B'Elanna hesitated.
"I'm a little busy Seven" she said. Seven looked down and the faint smile disappeared. B'Elanna saw the look of disappointment and changed her mind. For some reason she found it hard to say no to Seven.
"It's okay Seven. I can come back later and finish here."
The strain on Seven's face eased and B'Elanna grinned at her but was uneasy. Something was troubling the Borg. 'Nothing life threatening I hope.' she thought to herself and then shook it off. It was easy to become paranoid in the delta quadrant.
Out loud she said, "Lets go."
As they left main engineering Seven turned left down the corridor.
"Where are you going Seven? Astrometrics was that way the last time I looked."
"I would like to speak with you in private Lieutenant." Seven still looked a little tense but B'Elanna tried not to worry. It tickled the half-Klingon to realise how much she had come to care about the Borg's well being.
Bemused she followed the ex-drone until the latter stopped at the entrance to a small storage room, opened the hatch and went inside. Puzzled B'Elanna followed her into the half-lit passage.
"I have something to say to you Lieutenant and something to give you."
"What is this and why all the cloak and dagger Seven?"
Seven looked into her eyes and B'Elanna was astonished to realise that the drone was scared. Gently B'Elanna Torres took hold of Seven's arm. "Whatever this is Seven I'll stand with you."
"I love you." The words echoed in the nearly empty storage bays. Seven took the hand resting on her arm, lifted it to her lips and softly pressed them against the smooth skin.
B'Elanna pulled away and stepped backwards half-tripping and falling into a pile of boxes. Panic overwhelmed her. Whatever she had expected, this had not been it.
"What are you saying Seven? What are you doing?" She struggled to regain her footing and an upright position. Seven reached out and steadied her but the half-Klingon jerked roughly away and Seven dropped her hands back to her sides.
"I had to say the words Lieutenant. I am sorry but it was necessary for me to know what you felt." Seven's face had lost the fearful look and she gazed sadly at B'Elanna. "I would like to give you this. I made it for this moment."
B'Elanna could not make her brain work at all. None of this could be happening. With an effort she struggled to concentrate on Seven's next move.
From behind her Seven took out a small transparent box containing a single white and yellow flower. Lifting the lid she took the flower from the box and offered it to a speechless B'Elanna Torres. A heady scent filled the small room, gentle as a warm summer night. B'Elanna felt a sense of peace drain the anger and fear from her. Seven easily caught the falling Klingon and lifted the unconscious woman into her arms. Seven gazed at her for a moment. Bitter loss filled her heart.
"I am sorry B'Elanna but I do not want you to be hurt or to lose your friendship. Computer site to site transport. Lieutenant Torres and I to astrometrics."
"Affirmative" said the computer.
B'Elanna was coming round as they materialised in astrometrics. Seven set her on her feet and steadied her.
"What happened?" said B'Elanna shakily. She was confused she could not remember walking to astrometrics although she remembered leaving engineering. Seven was running a tricorder over her.
"You appeared to become faint however there does not appear to be any permanent damage. Would you like the Doctor to check you over."
"Kahless! No I would not. Now what did you want to show me that was so important." B'Elanna shrugged off the slight remaining dizziness.
"I have observed a 0.5 percent fluctuation in the latest long range sensor readings and I require your assistance in finding the cause. It may be a malfunction."
"Is that all? You must really like my company if you want to haul me all the way over here for that." B'Elanna grinned cheerfully. It really amazed her that Seven never seemed to get on her nerves any more even when she was dragged out on wild goose chases like this one.
The End
TITLE: Why Go There? SUBTITLE: Match-making in a turbo-lift (and other places)
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: PG13 CODE: T/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
DESCRIPTION: Turbolift fluff. I wrote this some years ago but it's a nice fun little thing.
TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Monday Morning - 07:55
-- --------------------
On deck four, just five minutes before her shift was due to start, B'Elanna was waiting impatiently for the turbolift. She was later than she liked and when the turbolift finally arrived she was not in the best of moods. The lift was very busy in the pre-shift rush but the half-Klingon pushed inside, muttering darkly about all the late comers. An ensign stupidly made a defensive remark about the Chief Engineer being a fine one to talk of lateness. An instant later he found himself unceremoniously ejected from the lift.
"The lift is exceeding its safety loading specifications Ensign" said B'Elanna with an evil glint in her eyes. "I'm afraid you'll have to wait for the next one." The lift doors closed against the unfortunate crewman before he could argue that the lift would not have stopped if it was full.
The lift moved rapidly to the next stop on deck 8 where Seven of Nine was waiting. The ex-drone did not seem concerned by the crush of people. She squeezed in and the doors closed and B'Elanna found herself face to face with Seven of Nine. Well not strictly face to face.
"Lieutenant"
"Seven" mumbled B'Elanna as she was pushed roughly against the Borg's chest by an anxious ensign trying to escape from the lift at the next stop on deck 9.
"Your daughter is functioning adequately?" asked Seven politely.
After extracting herself from Seven's more obvious features, the red-faced engineer answered with as much decorum as she could manage.
"Er yeah she's fine. The Doc's looking after her today."
"And why is she not with you?" Seven queried, apparently more concerned with the absent baby than the location of the Lieutenant's face but she was distracted from further questions about the smaller Torres by the crimson features of the elder who had just managed to extricate herself.
"Are you well Lieutenant Torres? You appear flushed."
B'Elanna stifled the urge to yell. 'Of course I'm flushed you idiot. I've just had my face between the most beautiful breasts in the Delta Quadrant and I'm still standing closer than flesh and blood can bear.' Taking a deep breath B'Elanna successfully subdued her rage and her hormones and said, with what she thought was admirable calm.
"I'm perfectly fine Seven. It's a bit crowded in here, you know, it's too hot."
"It is exactly 23.8 degrees celsius, the normal operational temperature. Perhaps you require the Doctor Lieutenant?"
One of the engineering officers remaining in the lift snorted loudly but he hastily converted his grin into a frown and an urgent interest in his shoes after B'Elanna glared at him so fiercely that he thought the duranium walls would buckle.
"Where are you going Seven?" asked B'Elanna trying to divert Seven from the subject of heat.
"Lower engineering. I wish to complete the enhancement of the secondary power relays before I resume my duties in Astrometrics next week."
B'Elanna felt a shock of disappointment.
"Right, you are not working in Engineering after Friday. Back to Astrometrics. Of course. I forgot. So I won't see you after then. Well not so much anyway." B'Elanna knew she was babbling but Seven did not appear to notice the chief engineer's unusual behaviour.
The ensign from engineering sniggered again and was rewarded with another baleful glare from his chief. Nervously he returned to the now essential task of contemplating his boots. The lift stopped at deck 12 by main engineering. Still looking over-heated B'Elanna glanced at Seven uncertainly. Seven raised her eyebrow in question. Not sure why she was hesitating or what she wanted to say, B'Elanna stammered.
"Well, bye then. See you later." The Chief Engineer then tried to exit the lift wth a smart military turn and instead tripped over her own feet and ungraciously fell out of the lift. She sat on the deck, internally cursing the fates and her own clumsiness and wished for a spatial occlusion to swallow her. She wondered why it was her fate to always be humiliated in front of the Borg princess.
The lift doors closed on the three remaining occupants. Ensign Maurice Dupre - the owner of the apparently fascinating boots, a cheerful personality and a strong French accent - breathed a sigh of relief and glanced sideways at Seven of Nine who was staring with an odd expression on her perfect face at the spot where the Lieutenant would have still been sitting if the doors hadn't closed and the lift wasn't on its way to lower engineering.
An equally odd idea formed in his Parisian mind and being a good engineer he decided to test his theory.
"Lieutenant Torres, she eez very beautiful no?"
"The Lieutenant is physically well formed, her features are very satisfactory especially when she is angry. Her eyes become very dark and yet seem to almost emit bolts of fire. It is very..." Seven's voice trailed off as she noticed the mouths popping open around her like tunics in a Riesian farce. She realised that perhaps one didn't make those kind of comments to junior ensigns.
Dupre was quick to recover.
"Seven of Nine you find the Lieutenant attractive and it is clear she feels the same for you. Do you and she .." He did not manage to complete the question because the air was driven from his lungs by an elbow landing firmly in his ribs.
"P..p..p..please ignore him Seven of Nine. M..M..Maurice has unimaginably little sense and impeccably b..bad m..manners." stuttered his oldest and best friend, one Ensign Edmund Cholmondley-Brown looking a bit stout and homely beside the taller and more handsome Dupre.
Seven was not listening. She was still processing the French ensign's assertion of his chief's feelings for her.
"You are mistaken Ensign Dupre. Lieutenant Torres regards me as Borg and little better than a machine."
"You must be crazy Seven of Nine," exclaimed Maurice fervently "believe me I am an expert on such matters. You and she are very passionate together are you not?"
Seven looked mystified.
"He means you f..f...fight a lot, always a sure sign of p..p..passion according to Maurice," explained his friend drily. "The simpler explanation, that you do not get on with the Chief, offends his gallic logic."
"English barbarian," muttered Dupre but any attempts to give Seven of Nine further romantic counselling were stymied when the lift doors opened on deck 13 and the ex-drone strode from the lift without another word. The foolishness of these humans did not merit any further expenditure of energy in futile discussion.
Maurice Dupre watched her leave with a feeling of dissatisfaction. It was not right that two people should deny themselves love because of their own misapprehensions about each other.
"Computer. Inform me whenever Lieutenant Torres and Seven of Nine occupy the same turbolift."
"Oh no M..Maurice not again, look what happened when you infected the Captain and the Commander with that virus." Edmund was looking slightly panicky. It had taken all of his considerable ingenuity to dig his friend out of that hole without alerting the command crew. He still had the mental scars, a missing finger and a Vidiian penpal.
Maurice drew himself up to his full height and looked down scornfully at his chubby friend.
"It is not my fault that the great baboon could not seduce a beautiful woman after three months as the sole occupants of an entire planet. Such incompetence would only be expected in an Englishman and Chakotay does not have that excuse. Do not fear Edmund, far less drastic measures are required this time and we have a week before the beautiful Seven returns to Astrometrics."
Tuesday Morning - 07:30
-----------------------
The door to the turbolift on deck 9 shuddered open uncertainly and B'Elanna regarded it with disfavour. She shook her head; while she had been on maternity leave it was apparent that her beloved ship had been left to go to rack and ruin.
"You see Annabel," she crooned to the baby hung in a sling on her stomach, "Mamma can't stay home any more, because the useless specimens laughingly called an engineering crew need their chiefyweefy to kick their little bee-hinds. That's why Mamma and little Bel have to go to work today." She blew a kiss at the little face and stepped into the lift.
"Lieutenant." said a cool voice and B'Elanna cringed. Trust bloody Seven of Nine to be hiding in the corner of the lift.
"Seven" she returned, businesslike, hoping the ex-drone hadn't overheard her.
"You are going Engineering with your baby."
So much for hope. Damned Borg hearing.
"Yes." She paused for a long moment, "And you?"
"I do not have a baby."
"I meant are you going to engineering?"
"Yes."
There was an awkward silence as the two women pretended to ignore each other until they reached deck 12. The door of the lift ground open a few inches and then squealed stuck and B'Elanna suppressed a curse. Seven gripped the edge of the door and pulled with her considerable strength but the door didn't shift a millimetre. The ex-drone let go after straining for a few more seconds.
"I do not understand why humans continue to travel in these inefficient and statistically unreliable conveyances. Borg do not spend their days trapped in turbolifts." she grumbled.
Privately B'Elanna agreed with the ex-drone but keeping a straight face she explained carefully.
"You have to understand Seven that doing away with them would cut out a whole branch of romantic possibilities. Virtually every holonovel contains at least one turbolift encounter."
Seven looked suspiciously at her. "So you are saying we are condemned to use this erratic and danger prone transport to provide entertainment for limited and trivial minds. I am not sure I believe you Lieutenant."
B'Elanna did not reply. She was considering the width of the small gap. She could probably squeeze through. Without further hesitation she made to hand Little Bel to Seven.
"Here, hold her while I get out and get a lever."
Seven grasped the tiny child by reflex, holding her at arms length. Wide blue eyes widened further as she stared at the small human wriggling in her hands. Annabel stared back with her equally wide blue eyes and gurgled noisily. Then her face wrinkled up and she began to whimper loudly.
"It is making strange noises" panicked Seven. "You must take it back."
B'Elanna was having her own problems getting through the door. Turning her head with difficulty, she took one irritated look at the Borg who was still holding her daughter as far away as she could manage.
"Stop making a fuss Seven. How would you like it if some strange giant dangled you in space; just put her on your shoulder and rub her gently on the back."
Anxiously Seven followed the instructions. She was gratefully rewarded by silence and then a strange gulping noise and a damp sensation on her left shoulder.
"Lieutenant, I believe your daughter has vomited on my shoulder."
"Well put her on the other shoulder then." snapped B'Elanna. She then uttered a cry of triumph as she painfully wiggled through the narrow gap. "I'll have you out of there in a moment."
"Why can we not just ask for transport?" asked Seven plaintively.
"I'm not trusting my daughter unnecessarily to those molecule scatterers. You'll be out soon enough."
Five minutes later B'Elanna Torres made good on her promise and levered the door open with an engineering jack. Seven stepped out holding the baby in her arms.
"Well look at that," said B'Elanna quietly, "she's asleep." She thought for a moment and then said decisively, "It'll be better not to disturb her and you clearly have the knack Seven. Come on or I'll be late for my meeting with the Captain."
She turned and left the ex-drone standing by the lift, holding the baby. Annabel snuggled a little in the Borg's strong arms to make herself comfortable. Utterly bemused, Seven looked down at her and, not knowing what else she could do, she followed in the steps of the energetic little Klingon.
**************
Monitoring the whole episode from deflector control, Edmund rolled his eyes.
"Good start to your campaign Maurice. The lift door didn't jam properly and now the B..b..borg is walking about with a baby that is freely decorating her b..body suit with vomit. Very romantic."
"It is true I did not anticipate the baby being present," said Maurice defensively. "But I am not downcast by your English pessimism. Seven of Nine and the Chief are now in a more intimate relationship.
"Yes, the chief's found herself a b..baby m..minder," scoffed Edmund as he carefully eliminated all evidence of tampering with the lift door controls.
Wednesday Afternoon - 14:45
---------------------------
B'Elanna and Seven of Nine were waiting for the turbolift to take them to a meeting with Chakotay.
B'Elanna was tired. Annabel had been fractious all night and had strongly objected to staying with her father this morning. Tom had also annoyed her by turning up late after a hard night in Sandrines. 'Perhaps I should employ Seven as a babysitter,' she mused. 'Little Bel loved her and she'd be a damn sight more reliable than Tom.' B'Elanna smiled slightly at the recollection. Seven had patiently carried the baby around yesterday for a couple of hours allowing B'Elanna to get on with catching up on all she had been missing in Engineering. When the Chief Engineer had finally retrieved her daughter it had been hard to know who was most upset. Annabel had certainly made the most noise but Seven had been emphatic that no one else, apart from B'Elanna, could be trusted to hold little Bel because they did not possess the Borg parenting skills which the ex-drone deemed necessary for the proper care of Annabel.
Comtemplating the tall ex-drone B'Elanna wanted to thank her. Expressions of gratitude did not come easily to the half-Klingon; it was much easier to fight with Seven than be nice to her. But she decided to make the effort.
"Seven..."
Before she could complete the sentence Seven interrupted.
"You have left Annabel with Lieutenant Paris." A flat restatement of B'Elanna earlier answer to the Borg's earnest enquiry about Annabel's welfare.
"Yes. What of it?" answered B'Elanna not quite liking the Borg's tone.
"Why do you trust him with Annabel when you no longer trust him to be your husband?"
Three years ago B'Elanna would have torn the Borg's head off for asking personal questions such as that but, like the rest of Voyager's crew, she had become accustomed to Seven's abrupt interrogations and recognised that often Seven did not understand the proper etiquette and that a sensitive and honest response was usually the best way to answer the curious Borg.
"Mind your own damned business!" she thundered.
Well B'Elanna had never been any good at this sensitive stuff. Hell she was half-Klingon!
Before a stony-faced Seven of Nine could formulate a reply, the lift arrived and the doors hissed open revealing the Captain leaning casually against the wall of the lift. The two silent, glowering women joined her. Janeway looked cautiously from one to the other.
"Is there a problem?" she asked, more out of duty than any real desire to know why her Chief Engineer and her Astrometrics officer were poisoning the atmosphere inside the tiny lift.
"None that I know of Captain." said B'Elanna through gritted teeth.
"We are functioning normally thank you Captain." Seven agreed glacially.
"So I see" said their captain trying to suppress amusement and irritation simultaneously. "Anyway," she said with relief, "I think this is my stop. Good day."
Janeway shivered involuntarily as she departed but at least the two of them no longer ran to her every time they had a difference of opinion. It was progress.
"Deck 2" snapped B'Elanna. The doors closed and an alarm went off immediately. The lift ground to a halt and the yellow alert light started to blink on the wall.
"What the hell? Torres to engineering what's going on?"
"Don't know sir," bleated a confused engineer. "The yellow alert came on and a medical emergency is being signalled. We're trying to isolate it now."
A few seconds passed and the engineer came back on the comm. "Umm, Chief. The EMH would like to speak to you."
"EMH to Torres. I understand you are in the turbolift between decks three and two Lieutenant. Is anyone else there with you?"
"Only Seven of Nine. What's going on Doc?"
"The medical emergency system has generated a report that you are carrying a serious viral infection."
"Why in Kahless' name would it do that? I don't feel ill and I haven't been for a checkup."
"You walked through one of my new medical monitors Lieutenant. Designed, by myself, to give early warning of infections and thus limit the spread amongst the crew." He sounded delighted and B'Elanna could imagine him preening; an image which did not amuse her. "So far we have found two cases of Bolian green 'flu and eight cases of a mild STD."
"What has this got to do with me Doc. Are you saying I have an STD 'cos I sure as hell don't have green flu?"
"No you are much more exciting Lieutenant Torres. The infection would appear to be of unknown origin and probably highly infectious. Who else have you been in contact with since 12pm today?"
"Just Carey, Seven of Nine and Captain Janeway. Why 12pm?"
The Doc ignored her question as he thought out loud.
"Hmm that's odd. Carey has been through three monitors since 12 and nothing shows up. However he'll have to be quarantined just to be on the safe side. And Captain Janeway too. Just stay where you are Lieutenant and I'll get back to you as soon as possible. EMH out." The communicator clicked off.
"It must be wrong, Doc... come back. Dammit." She got no reply. She glared at Seven. "Well I have no intention of sitting about here waiting. Seven give me a hand and I'll get up through the ceiling hatch. I want to check these damned systems myself."
"I do not believe the Doctor would agree to your leaving the lift. This is a medical quarantine is it not?"
B'Elanna paused. "I suppose you're right," she admitted, "although I don't believe there's a real problem."
"Agreed," said Seven. "It is highly improbable that an alien infection is aboard. We have encountered no other species for more than three weeks. But in any case attempting to leave will be futile. Standard protocol would be to seal the lift with level ten forcefields thus preventing the escape of any virus or bacteria. I have no doubt the doctor will have implemented that safeguard."
"I suppose I might as make myself comfortable as long we are stuck in this stupid box." B'Elanna sat down on the floor of the lift feeling an uncomfortable need to slaughter something.
Seven remained standing.
"There was no need to shout" she said.
"What? Shout about what?" B'Elanna asked irritably.
"You became irrationally angry when I queried your judgement about Mr Paris and Annabel."
"Irrationally angry?" repeated B'Elanna slowly. "You query my judgement about my daughter and you think my anger is irrational?"
"Yes." Seven said, her voice rising. "Is your thinking about your daughter less fallible than any of your other thought processes?"
In a brief moment of detachment before the storm, B'Elanna realised Seven was inexplicably furious. B'Elanna was taken aback by this but her own temper was gathering impulse speed.
"What?" She almost whispered.
"I do not comprehend how any being with your intelligence can make such elementary errors."
B'Elanna stood up and stared at Seven, her head nodding gently as though agreeing to something. She enunciated very clearly and slowly.
"Would you care to say what 'errors' you think I am guilty of?"
Anyone else on Voyager would have heard the bloody menace in the Chief Engineer's voice and be running for cover, actual or metaphorical. Seven, standing on the opposite side of the lift, stood her ground and with fists clenched stared right back.
"As you wish Lieutenant. Your marriage and your divorce: both serious errors in judgement."
This wasn't fair. She had been expecting some sniping from Seven about the recent engineering tests over which they had already fought very publicly. B'Elanna's carefully stoked self-righteousness died. Her marriage had been a mistake. There was no denying it. The divorce proved it. But she wasn't going to let this damnably rude woman get away with intrusive point scoring.
"I'm not going to discuss my marriage with you. Keep your grubby Borg paws off my life. And even if I did make a mistake with the marriage what's wrong with the divorce? Do you have some sort of Borg fidelity hangup?" she sneered.
Seven was remorseless. "You left it too late. Your unhappiness was apparent within a week of the wedding. But you did not accept the inevitable instead you waited until you were pregnant."
"Because that's what I wanted all along" B'Elanna yelled. "Did you ever consider that?"
Seven was silent for a moment before spotting the flaw in the argument.
"In that case the marriage was an unnecessary complication and unfair to Mr Paris. I do not believe you capable of such dishonourable behaviour."
"Because I'm part Klingon? Well I'm not Klingon by choice Seven. I'm human and we lie all the time. Get used to it." Seven looked hurt. B'Elanna felt a stab of guilt and an urge to apologise which she stamped out ruthlessly saying instead.
"Oh I'm sorry. Did that puncture some little perfectionist fantasy? Well that's a shame. Now just shut up and leave me alone."
Seven did not reply. She turned her back on the seething half-Klingon and fixed her gaze on the wall.
B'Elanna took out her fury on her comm badge which she slapped painfully hard.
"Torres to EMH. When the hell are we getting out of here Doc?"
"Very soon Lieutenant." The EMH sounded almost embarrassed. "It appears the system malfunctioned somewhat. Ensigns Brown and Dupre are resetting it now. Sorry for the inconvenience..." His remaining words were lost when B'Elanna abruptly broke off communications.
***********
Maurice switched off the turbolift video feed. It was too depressing after all his hard work.
"Oh" he said. "I see they have some unresolved issues."
"Well put Maurice. What a glorious talent for understatement. But never fear. I think you are helping them to air those issues." Edmund started laughing.
Maurice looked a little sad.
"It was all going so well." He brightened. "But as you say now they have their differences out in the air they can go on to the romance."
His friend hugged him in exasperation.
"You are a silly french fool..." Edmund stopped as he noticed what was happening on the sick bay monitor. Captain Janeway was speaking to the Doc who was backing away nervously. Edmund turned up the volume.
"... when I find out who did this Doctor there will be fewer but more reliable crewmen on Voyager."
"Oh my god," whispered Edmund. "The Captain knows. Maurice we have to stop this. I have covered our tracks but if the Captain orders Commander...", Edmund tried to swallow his nervously bobbing adam's apple, "... Tuvok to investigate... I don't know if it will be enough."
Dupre grinned evilly. This was more like it. Some excitement and danger. Feeling more cheerful he crowed. "You English are all cowards but do not worry, we will succeed. I have had another idea."
Edmund went white. He wasn't sure he could survive any more of Maurice's ideas
***************
Back in the turbolift B'Elanna looked at the rigid figure uncertainly. She was still angry but knew she had gone too far. She started to try and say something but was interrupted by the jerk of the lift coming back to life and she stopped knowing that there wasn't enough time. After just a few seconds the turbolift arrived at the bridge and they were greeted by a smiling Chakotay. A strained meeting ensued. The normally relaxed Commander was grateful when it ended; his patience worn down by the glacial stubborness of Seven of Nine and B'Elanna's terse ill-temper.
Thursday 19:30
--------------
Seven waited as the doors of the turbolift opened on the loneliest deck of the ship. The message had read 'Dear Seven of Nine, meet me in the Captain's Yacht, deck 9, tonight at 19:30. Yours, B'Elanna Torres'. The friendly tone of the note left Seven somewhat surprised. Her eidetic memory assured her that the last words she had exchanged with the fiery little engineer had not been pleasant and long experience had taught her that Lieutenant Torres did not forget quickly. In fact Seven would often have sworn that the Klingon must also have an eidetic memory; her recollection of arguments or insults was so exact and long-lived.
No-one was there. Not too difficult to ascertain even in the dim light as the Captain's Yacht was not a yacht at all but a smaller version of the bridge except without any of the comfort or convenience. Just a small half circle of command and control consoles and a navigation panel. The only major feature was the array of transparent panels arranged around the floor of the circular room that gave 360 degree vision of the underside of Voyager's dish. The 'lower docking and emergency control centre', or LowDECC as it was officially known to Starfleet, was only used for certain unusual docking procedures that were seldom required even in the Alpha quadrant and never in the Delta quadrant. It's other purported use as an emergency alternative to the bridge had never been tested.
Seven had once demanded to know why everyone aboard called it the Captain's Yacht and received the unsatisfactory explanation that it was a Starfleet tradition. Only a very few vessels with diplomatic duties actually had a yacht built into the hull but despite that the name had stuck as the name of the lowest point on a Starship main dish.
The turbolift swished shut and presumably departed for another destination.
Seven decided to investigate the room further. She had no idea why B'Elanna wanted to meet her here. She assumed there must be some technical matter which the Chief engineer wanted to discuss. Briefly it crossed the ex-drone's mind that perhaps Lieutenant Torres wanted to be alone with her. For a few moments hope warred with fear until she smiled wrily at her own foolishness; if B'Elanna Torres wanted to be alone with her it was most likely that she wanted a place where they could fight undisturbed. In quiet moments the ex-drone may have watched the slight but athletic Chief of Engineering and fantasised about kind looks and even affection but she was all too aware that in reality the only time Lieutenant Torres paid her any attention was when they disagreed. Apart from that one occasion when she had been ill and B'Elanna had been kind to her.
Her certainty about B'Elanna's intentions took a little dent when she observed that part of the floorspace had been covered with a patterned rug and quantities of food and drink were set out on it. The area was lit by four naked flames burning atop some white material formed into cylinders. The white material was clearly part of the combustion process. She was unsure why the Lieutenant should choose such a primitive and potentially dangerous form of lighting but could see that it did create a strange and rather pleasant atmosphere in contrast to the spartan surroundings. Seven became aware that her pulse was racing. Unbelievable as it might be, the evidence before her eyes suggested romantic intention. She dismissed the notion as too far-fetched and mere wish-fulfillment.
Her reverie was interrupted by the turbolift doors opening. B'Elanna Torres appeared looking a little irritable.
"Seven this had better be... " Her eyes adjusted to the light and she stopped short and gaped at the scene before her. "I was going..." Again words seemed to fail her and Seven could see the unshakeable half-Klingon was embarrassed or even nervous.
"Would you like something to eat?" Seven asked politely trying to put her host at ease. She did not understand the motivation fully but supposed B'Elanna Torres was trying to extend the olive branch and it was only fair to meet her halfway.
B'Elanna shut her mouth and then opened it to speak again but shut it without saying anything. After a few moments of apparent indecision she just nodded and moved closer. Realising that standing might not be appropriate Seven sank awkwardly to her knees on the rug. B'Elanna sat down near to her with more practised grace but still did not speak. She accepted the small plate being proffered and did not object when Seven handed her a glass of what appeared to be red wine.
Seven picked up a plate and looked inquiringly at the Chief of Engineering.
"May I?" asked Seven still trying to put the EMH's ettiquette training into practise. The last thing she felt was hungry but if B'Elanna had gone to all this trouble then she was not going to cause offence. B'Elanna nodded and smiled slightly.
Seven added a few items of food to her plate and relaxed one millimetre when she saw B'Elanna do the same. B'Elanna took a fairly deep drink from her glass and then quickly drained it. Seven offered a refill and was surprised to notice that the Lieutenant's hand was shaking as she held out her glass.
"This is very pleasant," said Seven still in hyper-polite mode, "what would you like to discuss?"
Her glass filled and beginning to feel the warming effects of its predecessor B'Elanna at last succeeded in stringing a few words together.
"I want to... apologise" she said. "For my behaviour yesterday." Seven was astonished and it must have been very obvious because she saw B'Elanna's eyes narrow and a frown replace the uncertain even shy expression.
"What? Is that so unlikely?"
"Statistically speaking? Yes it is." replied Seven honestly.
"Oh well I am sorry to spoil my record." said B'Elanna with an edge in her voice.
Seven did not want a repeat of yesterday so she hastened to add.
"I am not sorry. What I mean is that I too should apologise. I stuck my great big nose in where it did not belong."
B'Elanna's frown twisted to a small grin.
"Your great big nose?"
"Naomi Wildman assures me that is the correct phrasing." said Seven and her eyes crinkled in a light smile which verged on the mischievous. B'Elanna's small grin became a big grin.
"I don't really blame you for being curious Seven. I don't understand my own behaviour half the time."
Heartened by the half-Klingon's mildness and unable to resist Seven asked "Why did you stay with Lieutenant Paris?"
B'Elanna sighed and wrinkled her nose.
"You don't give up do you?"
Seven said nothing in reply but raised her eyebrow. B'Elanna looked undecided. She had never really talked about her relationship with Tom. Hadn't really wanted to. But she had all the answers: long hours of agonised soliliquies before deciding to divorce him. Now she wanted to explain to Seven. She wasn't sure why.
"Okay, here's how it goes. Marrying him was a bad mistake as you pointed out so forcefully. I think if we hadn't been stuck on this bucket of bolts it would never have happened. We both needed to make something of ourselves on Voyager both professionally and personally. It was our second chance at life. In the alpha quadrant Tom and I had several things in common: neither of us had any real family, we had pissed off or alienated our friends; we had screwed up our Starfleet careers and both ended up on the wrong side of the law. We were both so alone it made no difference which quadrant we were in."
Worried that she sounded too pathetic she glanced at Seven's face and tried to gauge what she was thinking. Seven was unreadable but at least she wasn't laughing or looking superior.
"Anyway Tom flourished on Voyager. I did too. Voyager and Janeway changed us both. I can't explain what it felt like to be so completely trusted by so many people. To no longer be the half-Klingon fuck-up." Again a quick look at the impassive face of her companion. She rushed the last part of the story, speaking too quickly, nervous that Seven might interrupt and question her rationalisations.
"But ... I never really believed my luck would last. I think Tom felt that too and we started to spend time together, to give each other some family, some insurance against the future. We fell in love. He tried so hard to be different for me and I did love him. Funnily I mostly loved the things he was trying so hard to suppress: the boyish bravado and all that embittered loner romanticism. He reminded me of me I suppose." She smiled cynically. "Of course I couldn't live with him anymore than I could live with myself and eventually I realised that staying with him would only destroy us both; possibly literally."
"And Annabel?"
B'Elanna looked sad. "Oh the usual story. A last gasp try to save our dying marriage. Pathetic and selfish I know."
"But you did want her?"
"Yeah, in the end I wanted her desperately. Although I can tell you pregnancy is a pig," B'Elanna joked and then to her own surprise, she burst into tears. Humiliated but unable to stop crying she curled up on the rug sobbing. Seven felt pain curl around her heart and she cursed her own Borg insensitivity. She couldn't bear to see B'Elanna in such agony; she felt responsible for making her talk about this. Slowly she bent over the distraught woman and stroked her head and then using every ounce of strength she possessed, gently lifted B'Elanna and cradled her against her chest.
B'Elanna turned her face to hide it against Seven's breasts. Her hands clutched the ex-drone's shoulders painfully hard and she continued to sob. Seven hugged her and tried and failed to think of something to say that wasn't too Borg. In the end B'Elanna saved her the trouble, mumbling so indistinctly that she would have missed it but for her enhanced hearing.
"For the record, Seven of Nine, you have rather a nice nose."
"Thank you" Seven replied seriously.
B'Elanna lifted her tear stained face. The crying had stopped. She made an expression that Seven guessed was meant to be a smile and wriggled a little. Seven set her back down on the rug, offered her hand and they heaved each other back on their feet. For a long moment each stared at the other both aware that their relationship had changed in some fundamental way.
"I need to get back for Annabel," B'Elanna said, her voice sounding husky. "But thanks Seven for all this..." B'Elanna gestured at the meal. "And thanks for listening."
Seven was unsure why she was being thanked for eating B'Elanna's food and making her cry. Neither seemed to be cause for gratitude but she squeezed B'Elanna's hand as they walked to the turbolift which was still waiting. B'Elanna turned just inside the doors, looked up at the gentle Borg and surprised them both by leaning up and kissing the blonde gently on the mouth. Dazed Seven stepped back and the turbolift closed and whisked B'Elanna away to the normal world.
****************
"First base," chorused Maurice slapping Edmund on the back. "We're at first base."
"Tremendous old chap." And Edmund did look a little pleased, his ordeal was nearly over. "B..but I think we are at the point where watching them any further counts less as Cupid and m..more as perversion. I think they can take it from here."
Maurice was disappointed.
"I want to make sure there are no more misunderstandings."
"M..Maurice if they have any future, they will have to be able to cope without your interventions" said Edmund firmly.
Maurice looked a little sulky but brightened as he remembered the success of his plan.
"Did you see how they didn't even realise that neither had arranged their tryst. What marvellous confusion."
"Yes it was splendid. Now get down there and clear up that mess before anyone notices the security breach."
Maurice nodded and made to go.
"But I insist that we monitor them for a few more days. Just to be sure. And if you won't help..." He smiled broadly as he left.
"M..Maurice, MAURICE." Edmund kicked his console in frustration.
Friday Morning 5.58
-------------------
B'Elanna stood outside the doors of Cargo Bay 2 talking to her baby.
"Okay Little Bel this is going to be dangerous. Your mission is to melt the ice queen's heart. Is that understood" She kissed the baby's forehead and Annabel gurgled happily.
"Right ready your weapons. That's it a nice big smile for Mama. We're going in."
B'Elanna tried to control her nerves. She hadn't really meant to take Annabel but equally hadn't wanted to make anyone else curious by leaving her with someone. She wanted to keep this early morning meeting to herself.
They entered the darkened storage area. The only light was the glow of the Borg regeneration unit. B'Elanna stopped in front of the alcove and gazed up at the Borg, standing tall and rigid in the unbreakable grip of regeneration. She was beautiful and a little frightening in her mechanical cradle; it hummed greenly and gently, cruelly insisting on her alien origins. In the half light it wasn't hard to imagine yourself aboard a Borg vessel.
It was exactly 6am.
REGENERATION CYCLE COMPLETE
Startled, B'Elanna yelped and Annabel immediately started to cry.
Seven of Nine opened her eyes, disorientated. She hated regaining consciousness in the middle of a crisis. And from the screaming noises it was apparent that Voyager was under attack again.
"Computer. Status of Voyager" she said just before her consciousness apprised her of the true situation. Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres was standing in front of her with her sub-unit, Annabel Torres-Paris who was apparently in some distress.
'ALL SYSTEMS ARE FUNCTIONING NORMALLY' said Voyager's computer.
"Apart from Annabel" retorted B'Elanna Torres, speaking quite loudly to be heard above the screams of her daughter. The half-Klingon smiled at Seven of Nine and the ex-drone's still disoriented understanding lurched a little further into confusion.
"Annabel is unwell?" asked Seven anxiously. Released by the alcove Seven stepped down quickly and placed her hand on Annabel's forehead. The temperature was normal despite the crumpled red face that continued to howl with disapproval.
"I'm sorry," said B'Elanna. "I must have frightened her. I didn't really mean to wake you like this."
"You did not wake me." said Seven precisely, "I mean my cycle had completed normally. Why are you here Lieutenant Torres?" she asked abruptly, needing an explanation more desperately than she would have liked. Curiosity was one of the first human emotions she had ever experienced and the urge to know was often the source of her more humiliating experiences. Recently she had tried to restrain the impulse but it popped out at inconvenient moments. She waited for the inevitable verbal slapdown.
B'Elanna took a deep breath. "Seven of Nine. Would you do me the honour of having breakfast with me and my daughter?" Seven didn't react and B'Elanna started to flounder. "I know you have just regenerated and don't require..."
"...any nutritional supplements," Seven finished for her and smiled gently. "Despite that I would very much like to accompany you to breakfast, B'Elanna Torres. May I hold Annabel?"
B'Elanna said nothing. She grinned in return and passed her still shrieking offspring to Seven. The Borg placed the baby on her shoulder and gently rocked the crying baby as they walked.
After a few additional shrieks and some cursory whimpers, Annabel decided the danger was over and she and mama were safe again. The blue giant had nice shiny bits and besides she felt safe here.
"How do you do that?" asked B'Elanna feeling slightly envious.
"Low level vibration at precise frequencies similar to pre-natal environment." explained Seven succinctly.
"You mean jiggling her up and down."
"Er yes but at precise..." Seven trailed off when she observed B'Elanna biting her lip in an obviously unsuccessful attempt to stifle a giggle. "Why is that amusing to you Lieutenant?"
"Because Seven of Nine no-one else would attempt to explain such magical skills with such mundane science."
"But it is not magic" Seven responded stubbornly.
They stopped by the turbolift doors.
"I think it is magic of a sort. Little Bel somehow knows she can trust you" she stammered unconvincingly. And then added to herself, 'She's a lot smarter than her mother.'
Seven would have argued the point but lucidity fled when she met B'Elanna's eyes.
B'Elanna stood looking up into Seven's face and became conscious of a need to taste the sweet full lips again. She rapidly repressed her burst of desire and tried to convert it to harmless affection but like a mouse stepping on the trigger of a mousetrap she was caught fast by the unbidden impulse.
Silently they entered the turbolift. They stood nearer to each other than was comfortable but not close enough to actually touch.
*************
Maurice watched disapprovingly. 'What are you waiting for mes amis? Christmas? Look at them standing there like a pair of damp kippers. They are hopeless, both of them.' Deliberately he flicked up the cover on the emergency stop panel. 'I have to do everything myself.'
**************
The lift jolted sharply up and down and its occupants staggered and clung to each other. Annabel was enjoying the ride on Seven of Nine shoulder, chortling as she bounced up and down.
"What is going on?" B'Elanna shouted over the screech of emergency brakes being applied and released.
"More turbolift excitement apparently," replied Seven hanging on tightly to both Annabel and B'Elanna and bracing herself against the side wall. The lurching suddenly stopped with a violent final jolt. Enough to leave them all in a heap on the ground.
Annabel screamed in delight.
"Well I think it's safe to say space travel will hold no fears for her." said her mother. "Are you alright Seven?" she asked anxiously after realising that the unfortunate Borg was at the bottom of the heap of Torres women.
"I am functioning adequately," replied Seven. "now the lift is stationary."
B'Elanna moved to allow Seven to breathe and was startled when the Borg's grip tightened instead of releasing her. She twisted her head to find that Seven's lips were a few centimetres from her own.
"B'Elanna," said Seven. "I..."
B'Elanna could have sworn she heard a strangled voice in her left ear saying 'Kiss Her, Kiss Her.' And suddenly it seemed like a damned good idea.
*************
At their usual post in deflector control Maurice and Edmund were struggling; Maurice trying to yell into the emergency lift comm while Edmund attempted to muffled him. The titanic struggle was interrupted by a cool voice.
"Mr Dupre and Mr Brown." Commander Tuvok glanced at the monitor. "It would appear that you have been playing tricks on members of the senior staff. Do you wish to explain your behaviour?"
Released from Edmund's strangle-hold Maurice looked triumphantly at the monitor where B'Elanna Torres and Seven of Nine were now wrapped in each others arms and oblivious to the arrival of the lift at its destination and the small audience of crewmen watching.
"Commander, you may throw the book at me but love has won out as I knew it would."
"It will be interesting Mr Dupre to see whether the Captain regards playing Cupid as a mitigating circumstance." answered Mr Tuvok with a straight face.
Epilogue
--------
A few years later Seven of Nine and her wife were reminiscing about their early years on Voyager.
"Of course I knew it was you that arranged all those little turbolift accidents. You said as much at the time."
B'Elanna snorted derisively.
"Oh no. That was you. I found evidence of tampering all over the place."
"Yes by you," replied Seven amused by B'Elanna's need to keep up the pretence after so much time.
"I am telling you that it was not me. On my mother's honour."
Seven took that seriously. "Well then who was it? Answer me that."
B'Elanna had no answer. But her twelve year old daughter Annabel had no such difficulties.
"That's easy. Captain Tuvok told me the story when I was eight. I asked him to read me a story and he told me about how you and my Mother fell in love."
Her mothers looked at her with open disbelief.
"Tuvok told you?" said B'Elanna smirking which was entirely the wrong approach with her oldest daughter.
"Well if you are not going to believe me then I shan't tell you what happened. So there!" Annabel shouted and ran away to climb a tree.
THE END
TITLE: Accidents and Other Emergencies AUTHOR: halfofone RATING: R CODE: T/7 GENRE: ST: Voyager FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome. SUMMARY: Sequel to Perfect Misfits. B'Elanna has discovered that Seven of Nine is not just a Borg machine. Even more surprising it seems that Seven of Nine has a romantic attachment to the half-Klingon that is completely unexpected by everyone including the self-same half-Klingon. NOTES: This fic was originally written some years ago. It hasn't been on the net for a long time because I didn't really like some parts of it. However others disagreed, so I have decided to make it available with some editing especially in the final chapters. WARNINGS: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further. SPECIAL WARNING: I'm afraid Tom Paris suffers mightily in this fic. Mightily. ARCHIVING: If you like ....... I'd quite like to know where DISCLAIMER: Star Trek Voyager and all who sail in her belong to Paramount/Viacom and noinfringement of copyright/trade marks is intended. STATUS: Complete
Sequel to Perfect Misfits. B'Elanna has discovered that Seven of Nine is not just a Borg machine. Even more surprising it seems that Seven of Nine has a romantic attachment to the half-Klingon that is completely unexpected by everyone including the self-same half-Klingon.
Special warning: I'm afraid Tom Paris suffers mightily in this fic. Mightily.
Notes: This fic was originally written some years ago. It hasn't been on the net for a long time because I didn't really like some parts of it. However others disagreed, so I have decided to make it available with some editing especially in the final chapters.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
CHAPTER 1
B'Elanna Torres surveyed the smoking ruins of Voyager's main engine room with a mixture of pride and exhaustion. Engineering had kept Voyager flying through another bruising encounter and the ship had survived against the odds. Again.
The weary alpha shift were handing over their stations to the beta shift and heading back to quarters to sleep, or sloping off to Sandrines to unwind. Not that the beta shift were in much better shape. Most of them had been on duty during the red alert, either as backup in other sections, or drafted early to engineering to take over from wounded alpha crew. The damage to the ship was extensive possibly requiring weeks of work to repair and the whole engineering team would be pulling double shifts for the next couple of weeks. They needed to rest when they could.
B'Elanna certainly wanted nothing more than to return to her quarters and sleep but before that could happen full damage reports and a repair schedule had to be completed, ready for the Captain to review before a senior officers meeting in two hours. And the Chief Engineer would also have to oversee the start of the emergency repairs that had already been identified.
Voyager's hull had taken a real beating and the first priority was to ensure it was in no danger of breaching. An inspection squad was preparing to go outside onto the surface of the hull. The warp engines were down too and B'Elanna had a separate team already started on the dangerous task of repairing the leaking warp core. Even impulse engines were only functional because of power rerouted from the weapons array otherwise Voyager would have been completely dead in the water. After that... B'Elanna sighed.
There was a very long list from the main phasers through to the mess hall ovens and replicators. With the best estimate in the world she wouldn't get any rest for at least another six hours and then only a couple of hours before coming back on duty. However there was one good aspect to the heavy workload - she could avoid continuing her fight with Tom Paris over the events in the Verroth village.
Ship wide gossip had distorted the facts into a hot affair between the B'Elanna Torres and Seven of Nine. The other members of the away team denied saying anything but whatever had been said spread like a plasma fire out of control. Tom had apparently heard from Lieutenant Gerard who thought 'he should be told'. B'Elanna was going to have a quiet word with Gerard. The upshot was that Tom and B'Elanna had a big fight and B'Elanna ditched him.
The day after the split Tom had behaved with his usual maturity and stormed into main engineering, totally out of control, interrupting a conversation between B'Elanna and Captain Janeway. So now Janeway knew about the gossip as well. The Captain had not been pleased with Tom or B'Elanna for allowing their private lives to intrude again and had delivered a lecture that left the pair feeling flayed.
That had been a week ago, before this current crisis. Tom had changed his tune since then and was begging her to forgive him but B'Elanna couldn't yet bring herself to do so. She wasn't sure why - after all Tom had only behaved as she probably would have done in his shoes: shot first and asked questions later.
As for Seven they had hardly spoken since returning to the ship but B'Elanna was painfully aware of Seven's presence and, equally, her absence. A humiliating weakness that B'Elanna was determined to ignore.
She shook her head trying to concentrate on the immediate problems. After barking a few commands at her staff, B'Elanna climbed into a vertical Jeffries tube to inspect the damage to the warp plasma manifolds. The circuits were fused and twisted, every one would have to be replaced. Cursing she added the replacements to her padd.
A noise at the far end of the Jeffries tube warned the engineer that she could expect company. Dismay accompanied the knowledge that the intruder was Seven of Nine and B'Elanna's response was fiercer than she meant.
"What do you want here Borg?"
Seven actually sounded a little uncertain when she answered.
"Lieutenant, I was unaware you were in this tube. I will return later, when you have completed your work."
Immediately suspicious of the Borg's motives, B'Elanna went on the offensive.
"That's not what I asked Seven. What are you doing in Engineering?"
"The astrometric sensors have been damaged. I intended to repair..."
B'Elanna interrupted before the blonde drone could finish.
"... and shift your department to the head of the queue, as usual. Dammit Seven you cannot waltz in here whenever you please and decide what should be done to suit you. We are overstretched and exhausted and there are more important repairs to be done before we get to the astrometric sensors. Now get out and don't come back."
"Lieutenant I will carry out the repairs myself."
B'Elanna smiled at the ex-drone with more than an edge of malice and enunciated slowly "So you want to be an engineer?" Seven was plainly disconcerted and B'Elanna pressed her advantage. "Right, well get up here and start removing these fused circuits," she ordered. "If you are a good efficient little Borg, I may let you repair the astrometric sensors in a couple of days, maybe."
For a moment Seven looked as though she would protest but instead she closed her mouth and proceeded to climb up the ladder to the inspection platform where B'Elanna Torres was perched holding a large wrench. She had to climb around the engineer to get past and for a few seconds she could feel Torres' body against her own. She froze at the touch, her mechanical co-ordination failed and the drone missed her footing on the ladder bumping hard against the engineer and knocking the latter off the precarious platform. For a few moments both officers were hanging by one hand as they scrabbled against each other, trying to get a footing on the ladder. In the momentary panic they found themselves wrapped around and clinging to each other and the ladder.
B'Elanna Torres was looking into Seven's face just a few inches from her own. The drone was breathing harder and her full lips had parted slightly, her normally pale blue eyes had darkened. The Chief Engineer leant forward to close the last few centimetres and kissed the Senior Astrometrics Officer gently on the lips. After a few moments Seven pushed her away but did not try to break her hold completely and they stared into each others eyes, both trying to block out the thoughts crowding in.
A very Klingon lust swept through B'Elanna fuelled by the feel of the perfect body pressed against hers. Her pulse thundered in her head and a red haze rose in front of her eyes. She tightened her hold on the Borg's waist, leaned in quickly and sank her teeth into the soft pale cheek. Seven of Nine yelped in pain and pulled away, blood oozing from the wound. B'Elanna growled, her hormones dancing from the taste of Seven's blood. She kissed Seven hard and the blonde woman moaned before pushing B'Elanna away firmly.
"You lied on Verroth Lieutenant. You said you did not bite" Seven said, her voice shaking whether from fear or desire, B'Elanna could not be sure; however the shock of hearing Seven's voice sobered the overwrought Klingon very effectively.
"Are you joking Seven?"
B'Elanna gaped at Seven in consternation. She could not believe her own actions let alone believe that the Borg of all people might find humour in the situation.
"No. I am stating a fact, being literal, being Borg." Seven sounded almost bitter. "What do you want from me B'Elanna Torres? Are you 'joking' or just being Klingon?"
Before she could respond a voice from below startled them and they jerked apart.
B'Elanna's elbow dislodged the large wrench she had placed on the platform beside her. It fell four metres landing on the head of Thomas Eugene Paris who had just started to climb up the ladder. He dropped to the ground poleaxed. Looking down B'Elanna could see his fair head motionless at the bottom of the shaft.
"Ohmigod Tom."
She slid down the ladder as fast as she was able and tapped her comm badge.
"Emergency transport, two to sickbay."
'TRANSPORTER SAFETIES ARE OFF LINE. TRANSPORTERS ARE UNAVAILABLE' replied Voyager's computer.
"Goddamit! Another one for the bloody list. Sickbay can we have a stretcher team down here; we have a casualty."
The Emergency Medical Hologram answered.
"Sorry B'Elanna, we have no spare crew. You'll have to bring any casualties into sick bay or if it's not serious get Tom. He's doing the rounds treating minor injuries. Assuming he hasn't found something more important to do."
"Doc, the casualty is Tom. Someone dropped a wrench on his head... well me actually... but it was an accident."
There was a moments silence.
"Well bring him up here. What's one more in bedlam. EMH out."
"Seven get down here," B'Elanna ordered. "I need help. We'll have to carry him to sickbay."
Seven of Nine made her way down the ladder more slowly than B'Elanna. She was even paler than normal which accentuated the thin trickle of blood that had run down her cheek. She did not speak to B'Elanna but bent down and lifted the limp body of the fallen ensign with little apparent effort.
"Hey I'll help you."
"Unnecessary Lieutenant."
Looking at the still face of the tall Borg, B'Elanna decided not to argue. Silently they made their way to sickbay ignoring the curious stares of other crewmen.
Sickbay was full. Several crew lay on the floor and every available crewman with any medical experience whatever had been drafted in to help. The EMH met them at the door.
"Put him down there Seven." He ran the tricorder over the ensign, "Mild concussion - he'll be fine and I need him back on his feet." As he spoke he slid a hypo-spray into Tom's neck.
The EMH then noticed Seven.
"What have you done to your face Seven? It looks like a bite." The Borg batted the tricorder gently aside.
"The injury is trivial Doctor. My own systems will repair the damage in less than two hours, do not concern yourself. May I return to work now Lieutenant Torres?"
She sounded cool and unconcerned but did not meet the engineer's eyes and B'Elanna Torres was at a loss to know what the Borg was thinking. Now that Tom was safe she could think about the events leading up to the accident. Seven would be well within her rights to make a formal complaint to the Captain.
And I would deserve everything the Captain threw at me. Why did I do it?
B'Elanna replied hesitantly to the ex-drone's request.
"Yeah sure. Go ahead. I need to get back also."
Without further words or even a look Seven of Nine turned and left sick bay.
"Lieutenant, before you go," said the EMH. "I am experiencing some auditory problems in my left ear. My matrix may have been damaged."
B'Elanna was watching the door through which the Borg had just left. She replied absently. "Right Doc I'll add you to the list and we will get to you as soon as possible. Now I have to go."
"Fine just leave me to suffer," the Doc said snarkily, "but don't blame me if I can't hear your complaints and by the way Lieutenant, you might like to wipe that blood away from your mouth. You don't want to frighten anybody."
B'Elanna swore loudly. The Doc just smirked and pretended not to hear, gesturing at his left ear. She spun round and stomped out of sickbay.
A minute later Tom Paris woke up on the floor.
"What happened?"
"Lieutenant Torres dropped a heavy object on your head," said the EMH. "And believe me Mr Paris I can understand the temptation. I send you out to help people and you come back as a casualty. Have you no sense of responsibility?"
CHAPTER 2
A couple of hours later B'Elanna was tearing her hair out. An explosion on deck 5 had caused two turbolifts to collide and damaged the turbolift controls and all over the ship turbolifts were behaving very erratically, stopping between decks and then whizzing at unsafe speeds to the wrong destinations. Reluctantly she tapped her comm badge.
"Torres to Janeway."
"Janeway here."
"Captain we will have to take the lifts off line before someone is hurt."
"Are transporters functioning yet Lieutenant?"
"No. I'm sorry Captain."
"B'Elanna, I want transporters or lifts back in operation within the next hour. Is that clear? Janeway out."
A few seconds later Chakotay's voice was heard in a ship wide communications. "All crew members - turbolifts are off-line. All crew must use the Jeffries tubes until the lifts are repaired."
Some of the engineering team groaned. They had to carry the heaviest equipment and materials and their job had just got a lot harder. The engineering crew were feeling the relentless pace of the schedule they had been set.
B'Elanna tried to sound resolute despite her tiredness.
"OK girls and boys you heard the Captain. The lifts are more easily repaired than the transporters but there is a lot of damage on deck five. It involves heavy lifting so Costa, Moore and Chiney you're with me." She beckoned to the three biggest members of her team. She paused. "Seven, you too, I need brawn and brains. Carey you're in charge here."
After half an hour of sweating and hauling gear and removing rubble the team had cut their way to the damaged turbo lift control. Seven took over manually rerouting all the lifts around the damaged ship like an air traffic controller from past times.
"Torres to all crew - we have restored manual control of the lifts. Please restrict journeys to essential trips until full automatic control is restored." Torres watched Seven concentrating on the lift movements in three dimensions across 15 decks. Even after thirty minutes of hard labour the drone still looked elegant and cool. The engineer was unpleasantly aware that the same could not be said for herself.
"Nice work Seven. I may have a job for you as a logic circuit" said B'Elanna jovially.
"I would find it easier if you desist from making irrelevant comments Lieutenant." Seven was not in any mood to banter.
"Why would I want to make it easy for you Borg?" B'Elanna said trying to get a rise from the cool blonde even as she told herself that she was being childish.
"To avoid further injuries being inflicted on your crew mates because you cannot control your antagonism towards me." Seven kept her eyes on the lift schematics, her fingers flying across the control panel but her voice rose a little.
B'Elanna looked guilty.
"Look Seven I want to... you know... the Jeffries tube," she stumbled over her words. "It didn't mean anything, just exhaustion, frustration and bad old Klingon hormones."
B'Elanna didn't know why but she desperately wanted to know what Seven thought about the incident. She got her wish when Seven took her eyes away from the flashing control board and looked up at her. The Borg was plainly furious, the pale blue eyes blazing but her voice remained cold and controlled.
"I believe you Lieutenant, it was nothing to you."
B'Elanna Torres stepped forward and put her hand on Seven's arm.
"Seven I didn't mean... not like that."
"There is no need for explanation Lieutenant. The incident is of no importance. I must concentrate. The turbolift on deck 4 has departed its station without closing the doors."
At that second there was a loud crash as Tom Paris fell to the bottom of the shaft beside them after running to catch the turbolift on deck 4. He had jumped through the still open doors only to find the lift had gone and instead a ten metre vertical drop awaited him. He opened his eyes in pain and registered B'Elanna, with her hand on the drone's arm, staring open mouthed at him, then he passed out, his leg shattered in eight places.
When he woke up in sick bay twenty minutes later the Doctor was regarding him with irritation.
"Yet again Mr Paris, thanks to my remarkable skills, your injuries are fully healed and I am happy to say you can return to your duties, which are many and accumulating. There is a new report of a fire in deflector control. There are several burn injuries, so please attend, assess the injuries and treat what you can. Anyone you can't treat, bring into sickbay."
"On it Doc." The ensign pushed himself to his feet gently testing the leg which had fractured in the fall.
"And Mr Paris please try not to fall down any more open shafts. I have seen enough of you lying on that bio-bed for one day."
Tom Paris was not paying any attention to the EMH. The Ensign had just remembered seeing his lover with her hand on the Borg.
"What is going on between them? And what was B'Elanna doing in a Jeffries tube with Seven of Nine in the first place?" he asked aloud. His normal dumb good guy expression hardened with suspicion. B'Elanna had lied to him about her feelings for the Borg.
CHAPTER 3
Hull and warp engine repairs completed, Voyager was at warp six, speeding away from the scene of the recent battle towards a distant star system where stellar cartography had previously identified several planets which might contain stocks of raw materials to be mined although without long range astrometric sensors it was hard to be sure. The Captain was anxious about remaining in the area in case reinforcements arrived to support the fleet of four unknown ships they had defeated and Voyager was in no shape to defend herself. This whole sector of the delta quadrant seemed to be at war with each other and anyone who got in the way.
B'Elanna woke in her bed after a too brief sleep. The Vulcan engineer Vorik was shaking her arm and she pushed him away growling.
"Get out Vorik if you want to see your family again."
Her favourite engineer was unperturbed by his boss's anger.
"Lieutenant 0600 hours wake up call - you asked me to make sure you did not sleep in. Also there is some trouble in the mess-hall. Neelix is attempting to serve breakfast, in the form of cold leola root stew; the crew are very dissatisfied. Neelix has requested your assistance before you start your shift."
Still growling she shut her eyes, counting to ten.
"Thanks," she muttered and then swung her legs out of bed. "Give me ten minutes for a shower."
Yawning B'Elanna Torres made her way to the mess-hall to find a near riot brewing around the small Talaxian cook.
The mess hall had suffered a direct hit and a consequent plasma fire. The interior was ruined and several sullen crewman sat on the floor or on bits of rubble amidst the blackened destruction, eating from a variety of receptacles.
Neelix stood protectively in front of a large container trying to fend off a large crewman who was shoving him fairly hard and swearing. Several other crew stood by encouraging the infuriated ensign. The little cook was pleading.
"Ensign Maris please calm down, I'm afraid it's all we have - the other storage tanks ruptured in the plasma fire. I know the stew isn't particularly good when cold but it is highly nutritious."
Neelix words were greeted with an expletive and renewed pushing. B'Elanna Torres pulled the burly Bajoran crewman, a former Maquis, off the beleaguered Talaxian. Neelix smiled weakly at her.
"Thank goodness Lieutenant. I am extremely glad to see you. Some of the crew are a little perturbed by the er... situation."
Ensign Maris snarled and Neelix backed away nervously.
"Lieutenant we cannot eat this shit" said the aggrieved crewman bluntly and proffered his bowl for her inspection.
"Then don't eat it. Get back to your post Maris, five years on Voyager has made you soft. In the Maquis you would have begged to eat this..." Her words trailed off as she contemplated the brown lumpen porridge congealed in the pot. Pieces of bile coloured leola root could be seen jutting from the solidified stew between accretions of cold grey fat spread like mould on the surface.
Hungry as she was B'Elanna Torres knew that starvation would be preferable.
"Neelix... perhaps emergency ration bars would be more... I mean less... disgusting. I can't believe that I just said that!"
She glared at Ensign Maris who had folded his arms and was watching her reaction with righteous satisfaction.
Neelix was even more apologetic. "Sorry Lieutenant, the Captain has forbidden the crew from touching emergency rations while there is still ordinary food available."
Torres looked at him unbelievingly. "Tell me something Neelix"
The small cook smiled obligingly.
"Did the Captain eat this?"
"Well the Captain did say she wasn't hungry but she assured me that she would be back later for some lunch."
"I see. Did she know that this was the only food available?"
"I am not really sure Lieutenant." As he spoke Torres was running an engineering tricorder over the damaged replicator units. She swore lightly.
"Torres to Janeway"
"Janeway here. What is it B'Elanna?"
"Captain I'm in the mess hall - I thought I should report on the situation here. There are no functional replicators, ovens or heating units ...."
"B'Elanna that can wait. I want the deflector and weapons array fully repaired as soon as possible." The Captain sounded impatient.
"Captain, as you probably know already, all except one of the food storage containers were damaged in the plasma fire." Trying to keep her voice bland B'Elanna kept speaking. "Fortunately there is enough cold leola root stew to last three days until we are scheduled to start the mess-hall repairs."
The Captain was silent.
"Of course I can probably repair a couple of the replicators and an oven in about half an hour ..."
"Twenty minutes B'Elanna, no more, Janeway out."
B'Elanna grinned in triumph and the crew in the mess hall raised a cheer. Not wanting to encourage any further insubordination Torres turned to glare at the elated crew and snapped.
"Anyone not on duty elsewhere can help Neelix clear up this mess." She ignored the grumbling noises and exhausted faces. "I want this place cleaned and shining, it's not fit for a Cardassian to eat in."
Returning her attention to the task in hand B'Elanna activated her comm badge.
"Torres to Engineering, Send someone to the mess hall with a replicator spares kit and a size five breaker circuit. Now."
She busied herself stripping out the damaged components from the replicators and it was with a jolt she realised that Seven of Nine stood over her carrying the parts she had asked for.
"What are you doing here Seven. You are supposed to be re-aligning the phaser couplings?"
"I have completed that task Lieutenant and I was intrigued to see what was more important than repairing Voyager's weapons and sensors. I did not realised the chief engineer's breakfast had such a high priority." Torres could have sworn Seven was trying not to smile. The Borg was developing a sense of humour at her expense.
"Seven we have sixteen minutes to repair two replicators and an oven. Stop jeering and start fixing." She handed Seven a tricorder and a probe spanner.
Seven nodded, still with a half smile, and turned to her task without further comment. They worked for five minutes in silence but the ex-drone's teasing rankled until B'Elanna could not resist saying "It is all very well for a half machine not to understand the importance to crew morale of good food but if your regeneration unit wasn't working then it would be a different story."
Seven of Nine glanced at her a little strangely and B'Elanna noticed how pale she was. The engineer rolled her eyes and in a ominous voice asked "When did you last regenerate Seven?"
The Borg stiffened and answered evasively "I am within my required limits and functioning adequately Lieutenant."
B'Elanna sighed with exasperation, "Seven that is not what I asked. When did you last regenerate?"
"Five days eighteen hours and 22 minutes." reported the Borg with unnecessary accuracy.
"Hell that's one hundred and thirty eight hours Seven, even the Captain has had more rest than you, well I hope she has." Shaking that thought off B'Elanna got to her feet and grasped Seven's arms, turning the Borg round to face her and really looked at her. Seven was still annoyingly beautiful but slightly haggard and definitely paler than usual and B'Elanna noticed that her hands shook slightly. B'Elanna was a little panicked and for the first time she really acknowledged to herself that Seven wasn't a mechanical drone but human and fragile. And more than that the ex-drone's welfare really mattered to her.
"Seven you're wasted, get down to Cargo Bay 2 and regenerate as soon as we are finished here, and don't tell me that you used to last longer than that as a drone, you're not a drone now."
"I cannot comply," Seven replied stiffly.
"What the hell are you saying? I am not giving you an option Seven." said Torres sounding irritated. She was baffled by the Borg's stubbornness.
"The Borg alcoves were critically damaged in the first attack. The regeneration ports are non-functional."
B'Elanna took a deep breath. "And when were you planning on telling me this?"
"There was no need to report it Lieutenant, it was insignificant compared to other priorities. You made it perfectly clear that I was not to put my needs above the ship."
"I am the Chief Engineer - all damage should be reported to me. Anyway what do you mean? You think I meant that you are expendable?" The Klingon was still holding Seven's arms and she punctuated her words by giving the Borg a little shake.
Seven gazed into the engineer's dark angry eyes. For a few seconds she allowed herself to believe the Klingon cared about more than just the breach of protocol before her rational self replied coolly enough "I will repair the damage to the alcove after the ship is secure. In the meantime I can take solid nutrients and sleep, there is no cause for concern."
"Well I think there is cause," and without really thinking B'Elanna let go of Seven's arms and cupped the beautiful face in her hands speaking very gently, "you need food and rest and you know the Doctor will have something to say about this Seven. We'll finish up here and then I am taking you to sickbay for a check up."
She could see that Seven was going to speak and quickly placed her finger on the Borg's lips, "No arguments Seven, I can't have my best engineer fall sick. I need you." Seven was going to argue when the Chief Engineer impulsively stopped her mouth with a light kiss.
Seven's eyes widened, she was not very familiar with romantic exchanges but she did know that Starfleet officers did not usually kiss each other in the normal course of duty.
B'Elanna Torres was beside herself with embarrassment, her face burning, she dropped her hands to her side and stepped back too quickly, mortified yet again by her own behaviour.
Why did I do that? What the hell is wrong with me? I don't seem to have any control when it comes to Seven. No-one seemed to have noticed the exchange but just in case, she rapidly resorted to a Klingon style cover up and slammed the counter with her fist.
"Dammit to hell, we are wasting time, we have six minutes to complete this pathetic little job, look lively Seven."
The engineer dropped to the floor to complete the installation cursing as she tried to do in six minutes what would normally take twice as long. Seven returned to programming the replicator but emotional confusion compounded with tiredness made an easy job seem hard.
Neither woman was pleased when a familiar voice interrupted. "Can I help either of you two ladies"? asked Tom Paris. "I hear you are trying to make the mess hall safe for mankind." He paused waiting for some reaction that never came, he peered at them trying to divine some connection, something that would reveal what was going on between them.
Failing he tried again. "What a great team you make, working so closely together, this last few days..."
"Tom will you shut up and help Seven to test the replicator programming, we only have a couple of minutes." B'Elanna was lying on her back tweaking the final adjustments for the makeshift oven repair. She sounded pleased as she rolled back out from under the unit saying "Okay that's it - all fixed."
Tom smiled at her and felt relief when B'Elanna sat up and smiled back at him apparently quite relaxed although she looked flushed, I must stop imagining things. he thought.
"My pleasure, O great engineer, I love a high pressure deadline, Computer I'll have a steak and fries with ketchup on the side."
To his delighted surprise the order materialised in the replicator.
"All right! That looks good."
B'Elanna sighed and he laughed. "Well you said to test it, you seem to have everything under control so I'll just settle down and eat this." And as he was really hungry and it looked really good Tom Paris wandered off to find somewhere to sit.
Seven was hardly aware of him as she leant down to help B'Elanna to her feet. Meeting her blue eyes the Klingon hesitated and then took her hand and held it, not letting go even when she was upright. They stood looking into each others eyes. Seven observed the involuntary increase in her own respiration and heart rate and then noticed that the engineer's hand felt hot and she was breathing harder also.
Still gazing at Seven, B'Elanna announced to the mess hall.
"Neelix, the emergency is over, you can stop hiding and get cooking."
She stepped a little closer to Seven and took her other hand.
Neelix approached them beaming with pleasure and gratitude.
"Good work B'Elanna, Seven, and one minute to spare." But his face registered astonished dismay, which he failed to conceal, when he took in the sight of the Chief Engineer holding hands with the tall blonde Borg, both apparently in a trance. The rumours it seemed were true. He threw a nervous glance at Tom Paris but the latter was still absorbed in his burger.
"Perhaps you two should hurry along now, the ship's weapons array awaits."
"Not yet Neelix, I have to take Seven to see the Doctor."
B'Elanna Torres had not taken her eyes away from the Borg or let go of her hands. Other crew were starting to notice and stare at them, it was only a matter of time before Tom Paris noticed also.
Neelix panicked and babbled "Nothing serious I hope Lieutenant but you had better get going, there's quite a queue to see the Doctor I believe. A very busy man the Doctor, you should hurry. You know what they say about keeping the Doctor waiting. 'A waiting Doctor cures no ills and issues no pills.' " Neelix winced and was almost grateful when a strangled gurgling interrupted him. His thankfulness evaporated when he realised the source. Tom Paris was on his feet staggering towards them pointing at Seven and clutching his throat with one hand.
"Now Mr Paris I know what you are going to say but I'm sure it's not what you think," burbled a horrified Neelix.
"She's poisoned me," gasped Tom. He pointed again at Seven.
"OK that's not what I thought you would say but Mr Paris what are you talking about?" asked Neelix flummoxed and wondering, not for the first time, why he had joined his fate with these crazed humans.
The pilot collapsed on the floor and started to bleed from his nose, writhing in pain.
Seven and B'Elanna came out of their trance and turned to stare at the fallen pilot. B'Elanna's face lost all its colour and she slowly released Seven's hands. Her strong voice wavered as she alerted the EMH.
"Torres to sickbay. Doctor I need you in the mess hall it's an emergency. It's Tom."
"Good God! Not again!. Is he trying to break some kind of record?" Irritation gave way to resignation as he continued, "well bring the little mischief in; his bed awaits B'Elanna."
"No Doc, I think it's serious. He's in agony here, poisoning apparently. I don't think we can move him."
The Doctor sounded more serious when he replied.
"All right Lieutenant I'll be right there."
B'Elanna glanced at Seven but the drone appeared completely unprepared for the turn of events and B'Elanna squashed the ridiculous suspicion that had fluttered in her consciousness for an instant. Seven returned to the replicator and rapidly began checking the programming.
She paused after a few seconds and looking utterly dismayed, said raggedly, "Ensign Paris is correct, I have poisoned him with the ketchup. I incorrectly entered the safety parameters describing the molecular structures of certain classes of organic compounds. It is my fault. I do not know how I could make such an error."
Seven's confusion and remorse was almost comical to behold and B'Elanna had to resist a sudden urge to cuddle the distressed Borg. She's so cute when flustered she thought. The chief engineer felt instantly guilty. God B'Elanna, how can you be thinking like this when Tom is lying there in pain?
B'Elanna smothered the unwelcome and obvious conclusion to that thought and turned her attention to Tom. Kneeling down she put her arms round him and whispered "I'm here, its okay Tom. The EMH is coming, you'll be fine."
Seven watched them and tried to remain impassive as the jealous pain fogged her mind. Briefly she hoped the Ensign would not recover before pushing the thought aside perturbed by her own selfishness. Love she concluded was against the interests of the collective and unworthy of her.
At that moment the Doctor materialised clutching a medikit. Thirty seconds and an injection later Tom Paris relaxed into pain free unconsciousness.
Sequel to Perfect Misfits. B'Elanna has discovered that Seven of Nine is not just a Borg machine. Even more surprising it seems that Seven of Nine has a romantic attachment to the half-Klingon that is completely unexpected by everyone including the self-same half-Klingon.
Special warning: I'm afraid Tom Paris suffers mightily in this fic. Mightily.
Notes: This fic was originally written some years ago. It hasn't been on the net for a long time because I didn't really like some parts of it. However others disagreed, so I have decided to make it available with some editing especially in the final chapters.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
CHAPTER 4
The Doctor had been outraged by Seven's careless neglect of her own well-being. After dispatching B'Elanna Torres back to her repairs including Seven's alcove, he was still nagging some minutes later and Seven was desperate for something to distract him as the lecture continued unabated.
"You cannot disregard your own health like this Seven. I have asked Lieutenant Torres to make repairing your alcove a priority. As soon as it is available you must regenerate for at least 22 hours. In the meantime you will rest here. Is that understood? I cannot understand how you could do this to..."
"You are my friend are you not doctor?" Seven interrupted "I can ask your advice."
"I would like to think so Seven." He calmed down a little, curiosity holding sway over his fussing.
Seven drew breath uncertain how to move the conversation along to what she wanted to ask.
"I am having problems concentrating doctor."
The Doctor was scathing "Hardly surprising if you have been depriving your body of rest and nourishment."
"No Doctor, my problems began before the present crisis."
The HoloDoc raised an eyebrow. "You should have come to see me Seven. This is what I mean by not paying attention to your own health. I have enough of that from the Captain without the rest of the crew joining in." Before he could get started on another tirade Seven interrupted.
"I do not believe that my symptoms are an illness but are related to my growing humanity. I am experiencing emotions that I cannot control and it is having a detrimental effect on my functioning."
The doctor's inquisitive nature was now fully aroused. "What kind of emotions?"
Seven blushed and her voice rose. "It is inexplicable to me that humans can function while experiencing such uncontrollable fluctuations in metabolism and emotional states." As she spoke she swung herself off the bio-bed and started to pace up and down the room at speed.
The Doctor stepped back, disturbed by the uncharacteristic outburst.
"What kind of emotions Seven?" he repeated in a more soothing voice.
"I think I am in love." She frowned at her choice of words. "Why am I uncertain about what I feel? It is nonsensical. I must know what I think and feel and yet I do not."
The holo-doctor felt a cold hand on his non-existent heart. Wrapped up in her own confusion Seven did not notice his distress but when he spoke she could hear acid in his voice. "And which lucky man is the recipient of your affections Seven of Nine?"
Seven knew she should be wary; some of the crew disapproved of relationships between women and many more certainly disapproved of a Borg having any relationship at all, but the Doctor had always tried to help her with the difficult transition from Borg to Human even though he was hampered by a similar lack of emotional and social experience. She needed to talk to someone, to try and reach some clarity and if possible to help her recover from the uncontrolled and chaotic emotional state.
"The person in question is not a man Doctor."
The Doctor blanched. "Oh no, not the Captain, Seven."
"Why do you assume I mean Captain Janeway?" said Seven slightly irritated.
The Doctor, still trying to cover his own disappointment, was sarcastic. "Well let me see... Ah I know, she spends a lot of time with you, she keeps trying to save your life against all odds and as a result regularly risks her ship and the lives of her crew for you. Really Seven, you need to ask?"
"All evidence suggesting the Captain has feelings for me but not that I reciprocate Doctor" said Seven coldly as though the idea of Captain Janeway loving her was not surprising but not welcome either. "I do not appreciate being a project for salvation and I do not belong to her no matter how often she rescues me."
"That's unfair Seven but to return to the point who is this person you think you love?" Mentally reviewing all of the female crew the Doctor found himself at a loss to guess who would have caught the attention of the Borg.
"B'Elanna Torres." Seven sounded shy as she said the name and shifted awkwardly, the image of an embarrassed adolescent. Quite difficult for six foot of Borg.
The Doctor's holo-eyes bulged. "B'Elanna Torres! You don't know what you're saying Seven. She is barely civil to you, she hates the Borg and has consistently opposed you being a part of this ship's crew."
"I am aware of these things and I do not understand myself either Doctor."
"Then why on earth do you pursue it? Do you like being ridiculed and insulted? Have you lost your mind?"
"I believe that is one definition of love Doctor" said the Borg wryly.
"She cannot return your sentiments Seven. She is apparently in love with Mr Paris which I have to say, shows an absence of good judgement that ought to discourage you if nothing else does," said the EMH bitchily.
Seven responded in her detached scientist voice as though discussing a strange spatial anomaly not previously encountered.
"My research shows that it is not necessary to the existence of love that the object of desire reciprocates that emotion Doctor. I have studied many gigaquads of data that address the subject of unrequited love and I do not believe that logic enters into the equation."
She walked away and leaned her long beautiful body against a wall and when she spoke again the detachment had gone replaced by sadness and longing.
"I am not sure I can explain why I love her Doctor."
Seven paused as she struggled to put into words what she understood intuitively.
"I cannot concentrate on my work because I cannot prevent myself from thinking of her. If she is in the room I constantly find myself observing her. I appreciate her skill and inventiveness and her honesty and courage makes everyone else seem weak and compromised." Seven's natural arrogance came to the fore "She is my equal, intellectually and physically and she is beautiful. Proximity causes my body to display symptoms of physical attraction. Even visualising her causes my respiration and pulse to increase uncomfortably."
The Doc interrupted the Borg eulogy impatiently "Seven I do not accept what you are saying. You cannot love B'Elanna Torres!"
"Whether you accept it or not, it remains true Doctor. I love her for what she is, not for her opinion of me."
"And what is she Seven? An angry young woman who is casually unkind to you because of her simple minded prejudices against your origins. She is unstable, violent and has lamentably poor taste in men."
Seven was indignant in her beloved's defence.
"Lieutenant Torres does not need me as her apologist Doctor. Perhaps she has cause to be angry, she says what she thinks, unlike many of the crew who think the same things about me but dare not say so openly. Which attitude is more admirable Doctor? I would prefer to deal with B'Elanna Torres open hostility, even when it hurts, rather than the hidden contempt of many of the crew."
He was finding it impossible to stifle his frustration. At least if it had been the Captain it would have made some kind of sense, appalling sense, but sense nonetheless. But an infatuation with that mixed up, angry Klingon hybrid was quite beyond him. Seven was his protege and he had a duty to protect her from harm so he tried a different tack.
"Are you sure Seven that you haven't chosen the Lieutenant because she is unattainable and you can thus avoid the problem of intimacy with anyone else."
Seven regarded him with disbelief.
"If I could choose Doctor, I would choose not to feel like this about anyone. It is an inefficient and painful mode of existence requiring the expenditure of significant amounts of energy." Shaking her head she covered the distance to the exit with rapid strides and left saying "I must go, I was mistaken in bringing this matter to your attention Doctor. I will find somewhere else to rest while my alcove is repaired."
"Seven you are not to leave sickbay, that's an order."
The tall drone ignored him and marched away without any sign of having heard him. The Holodoc watched her go with angry regret but he felt justified in expressing his doubts. B'Elanna Torres was a very unsuitable person for the young Borg's first relationship, of that he was certain. In any case it was not going to amount to anything. Lieutenant Torres was not interested and Seven would just have to recover from her broken heart, sad but part of growing up.
CHAPTER 5
"Calm down Tom. I'm sure Seven didn't mean to poison you. Get some rest."
Captain Janeway tried not to sound flippant but the young man's accusations were ludicrous. He had contributed to his own downfall by not testing the replicators as he had been instructed by B'Elanna.
"But Captain..."
"Tom drop it! I will not be making any further enquiries as there is no evidence that this was anything other than an unfortunate error compounded by your own carelessness. Now go and get some rest. Seven will be required to review her work with Lieutenant Torres and if she finds that Seven has been negligent then it will go on Seven's record."
Tom Paris glared at her angrily, his face reddening "I won't hold my breath Captain, I don't think B'Elanna is interested in finding fault with the bitch."
Janeway's expression made him shrink back involuntarily and her voice buried his anger under cold fear.
"As you were ensign."
Tom Paris subsided back into his chair as Chakotay and the Captain turned and walked slowly out. Chakotay was concerned. The trouble between Tom Paris and B'Elanna was the hot gossip on the lower decks and while he had not given much credence to the rumours about Seven of Nine's involvement he had little difficulty believing that the former drone could behave badly if it suited her. After all how would a Borg know what was acceptable behaviour in romantic conflicts?
"Kathryn are you sure we shouldn't take this further, the rumour mill is full of claims that Seven is besotted with B'Elanna."
The Captain raised her eyebrow "Commander if Seven meant to kill Tom do you think he would still be alive?"
"I take your point but perhaps she is trying to frighten him?"
"A little subtle for Seven I would have thought, picking him up by the throat and informing him that he should stay away would be more her style. Seriously Chakotay, Seven may be socially unskilled to the point of rudeness but she is not a fool and she would not be stupid enough to think terrorising Tom would endear her to B'Elanna. Plus she has a strong code of communal responsibility and murdering Voyager's best pilot would offend that ethic."
Chakotay had to acknowledge that the Captain was probably right but he still couldn't quite let it rest.
"Are you not a little off put by the thought of Seven pursuing B'Elanna? They couldn't be more different."
Kathryn Janeway was annoyed. The thought of Seven falling in love was disturbing, after all the woman had barely any emotional history of any kind, but Chakotay's obvious distaste irked her and she replied with more emphasis than was necessary.
"They are not that different, both unusually honest, intelligent and uncompromising, perhaps the "straight from the shoulder" Klingon temperament appeals to Seven. Now we have better things to do Chakotay: I want up-to-date resource and threat assessments on the local planets. Voyager needs to rest and restock and so do we." She stepped briskly into the turbolift, the conversation was over and she had to concentrate on her ship and its needs.
Chakotay remained doubtful. B'Elanna was volatile by anyone's measure and she was unlikely to refuse the Borg gently and who knew how an ex-drone would handle rejection. He decided to keep a close eye on the situation.
CHAPTER 6
At that moment Voyager's chief engineer and astrometrics officer were standing in silence in Cargo bay 2. B'Elanna was finding it hard to articulate her thoughts but she did know that for some amazing reason she now had feelings for Seven. Feelings that made her heart pound and her hands tremble. And that was scary. If anyone had suggested she might feel this way about a woman, a Borg for godsakes, she would have laughed and then beaten the suggestor senseless.
Seven watched her companion and tried to gauge her mood. B'Elanna was quiet, remote. The engineer had completed the repairs to the Borg alcoves but she did not seem in a hurry to leave after summoning Seven from astrometrics where the Borg had been 'resting'.
"... not like you" the engineer muttered as she toggled the controls on the alcove, Seven cocked her head questioningly, ".... making a mistake like that."
"I was distracted. Apparently I no longer function as efficiently as a borg drone, now I can only do one thing at a time." Seven was still annoyed with herself.
"What distracted you?" asked B'Elanna distractedly.
"You" she replied honestly and tensed waiting for B'Elanna to lose her temper but the explosion never came. The chief engineer seemed to ignore her statement altogether and continued tinkering with different alcove controls.
"Seven we both know something is happening between us but I think we have been going about this the wrong way. My fault probably."
Seven thought her heart had stopped. These physiological disruptions were very disconcerting she thought irrelevantly.
"We should get to know each other better, do something together, you and me Seven ... how about sky diving." B'Elanna saw Seven's expression and looked embarrassed. "Sorry, I forgot, only crazy people like me do that sort of thing. Well something else then? We could talk, or eat. Do you eat now?" God is that the best you can do Torres?
Seven was having extreme difficulty understanding the turn of events but her research had covered some of the human rituals of courting "B'Elanna Torres are you asking me... for... a date?" Seven hesitated over the unfamiliar terminology.
B'Elanna Torres stopped and stared at some interesting burn marks on the wall.
"I suppose I am. Well? Look Seven I'm no good at this kind of thing so please give me an answer now before I am forced into swearing and violence."
She glanced quickly at the tall blonde who gaped at her blankly, the half-klingon almost smiled, she had never seen Seven look halfwitted before.
"I cannot process my thoughts" replied the ex-drone in distress "I seem to be malfunctioning."
B'Elanna laughed.
"Kahless what a pair, we are not cut out for this romance stuff perhaps we should just go realign something... "
"No!" Seven recovered enough to speak, too rapidly, "we could go to the holodeck, orbital sky diving would be... interesting" she lied lamely and blushed.
B'Elanna grinned "I think I have had a better idea. The Doc said you must regenerate for at least 22 hours. When you wake I'll have a surprise ready for you. Now let's get you tucked in and I'll wake you myself in 22 hours."
"Tucked in?" queried the Borg.
"Yeah. Tucked in."
"Surprise?"
"Yep. A surprise."
tbc
Sequel to Perfect Misfits. B'Elanna has discovered that Seven of Nine is not just a Borg machine. Even more surprising it seems that Seven of Nine has a romantic attachment to the half-Klingon that is completely unexpected by everyone including the self-same half-Klingon.
Special warning: I'm afraid Tom Paris suffers mightily in this fic. Mightily.
Notes: This fic was originally written some years ago. It hasn't been on the net for a long time because I didn't really like some parts of it. However others disagreed, so I have decided to make it available with some editing especially in the final chapters.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
CHAPTER 7
21 hours and 40 minutes later B'Elanna Torres strode towards cargo bay 2. She tried for an image of studied cool but from the slightly curious stares she was getting she probably would have to settle for nervous wreck. Nervousness dulled her normally sharp senses and she failed to observe a shadow. Tom Paris had followed her down from engineering, less than sober, he was having some difficulty keeping up with the pace she was setting.
As she approached the cargo bay he called out to her "Hey Lanna do you need any help?"
B'Elanna jumped. "No. Thanks but I'm fine."
"Sure you are. What's going on with you and the Borg, Lanna?"
"Tom I don't have the time now."
"Why, afraid she'll wake without you?"
B'Elanna stopped and he caught her up and put himself between her and the bay doors. She looked past him avoiding his eyes.
"Tom I'll talk to you later I promise." Guilt made her more reasonable than her natural temperament normally allowed.
"I don't think so. You'll talk to me now."
"Don't be a bigger fool than usual Tom."
"Why? Are you going to hit me Lanna? Hey that's not so bad, your mechanical girlfriend 's been tryin' to off me for days. I'm not the fool now Lanna. You tried to make a fool out of me but I know better now."
"You are drunk Tom. Get out of my way before I make you."
"You are some Klingon always going to beat up anyone you don't like but a real Klingon wouldn't cheat on her lover behind his back. But I guess a half breed wouldn't have that much honour."
"Shut your mouth before I tear your head off with my bare hands."
"Hey I get it, you like her because she's a machine. You're an engineer and she's a god damned mechanical doll you can play with."
"That's enough you bastard." And she started to swing at the smirking ensign. Something self satisfied in his expression alerted her and she pulled the punch at the last moment. "Damn you but I am not going to spend the next week in the brig because of you. Nice try but you are not worth it Tom Paris."
She shoved him aside, with some force, and entered the cargo bay without a backward glance. She grinned as she heard him crash against something and swear.
Tom lurched drunkenly against against a bulkhead and then fell hard into the wall which to his surprise gave way and he found himself falling down a narrow chute into the main garbage recycler. He landed smack in the middle of the remains of that day's messhall dinners. One of Neelix's less successful efforts. As he landed an emergency alert signal sounded and the computer announced
THERE IS AN UNAUTHORISED PERSON IN GARBAGE RECYCLING UNIT 1. ABORT RECYCLING PROCEDURE.
The concerned voice of a member of the ship's refuse disposal detail sounded in his ears over a comm link. "Hey who is that? Are you okay? Did you fall in?" When Tom didn't reply the voice became a little more suspicious "Who are you?"
Gritting his teeth and holding his nose Tom half garbled his reply "It's Ensign Paris, I stumbled into the chute by accident. Okay? How do I get out of here?"
"Wait a moment Ensign." And Tom could hear muffled laughter. A few seconds later a hatch slid open in the wall above his head and a couple of crewmen leaned down and offered him their hands which he grasped. They pulled him up through the hatch and he scrambled out of the recycler and collapsed on the floor in a greasy heap. Half a dozen crewmen had assembled to see this phenomenon and were now laughing hard.
Tom struggled to his feet only to slip in the puddle of grease and ended up on his backside again. The audience collapsed into gales of laughter again which they tried to stifle as Commander Tuvok appeared at the door with a couple of security officers.
"Ensign Paris you have suffered a mishap," the Vulcan said, stating the obvious. "Could you explain to me what you were doing in the recycling unit? Had you lost something?"
Tom Paris looked at him sharply to see if he was joking but the security chief was impassive. "I slipped and fell Commander. But I'm all right, no injuries."
"And was there a cause for your slipping?" probed the Commander.
Tom remained silent and Tuvok shook his head.
"Curious."
"Aye sir" said Tom with as much military professionalism as he could muster in the circumstances. "May I return to my quarters to change my uniform sir?"
Tuvok considered the dishevelled Ensign for a few moments before agreeing. "That would be advisable Ensign."
Tom breathed an inward sigh of relief, the Vulcan had obviously decided to let the matter drop. The ensign added the humiliation to his list of woes to be blamed on the Borg.
**********
B'Elanna walked towards the Borg alcoves and then stopped to stare at the beautiful blonde standing unconscious in the grip of the regeneration cycle. The Engineer struggled to control a surge of apprehension. This really was outside her normal experience. Absorbed, she failed to notice a slight figure leaning elegantly against a control panel to the side of the alcoves until a low voice shook her out of her reverie.
"Looks peaceful doesn't she and beautiful of course." The Captain spoke matter of factly.
B'Elanna said nothing; like any other member of the crew she knew the rumours about Janeway and her drone. And now she knew that the Captain watched her Borg orphan sleep. Jealousy cleaved the Klingon's heart like a blow from a B'atleth as she wondered how many of the other rumours were also true.
"I thought you might come. I wanted to say a few words before Seven wakes." The Captain spoke slowly and evenly while she continued to look at the Borg.
"You are lucky B'Elanna. On two counts. Seven is a fine individual, one of the best I have ever known. To have her love is true good fortune." Janeway was looking at her chief engineer now and smiling, not entirely benevolently.
"And you are also lucky that I am Captain of this ship and not ten years younger."
B'Elanna bit her lip to prevent a retort.
"I wish you both well but if you hurt her Lieutenant or treat her badly..." The Captain's smile faded and her eyes darkened to gun-metal blue, "I will remove your head from your shoulders with your own B'atleth."
The crude threat coming from the normally restrained human shook B'Elanna to anger and she glared at her Captain. "I resent being threatened and your interference. Seven is not a child."
The Captain's voice stopped B'Elanna's rant stone-cold.
"No she is not a child but she is vulnerable and inexperienced. You are her first love and, if your luck continues, her last."
B'Elanna exploded.
"You distrust me. Why? Because I am half Klingon, a half-breed or because I was a maquis." B'Elanna warmed to her theme "Or perhaps I am not good enough because I flunked your precious Starfleet academy."
Kathryn Janeway folded her arms and did not look even slightly intimidated by the angry Klingon.
"B'Elanna if it had been anyone but you I would probably already have introduced him or her to the airlock. I trust you more than most but you have only recently been involved with Tom Paris."
"Are you going to ask me to state my intentions Captain?"
"I just might do that Lieutenant." The Captain's eyes held the engineer. "Just remember B'Elanna - look after her. She may be strong and brilliant but she does not understand human frailties. How easily we deceive ourselves and others. You cannot assume Seven knows the score."
Kathryn Janeway returned her gaze to the Borg. Her stony expression softened as she stared at the peacefully resting woman and then spoke quietly "it's nearly time for her to wake."
The Captain of Voyager drew herself up, straightened her back and her features reverted to the normal professional calm. She half-smiled at her engineer. "Personnel reports await, so I shall be leaving you Lieutenant. Have fun."
And she left the room smartly leaving B'Elanna to wonder if she had imagined the conversation and to ponder the stress the Captain was operating under, but not for long as the computer announced.
REGENERATION CYCLE COMPLETE.
On cue Seven's eyes opened and as she beheld the dark-eyed Klingon she raised her eyebrow and with obvious satisfaction said, "You remembered."
"Why does everyone assume I am going to let them down" snapped B'Elanna irritably. Seven looked perplexed and a little worried in case she had made a mistake.
"I assumed nothing."
B'Elanna relented feeling immediately guilty.
"I know, I'm sorry. Certain people have set out to annoy me today but I shouldn't take it out on you."
"No you should not" replied the Borg firmly. "You said you would surprise me."
B'Elanna chuckled and her mood lifted.
"First stop my quarters. You will need different clothing." Seeing Seven look suspicious she expanded her explanation, "protective clothing."
"You said that we would not go skydiving?" Seven queried a little nervously.
"Nothing like that. Wait and see." B'Elanna held out her hand and Seven took it, noting how warm it was. The drone stepped down from her alcove and B'Elanna, still holding her hand tightly, led her from the cargo bay.
To Seven the space inside the turbo-lift seemed smaller than normal. Which was odd since Seven's optical implant could measure the dimensions accurately and knew that there was no objective difference. She concluded that acute awareness of the Lieutenant's proximity was affecting her judgement.
Several minutes later B'Elanna ushered the Borg into her quarters and Seven looked about curiously. The room was surprisingly tidy although she did not know why she expected it to be different. A large bed dominated the small room. Low level lighting glowed red against the Starfleet issue furnishings.
A number of garments lay neatly on the bed. Black and slightly shiny, they appeared to be made of a heavy stiff material and Seven observed a faint organic odour. Not unpleasant but unlike anything she had experienced before. Footwear made of similar material was on the floor beside the bed.
"I replicated these for you - they should fit, the computer knows your size."
Seven was confused and a little apprehensive. An uncomfortable thought occurred. Tom Paris had often made joking reference to what a rough lover B'Elanna was. Perhaps that was the reason protection was required.
"What is the purpose of these garments Lieu... B'Elanna?"
"Protection - trust me." The dark haired engineer stood with folded arms and seemed to be amused by Seven's uncertainty.
Fearing that she was about to make a fool of herself the ex-drone picked up the garments and drew herself up stiffly.
"Am I to change my attire now?"
B'Elanna smiled.
"No. I don't want to walk through the ship dressed in these." Seven then noticed that B'Elanna was holding very similar garments. "Come on - our holodeck time is starting in 5 minutes." Seven was now definitely worried. She tried to think of an excuse but failed as this was not a skill valued by the Collective. Instead she followed the Lieutenant feeling the sort of dread that she normally reserved for encounters with species 8472. B'Elanna picked up a carryall by the door and led the way towards the holodeck.
tbc
Sequel to Perfect Misfits. B'Elanna has discovered that Seven of Nine is not just a Borg machine. Even more surprising it seems that Seven of Nine has a romantic attachment to the half-Klingon that is completely unexpected by everyone including the self-same half-Klingon.
Special warning: I'm afraid Tom Paris suffers mightily in this fic. Mightily.
Notes: This fic was originally written some years ago. It hasn't been on the net for a long time because I didn't really like some parts of it. However others disagreed, so I have decided to make it available with some editing especially in the final chapters.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
CHAPTER 8
When they arrived B'Elanna said "Computer activate holo simulation Torres 4794."
The holodeck doors skidded open and they stepped into a warm dry wind which was blowing towards them, a vista of dry grassland stretched away into the distance interrupted only by a few large leafless trees whose swollen trunks twisted away from the prevailng wind. Herds of quadrupeds that Seven could not identify grazed on the plain. A gust picked up a few handfuls of the whitish dust and threw it at them. They both moved aside and the holographically projected dust vanished as it left the still open holodeck doors.
Seven raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Kessick IV" said B'Elanna. "Where I grew up - well actually we lived in Glasgow City settlement. My dad used to bring me out here before he left. He bought some land and built a summer house in the hills over there." She gestured towards a low smudge on the horizon. That's where we are going."
"Are we going to walk?" queried the ex-drone. She had estimated the distance to the hills at 20.3 kilometres. The temperature and dust would make such a journey uncomfortable.
"No. Follow me." The small Klingon walked briskly towards a small group of trees. As they approached the clump of twisted trees Seven could see a broad white track winding away through the savannah. A gleam of something metallic caught her eye and she stared at an unfamiliar machine. Two wheels aligned in series, one wheel forming part of a manual steering mechanism, an engine mounted in the middle slung beneath what appeared to be a seat for the pilot. It leaned sideways balanced on a pedestal. Seven surmised that the pilot sat astride the vehicle and balanced the competing forces using his own body weight while the engine provided forward thrust to the wheels. A primitive vehicle.
"It belonged to my father - his antique motorbike. Miral." said B'Elanna. "That's what he called it. After my mother. All fire and fury, at least before he left. B'Elanna saw Seven's expression. "Yes I know, another big dumb blonde playing with his toys and never quite growing up."
"He and I would go up to the summer house whenever he needed a break from colony life. Took me along, riding behind him when I could barely walk, sometimes my mother would come but mostly not. When he left my mother she smashed the bike and left it to rot. I rebuilt it when I was eight. It annoyed her and I guess that was the point but it was also my first engineering project."
She nodded towards the glistening machine. "This is just a holographic projection of a similar type of 21st century bike. It lacks certain engine improvements which I designed but it will serve. Now get your gear on. We are going for a ride."
Seven was feeling relief.
"You are attempting to familiarise me with your history" she blurted out.
"What did you think I was going to do? Make you to take part in some obscure Klingon sexual practice?"
Seven looked away. She felt foolish and the experience was uncomfortable.
"I do not believe that you could 'make' me do anything B'Elanna Torres. I will leave now."
B'Elanna caught her hand.
"Seven stop. I was only kidding." The half-Klingon looked at her and Seven realised that she couldn't leave because the person she loved was holding her hand and smiling into her eyes. 'Reduced autonomy.' noted the Borg enhanced mind inexorably analysing and recording the former drone's mental and physical state.
"So that is what you thought." B'Elanna grinned and folded her arms. "No nothing like that... that comes later."
Seven pulled away.
B'Elanna mentally slapped herself. "Please Seven, get changed and come with me," she said very gently. "I promise not to tease you any further."
The ex-drone eyed her suspiciously and then placed her bundle of clothing on the ground and began to work out what went where. B'Elanna left her alone, removed her uniform jacket and trousers, whistling to herself as she pulled the leathers on over her tee-shirt.
She felt uncomfortably overdressed in the desert air but knew that wouldn't last when they were at last riding the bike. She sneaked a glance at Seven. The tall blonde had successfully negotiated herself into the leathers. Not surprising given the skin tight body suits she was used to. The bike leathers suited the drone's perfect figure. B'Elanna smirked to herself. She was dating every boy's wet dream. And then her mouth became drier than the desert sand, as fear swept through her. Perhaps I can't do this. What if she changes her mind? What if I am not good enough for her. B'Elanna's inner Klingon angrily rejected that thought and she mounted the bike with renewed determination.
"This clothing is not comfortable Lieutenant."
She grinned. "It's not meant to be. It is protection and will keep you warm."
"I am already warm and the holodeck safeties will protect us."
"What safeties?" B'Elanna's grin became evil. "Are you afraid Seven of Nine?"
"You promised not to tease me."
"I'm not teasing. We don't need the safeties, they diminish the experience. Come on we only have three more hours." She gestured behind her. Seven gingerly lifted her leg over the shining metal frame and settled into the pillion seat.
"Put your arms around me, follow my lead."
Seven wrapped her arms around the small Klingon and for the first time since they had entered the holodeck she began to see a point to this. Even through the thick leather she could feel the small frame of the half Klingon pressed against her and her heart beat picked up. B'Elanna leaned back against her.
"Ready?"
Seven nodded and B'Elanna kicked the engine into life. It roared approval. She revved the engine slightly and then released the bike accelerating through the automatic gears noting the unrealistically smooth shifts that you only ever found on a hololdeck simulation. She settled for cruising at about 80 kilometres per hour, fast enough on dirt and she didn't want the ride to be over too soon.
Seven hung onto B'Elanna trying to lean into bends with her as they skimmed over the dirt track towards the hills. The ride seemed surprisingly smooth given the nature of the track and the speed of the vehicle. Presumably B'Elanna had adjusted the holodeck parameters. After a nervous few minutes she realised that B'Elanna was adequately skilled to balance and control the vehicle. She began to enjoy the sensation of speed. She relaxed as the bike cut a line through the still desert air. The air temperature was relentlessly high and the white dust kicked up in a thick cloud behind them.
The rapid cooling effect of the wind was very welcome. Seven's bio-suit was designed for space travel and the temperature controlled environment on Voyager. The suit provided some measure of temperature control but was insufficient in the heat of the desert and the Borg had no alternative means of losing heat. The half Klingon by contrast perspired freely, her Klingon physiology enjoyed the heat.
The bike was soon winding up a narrow road through the low brown forrested hills that Seven had seen in the distance. After a few more minutes the travellers arrived in a small clearing beneath pinkish cliffs. The clearing, being at a somewhat higher altitude, was thankfully a little cooler than the desert savannah they had left behind.
A small single story house, constructed from weather-board and painted white, backed into the pink cliffs and sheltered from the relentless sunlight between two broad-leaved deciduous trees. The house had a broad veranda jutting out over a small rock overhang beneath which a lake of clear water gathered, fed by a small waterfall that bubbled from a spring and stream beside the house.
B'Elanna braked to a halt on the road a few yards below the house. She held the bike upright while Seven dismounted and then got off the bike and leaned it against a tree. Follow me, she gestured to Seven. And then ran up the slope to the bank of the small lake.
The water ran slightly alkaline because of the minerals leached from the stones but it was perfectly safe. She plunged her face into the water and then yelped as ice cold water collided with over-heated flesh. She pulled back and lay gasping beside the clear water.
"Lieutenant Torres are you damaged."
Seven of Nine leaned over her.
She was aware of the ex-Borg's very hot pink skin and blue eyes just inches from her own, peering at her worriedly.
"No it's nothing just the .... "
A sudden impulse overcame her, she cupped some of the freezing water in her hand and threw it over the blonde. Seven squealed very satisfactorily, lurched back and lost her balance falling into the shallow water.
For a few seconds Seven sat in the water unable to speak.
B'Elanna sat up and gazed at her, torn between remorse, Klingon humour and disbelief at how sexy the ex-Borg looked in the circumstances. The sense of humour won out and B'Elanna lay back and laughed until it hurt.
Seven could not understand the half-Klingon's reaction. There appeared to be nothing amusing in her current predicament. She was sure that some of her external implants had overloaded at the sudden change in temperature. On the other hand she was no longer over-heated.
Remorse returned to B'Elanna as the ex-drone continued to sit there, a comically puzzled expression on her face but no trace of anger.
"I'm sorry Seven, I couldn't resist. Falling in the water was an added bonus." She started laughing again.
"You consider this to be amusing?" The tall Borg rose to her feet and stood there dripping.
B'Elanna nodded helplessly and laughed harder only to find herself being roughly hauled to her feet, lifted off the ground and dumped head first in the water.
She swallowed a mouthful of water and surfaced choking. The cold seemed to have driven all the air from her lungs.
"Was that amusing?" asked the ex-Borg very seriously, watching the spluttering engineer thrash about in the water.
B'Elanna was planning the stream of invective for when she was able to speak but as she wiped away the water streaming into her eyes she realised that the tall blonde was half smiling at her.
B'Elanna knew that for Seven of Nine that smile was equivalent to gales of laughter. It was a very sweet smile that crinkled the clear blue eyes and for the second time in as many minutes B'Elanna found she couldn't breathe. The engineer could still make no response so she just smiled back.
"You are correct Lieutenant there is humour in this situation," said Seven.
The tall blonde gently helped B'Elanna to her feet and for a moment they stood in the water holding hands, dark brown eyes gazing into blue. B'Elanna tightened her grip. A cold drip of water made its way down her spine and she shivered.
"We need to get out of these wet leathers. Just as well I don't plan on riding back. We can change in the house and let our real clothes dry in the sun."
She hauled Seven up the steps to the door of the summer house and kicked the door open gently. The door led into a large white-walled living room with wooden floors and a huge fireplace.
In answer to Seven's bewildered look she said "At night the temperatures often drop below freezing here."
B'Elanna went into the next room and began to strip off the wet leather leggings and jacket and followed them with her T-shirt and underwear. She became aware of Seven standing behind her still fully dressed and dripping, watching her strip anxiously.
"Get out of those wet things Seven."
"What will I put on?" asked the ex-drone, nervously watching the now naked Klingon with an expression somewhere between fascination, lust and terror.
"It's on the bed" B'Elanna stated a little embarrassed by the steady scrutiny and picked up her own swimming costume.
Glad for a distraction Seven picked up the only garment remaining on the bed and her mouth fell open. "What is this?" She dangled the tiny garment from one finger.
"The top half of a bikini," said B'Elanna after a quick glance and continued wriggling into her own one-piece costume. "The other half should be there somewhere."
Seven observed the bottom half on the floor and picked it up in her other hand.
"What purpose do these serve?"
"For swimming, sun-bathing and volleyball... now hurry up and get out of those wet things before you catch cold; influenza is not part of the plan."
Reluctantly Seven started to remove her soaking clothing while complaining "I do not understand why you are wearing that and I have to wear these?"
B'Elanna kept a straight face with difficulty.
"I wrote the holoprogram that way," she asserted brightly as though that settled the point. Seven was looking a little dangerous and B'Elanna decided to change the subject. She exclaimed "Hey I forgot the food. It's still out on the bike. I hadn't realised how hungry I was... back in a minute."
She left the room at a trot while Seven glared after her balefully.
'Only a human would have so little self-knowledge about the state of their own stomach and what do I do with this?'
The bikini lay on the bed like a question mark.
'She planned all of this' thought Seven darkly. She continued to ponder what other horrors the small half-Klingon might have designed while trying to figure out how to wear the swim suit. Well it was really quite obvious to her Borg enhanced brain but she kept hoping that there was a trick to it, if only she could find it.
CHAPTER 9
Tom Paris had cleaned himself up and was looking for B'Elanna determined to have it out with her. She wasn't back in her quarters so she must still be with the drone. "Computer locate Lieutenant Torres."
LIEUTENANT TORRES IS IN HOLODECK TWO
"Computer locate Seven of Nine."
SEVEN OF NINE IS IN HOLODECK TWO
"What the hell are they doing? Well I am going to find out, that drone is not going to muscle in on my girl without a fight."
He half-ran to the holodeck but had to double back and wait for the corridor to clear. Entering a holodeck when it was in use by someone else was very bad manners. 'But I don't have time for that now' he fumed.
After a few minutes the corridor was empty and Tom took his chance. Tom knew B'Elanna's override code for the holodeck and he was willing to bet that she wouldn't have changed it.
"Computer silent opening holodeck doors Torres 14823."
The doors opened and Tom stepped into an unfamiliar program. Very warm air wafted out from the rather pretty wooded valley. He could see the side of a small white house and then he heard B'Elanna's voice, distinctly hot and bothered.
"In Kahless' name Seven would you make up your mind."
"My mind is quite clear. If you would obey my instructions accurately we would have finished this three point four minutes ago."
The Borg sounded scarcely less irritable than the Klingon. Tom felt relief. Of course it had all been silly nonsense, they were engaged in their normal bickering. He couldn't see them but walked in the direction of the voices. There was a light fragrance of wood smoke.
"Okay how about that Miss Perfect?"
Tom peeped around the corner of the white house to where B'Elanna dressed in a swimsuit was laying down on a blanket next to a small lake of water. Seven was sitting awkwardly next to her examining something with some suspicion. A small outdoor grill was smoking gently a few metres away from the sun-bathers. The Borg was clad only in the smallest of swimsuits and despite his jealousy, Tom couldn't help but notice her beautiful body. It would be a strange kind of man that didn't notice he reasoned.
Seven started to eat whatever it was that she was holding.
"Does it taste alright?" B'Elanna was asking.
"2.3% carbon... the degree of burning is... acceptable Lieutenant."
"That's good then. I can die happy."
Seven put the food down abruptly.
"It is not acceptable for you to die," she said seriously. "Ever. Even if you are happy."
"I'll remember that," B'Elanna replied equally seriously.
Tom stopped dead as B'Elanna rolled on her side and rested her hand on the Borg's knee. Seven glanced down and covered B'Elanna's hand with hers. B'Elanna lifted the Borg's hand to her lips.
"You are very sweet person Seven of Nine. Misguided, or you wouldn't be wasting time with me, but definitely sweet." B'Elanna sat up and frowned. "And altogether too hot in all senses. Pass me that bottle of oil."
Seven picked up a small bottle lying next to the blanket and examined it curiously. She read the instructions before passing it to her companion.
"What is the purpose?"
"Sorry Seven. I'm an idiot." said B'Elanna. "We should have applied this to prevent ourselves becoming as burnt as the burgers. The sun here is strong and the safeties are off. I'll do you first. Lie down."
Seven complied and B'Elanna gently massaged the oil into Seven's back and shoulders. The ex-drone moaned in a very non-droneish manner. After a few minutes however, she turned over to try and pull B'Elanna down to her but the half-Klingon batted her away.
"I haven't finished."
"It is my turn," said Seven determinedly. A calculated heave and she flipped a very surprised half-Klingon on her back and pinned her.
Seven gazed down on B'Elanna, She raised an eyebrow. "It is my turn," she asserted. "I have calculated the exact coverage required to prevent burning and to achieve the required results."
"Sheesh... you are such a pedant... no one measures suntan oil," grumbled B'Elanna. She had given up struggling though and lay still, breathing heavily, clutching the ex-drone's forearms and looking up into her captor's face, her chest rising and falling rapidly.
"The instructions are precise," Seven said smugly. She picked up the sun tan oil and trickled a precise amount of oil into the the hollow at the base of B'Elanna's throat and then began to slowly rub it over the exposed skin on B'Elanna's chest and shoulders. "It is more efficient. Do you not agree?"
"No I don't!" B'Elanna croaked. "Precision isn't everything and your head is big enough already without me causing it to swell any further."
"My cranial capacity is fixed. I do not see that acknowledging my competence would lead to any change in skull volume."
Seven had moved her attention to B'Elanna's legs. As she stroked and massaged the smooth skin with total concentration, efficiency seemed to have moved down her agenda.
"I know all about blondes with big egos," B'Elanna gasped as Seven's fingers grazed her inner thigh.
Seven stopped, her fingers resting on a quivering muscle. She stared at B'Elanna disapprovingly.
"I hope Lieutenant that you are not comparing me with Mr Paris."
Tom was horrified. His girlfriend was cavorting with someone else and making dismissive jokes about him. He felt himself turn red with fury and he was about to confront them both when B'Elanna spoke again. She sounded really angry this time.
"I can't believe Tom trying to provoke me like that," she said. The small engineer grimaced at the memory. "I should have torn his fair head from his fair body."
"If he tries to attack you again then I will assist in the dismemberment," Seven said calmly though that apparent state of mind was belied by her Borg hand which had grasped the steel barbecue tongs lying on the grass beside them and mangled them as though they were made of plasticine. Tom had a sudden vision of that hand around his throat and, suddenly revealing himself didn't seem like such a good idea.
"Spoken like a true warrior - my mother would have loved you."
B'Elanna picked up a glass of white wine to toast Seven. She looked at the nearly empty glass. "We need another bottle." Seven released her and B'Elanna sprang to her feet and started to walk towards Tom's hiding place.
Panicked, he crawled backwards into the bushes and then realised with relief that there was an air space under the house. 'I can hide here until she goes back.' He backed himself under the floor of the house and watched B'Elanna's feet walk past. 'Somehow I don't think this is the best time to tackle B'Elanna. I'll need to wait until the Borg is elsewhere.' As he lay there he became aware of a strong smell floating towards him and then felt a chill of fear as a low growling noise began. He looked around and as his eyes adjusted to the dark he could just make out a pair of eyes reflecting the light filtering through the bushes from outside the house.
'Oh shit' Tom backed away as quickly as possible but the eyes didn't move. The growling increased. He was about to make a dash for the outside world when he saw B'Elanna's feet making the return journey. The snarling beast moved closer and Tom shuffled further back under the house. The beast charged. Tom hurled himself backward and stifled a yelp as sharp little teeth grabbed his ankle and bit hard penetrating the thick material of his uniform boots.
'Bloody Klingon' he squealed furiously, 'she hasn't got the damned safeties on.' He kicked the beast hard with his other boot and it let go with a grunt. Tom continued to back away and was surprised to find the low ceiling disappear, and he stood up in some sort of cave. It was dimly illuminated by light filtering from above him. He realised that the cliffs at the back of the house were slightly hollowed out and he was standing in the space between the back wall of the house and the cliff face. A steady snarling alerted him to the return of the beast from under the house and Tom searched about him for an escape route. He clambered up the cliff onto a small ledge some eight feet above the floor of the narrow chamber and prayed that the beast couldn't climb. It seemed that it couldn't but he could hear it snuffling around below. Peering over the edge, he was dismayed to see, despite the poor light, that there were actually two of the beasts prowling about beneath him. Quite bulky and very unprepossessing like wild hogs only uglier.
Examining his surroundings it didn't look as though he would be able to get out by climbing any higher either. 'I'll just have to wait until the little buggers get bored.' The ledge was narrow and wet but he was just able to lie on his side. He settled down to wait cursing his ill fortune and B'Elanna for getting him into this.
Half an hour passed and he realised that it was getting darker. The temperature in the cave was definitely dropping and the damned animals were very persistent; he could still hear them. An unpleasant thought then occurred to him. Perhaps the beasts lived under the house permanently. 'Hell that means I am stuck here until B'Elanna ends the program.' Tom gritted his now chattering teeth and tried to ignore the pain in his bitten ankle.
*****
Seven and B'Elanna retreated indoors as the temperature fell outside and now sat together in front of the open fire each with a blanket around their shoulders, their still-damp clothes hung up to dry. The only other light was provided by an old oil lamp which hung on the back wall. B'Elanna was drinking red wine that Seven had declined.
"Behold the beauty of the holodeck." said B'Elanna appreciatively. "None of the actual hassle of building and lighting a fire. Just enjoy the warmth. I remember that collecting firewood was a major pain."
"Why did your father not install heating and lighting systems? This seems unnecessary."
"Some backwoods pioneer fantasy," B'Elanna gently mocked her dead father. "That was certainly my mother's opinion. Not that she disapproved of roughing it but there was no real danger up here, except the flock of wild targ that she introduced; that and a few biting bats which can be unpleasant, although not life threatening."
"It is warm in here," Seven observed. "The fire is efffective."
She let the blanket drop from her shoulders; half-naked she held her arms out to B'Elanna. The latter gasped.
Seven drew B'Elanna into her arms and tightened her hold. B'Elanna felt the soft strength of Seven's body against the length of her own, then sweet full lips tentatively touched hers. Seven gently nibbled her lower lip.
B'Elanna groaned and allowed Seven's tongue to enter her mouth. Hesitantly their tongues tasted each other and B'Elanna withdrew a little to allow Seven time to get used to the idea.
It seemed that Seven didn't need much time. The ex-drone drew B'Elanna back, kissing her open-mouthed. Their tongues vied for dominance. They had not kissed like this before now. B'Elanna's hand gently brushed against Seven's wonderfully heavy breast. The ex-drone twitched and whimpered and B'Elanna immediately withdrew her hand, scared that she was going too fast. She stopped thinking when Seven moaned into her mouth and grabbed her hand and returned it. After a few more minutes kissing and stroking, B'Elanna pulled away a little, ignoring the mumbled protest.
Half-hypnotised, B'Elanna gazed at the white skin glowing in the firelight. She laid her arm next to Seven's breast, barely touching but just enough to feel the slightly cooler flesh. "Coffee and cream" she murmured and snorted, tickled by her own joke. She dropped a gentle kiss on the end of Seven's elegant nose.
"Are we going to copulate now?" Seven asked, feeling very anxious. She had reasoned that it was better to express her concerns now.
B'Elanna cringed a little at the brutal description.
"A little more forthright and I'll think you are a Klingon. Would you like to?"
"I believe so but I am uncertain of the procedure."
B'Elanna noted the mixture of longing and fear on her would-be lover's face.
"Honestly Seven I think it's a little early in our relationship to, um, copulate?"
Seven's face fell and doubt took hold.
"But we could always make-out some more or even just cuddle," B'Elanna reassured hastily.
Seven was unfamiliar with the practice of cuddling although she knew of it. It seemed a little tame but she did not want to appear churlish.
"If that is the appropriate step. We should cuddle."
"No," B'Elanna replied. "Our holodeck time ends in ten minutes and I don't think I would enjoy being that efficient. I am on duty in four hours but you could stay with me tonight. If you like... no pressure Seven... just cuddling and sleeping... maybe a little more..." She grinned and the tension dispelled somewhat.
Seven kissed her passionately.
"That is acceptable B'Elanna Torres."
Reluctantly they stood up. They dressed without speaking, left the house and walked towards the holodeck exit. The doors opened smoothly and they exited the holodeck holding hands. As an afterthought B'Elanna remembered to close the program.
"Computer end program."
Thoroughly distracted, neither noticed the muffled thud and grunt of pain as Tom Paris dropped eight feet to the floor of the now empty holodeck. The doors closed behind them.
Tom Paris lay on the floor of the holodeck and tried to straighten his frozen limbs. His ankle had swollen inside his boot and a number of small but vicious bites adorned his face.
Opening his parched throat he gasped a few desperate words "Computer, emergency transport, sickbay, now!"
His sigh of relief as the transporter lock gripped him and whisked him from the scene of his suffering was echoed by the gasp of exasperated horror with which the Doctor greeted the gruesome sight of his errant assistant.
"Mr Paris what have you been doing?"
"Beasts... b..b..bats... B'Elanna... b..borg..." The helmsman's teeth chattered and then he fainted.
THE END
TITLE: An Unlikely World STATUS: On-going AUTHOR: halfofone RATING: NC17 for language mainly CODE: F/W with some B/F and W/T FEEDBACK: Yup. Tell me the truth. SUMMARY: This is a Buffy The Vampire Slayer fic. Faith is thrown together with an old enemy in prison. WARNINGS: This jumps off from the end of BTVS season six and there are some spoilers. What happens next bears no relationship whatever to the events of season seven. Except since now I have seen season 7, I will steal anything that I see fit. ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where. DISCLAIMER: BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy and Twentieth Century Fox. I'm just playing with their toys. CREDITS: Not beta'd so beware and this is my first BTVS story.
TITLE: It's An Unlikely World Part 1 AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: NC17 for language mainly CODE: F/W with some B/F and W/T
FEEDBACK: Yup. Tell me the truth.
SUMMARY: This is a Buffy The Vampire Slayer fic. Faith is thrown together with an old enemy in prison.
WARNINGS: This jumps off from the end of BTVS season six and there are some spoilers. What happens next bears no relationship to season seven whatever.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy and Twentieth Century Fox. I'm just playing with their toys.
CREDITS: Not beta'd so beware and this is my first BTVS story.
PUBLISHED: 11 November 2002
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Cat-calls and wolf-whistles echoed down the hard walls and bounced against metal doors announcing that another inmate had arrived for detention and correction. The bellows of the guards threatening retribution answered and added to the cacophony.
'Jeez it's like the soundtrack to a fucking Tarzan movie. I hope they ain't gonna put her in here,' muttered Faith to herself even though a part of her felt sympathy for the newcomer. She remembered walking the seemingly endless corridors with the countless faces leering from the cell bars, the ugly suggestions and uglier threats, the endless doors being unlocked and then relocked behind her, sealing her in. It had been hard not to run, make a break, get away from this place even though she had voluntarily handed herself over to whatever justice Southern California had to offer.
She had been held in solitary for a month before she was taken to the main cell block while the prison psychs assessed her. After the harsh quiet and darkness of life in the cooler, the noise and lights of the main dormitories had been overwhelming. The slayer had been scared despite knowing that she was stronger than anyone she was likely to meet and that she was here because she deserved it. She wondered if the new woman deserved to be here. Some did. Most didn't. They were mostly stupid or desperate or both. The slayer's frown deepened to a scowl when the prisoner in the bunk below whined.
"There ain't enough room for us'n let alone another fat bitch."
"Did I say you could speak?"
"No'm Faith but I jest wanted ..."
"Then shut up. And the only fat bitch in here is you."
The noise approached closer and then Faith could pick out footsteps, heavy boots and lighter steps, stumbling and shuffling slightly. 'Leg-irons,' thought the slayer grimly. 'This must be a real hard case.' The footsteps stopped and the yelling and shouting from the other prisoners increased. Faith could make out some of the cries. "Lucked out bitch, she's a mean mother." "Ain't no way you gonna get that skinny flat ass out of there alive. You're fucked baby." The cell bolts rattled and then she heard them slammed back and the door was yanked open.
"Fuck and fuck again," Faith growled under her breath.
"Prisoner step inside the door and stand still, hands on the bunk," barked a senior warder. The woman shuffled slowly through the door. From the top bunk Faith couldn't see her face, just lanky hair and very thin shoulders. "Legs apart," snapped the warder. "Search her and then remove the irons." The warder stood back, shotgun at the ready, to watch her two subordinates body search the newcomer for the second time in ten minutes. She sneered slightly when she saw Faith looking down. "Present for you Spencer."
Faith ignored her. She peered at the new prisoner who submitted quietly as the guards roughly ran their hands over her body and an odd conviction of familiarity began to form in Faith's mind though she couldn't yet see the woman's face, hidden as it was by a reddish curtain of hair. Then feeling became knowledge and Faith couldn't prevent herself exclaiming.
"Red!"
"You know each other? The warder was immediately nervous and alert, pale blue eyes flicking from one to other, moving instinctively to raise her shotgun. Friends or enemies could be equally dangerous.
"No Ma'am," said Faith recovering quickly. She winked at the warder. I've just always wanted to have a special friend with red-hair Ma'am," and the slayer grinned maliciously. The warder studied them suspiciously for a few more seconds, in which time the thin new prisoner showed no sign of recognising her future cellmate and Faith continued to grin lasciviously; the officer relaxed a little and smirked.
"Well I expect you'll look after your special friend real well Spencer. A pretty little Jew-dyke like her has to be real careful round here."
"Oh I'll take care of her Ma'am."
"Well then I'll just let you two get acquainted and Spencer," the warder leered at the slayer who cocked an eyebrow. "Keep the noise down so Barry Manilow there can get some sleep." She pointed at the small pale woman whose slightly bulging eyes stared anxiously from the cover of the middle bunk.
"Yes Ma'am," answered Faith brightly. The cell door was slammed shut by the departing warder, loud enough so that any prisoner on the block who had managed to sleep through the earlier racket now lost that privilege. The slayer whispered under her breath, "And fuck you and your hell spawn."
The hubbub outside eventually subsided and the cell block returned to its usual uneasy night-time silence broken only by the occasional shouting as inmates threatened or cajoled the occupants of other cells. The lights went down until there was not quite enough to read by and the ill-assorted occupants of cell 28 waited in silence. Faith strained her senses until she was sure the guards had gone. "All clear," she said in an undertone.
"Have they gone Faith? Are you sure? Aah hate that hell-bitch Wilson with her spooky little smiles." Barry Manilow, as she was known to guards and prisoners alike, lowered herself from her bunk and walked cautiously around the back of the silent red-head who still leaned against the bunk for support. "They've gone honey. You can settle back a little there." There was no response and the tiny woman was instantly annoyed. "Hey remember the bottom bunk's yers but maybe Faithy'll make you sleep on the floor. Wontcha Faithy? You won't let Missy here put herself above us."
"Shut up Manny and watch the door." Faith dropped gracefully and silently to the ground and glared at the painfully thin woman who had still given no sign of recognition. She was dressed in the orange prison uniform and sandals and a standard prison holdall lay at her feet where it had been dropped.
"What the fuck do you want Red?"
At last Willow raised her eyes to meet the slayer's angry gaze and Faith, despite her lifetime's experience of despair, flinched as she met the emptiest eyes she had ever seen.
"Nothing," said Willow. She slowly bent over to retrieve the holdall from the ground and placed it on the bottom bunk and then sat down on the edge of the stained mattress and lapsed back into motionless silence. Faith was pissed off.
"Don't expect shit from me Red. Whatever it is that you and the sainted fucking B are doing, find some other poor fuck to screw with. I am over the slaying gig."
Willow exhaled slowly and a grimace of resignation that was almost a smile flitted over her pale face but the expression was empty of cheer, empty of everything.
"I want nothing from you Faith."
"I don't believe you," Faith snarled and strode the four steps to the end of the small cell and whirled about on her heel. "This is some moronic scooby trick to get back at me. Suppose I just kill you here Red?" Her eyes flashed in a dangerous smile. "After all I'm a mindless killer who gets off on death. I don't know what B was thinking letting you get this close to me." The slayer covered the tiny distance between them and forcefully lifted Willow's chin to stare into the witch's face. Cold hope stirred in the dull green eyes.
"That's right Faith, you'll have to kill me." Willow urged, her expression almost pleading, and then she overstated the case by adding, "You don't want me around you spying for Buffy."
Faith was confused now but she didn't like being taken for a fool. Angrily she pushed Willow back onto the bunk.
"Get to bed. We'll talk in the morning when maybe you'll make some fucking sense."
Willow looked at the angry slayer and then her eyes dropped and she swung her legs up onto the bunk and lay back down, passive and obedient. It set Faith's nerves on edge.
"You know her fer sure. I ain't niver seen you all flustered an' all."
The slayer glared angrily at Manny who gaped back with her distinctive and peculiar mixture of animal intelligence and dumb ignorance, mouth slack and open, pale muddy eyes alive with curiousity.
"You can get in your fucking bunk as well." Faith ordered.
The older woman peered at her knowingly and smirked. "She an old girlfriend?" Faith didn't answer and Manny took the chance to pry a little more. "A bit skinny, not your usual kinda bitch but perhaps you're different now?"
"Just get to bed Manny and remember not to let your stupid fat mouth run on outside these walls else I'll break your arms off and use 'em for coat hangers." But Faith knew that warning the dumb bitch was useless; Manny couldn't let an opportunity slip if the price was right and even if it wasn't. She'd sell information about anything to anyone, she just couldn't help herself from singing out.
Faith climbed into the upper bunk and lay back. The heavy night air lingered oppressively, carrying its usual foetid burden of disinfectant, urine and boiled vegetables. She could hear the sounds from the adjacent cells; the snoring chorus with some coughing and weeping solos; cell 23 were fucking their brains out, ignoring the complaints from their neighbours. Concentrating, Faith blocked the noises from outside and listened. Manny was pretending to sleep, breathing heavily but not the asthmatic snore that would signal her actual departure for Nod. Faith half-grinned, the good ol' girl in the bunk beneath was determined not to miss anything; most nights Manny was asleep before her head hit the pillow, so staying awake must be real torture for her. The slayer's grin faded.
She could hear nothing from the lower bunk. If Willow was asleep then she was the quietest sleeper Faith had ever known so most likely she was awake but she certainly wasn't crying. Most first-timers would cry themselves to sleep for weeks until they lost the part of themselves that cared enough to cry or realised that they were just hanging up a banner that said 'I'm a weak shit, fuck me over'. Yeah but most first-timers didn't have Buffy 'back from the fucking dead' Summers in back of them, able to crack them out of the joint whenever she pleased. This had to be some kind of slayer deal ....... but then just maybe not. That blank agony in Willow eyes was real, she wasn't faking it, Faith had seen that look on only a few people and none of them lived long. It was hard for the slayer to imagine what could have happened to the too-innocent college girl that would strip the innocence and hope from her and put her in this place but Faith half-wished she had seen Red's fall from grace. She had been an irritatingly perky and self-righteous little geek, and Faith had despised her perhaps more than any of the scoobies; those fucking fluffy jumpers covered in rabbits and ducks were enough to make Faith want to gut her.
'Shit! Ten minutes with a fucking scooby and I'm psycho-girl again - so there are some things that no anger-management can fix.' Faith's bad humour eased, amused by her own reaction but still she knew that sharing a cell with Red wasn't going to be easy.
Faith waited out another long night; she rarely slept. With nothing to exhaust her slayer energies sleep wasn't necessary and it was part of her prison myth: Faith Spencer never sleeps and no-one can take her by surprise. What did surprise Faith was that Willow didn't sleep either.
**************
At seven the next morning the loud banging of prison doors greeted another day as the day shift arrived. An ancient pa system spluttered to life. 'Morning roll call in fifteen minutes, each convict is to stand by her bunk and wait for inspection and then you can all get your fat backsides down to the canteen. I'm told it's waffles today .... but you know I'm fucking lying to you.'
"That bitch thinks she's real amusing," said Manny bitterly. "It ain't right she stole that job from me."
Faith ignored the grumbling from the bunk below, her full attention was on Red. The thin wicca was up already and standing by her bunk. Faith could see her face in profile and if her slayer instinct hadn't told Faith otherwise the red-head's complexion would have screamed vampire, a paleness that spoke of months without sunlight. The reddish hair hung limply, badly trimmed to shoulder length by some incompetent prison barber.
"There's no hurry Red," said Faith casually. "It'll take them another fifteen minutes before they get to us."
"Yeah, and then the bastards give us forty minutes for breakfast, three hundred women in two queues." Manny shook her head. "If you ain't in the first two hunnered an fifty you don' eat. Shit ain't worth eating anyway; my pigs eat better 'n that."
Willow gave no sign of hearing either of them; she continued to stand impassively by the bunks, staring at the end wall of the cell where a small barred window grudgingly allowed the sunlight in.
"Hey red-head!" Manny pushed Willow hard in the small of her back, shoving her forward a step. "Are you just fucking ignorant? Don't you piss on me and pay me no mind when Ah'm speaking to yer." Manny was used to being ragged by other cons but not by some skinny first-time kid; that was just humiliating for an old hand like herself. If Faith wasn't gonna sort the brat out then she would.
Willow slowly turned to face the aggravated little woman. Her eyes glowed black and a cold ferocity angled her features. Manny cowered back into the shadow of her bunk, realising she had misread the situation totally and was about to pay some awful price. And Faith's slayer senses lit up; she had forgotten what a rush it was. She jumped from the upper bunk with fluid grace, landing just in front of the wicca. As she moved into a fighting stance she realised that the darkness was already fading from Willow's gaze and the evil chill that had been unleashed was fading also. Faith relaxed, dropping her hands and raised her eyebrow in an expression of amused wonder.
"Well get you Red" she drawled, smiling knowingly. "Angel told me your voodoo skills had come on but he didn't say you'd made it to full-on wicked witch of the West."
"Faith don't .... "
"Hey who am I to criticise? And it'll give the friggin' counsellors another super evil chick to focus on. Of course! That's why you're here isn't it? Got carried away by the bad mojo." Faith's grin was even broader as Willow sank down on the bunk. "So what happened Wicca girl? One day you just wrinkled your cute little nose and half of Sunny D dropped dead?"
"Something like that."
"I'm impressed but that leaves me with one big honkin' question Red. What was B doin' while all this bad shit was going down for you?" Willow turned her face away and Faith's grin became more wicked. "No! Don't say anything. Let me guess. She was playing with her latest fuck toy, all wrapped up in herself as usual while you went to hell alone and hey, since we're discussing old friends, please don't tell me that farm-boy is still the scene with B."
"You're still obsessed with her, aren't you Faith. Everything always comes back to Buffy."
Faith mimed being stabbed in the stomach and gasped out. "It's true, I admit it, I have major issues with 'holier than thou' Barbie." She smirked at Willow. "The trauma counsellor reckons I have repressed sexual longing for the 'mysterious' blonde in my dreams even if we usually fight to the death in an open grave. Sex equals death is her theory. Whaddya think?"
Any reply that Willow might have made was forestalled by the rattle of the door bolts. There was a lot of shouting in the background. Something was wrong. The cell door swung back violently and an armed guard poked the muzzle of a shotgun through the opening, scoping out the cell.
"What the fuck are you all doing?" screamed the day-shift warder, "Get your fucking asses off those bunks and get ready for inspection," Frenzied and purple-faced, she entered the cell behind the armed guard. The morning inspection had been a nightmare already for the warder what with one dead body and another inmate, the only suspect, apparently too frightened to speak. It was going to be a fucking bad day and she didn't have time for insolent lazy cons.
"Hey Ma'am! I'm here, standing by my bed. Ain't no need to rag on me Ma'am." Faith winked at the warder but the familiarity only made the woman angrier.
"Don't fuck with me Spencer. You ain't even dressed. You're all three on report."
"On report? Does this mean we'll be getting detention after school Ma'am?"
"We've got a body in cell 23, Spencer. None of you is going anywhere today. This whole frigging block is staying in the cells until we know what happened."
Willow and Manny were standing by this time and the warden gave them all a cursory pat-down.
"Who's dead Ma'am?" Faith was serious at last, she knew and liked both women in 23. If some fucker had hurt them .....
"Dimanski. Neck broken."
Faith had no answer for this bombshell but her hands instinctively closed into fists.
"Real nasty," said Manny interrupting, realising that her skills were needed. "Ah always feel real sorry for someone who finds something so terrible." Gossiping with guards was her job and she was real good at it, sympathy oozed from her, masking the overriding nosiness. The warder opened her mouth and then closed it again, clearly bursting to share the news so Manny prompted her again, "Was it you who found the poor soul Ma'am?" She spoke in a hushed kind of voice that could still carry across three counties. "Course Ah found my first husband in a pool of blood. It must have been ten feet across, Ah can see him now." The small con shook her head sadly, ignoring Faith's snort of derision.
The warder looked behind her furtively. The guard had moved outside the cell. It was against the rules to discuss incidents like this with prisoners but the need to talk about what she had seen overrode any misgivings.
"It was fucking creepy. Dimanski, dead as they come, Bowyer huddled in the corner crying. I ain't never seen a corpse so pale and I've seen a few. Blood all over her neck."
"Who did it?" Faith's dark eyes blazed.
"Why Bowyer of course! Cell was locked and she was the only fucker in there."
"That's a crock o' shit Ma'am. Bowyer worshipped the ground Alice walked on and in case you hadn't noticed, Alice was twice her size."
The warder remembered suddenly that she shouldn't be talking about this. "You can just shut your damn mouth Spencer and mind your own business. I don't want to hear any more gossip from you." She hustled quickly out of the cell, slammed the door and locked it.
Faith swore loudly.
"Vampire," said Willow quietly and unexpectedly.
"What the hell?"
"You're a slayer, you do the math." But Faith simply looked bewildered so Willow continued, "Unnatural strength plus neck trauma equals vampire."
"You're saying Sal Bowyer is a vampire?" Faith shook her head. "Well she wasn't this time yesterday and there just wouldn't have been enough time for her to be vamped and I haven't seen any friggin' vampires in the whole two years I've been here."
Manny was looking disturbed by their conversation, even more disturbed, if that were possible, than she had when Willow turned on her. She did not like the way today was shaping.
"What in hell's name are you two talking about? Faith I don't like her, she's a crazy and you're starting to sound 'bout as crazy as she is."
"Shut up Manny," snapped Faith but the slayer's face was now alive with suspicion. "Call me paranoid Red, but you show up, all witchy and a little evil (hope you don't mind my mentioning that) and suddenly there are women dying, trapped in their locked cells. I'll bet you could do that couldn't you Red?"
Willow looked at her and smiled, a cold tired smile and said in a cold tired voice.
"Yes I could do that. I didn't though."
"Should I believe you?" Faith walked slowly round the witch and then stopped in front of her. "Nope. You're numero uno on my list of suspects Wicca girl. You've got the means, you had the time and I reckon you're a fuckin' psycho-loony (you could say it takes one to know one) so I guess you wouldn't need motive."
"Believe what you like Faith." Willow crawled back into her bunk and lay down with her face to the wall.
"No. That ain't gonna do it because even if you didn't kill her, it's one hell of a coincidence." Faith grabbed Willow by the shoulders and turned her back to face her, she lifted her hand as if to slap the witch. The slayer hesitated when she saw tears staining Willow's face.
"If you want to hit me Faith, I won't stop you. Coincidences happen but I can't blame you for not believing me, there's no reason why you should, and I guess we do have a little too much history." The witch's voice was gentle and shaky, for the first time she seemed like the girl Faith remembered.
Faith didn't hit her so Willow continued. "I really didn't come here looking for you, I didn't want to see anybody ever again. I didn't know they would put me in here with you," she paused for breath, "and I am sorry about your friend."
Faith's anger ebbed and she released her grip on Willow. "Yeah well Alice was alright."
Manny was hanging out of the bunk watching and listening with consuming curiousity. Half of what they said made no sense to her but she was going to make sure she understood even if her brain threatened to explode with the strain. Whatever past these two had together was dynamite. She was sure of that.
"I know why they put Red in here with you," she offered as a way of entering the conversation, "sorry if I have your name wrong Missy but that's all I've heard anyone call you," Willow made no effort to correct the name and Manny shrugged irritably. Getting anything out of this one was tough.
"And why is that then?" asked Faith.
"So you can look after her," said Manny with certainty. "Ain't you noticed how many first-timers and weak fucks they put in with you. The screws know you're a sucker for a sob story."
Faith blushed and then felt even more embarrassed, aware that the former scooby was watching her. She growled, "Yeah well I know they lumbered me with you and you're the most pathetic loser I know, in fact you're the best evidence for your whole dumbass theory, but don't get too comfortable with that idea Manny, I only look after myself. I'm not your fucking babysitter."
It wasn't sensible to upset Faith and Manny was not a fool, in any case she understood the dark-haired girl's reluctance to get a rep as a do-gooder; some folks might see that as weakness so she changed the subject.
"It's a sure thing ol' Sal 'll top hersel without Al to take care of her," she speculated. "Maybe just as well too cos if the screws pin this on her they'll send her to the chair."
"Bowyer wouldn't hurt a thing, everyone knows that,"
"Faithy, she burnt her own home down for the insurance."
"She says different."
"She would but that ain't the point. The point is there ain't no-one else in the picture for this."
"Unless you find someone else," said Willow softly.
"Hey check out Detective Cagney," crowed Manny derisively. "Sorry to spoil your fun girlfriend but we don't exactly have the run of the place and you heard what old hog-face said. Sal was the only one there and the door was locked."
"Detective Cagney ..... ?" Willow repeated looking blank. She shrugged. "I may not be a detective but there are at least two alternatives to your friend being the killer: the killer had a key or the killer used magic, either to get in and out, or even to carry out the murder."
Manny looked at the skinny Wicca with dumbfounded disbelief. She looked at Faith for confirmation that this woman was for real and then back again.
"Are you saying you ain't never heard of Cagney and Lacey!"
"Manny get a fucking life," exclaimed Faith irritably.
"But Faith ... jeez ... I mean ... Cagney and Lacey."
"Just shut the fuck up about fucking Cagney and Lacey. I won't tell you again." Seeing Willow was really puzzled, Faith started to explain. "Manny has some kind of obsessive fan thing going on, some kind of chick-tecs TV show from way back and why the hell am I talking about this crap?" She shook her head in exasperation. "But Red I have to say, while Manny may be dumber than a dead lemming, she has one thing right. There's nothing I can do except listen to the lies, gossip and shit and wait for some stupid con to shoot her mouth off. And none of that will help Sal Bowyer now the cops have got her, poor bitch is on her own."
The PA system burst into life again.
"Cells will be unlocked in five minutes. All inmates are to go straight to the canteen for breakfast. Get ready and get moving."
"Looks like normal service has been resumed. That's fucking quick; the last dead body they found, they kept us locked up for two days."
"Ain't no need for them delaying Faith, they know who done it and they ain't gonna be asking no awkward questions. Where do you reckon they'll send her first: sin bin or kook house? Don't 'spose we'll see her again. Fuck! She owed me a packet of ciggies."
"Shut up and get dressed and remember what I said about keeping your fat mouth shut."
The three women dressed in silence stepping awkwardly round each other. Faith wasn't normally bothered about the lack of privacy, she had nothing to hide and a body to die for but this amount of closeness to a scooby felt unnatural and for the first time in a long time she found herself trying to be discreet, a change in her behaviour not lost on Manny, whose watery little eyes watched her curiously.
After a very lengthy five minutes the cell was unlocked and they filed out to join the queues of women heading for the canteen. Willow was attracting attention on account of her looks, her newness and some heavy rumours about why she was here and Manny found herself in demand. A steady stream of prison busy-bodies wanted to know all about the new woman. By the time Willow finally reached the head of the queue and picked up her breakfast tray she was painfully aware of the whispers and pointing. She looked for somewhere to sit and decided on a table which was pretty much unoccupied but she had hardly put her tray down before a roughish voice accosted her.
"This seat's taken asshole."
"Okay, sorry." She made to stand up and take her tray but the thickset inmate grabbed her wrist.
"You can leave the tray. I'm hungry."
"You're welcome," Willow murmured trying to extricate her wrist.
"You're welcome," mimicked the bully and twisted her grip on Willow's wrist. "I don't think I want you to go after all, pretty thing."
Willow stared hard at the table and tried to stem the rising tide within her; powerful words were flooding through her head begging to be spoken.
A bored voice interrupted.
"I have a riddle for you. What walks, talks but has no head?"
"What the fuck .....?" exclaimed Willow's captor.
"Didn't think you'd know the answer which is ..... you moron; in about two seconds if you don't let go of my property."
The big inmate released Willow and turned to face Faith who smiled up at the angry mountain winningly.
"Hey big girl you're smarter than you look. Now get lost."
"She ain't yours, no-one said she was yours."
"Well, I guess no-one was right and you're wrong. She's mine." Faith took Willow's hand and held it to her heart. "See."
The intruder backed away scowling but knowing better than to get into a quarrel with the dark-haired girl from Boston. That was a quick way to be humiliated. She'd seen one big tough killer reduced to tears and attempted suicide after being held down effortlessly by Spencer who then poured scorn and insults on her helpless victim to the delight of other prisoners and the guards. There was just no way to come back from something like that. At least if she handed out a decent beating you could keep some respect.
Faith sat down beside Willow. She was still holding the witch's hand, Willow gently pulled it away and Faith let go.
"You can put away the bad mojo Red. I can see that keeping all these innocent slaughterers and thieves safe from you is going to be a full time job. But if they think you're mine you'll mostly get left alone so I'm hoping they'll survive."
"I'm not going to hurt anyone," Willow answered quietly.
"Not what I hear. I'm told you killed a man, flayed him alive and then confessed to the police" said Faith conversationally.
"How do you ..... ?"
"The amalgamated Union of Prison Snitches and Canaries have been meeting almost non-stop since your arrival. You ought to know Manny is the life-president. By this time tomorrow your life history right down to your high school grades and shoe size will be known to one and all. But let's talk about something more interesting." Faith paused and then repeated. "I'm told you killed a man, flayed him alive and then confessed to the police. Now what is all that about?"
"Vengeance." said Willow abruptly. "I killed him and then I tried to end the world. Xander stopped me."
"Xander stopped you!" Faith choked and snorted through her nose gracelessly. "So .... you tried to stop the world by drowning it in chocolate and Xander Harris ate it all?"
Willow half-smiled. "He talked me out of it."
A small group of prisoners arrived and sat near them and that ended the conversation apart from Faith occasionally and disconcertingly tracing her fingers up and down Willow's back in a generally proprietorial manner. The first time she did it Willow had jumped and glared only to be met by a wink and a cocky smirk. "Mine," Faith had mouthed.
A guard entered the canteen and pinned a list to the wall around which a small crowd quickly gathered. Seconds later Manny scooted in beside the odd couple.
"Hey you both have visitors today. How come I don't get no visitors and Rosenberg here gets one already?" she complained.
"Cause no-one likes you. Ask me something hard next time." Faith turned to Willow. "Angel at last, I've missed the big guy."
It occurred to Faith that it was almost pleasant having someone who shared some history with her even if that history was crap. At least she could talk to Willow about Angel but her sense of familial warmth died almost immediately. Willow did not have good news.
"Angel's been missing for weeks and Cordelia too. So unless he turned up between yesterday and today, it's not him."
"What do you mean missing?" Faith felt her throat tighten. There was only one person in the world who seemed to care about her and that was Angel. She clenched her fists and for the first time in her jail career, wanted to get out. She ought to be out there finding him, not stuck in here.
"Vanished into thin ..... air." Willow cringed a little at her choice of words and Faith's scowl darkened but she tried to hide her fear in mock aggression.
"So who the fuck is visiting me then?" she demanded.
"On the list it's a B. Summers," answered Manny helpfully. "Rosenberg's is a Mr A Harris."
"Wonderful. All the fucking scoobies, and I'll just bet that B isn't here to enquire after my health or smuggle in a file."
"They must have found out where I was sent yesterday." Willow didn't sound as though she cared much. "Buffy would have known from Angel that you were here too."
"I'm fucking sure of that. She wouldn't want me to vanish off the radar. I'm getting out of here." Faith pushed herself to her feet with ill-concealed energy and Willow looked up at her with a shocked expression. Faith rolled her eyes. "Out of the canteen, not the fucking jail. You'd better come too before some crazy Bertha tries to make a pass at you and ends up fried and basted."
TBC
TITLE: It's An Unlikely World Part 2 AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: NC17 for language mainly CODE: F/W with some B/F and W/T
FEEDBACK: Yup. Tell me the truth.
SUMMARY: This is a Buffy The Vampire Slayer fic. Faith is thrown together
with an old enemy in prison.
WARNINGS: This jumps off from the end of BTVS season six and there are some spoilers. What happens next bears no relationship whatever to the events of season seven. This chapter contains a slightly disturbing depiction of Willow but I can promise that things will get better ....
DISCLAIMER: BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy and Twentieth Century Fox. I'm just playing with their toys.
CREDITS: Not beta'd so beware and this is my first BTVS story. Thanks to Rachel for pointing out some problems in this chapter. I'm not sure I fixed them entirely but hopefully it is better.
PUBLISHED: 5 December 2002
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Faith stood impatiently in line and waited to be searched before going through the doors of the visiting room. Willow was in front of her and Faith was doing her best to let everyone know that the red-head was hers. It didn't always work but a couple of guards owed their lives to her in the events of last year's riot and some of their pals were grateful to the slayer and would go easy where she was involved. She rested her hand on the wicca's shoulder.
"Spencer stop manhandling the red-head."
"Woman-handling Sir," she smirked and dropped her hand.
"Do you have to keep touching me?" Willow hissed.
"But you're my girl," Faith replied loud enough to start several women in the queue snickering. She smiled sweetly when Willow glared darkly at her but the smirk vanished as the witch's eyes burned coal black and she heard a voice inside her head.
'Don't ever say that again Slayer. I'm nobody's girl. Do you understand that Faith? Nobody's.' The voice was unmistakeably Willow's but darker and deeper. Faith felt fear trickle down her nerve ends. She swallowed the smart comeback and watched quietly as the wicca was not very diligently searched by two bored guards. The search of the slayer was equally cursory and the two women lined up ready to meet their visitors. She remembered Willow's words from earlier.
"Vengeance," she repeated just loud enough for Willow to hear. "Vengeance for what Wicca? You didn't say."
Willow ignored her.
The doors to the visitor area opened and the prisoners trooped in to look anxiously for family and friends. The room was large and overly bright, divided down the middle by a wall of open booths. An armoured glass partition ran along the centre of the line of booths, rising from floor to ceiling. No physical contact was allowed between the prisoners and their visitors; the only communication was via the phones installed on either side of the glass partition and even those conversations were policed by the guards who patrolled along the line listening unashamedly.
Faith felt that unique and vivid sensation, like a shot of whisky warming the inside of her skin, that warned of the presence of the other slayer. It was so strong she gasped a little, her recollection had been only a pale imitation and then she saw her. For a recently dead girl, Buffy didn't really look any different, she was laughing at something, Xander probably, and she looked good, a little heavy on the pastel colours but apart from that good.
B looked her way and the smile was wiped instantly, hostility shuttering the pretty face. Same old B thought Faith resignedly. Buffy had many good reasons to hate her, Faith knew that, but it irked her nonetheless, she couldn't help wanting the other slayer to feel differently.
The younger slayer strolled towards the booth with as much attitude as she could muster while dressed in the ugly prison overalls.
B settled back with folded arms to watch the other slayer approach; her face was set to mask any feeling but Faith could feel the contempt.
She pulled her own chair back and sat down, stretching out her legs and folding her arms in reply. For twenty long seconds neither made any move to pick up the phones, they just eyeballed each other. Faith folded first, reaching to pick up the phone. As she did so she smiled wryly at her own behaviour; in the past she would sooner have died than give B any satisfaction. Buffy didn't crack a smile but she did pick up the phone.
"B."
"Faith."
They sat and looked at each other for another lengthy pause.
"Okay?" asked Buffy tersely her expression clearly suggesting that the chosen one didn't really give a shit.
"Been worse," said Faith matching the indifference. "You?"
"Been better."
The silence stretched out again. Faith decided to have another go and this time about something Buffy cared about too.
"Any word on Angel? Red tells me he's been missing for awhile."
"No. Not from Cordy either." But Buffy hardly looked interested and Faith could feel her patience draining away.
"B, do you want something? Because if you don't then why don't we just not."
"If anything happens to Willow, I'll kill you." Buffy's voice was harsh and Faith twigged that the great B was really worried, perhaps even frightened. Faith smirked. The stuck-up little bitch had always been a control freak so the thought of Faith being the only one in a position to look out for her best friend must be killing the blonde.
"I see we're done with the pleasantries. So you let Red down and now you're all big with the guilt, but if you're asking me to protect her blondie then believe me you have this backward. I don't think Wanda the Wicked there needs much protection."
Buffy looked immediately concerned. "She musn't use magic Faith, not yet, she's too unstable."
"What the hell is all this about B."
Buffy closed down again. "Protect her and don't let her use magic. You know all you need to know," she said. Faith felt the old familiar exasperation.
"I am not going to do anything B until you let me know what shit is going down. You have given me fucking diddly-squat. If I'm going to protect her I need to know the truth B, the whole fucking truth." Faith was furious but she kept her voice to an angry whisper. "You always do this to me. You always treat me like the shitty sidekick who's too stupid to be told what's going on and just has to follow fucking orders."
Buffy looked down, feeling the truth of the younger slayer's words, annoyed with herself for letting Faith put her in the wrong again. For an evil two-faced killer, Faith always understood too much and she was a world-class expert at making Buffy take the blame.
"This guy, Warren, thought he was a big-shot villain, anyway I trashed him and he came looking for vengeance. He shot me and a stray bullet killed Tara. She died in Willow's arms."
"Tara," said Faith slowly, remembering a single encounter with the shy young woman. "Blond chick who hung out with Willow?"
"Tara, who Willow loved more than the world, so much that after torturing and killing Warren, Willow decided to end the world. She nearly succeeded."
"And then you turned her over to the cops."
"Of course not. It's not my idea that she's in here," blurted Buffy. "I didn't know .... until it was too late. Do you think I would let Willow go to jail?"
"Regular justice is not for you and yours is it B? It was different with me though," said Faith bitterly and she imitated Buffy's righteous earnestness. "You killed a man Faith, an innocent man. You must be punished." Buffy ignored the provocation and continued her abridged update.
"Giles was trying to arrange for some witchy coven to take Willow in for retraining, teach her to control her power but before we could get her on a plane for England she went to the police. Faith you have to understand how dangerous things are for Willow right now."
"Why don't you just tell me the sitch? And explain to me why your cute little Wicca turned herself in."
Buffy looked worried. "I don't know why but I can guess. I don't think Willow wants to face the music, I think she's here to buy herself some time. Faith, she could walk out of here, or fly, anytime she chooses."
********
In the next booth Willow sat across from Xander and tried not to cry again.
" ..... We're going to get you out of here Will. Giles found a lawyer who thinks she can get you off. They don't have anything except your confession...."
"Please don't," she said softly.
"But why?" Xander could hardly look at her in the prison uniform. She was his best friend, smart, sensitive and lovable - she was the last person on earth who should be in a place like this. He beat his fist gently on the table. "We could just take you out of here right now. Just the three of us, go on the lam."
"A jail-break," Willow smiled a little. "I don't think that would be great idea."
"You can't stay here Will, it's full of unnatural people."
"Like lesbians?"
"No! Evil people, murderers, freaks."
"Like me."
"Would you stop with the word twisting!" He banged his fist on the table. "What you did ... you weren't in your right mind. It wasn't really you."
"It was me. I belong in here with the murderers and freaks. Xander I couldn't promise you right now that I would never do ... that again. I feel it inside me all the time."
"What do you feel?" he asked trying to understand. Her eyes darkened and Xander felt fear prickle his skin.
"Power. Power running under my skin, along my nerves, through my veins, beating with my heart." Her voice became deeper and it occurred to Xander that maybe talking to Willow about her swim on the dark side wasn't too bright. He grinned nervously.
"Yeah I grant you, that's quite a feeling you have there Will, but Giles has a whole merry band of Wicca sisters to help you with that!"
"I'm not sure I trust Giles."
"Hey! I'd be there with you!"
"I'm not sure I trust you either."
"Okay ... the not trusting's a problem but that's no reason to want to stay here. There's no-one you trust in this place."
"There's Faith."
Xander looked at her unbelievingly. "You trust Faith! Of all people Will. She tried to kill you, me, all of us."
"Like me then. See I belong here. Look Xander, don't think I don't appreciate that you and Buffy have stood by me despite everything but I can't just return to normal like nothing happened. Tara died and I murdered a man. Everything's different."
"But Will, remember what Giles said, going to England was not the easy option, it was going to be damned hard."
"Perhaps I want the easy way out then."
"Will please. We are really worried about you. You know this could still go either way for you if you don't ...."
WIllow interrupted him gently. "Yes I know, 'don't give in to the dark side Luke'." She smiled affectionately and for a brief instant Xander thought his sweet Willow was back but she shrugged resignedly and said slowly, "I think the dark side already has me Xander."
Xander put his head in his hands.
********
"So you get this Faith, if Willow continues to use magic without the proper... " Buffy hesitated as she tried to remember the words Giles used, " ... harmonious corpuscle" She frowned that didn't sound right, "she'll become evil again and this time we might not be able to stop her. So you have the full picture; no magic and she has to get out of here."
"You want to break her out?"
"Well that shouldn't be necessary if we can talk her into taking back her confession. She hasn't been to trial yet. But Faith if we can't get her out any other way then we may have to, whether she wants to go or not."
"Won't it be a little difficult to kidnap the most powerful wicca in the west?"
"Yes which is why we want to try persuasion first." Buffy shrugged. "Whatever it takes to save my best friend."
"And you expect me to help."
"Aren't you in here to make amends Faith? Then make some. Don't let Willow destroy herself forever."
***************
Faith stared at the lines running along the ceiling. She had only been in this cell for four months but she already knew all the patterns and cracks in the concrete. She could even visualise them when she shut her eyes. This was one boring ceiling, she was sure it had taken twice as long to memorise the last cell. It was not much of a hobby but what the hell, she had to make her own entertainment in the long sleepless nights.
Willow had been very quiet after they returned to the main cell block, even Manny had totally failed to get anything out of her about her visit despite speculating wildly. The snitch had managed to catch sight of the visitors by bribing a fellow prisoner to let her into a cell block that overlooked the main entrance to the prison. She couldn't think of the last time she had seen two such beautiful young people and her inquisitive little nose was almost visibly twitching.
"Why he's a very attractive young man you have there Rosenberg. Are you gonna git married?" she asked while standing beside the red-head, watching her brush her teeth.
Willow shook her head and said nothing but her expression was quite benevolent and Manny was a little encouraged.
"I suppose them two are a couple. It's very strange that you should end up here with Faithy and then they visit both of you. Have you known Faith long?"
"Shut it Manny."
"I hardly know Faith at all," said Willow quietly and surprisingly.
"Yeah but you have to admit Red that our brief acquaintance was intense."
This was the sort of information that Manny was looking for. A noise outside caught her attention. Damn there was someone at the door and just as she was getting somewhere. Bolts clanged and the cell door opened slowly. A night guard stood at the entrance and peered in. Faith felt her adrenaline beginning to pump and an old familiar feeling raised the hair on the back of her neck.
"Evening girls. May I come in?"
"Why sure Officer, come on in," said Manny, intrigued by the unusual politeness. The guard smiled benevolently and stepped over the threshold.
"Rosenberg," said the guard. "You're to come with me."
Willow finished rinsing out her toothbrush and turned to collect her clothing. She had already changed into the regulation night sweats.
"There's no need to get dressed. You're not going anywhere special." The guard laughed and closed the cell door. Faith sat up and Manny peered at the woman with astonishment. The guards rarely entered a cell by themselves and never closed the door.
"Is something wrong Ma'am?" asked Manny cautiously. She might not have had slayer instincts but her sense of self-preservation was finely tuned and this situation just screamed danger.
"Nothing's wrong runt. Now get out of the way and you won't get hurt ... yet. Get over here Rosenberg. You are one pretty little bitch. Just how I like them."
"I don't think you should be here Ma'am," said Faith slowly. She didn't want to fight with a guard but this looked bad and felt worse.
"That's good of you to be concerned for my safety Spencer but there's no need, believe me. Or perhaps you need proof." With inhuman speed the guard grabbed Manny span her round and without pause wrenched her head round. A deadening crunch and Manny, surprise still registered on her pinched little face, sank slowly from the woman's grasp.
"Still worried about me Spencer?" asked the smiling guard. Her face vamped out and with a snarl she leapt towards Willow. Her charge was interrupted by Faith's flying body landing on top of her and for a few seconds there was a blur of bodies until the slayer managed to launch the vampire backwards to crash against the door. The sound echoed along the cell block walls. Shouting began outside.
The vampire sat up. She looked shocked but she didn't have much time to ponder the turnaround. Faith was on her, delivering two rib cracking kicks. The vampire whimpered in pain but pulled herself together long enough pull out a plastic riot baton and deliver a rapid blow to the side of Faith's head. The slayer cursed and rolled away out of range of the second blow. Outside the noise had increased.
"Who the hell are you?" said the vampire, clutching at her broken ribs. Her yellow eyes glowed in the gloom. Faith grinned ferociously.
"I'm the slayer. Surprise!"
"We have to get rid of her," warned Willow. "Before the guards get here."
"Small problem," muttered Faith. "There's nothing wooden or sharp in here. And I'm fresh out of holy water."
"So you can hurt but you can't kill me slayer." The vampire smiled again and shook her head. "I see it all now. You killed your cell-mate and took me as a hostage when I discovered you. It's perfect. You'll fry for this Spencer and your friend. Not as much fun as doing it myself but it'll serve."
Willow began chanting.
"Red no! Ixnay on the magic tricks."
"We have no choice. There's no time." She raised her hands and continued her chant.
The baton that the guard was clutching began to glow and cursing the vampire threw it down. The stick hit the ground with a wooden sound.
"Your weapon slayer" Willow announced in a low dark tone. The atmosphere of evil rose a notch.
Cursing, Faith dived onto the newly formed stake an instant before the vampire swooped on it. Rolling out of the way of the vampire and then up onto her knees, Faith drove the stake into the vampire's back with a swinging backhand. Half a second later the demon exploded in a shower of dust.
Faith leaned back on her heels and closed her eyes in ecstasy. She had forgotten how fucking wonderful slaying felt, to hunt and kill another being, to witness the moment of annihilation. She stayed kneeling, rocking gently, almost in a trance, letting the thrilling sensations slide through her until Willow put a hand on her shoulder and then she jumped as though electrocuted by a thousand volts. Basic instinct took over. She yanked Willow to her knees and with a shaking hand pressed the stake against the soft flesh at the base of the witch's throat, the need to kill so strong, to smell blood and fear again. She looked into Willow's eyes. The witch was smiling.
"You can kill me Faith. Put us both out of our misery."
The clatter of keys and banging of metal doors brought Faith back to her disgusted self. The guards were only seconds away. Faith dropped her hand and released Willow who stood up with a sigh and scrambled backwards to lean against the bunks.
"Willow just shut the fuck up about dying, I don't want to hurt you" Faith lied. "It was just the heat of the moment." She straightened herself and tucked the stake into her trousers and tried to clear her head. "We have to hide Manny," she muttered and bent to pick up the dead woman. She hoisted the body onto the far side of the top bunk and then vaulted up beside the corpse.
"Sorry about that old woman." she apologised to the dead body as she arranged it against the wall, using the covers to disguise the outline. "Red, come on. Get up here with me." Faith took Willow's hand and pulled her up, whispering roughly. "Lie down under me and remember, you're enjoying yourself."
Still smiling in a truly fucked up creepy way, the witch nodded her understanding but when she unexpectedly screamed "Ugh Faith please now," Faith grinned despite feeling spooked. The slayer banged loudly on the wall for effect.
"That's right baby. Beg for it." she bellowed loudly as they both struggled to arrange themselves in a suitably convincing manner. If either felt disturbed by the dead human that they were pressed against in the creaking narrow bunk, then they didn't let it show.
The guards were outside the cell now.
"What the fuck is going on in there?" yelled warder outside the door. "We're coming in - remain still and no-one gets hurt." The door bolts slid back.
"What the fuck? Is there no damned privacy in here," Faith complained loudly as the cell door clattered open and two armed guards cautiously edged into the room. She raised herself to look at them, leaning her weight on one elbow, leaving her right hand resting on Willow's exposed stomach, her fingers under the waistband of the witch's sweats. The witch just moaned and twitched. "Can I help you Officer Wilson?" asked Faith with a leer. "Only as you can see I'm kinda busy right now."
The senior warden sighed. "Spencer, I asked you to keep the frigging noise down. You know I could put you on report for this kind of behaviour. Intimate sexual relationships between inmates are forbidden."
"Sorry Ma'am, me and my red-headed friend will try and be less intimate won't we baby?"
Willow whimpered.
The warder shook her head. "Just keep the noise down Spencer, I'm surprised old Barry Manilow there isn't complaining." She squinted at the middle bunk and then stood up. "Where the fuck is she?"
Faith disentangled herself from Willow and sat up, praying that the body behind them wasn't visible.
"I don't know Ma'am. She didn't come back from the showers yet. Me and Red here took advantage of the alone time.
"Dammit. Showers were finished an hour ago." The senior warder was worried. "Right," she snapped at her two assistants, "You and you get down to the shower block and see if she's there. I'll alert central control that we have a situation. And Spencer, you and Rosenberg better have some better answers by the time we get back."
The cell door banged shut. Faith swung her legs over the edge of the bunk. Willow sat up beside the slayer. Faith looked at her and frowned as huge black eyes gazed back at her. Willow's little magic trick had come with lasting side effects .... for both of them and it wasn't over yet.
"We have to get rid of Manny. I don't like to say this but I guess magic is our only option."
"Easy enough," said Willow, her voice still reverberating oddly, "but not our only option."
"Well confession makes a solid second choice Red but somehow I don't think they'll believe us do you?"
"Keys."
"What?"
"The vamp's keys. She dropped them while you were fighting." Willow held them up.
"Lucky for us. I'll deal with this." The slayer helped Willow down and then turned to gather up Manny's slight body in her arms. "She was an irritating little fucker but damn I'll miss the gossip."
"Nice epitaph," Willow commented coldly.
"Unlock the door Red and don't get too mushy on me now will you?"
Willow unlocked the door as quietly as she could and Faith peered outside slowly. It was clear. "I'll be gone about three minutes. If they get back before me then just throw all the blame on me. Is that clear?"
The witch nodded once and Faith slipped out of the room, carrying the remains of her small friend and trying to remember that she was not just the slayer but also big bad Faith who never cried. She ran silently in her socks along the metal walkways, unlocking the intervening control gates, until she reached the locked laundry room. Holding the chilling body with one arm, Faith fumbled with the bunch of keys trying a few likely ones until she found the one. She slipped inside the laundry and laid Manny on a bench. The laundry chute was sealed with an iron grille which was padlocked after working hours but none of the keys she had seemed right. She didn't have time to experiment; Faith braced her foot against the wall grasped the bars and pulled. It held, creaking and groaning. She increased the pull and with an uncomfortably loud squeal the grill came away. Faith picked up her burden and gently placed it in the mouth of the chute. "I'm sorry Manny but I guess you'd understand." She let go and the small body slid away from her fingers, down the dark chute.
When Faith got back to the cell there was no sign of the warders but the prison alarms started to ring, warning of a possible escape. The PA system woke up with a howl of feedback.
'All available duty guards are to report to dormitory block 3 immediately.'
'Here we go.' she thought grimly and let herself back in.
"I have to hide these." She held up the keys and the stake.
"Give them to me" said Willow.
"Spell?"
"Just a little one." Her eyes still dark with magic, Willow stroked the wall. "This will do." A section of concrete slid out from the wall and Willow said a few words in a language Faith didn't recognize. Then the witch tucked the bunch of keys and the stake inside the newly formed hollow and replaced the slab of concrete.
"Neat," said Faith. "It's barely visible and I know where to look."
"Yep our own little hidey hole. To open, just tap the wall here and say the magic word."
"Which is?"
"Snoopy."
Faith rolled her eyes. "Now I know you're evil."
********
An hour later Faith was returned to her cell by an angry Wilson. The guards had found no sign of Manny and Faith had stuck to her story. Without any other evidence, her interrogator had given up for the time being. Further frustration had resulted for the prison authorities when they realised that, for reasons no one could explain, the dormitory security cameras had malfunctioned and the tapes were all blank. Overhearing some of the angry whispers, Faith wondered if Willow had worked a little voodoo. She felt grateful - it hadn't occurred to the slayer to worry about the cameras.
Willow was still gone and Faith hoped the Wicca hadn't gone all supernatural and wasted anyone. 'That's my job', she thought and at the thought of slaying her pulse picked up immediately and the warm buzz from the earlier killing returned. "Angel warned me to keep away from it until I was ready," she said aloud. 'Why should you?' asked an inner voice. 'And maybe you are ready. You love slaying and you're great at it. Even B knew you were the best. Why should you avoid the one thing you are good at?'
It was too hard to answer so she ignored the thought and rolled over on her back. "Damn I feel horny, why is that? Why could no-one ever explain that?" She felt aggravated. Somebody should know about the friggin' side effects.
She heard keys jangling, the cell door opened and Willow was pushed roughly in. The escort said nothing and the door banged shut immediately. Willow sat on her bunk. The aura of evil barely leashed hung about the cell again.
Faith's nerves jangled. "Hey Red, how'd it go? Spill the beans yet? Kill anyone? Guessing neither or you wouldn't be back in here."
"Be quiet."
"Enough with the orders Sabrina!" yelled Faith, suddenly angrier than she had felt for years, too much fucking death, too much fucking evil, she had had enough already. But further words became impossible as Faith felt a noose tighten round her neck and she was flung across the room against the far cell wall by an unseen force. She sagged to the floor gagging and struggling to pull the invisible noose from about her neck. Unable to stand, she could not control the panic as her lungs silently begged for breath. Her eyes begged for release.
On the other side of the cell, Willow stood and watched her impassively and then as though she suddenly saw what was happening, the witch's face crumpled in horror. The noose relaxed and Faith lay gasping, blue-faced, beached on the hard concrete floor.
"Oh God. I'm sorry. Faith, I'm really sorry. I didn't mean ... I mean ... It's just inside me ... I can't control it ..."
"No sweat ..." mumbled Faith, though her throat hurt to speak, "Been there, bought the t-shirt, thanks for stopping ..." She grinned fuzzily and then, her head swimming from lack of oxygen, Faith passed out.
Willow hesitated before rushing to the fallen slayer's side. Worry won out over fear and Willow bent over the fallen slayer and felt for a pulse in her neck. It was strong but the woman was breathing in shallow gasps and seemed to be choking. The slayer's stomach heaved and still unconscious, she puked.
"Oh shit!" The wicca stood up again and stared about her blindly. "What have I done. I mean what do I do?" She grabbed a grey sweat-shirt and shoved it under the tap. Faith was definitely choking. Willow turned the slayer on her side as best she could; Faith, like Buffy, was heavier than she looked. The wicca got down on her knees and gently opened Faith's mouth and cleaned out the gunk, wiping away the mess with the wet shirt. She banged the slayer on the back to try and dislodge any remaining obstructions. Finally satisfied that the slayer could breathe again and wasn't going to choke anymore, Willow cleaned the remaining vomit from the unconscious girl's and washed her face. A little more struggle and she had managed to remove Faith's soiled t-shirt. She sat back against the bunk, on the concrete floor and gazed at the sleeper. She couldn't leave her lying there in her vest. It was too cold on the floor and in any case the night inspection must happen sometime soon and their cell was certain to get special attention. But she was so tired. One little spell and she could go to sleep.
Willow shook herself awake. Aware that in her present state of mind one little spell might be one too many, she bent her knees and got a grip under the slayer's arms and heaved. Faith protested in her sleep and mumbled. "Le' me lone. Go way." Ignoring her, Willow pulled the comatose body towards the bunk and then tried to lift Faith onto the lowest bunk by dint of sitting on the bunk and pulling the slayer up, using her own body as a lever. She had almost done when the sleeping slayer decided to struggle.
"Damn," she swore. "Lighten."
Instantly Faith's body became easily manoeuvrable and Willow pulled her effortlessly into the lower bunk. Exhausted and magicked out Willow lay beside the unconscious slayer. She felt some relief. The weight spell hadn't had too much effect but she was wired again which meant little sleep and bad dreams. She turned her head to look at the sleeping woman. Faith hadn't changed much, thinner and perhaps a little older and less hyperactive. Willow wondered if the young slayer would want revenge when she woke up. The thought was oddly exciting and Willow felt the ancient and evil magicks she had absorbed stir. Faith seemed to feel it too. Her nose wrinkled in an appearance of slight distaste. Like Tara. The old pain settled around Willow, everything that redeemed her had gone. She was alone.
Beside her, Faith sighed, turned over and pressed her face to her arm and for an instant Willow felt chill anger against the intrusion until an idea formed in the witch's mind. Why not? She would never have any other solace. But she could have this one night. Willow gently brushed the dark hair from her companion's face.
"Buffy?" breathed the sleeper. She sounded a little afraid but also hopeful. Willow smirked. Score one for Faith's shrink. This would make it easier and after all, the witch reasoned, Faith would enjoy herself. It would be a quid pro quo. My lost love in exchange for giving life to her still-born one.
"Faith wake up," murmured Willow her green eyes growing shadowy. "I have something for you." She stroked the younger woman's face.
"Wha'?" said Faith and tried to open her eyes. She felt like shit. Her throat hurt and her body ached as though it had been thrown against a wall.
"See with your heart," murmured a soft voice next to her ear and Faith's eyes opened. Huge black eyes faded to grey and Faith blinked in what seemed to be a bright light.
"Hey," said a voice she knew.
"Buffy? B what the fuck are you doing here?"
Buffy smiled at her gently. "Shh, it's okay. You've been sick. Take it easy baby. I'm going to look after you." The blonde slayer eased closer and Faith found herself wrapping her arms around her fantasy. Faith was cautious. It often started like this and then before long there would be rain and open graves and knives dripping with blood, usually hers. But geez it felt good to hold her, even in prison overalls. The oddity stuck in the slayer's mind. Buffy had never worn prison duds before.
"B, why are you in prison?"
"Shh" whispered the wraith and kissed her. Faith's hormones started to do backflips and she began to kiss her back. This was the best kissing dream she had ever had. When Buffy's hands strayed under her night shirt and wandered over her shivering skin Faith knew she'd died and, against the run of betting, gone to heaven. A soft hand cupped her breast and brushed over her nipple. It was almost too much for her and she bit her lip to prevent herself from crying out. She pulled the other slayer hard against her, burying her face in the blonde hair, kissing her neck and throat. But there was something wrong. She couldn't feel her, she couldn't feel the other's slayerness burning in her skin. She always felt it, even in slayer dreams and now it wasn't there. The illusion faded and Faith was in the dimly lit prison bunk.
The woman in her arms moaned as she pulled back and Faith recoiled pushing Willow away hard. The witch's eyes were blacker than ever but her expression was one of shock and distress which grew when Faith yelled at her.
"What the fuck did you do to me witch?"
Willow stared at her with despairing pain. "What's wrong? Tara baby, please don't be angry, I love you, I would never hurt you. Please sweetheart, let me hold you. I love you. Please baby."
"Fuck," exclaimed Faith.
"Please hold me tonight, if you must leave me then leave me tomorrow, please Tara," Willow begged.
Faith's anger dissolved to pity. No-one should hurt like this. And so what if the witch wasn't a plaster saint, no fucking surprises there, she was in jail not some pissing nunnery. Faith spoke before she thought.
"I'll hold you tonight Red, I mean Willow. But tomorrow we have to talk."
The wicca looked fearful but then a second later Faith found her arms full of Willow. The slayer winced. Her body was still sore from the earlier beating against the wall.
"I love you so much," murmured the red-head in Faith's ear and snuggled deep into her arms burying her face in Faith's neck. "Don't hurt me. Don't leave me again. I couldn't bear it." Faith tightened her arms in reply and the witch moaned happily.
'I'm sorry Red, but I can't protect you from tomorrow.' thought Faith sadly. 'This was not a good plan wicca girl, you must have known that you would have to come back to earth some time.'
Faith held her close through the night, gently discouraging roving hands, until the red-head fell asleep and then she carefully shifted herself to spoon around the slender woman. Willow wriggled back against her, mumbling about needing Tara warmth and Faith winced again.
But the slayer didn't sleep and as the black sky outside the small window slowly turned to grey, she watched the woman in her arms. Willow had shifted to lie with her head on Faith's shoulder, one arm and a leg sprawled across her. It was ironic, thought Faith that she had never slept through the night with anyone before, normally she had always chucked them out or walked out herself. "Get some, get gone," she murmured to herself and now I haven't done either, yet here I am in bed holding Miss Sociopath 2002. Not that you'd know to look at her. Willow's face asleep was exactly as Faith remembered her in Sunny D. She looked like an innocent California college girl, serious kinda sweet face with freckles. Dammit I'm lying in bed with someone who has freckles.
Willow stirred and curled closer, the top of her head pressed lightly against Faith's chin, silky hair tickled her throat, the smooth feel of the girl's face against her and the soft sharp scent of shampoo; Faith felt desire blow across her skin like a gentle breeze. Fuck! This was getting surreal. Of all the scoobies, Willow had hated her most. Their last encounter on the outside had been weird enough with Faith in Buffy's body and Willow congratulating her on getting rid of the dark slayer. Then Faith remembered that wasn't the last time, the last time they met was at the Bronze, Faith was still in Buffy's body and Willow had introduced her to Tara. Faith recalled thinking how well matched they were, two pathetic geeky losers with crappy dress sense, at least that's what she had thought. The slayer had enjoyed making the blonde girl stammer, seeing the bewilderment and fear as Faith reminded her of how much Willow had loved Oz.
"I'm sorry," she murmured and without really thinking began to stroke the red hair with her free hand. "I guess that was a big day for you, introducing your girl to the beloved B and I spoilt it."
Willow stirred again and Faith suddenly had grave doubts about the wisdom of her position if the witch woke up. She was likely gonna be disappointed and in Faith's experience, disappointed monsters were usually angry. As gently as she could, Faith disengaged herself from the other girl, ignoring the murmurs of protest. She slipped quietly out of the bunk and settled herself on the floor on the far side of the cell to wait.
TBC
TITLE: It's An Unlikely World Part 3 AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: NC17 for language mainly CODE: F/W with some B/F and W/T
FEEDBACK: Yup. Tell me the truth.
SUMMARY: This is a Buffy The Vampire Slayer fic. Faith is thrown together with an old enemy in prison.
WARNINGS: This jumps off from the end of BTVS season six and there are some spoilers. What happens next bears no relationship whatever to the events of season seven.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy and Twentieth Century Fox. I'm just playing with their toys.
CREDITS: Not beta'd so beware and this is my first BTVS story.
PUBLISHED: 6 November 2003
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
She didn't have to wait long for Willow to wake. The Wicca flung out an arm and gave a little grunt of disappointment when she found nothing. Faith heard a single stifled sob and then there was silence but the shape under the blanket was shaking. The magick had definitely worn off.
"Morning," said Faith. There was no reply but the blanket moved as the Wicca turned over. Willow's head appeared; her eyes seemed huge in her pale face. She sat up slowly.
"That was quite a show you put on last night" the slayer added conversationally. Willow looked confused, maybe even scared and still she said nothing. Faith decided that perhaps a little plain speaking was called for. "Buffy told me not to let you use magic, guess I failed her again, but it was sure enlightening. You have a real talent for darkness kiddo."
Willow looked hard at an interesting crack in the wall. She started to speak in a small voice.
"I know ..... I'm .... "
"What? ... Sorry?" Faith interrupted with a small sneer. "It's too late for sorry magic girl. Sorry doesn't begin to cover it. Don't tell me you're sorry."
"Alright I'm not sorry" Willow snapped back.
"Didn't think so" Faith said smoothly and rose from her place on the floor and crossed swiftly to seat herself on the edge of Willow's bunk. "So what's to do Red?"
"Nothing." Willow drew up her legs under the blanket and leaned her head on her knees, hugging them tightly. Faith was mightily unimpressed and she let it show in her voice.
"No fucking can do Sabrina. You half kill me and then try to seduce me against my will. Neither of which leads to nothing."
"You're wasting your time Faith. I can't control this ... dark stuff ... inside me. There's nothing you or anyone else can do ... except avoid me," Willow mumbled, her face still hidden against her knees.
"And that's your solution is it Red?" said Faith. She gently shoved Willow backwards so the witch had to stop hugging her legs. Faith leaned over her and placed one hand under the wicca's chin, forcing the witch to look up at her. Nervous green eyes slid away from her.
"Avoiding you might work in the great outdoors Red," said the slayer, her hand cupping Willow's cheek until the witch resentfully met her gaze again. "But it's gonna be damned hard in a ten foot by eight foot and besides Buffy warned me not to let you screw with yourself or anyone else."
Keeping the eye contact, Faith dropped her hand from Willow's face. The witch couldn't detect any animosity in the slayer's cool dark gaze and that just wasn't right. Aggravated by Faith's inexplicable calm, she protested, sounding like a small frustrated child "Why aren't you angry? You should be angry, not all adult and calm. I treated you like, like ... " and Willow hesitated, lost, until Faith decided to help out.
"Like shit?"
Willow nodded and Faith began to warm to her subject and a little of the old Faith rose in her.
"Or maybe like some kinda convenient tool placed here for your use. Like a fucking toy, or better yet, a fuck-toy for you to play with." Faith's voice dropped low and hard. "I lose a friend and you help me out by beating me up and then trying to trick me into having sex with you. Isn't that like date rape? I know that technically we were not on a date but you get my drift. Oh I'm sorry ... is this too honest for you?"
Willow winced at the venom in the dark slayer's voice but she felt easier with it. Anger she could relate to and she replied with a little more cool. "I suppose you've about covered it though I may have overstated the not angry part."
Faith exhaled roughly and gripped the edge of the metal bed which groaned in protest as her fingers twisted the frame and for a few seconds there was no conversation, just the slayer torturing the bed however her voice was calm when she finally spoke again.
"Yeah I suppose I am angry Red but we are sharing this goddamned cell and I'm kinda tied to you. And I promised the blessed fucking B that I'd look out for you, so you and I are gonna deal even if it fucking well kills the both of us."
Faith sat back and folded her arms. They continued to eyeball each other, Willow's green eyes shading threateningly as she struggled to hold off the power that rose within. This time she succeeded and the watching slayer felt a little admiration. Faith had enough self-knowledge to know that if she had been given Willow's power there would probably have been a few cities levelled to the sweet earth by now.
After a while Faith spoke again, almost gently,"It's killing you isn't it? Being so special, so gifted and then finding out that it makes no fucking difference." There was a hint of sympathy in the deep brown eyes.
"What do you mean?" Willow whined, put out by the sympathy. "I still don't understand what you're talking about and why aren't you being all Faith-like and kicking my guts out or splattering my brains? That's what I deserve."
"Would it help?" asked Faith and lifted her fist mock threateningly. Willow nodded pathetically, she just wanted this to be over. Faith dropped her hand and shook her head.
"I don't think it'll help and I think you do understand." She yawned, unable to hold back her exhaustion or maintain this intensity. A mischievious quirk of her lips signalled a change of pace.
"Anyway I don't want your guts or brains all over the place. I mopped the floor yesterday and believe me, whatever anyone says, guts make lousy wall decorations ... " Enjoying Willow's obvious befuddlement, she continued anecdotally "... though I know a couple of demon restauranteurs who went for that kind of nineties Brit Art look and they had major hygene problems, not that their customers cared much, but the FDA came down on them and you do not want to mess with those guys ... shut that place down in a blink." Faith shook her head regretfully.
The wicca smiled reluctantly. Some things didn't change. Faith had always loved to tell tall stories and Willow had always believed them until Xander or Buffy would call Faith's bluff and the dark slayer would wink or laugh but never admit the lie.
Faith smirked with childish satisfaction. Willow was smart enough to be gullible; there weren't enough smart people in jail she thought wryly and grinned again. But enough with the nonsense. She went to place her hand on Willow's knee, then thought better of it when Willow flinched and the older girl's light expression quickly faded to suspicion. Instead Faith leaned forward to stare at the floor, saying awkwardly.
"I suppose what I'm trying to say Red is that you are who you are and if that ain't enough for you then you're fucked." The slayer grimaced self-consciously and grabbed the edge of the bunk again just to give her hands something to do. "Sheesh, I should get into the fortune cookie business," she exclaimed self-mockingly and glanced sideways at the witch, flashing a million watt smile.
In spite of her fresh burden of sadness and guilt, Willow couldn't help but return the infectious grin, albeit more weakly, nor could she help the comeback that rose to her lips. "Fortune cookies don't normally come with expletives."
"These would be the x-rated ones."
"Hmmm. Don't give up the day job Faith. Though I suppose that would really be a night job since you're a slayer even if you are, you know ... umm ... resting at the moment." Faith appeared bewildered so Willow tried to clarify. "You know, resting, like an actor without a job."
"I think I'm resting more like a serial killer who got caught," Faith responded dryly but she didn't sound upset. "But way to babble, Willow. I think there's hope for you." Faith raised her eyebrows and smiling mockingly in that way that seemed to light her dark eyes from inside. Against her will Willow felt a stirring of the old habitual optimism and it made her uncomfortable; she had been running on empty for too long. She was not going to be seduced by hope even if it came in the unlikely form of the dark slayer.
"You're really taking this redemption kick seriously but, if you don't mind me saying, I'm not buying it. I know what you're really like. I remember you at your evil, skanky best." Willow smirked coldly, pleased to see the humour fade from the slayer's face and she delivered another swipe. "Not that you were ever that impressive, you were always a lackey at heart; first Buffy's sidekick and then the demon mayor's lost little girl or whatever you were."
"Ouch!" Faith squealed. She placed a hand on her chest and slumped dramatically backwards. "Red!" she half-sobbed. "You almost hurt me, right here where my heart used to be." She leaned back on the lumpy prison mattress and laughed. "If you're trying to provoke me Red, you'll need more than that." Irritated again by Faith's annoying self-possession, Willow blackly contemplated a range of possible spells to punish the smirking slayer. Her dark thoughts were interrupted by Faith. The slayer sounded wistful. "It's a funny thing though. If I'm honest, I still care about him, the mayor I mean."
Willow was distracted from herself, even if she was finding Faith's rapid changes of mood hard to keep up with. "How could you have cared about him Faith?" she asked. "He was a monster. One of the bad guys. One of the guys you were sworn to destroy. What made you go to him?" She was genuinely curious about the relationship between the mayor and Faith. Why Faith had abandoned them and turned to evil, had been the subject of many Scooby conjectures and arguments: the psycho-slut theory being still the most popular.
"Originally?" Faith shrugged. "No very deep reason. I was scared and angry. All of you blamed me after I killed Finch. I mean it was an accident but everyone behaved as though I'd meant to kill him; all that shit with the Watcher's Council goons, everyone treating me like the psychotic problem outsider so I guess in the end I thought fuck it, if I couldn't join you, I'd find another team and beat the shit out of you all."
"But you tried to throw the blame on Buffy first ... "
"I didn't say I acted like a saint Red. Anyway I went to the mayor for a job and he welcomed me with open arms."
"I'll bet he did" Willow snorted derisively but Faith shook her head vehemently.
"Believe what you like Red but he was a total square, he really believed all that corn-pone shit about family values and he never touched me. He was generous to me, more than anyone I've ever known. He was only the second person I'd ever met who didn't treat me like trash."
"Oh yes, for a price. I mean he got what he paid for didn't he Faith? He needed a top-of-the-line assassin and he got you."
"I used to fantasise that I was his real daughter" Faith blurted. She knew Willow wasn't going to believe her and Faith felt foolish as hell talking about the Mayor like this. Still, a part of her needed to explain; somehow it was important to put her feelings on record with someone who had been there. "I know he was an evil would-be-uber-demon but I pretty much loved him like a dad. When I woke up and found out he was dead, it hurt bad, much more than I would have believed and I felt such a useless fucking failure." Faith found herself blinking back tears. "Fucking stupid I know but I let him down. I missed his big day and let him face her alone."
Twenty years of liberal upbringing couldn't be denied and Willow dropped the cynical front. She awkwardly patted the slayer's shoulder. "I'm sorry that you were hurt, but on balance I'm glad you weren't there. I mean a lot of kids died and I don't think you should be too burnt that you missed out on increasing the carnage." Willow made a small face. "His graduation speech was pretty bad too." The witch watched the younger girl carefully. Reassured by the absence of swearing and shouting, she said "I don't know if you're ready to hear this but we played on his feelings for you. He died trying to avenge you so I guess that means he really loved you."
"Damn," Faith swore lightly. "More information than I needed ... Damn." She slumped a little until her habitual defences kicked in to hide the unaccustomed exposure of frailty and the mocking smile returned. "Well that was a fun trip down memory lane now it's your turn." Willow's hand dropped sharply from her shoulder.
"Tell me about Tara," said Faith. "Seemed like a nice kid. I made her cry after about fifteen seconds which is a record even for me so she must have been very sweet or a bit backward. The stammer was cute though."
The witch's face paled to become almost luminescent in the chill darkness that was visibly and rapidly gathering around her slight figure, defying the thin dawn light creeping through the cell window. Rage burned in thunderous green eyes and Faith suspected she had made a very big mistake.
"Don't mention her again slayer." The witch's voice reverberated against the naked cell walls and Faith felt her spine turn to ice. Rationally, now was the time for fear and backtracking but instead she opened her mouth.
"Is this how Tara would want you to be?" she challenged recklessly while thinking to herself that she might be the slayer but this was digging herself a mighty big hole. Willow clenched her slender fingers into fists. Faith imitated the gesture and quirked an amused eyebrow. "Very butch," she taunted, "maybe her death was just the chance you needed to cut loose and let go with all that pent up power."
"Oh that's right" exclaimed Willow with bitter sarcasm. "You've found me out slayer. Heck maybe I even shot Tara, so I could have my evil magic way a..and do vile evil things. Shall I demonstrate? I ..."
"Don't get fucking smart Wicca and don't make threats that you don't mean. It seems to me that you aren't coping too well with all your power and freedom. What the hell are you doing in here if all you wanted was to rip your way to power?"
Willow's anger stalled and span into confusion. She hid her face on her knees again. The hellish aura began to dissipate and soon it was just Willow sitting there.
"I couldn't go through with it. I'm not strong enough. I'm not even good at being bad," she said desolately.
"Take heart Red, I think you're a natural ... "
"I don't want to talk any more."
"Humour me. There's nothing else to do and we have another hour before wake up at which point all hell is going to let loose. So again about Tara. Tell me how you met her? I can't quite see you hanging out in the lesbian scene."
After a few more moments of tense silence, Faith thought the witch wasn't going to answer but she did. Her words were slow and still muffled. "We met at a Wicca group ... in school ... we were the only two witches amongst a freaky bunch of wannabees. I knew she was special as soon as we met but it took me awhile to stop freaking ... eventually the hellmouth gave us a helping hand."
"Freaking about what?"
"You know ... about her being a woman and me liking her that way."
"You didn't know you were gay?"
"Not really. The odd dream about Buffy but nothing more than any other teenager." Willow noticed the open disbelief on Faith's face. "What? I checked up what was 'normal' in the psych books and it's normal to have dreams about your best friend. I suppose there was my perverted vampire double, she was definitely that-a-way, but even if I did occasionally wonder, Oz was there, my 'normal' boyfriend." Faith's eyebrow rose another inch and Willow faltered, "Well okay he was a werewolf, so not normal, but definitely male."
"Did you enjoy sex with him?" inquired Faith curiously and the shock on Willow's face was funny anyways. She couldn't resist teasing. "Of course I'm assuming you and dog-boy got that far."
"We did it," said Willow with a hint of adolescent insecurity. Faith might not be Cordelia but she was still representative of a type of girl who used to torment the younger Willow about her former dating inadequacies. "We did it a lot. It was good ... I mean really great."
"So you're bisexual. Like me then, only I prefer to think I just like fucking" stated Faith. Against her will, Willow laughed.
"Did you leave him for her?" Faith asked taking advantage of Willow's better humour and the witch sounded quite matter-of-fact when she replied.
"No, Oz left me first. He left Sunnydale to try and discover how to control the wolfie feelings inside him."
"So Oz left you to find his inner pooch and she was rebound-girl," Faith surmised with comic ultra-cynicism.
"It wasn't like that," Willow countered firmly, smiling again. "In the end I don't think it would have mattered if Oz had still been in the picture. Eventually it would have happened between us."
"That strong huh?"
"That strong."
There was a brief respite as both women thought about this for a few moments. Faith cracked first.
"Then along came gun-guy to destroy Paradise."
The slayer cringed, she hadn't meant to sound quite so unfeeling though her clumsiness didn't seem to faze Willow this time, who responded honestly. "Paradise was already a little dented" Before Faith could ask why, Willow replied "Magic. I couldn't keep away from it or maybe it couldn't keep away from me. Upshot: Tara left me."
Faith laughed. "That's funny. Most people break up when the magic goes out of their relationship." Willow wasn't laughing anymore, she looked hurt and Faith wiped the grin instantly.
"I'd treated her so badly, lying and playing stupid games. She forgave me and came back. We had just the one night. Then she died. I wish she had stayed away from me. I wish she had never come back."
"Sweet Jesus," Faith muttered, shaking her head. Willow kept talking.
"I suppose it wasn't murder technically, he wasn't even trying to kill her, he was trying for Buffy, he wanted to be the one who destroyed the slayer. Stupid fool! As if a nothing like him could kill the slayer. My magic could save the slayer, but not my sweet girl. God knows I tried." The witch hugged her knees harder. "I really tried baby," she murmured to the air, "but I killed him for you sweetie." Willow lifted her head to gaze emptily at the dark slayer, her death-pale face had regained the frozen remoteness that Faith was only too familiar with but the witch was now burbling maniacally. "She would have hated that; hurting or killing something to avenge her. Afterwards I sort of understood that I would have let her down again, that she would have ended hating me or even worse been frightened of me. A part of me thinks maybe it's better she's dead. It is better. It's better she's not here and I can't hurt her anymore."
Faith tried to interrupt. "That is the most fucked up, twisted crock of shit..... " but Willow rattled on, semi-demented.
"Don't you understand, that's why I have to stay away from everyone. So I won't hurt them. I wouldn't mean to but I can't help myself. I can't help myself and no-one else can help me."
"Shut the fuck up and listen to yourself Red," said Faith trying not to panic herself. "All ready with the self-pity and the shitty excuses for running away." Willow's manic expression crumpled into blankness and she dropped her eyes from the slayer and stared unseeingly at her knees.
Faith felt exasperation rising like a geyser; all this frigging soul-searching was too much like hard work, hitting things was easier and a hell of a lot more fun. She resolved to try once more, to think of something to say to regain a little bit of connection. After that she would fall back on mindless violence.
"Since we're talking about the good old days Red; I seem to remember you telling me one-time that I had made my choices and there was no use trying to make excuses and blaming everyone but myself? You made me feel like shit that day, I would've happily slit your throat if it hadn't been for the Mayor."
"Yay for Mayor Wilkins," droned Willow dully. "He must have known how much my life would suck."
"Probably did" said Faith . "He had a gift for seeing what people could become. He'd have been very impressed with your efforts."
"Gee that makes me feel a whole lot better," muttered Willow.
"Told you I could help," she flipped back, thinking that at least Red had responded semi-normally and the wicca's tired face did look a little better than a minute ago; resigned rather than totally empty.
The redhead rubbed her eyes tiredly.
"For what it's worth Faith, I didn't know what I was talking about back then. I know now that some things in life are just too hard to fight. We didn't help you much and I had no right to come off all morally superior and judgemental."
"Yes you did. You were right on the money Red even if you were a self-satisfied rich kid on her way to a fancy college," Faith couldn't resist the jab or the smirk that accompanied it. Willow frowned and Faith raised her hands in a gesture of apology. She began again. "I gutted a harmless old guy and convinced myself that he deserved it, that it was even all his fault. Nothing to do with me and anyway I was just following orders except that I was getting off on it. I was enjoying the violence and the killing, getting even with the nasty fucked-up world that had been so mean to me."
"What changed?" asked Willow, sounding only slightly interested. Faith hesitated to answer; this was something she wasn't even sure she had an answer for.
"Nothing. Nothing changed. I made different choices is all and when I made different choices, things just seemed to be different, and sometimes Red, I don't know if anything is really different - maybe I just have don't have the same chances to screw-up. Angel helped by not falling in with my half-assed destroy-myself plan; even B helped with her relentless self-righteousness -no chance of fooling myself with B around - but if I said I'd planned anything I'd be lying. All I knew then was that I wanted out of my old life, any way out. Perhaps I was just older and all my excuses seemed a little tired." She looked ruefully at Willow. "Sounds kinda weak. Not exactly a twelve-step plan for redemption."
"No I guess not, maybe you should lay off giving me advice until you have one."
"Red, I can't promise you that everything is going to be okay with you but then why the fuck should it be? Neither you or I was put here to lead a normal life."
"You don't say!" muttered Willow under her breath.
"Yeah, yeah, stating the obvious I know" said Faith, unabashed. "I can't sort your problems out - we have to get you out of this place. First, there is no way I can keep you out of trouble while you're here and second, you can't get the help you need to help yourself. B was damn clear that you had to go to England and visit with the witchy sisters and I mean to get you there. Are you going to co-operate or am I going to have to do this the hard way."
"There's an easy way?"
Faith looked non-committal and folded her arms. Willow stood up, agitated and began to pace the small cell. "So you're saying that if I don't follow your orders like a good little Wicca you're going to do what? Knock me out and carry me out of here over your shoulder, with you dressed as a nurse or a mailman or something and then we escape across the Atlantic in a rowing boat?"
"Good plan." Faith exclaimed. "Can I borrow that?"
"No! You can't!" shouted Willow. "It's a useless plan and I don't want to go to England; it's all cold and rainy there and they eat weird stuff. I've got everything under control right here ..." Faith looked at her disbelievingly and Willow became more flustered. "I'm not too sure how exactly but everything's under control."
"You mean like it was under control this morning? You know I'm sure I could come to enjoy being physically and sexually assaulted by you Red but I'm not sure when that particular snowflake in hell's time will come."
Whatever Willow had been about to say, she stifled it and looked at her hands, the floor anything accept Faith. Then she rubbed her forehead saying in a low remorseful voice. "Okay. I know you don't want me to say sorry about last night but I am ... I mean I really am sorry. I know I have no right to expect you to forgive me or to believe anything I say but it won't happen again I swear. I will never hurt you again in any way but please just leave me alone. I'll keep out of your way, I'll ask for a transfer to another cell, anything you want, just let me be."
Willow looked so helplessly contrite and frightened that Faith nearly lost control of her stern facade but she held on. The slayer was chilly. "Damn right it won't happen again Red and the best way to make sure of that is to get you out of here and let the frickin' coven straighten you out."
"You didn't want go to England and let the Watcher's Council 'straighten' you out, so why should I?" Willow snivelled plaintively.
"They were going to kill me Red. It was a little different."
"You don't know that. Maybe that's what they want to do to me or maybe they will brainwash me and I won't know who I am or they might lock me up forever in one of those dungeons they have over there."
"Willow you're in prison already. And do you really think B or Giles would let any of that stuff happen? And if the good guys screw-up, then I promise that I'll rip the head off anyone who tries to lay a finger on you."
"You would do that?" said Willow with a mixture of wonder and doubt.
"In a heartbeat. Now will you just fucking co-operate?"
"But what if I go all wiggy again? I might not be able to stop myself next time Faith. I'm scared that if I'm with Xander or Buffy or Dawn, I may hurt them again and I couldn't bear it. I nearly killed them and I didn't care, not even slightly. I can't risk that again."
"Hey don't worry. If you try and kill anyone then I'll rip your head off. Okay?"
"You wouldn't get the chance" said Willow sadly.
"Have a little faith," said her one-time nemesis. "I'd find a way."
Willow could not have given a rational explanation for her feeling, she just knew she trusted her old enemy. Faith allowed a huge grin to break through and the wicca reciprocated, if a little feebly. "Okay," she whispered quietly.
"Fucking great." Faith exclaimed and on impulse, she stood up and offered her hand. Willow took it awkwardly. They shook hands solemnly until Faith let go. She knew she felt damned foolish and Willow seemed pretty uncertain as well, neither knowing what to do next.
"Do you have an idea for getting out of here?" asked Willow, breaking the awkward silence.
"Yeah sure," Faith replied evasively, "but first ... umm Red? One last thing. I want you to swear to me that you will cut out the magicks completely until I get you safely to England and into the hands of the Charmed-alikes. No matter what happens, you don't utter one magic word or call on any magic power."
"I couldn't even keep that promise to Tara" Willow said sadly.
"That was then and this is now."
"How could you trust me?"
"I don't trust you, I'm gonna stick to you like flypaper. Now swear or I'll.... " Faith looked at her as though assessing her for weaknesses which she was.
"You'll what?" queried Willow nervously. Quicker than the eye Faith's hand shot out and her fingers danced over the witch's ribs. Willow squirmed away with a shriek.
"I'll tickle ya!"
"You wouldn't. You wouldn't dare."
Faith waggled her eyebrows and wiggled her fingers threateningly.
Willow started to panic. "I'll turn you into a hamster" she threatened, while backing away.
"Not scary" said the slayer. "Don't think I'd mind being your hamster Red. I'd be all small and cute and furry and you'd just be obliged to love me." Faith gripped Willows wrists with one hand and pinned her against the wall.
"Ugh, a Faith hamster. On second thoughts ... "
"Yeah?" Faith gently laid her free hand on the witch's stomach and flexed her fingers. Willow bit her lip, trying not to laugh or scream.
"I promise" she gasped.
"Damn! Too easy and I was always so good at torture," Faith deadpanned. "I was looking forward to it." She continued to hold Willow prisoner, gazing into the red-head's eyes from just a few inches, smiling as Willow stared back at her and then the witch returned her smile and for the first time, it was without reservation or sadness in the clear green eyes. Faith's breathing seemed to snag and an overwhelming awareness of the other girl's proximity and warmth flowed through her. Startled by her own reaction, the slayer released her hold and drew away, trying to hide her discomfit by saying as brightly as she could manage. "Another time then. For the tickle torture."
Willow shook her head emphatically. She was going to speak but was interrupted by loud voices, hurrying boots and the slide of metal bars. Even though the sound was at a distance both Faith and Willow could tell that it wasn't the normal sounds of the prison waking up.
"They've found her," said Faith.
"What will happen now?"
"Now come more questions. We stick with the same story. We left the showers at 8 and Manny didn't come back with us. We were screwing right up until the guards arrived last night so you know nothing, you saw nothing, you heard nothing, except me of course." Faith couldn't resist a lascivious smirk and Willow rolled her eyes.
"I think I understand, I only had eyes and ears for you. Egomaniac."
"You betcha. They won't believe you whatever you say so just keep it simple and don't go in for any fancy embroidery. Remember, they'll check your answers against mine. If we're lucky they will simply accept that she got into some kind of trouble after we left her."
"Okay. What about your other plan." Faith looked blank and Willow rolled her eyes again and prompted. "To get out of here ..... ?"
"That's sort of in development at the moment."
Given the derisory expression spreading over Willow's face, Faith was moderately grateful when the loud banging at the door started and it burst open. Two armed warders rushed in shouting orders.
"On your feet, hands above your heads, against the wall. Spread 'em."
TBC
TITLE: It's An Unlikely World Part 4 AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: NC17 for language mainly CODE: F/W with some B/F and W/T
SUMMARY: This is a Buffy The Vampire Slayer fic. Faith is thrown together with an old enemy in prison.
WARNINGS: This jumps off from the end of BTVS season six and there are some spoilers. What happens next bears no relationship whatever to the events of season seven.
DISCLAIMER: BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy and Twentieth Century Fox. I'm just playing with their toys.
CREDITS: Not beta'd so beware and this is my first BTVS story.
PUBLISHED: 6 November 2003
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
"On your feet, hands above your heads, against the wall. Spread 'em."
Both girls complied without fuss and impatient hands ran over their bodies. Faith took it in her stride but Willow still found the process degrading and it was hard not to react. She concentrated on Faith's voice. The slayer was needling the guards in the time-honoured manner, questioning their motives and sexual habits as they remorselessly poked and prodded the two women.
"All done," said the guard. "They're clean."
Senior Warden Wilson entered the cell slowly. It was another bad night and she was at the end of her rope plus there were too many damned odd things going on in the penitentiary these last few weeks. She frowned at the two prisoners. She prided herself on always detecting trouble before it happened but in the last two days trouble had found her first. Barry Manilow's runty little body had been discovered at the bottom of a laundry chute by a guy from the contract cleaners, so now the whole world would know about it. That meant there would have to be a full investigation; any investigation was also bound to bring up Alice Dimanski's death. Two deaths in two days did not look good and to crown it all, one of her night guards was missing. Harsh questions were bound to be asked about the way she was running this block. It was only two years to her retirement but suddenly that seemed a long way off.
"The chief wants to see you in her office. Get your uniforms on and get moving," she instructed the two prisoners.
"You took my statement Ma'am. I don't know anything," said Faith.
"What's to know Spencer?" asked the warder hoping that Spencer would make a mistake.
"Ma'am, Manny hasn't come back to the cell and that means either she's in trouble or she's escaped. Even I can work that out."
"Was she trying to escape?"
"Not as far as I know Ma'am but stranger things have happened."
Watching the senior warden closely, Willow could almost see the warden's mind turning over the options. An escape attempt gone wrong might be a good explanation. The woman's face hardened. "Spencer just save the speculation for the chief, I'm sure she'll be interested in whatever theory you can invent to save your sorry hide."
Faith curled her lip and Willow concurred inwardly. The easiest explanation was an attack by a fellow inmate: the prison needed a fall guy and Faith fitted the bill. The slayer was going to have to be careful.
The two prisoners dressed silently under the watchful eyes of the guards. When they had both finished putting on their prison issue sandals, the senior warden produced two sets of leg irons.
"Put 'em on."
Faith held the irons disdainfully. Willow thought the slayer was going to refuse, as did the gun-toting guards, levelling their shotguns menacingly. Willow placed her hand on the Faith's shoulder. The slayer's eyes met hers and the resentful tension faded from Faith's face. Slowly, she bent down and fitted the irons round her ankles. Taking her lead, Willow followed suit and one of the guards then locked the irons.
"Move it, both of you."
They shuffled out of the cell and onto the walkway. A large number of inmates had woken up because of the noise and were pressing their faces to the small barred windows on their cell doors. As the two women appeared a cacophony of shouts and questions and insults started up. The prisoners banged their doors with whatever they could find. The noise was deafening and it took Willow by surprise; she shrank back against Faith. The slayer took the opportunity to whisper in her ear.
"Don't react, I'm with you okay?"
Willow looked back and Faith half-smiled at her; the slayer's confident dark eyes admitting no fear. Willow stepped out with more assurance and they started the long march along the line of cells, moving with as much speed as could be managed in the clumsy irons. The walkway appeared endless and Willow was finding walking difficult. She stumbled more than once. Each time Faith steadied her and prevented her falling. The fourth time she felt the slayer stiffen and mutter quietly.
"What the hell?"
"Sorry," she whispered. "I guess these things need a little co-ordination."
Then Willow realised that Faith wasn't talking about her. The slayer was peering into the cell next to them. Two faces stared back at them from the shadows. They smiled at the slayer knowingly.
"What's wrong?" Willow hissed.
"I'm guessing that our pointy-toothed friend was either very hungry last night or she was not alone. Exercise time in the yard is going to be interesting."
"Prisoners stop talking," shouted the guard behind and shoved Faith forward. They started walking again.
Long minutes later they emerged from the cell block into corridors connecting to the central administration area where the chief warden had her offices. It was also the location of the punishment cells and the interrogation rooms but apparently those were not their destination. They passed several glass walled offices and the prying eyes of inquisitive secretaries and administrators who paused momentarily in their daily round of gossip to watch the unusual sight of prisoners being escorted through their safe domain.
The escort party stopped outside a door marked 'Chief Warden' and waited while Wilson knocked on the door and disappeared inside. Through the open door they could see a room with oak panelled walls; a deep-blue carpet surged away from the door. They heard Wilson speaking to someone, her voice quiet and respectful.
"Rosenberg and Spencer to see you Ma'am."
"Show them in Wilson" said a deep musical voice.
Faith looked up quickly, utter incredulity etched on her face.
Wilson emerged and signalled to the two prisoners to come forward. They were pushed roughly through the door by the over-zealous guards and nearly tripped over the deep pile carpet. Struggling to keep her feet, Willow wondered briefly why the Chief Warden would want to see them in this plush office when an interrogation room was more appropriate for interviewing suspected killers. She straightened up to look her jailer in the face but the only illumination in the room was the sunlight filtering through a single half closed blind behind them; every other window was shuttered tightly against the harsh California sun and it took Willow a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. When they did, she saw an elegant and obviously well-dressed woman gazing back at her from the cool shadows of the air conditioned office.
"You may leave now Wilson," said the Chief Warden. "And take your team with you."
"But Ma'am..."
"I rather think that Miss Rosenberg and Miss Spencer form only a very minimal threat. I will call if I require any assistance" She gestured at the leg irons. "You have done well Wilson."
"Thank you Ma'am." said the senior warden backing out of the office after her team. The door closed and Willow edged closer to the slayer.
A huge aerial photograph of the prison complex hung on the wall behind the warden's desk. Something about it seemed very familiar but Willow couldn't place it for the moment.
The tall woman eyed them with some amusement. She rounded her enormous, empty desk and walked towards them. Faith immediately dropped into a fighting stance even though hampered by the leg-irons.
"I don't think there will be any need for fighting Faith" said the elegant blonde.
Willow quickly withdrew her gaze from the photograph and glanced at Faith. She was struck by the girl's expression of disbelief but then the slayer was staring, at what Willow had to admit, was an extraordinarily attractive chief warden. "Do you know her?" the witch asked. The slayer didn't answer and Willow nudged her gently. "Faith, do you know her?"
"Yes...I do," replied the slayer tersely, keeping up her guard. The object of her attention smiled easily.
"Faith please relax. I have no intention of coming to blows with both a slayer and possibly the most powerful witch in the western hemisphere. I was slightly dishonest with poor Wilson. You both form a very considerable threat but not one that needs to be countered by force, not at the moment anyway."
Willow was still catching up.
"Is she a vampire?"
"I'd say so." answered Faith not taking her eyes from the woman.
"Quite correct Ms Rosenberg but I don't see that as an obstacle to our discussion" said the woman pleasantly.
"Then who are you? You sound British."
"Indeed I am. Again, very perceptive of you Willow, if I may call you that. My name is Jennifer Carlisle."
A sudden insight raced through the witch's mind. "Of course...she would be British...because she was your first watcher wasn't she?"
Faith nodded, her jaw clamped so hard that the muscles were jumping.
"But I thought she was dead," whispered Willow, "as in totally dead, not undead. And you never told us she was beautiful." she added irrelevantly.
"You never asked."
"I just assumed that watcher equals tweedie person, not blonde faery-goddess. I mean how likely is that?"
"Why thank you Willow." said the vampire. "You're so sweet. It's hard to believe that you are also a cold-blooded killer. A rare combination in a human." She smiled approvingly at Willow who blushed and grinned awkwardly under the bewitching gaze of the cool blue eyes until her stammering brain actually processed the words. She tried to replace the grin with what she hoped was a stern and uncompromising glare but the vampire's smile simply broadened.
"It is you isn't it?" Faith directed her question at the slender blonde.
The vampire nodded and Faith dropped her fists.
"JC I'm so sorry," said the plainly anguished slayer. She looked devastated; that was the first word that came to Willow's mind as she anxiously searched Faith's face for explanation and devastated didn't seem to be an excessive description. "I couldn't stop him. I tried, I swear. They made me watch. I am so fucking sorry." Faith's voice was hoarse and Willow was horrified to see that her eyes were filling with tears.
"Water under the bridge Faith. I feel we are both past that now." The woman smiled again. "On balance I believe I am better off. After all my fate back then was to watch you die and even to train you to do so. From my point of view at that time there was no good option. And you have come a long way from the damaged child that I knew."
"I guess I made it all the way to damaged adult but I missed you." The dark slayer's voice was trembling. "It was too hard." Tears ran freely down Faith's face.
Willow didn't know which was less credible: a beautiful ex-watcher, the sight of Faith crying or discovering that Faith had obviously been in love with her watcher. The last revelation was the most improbable. Willow had always believed Faith was incapable of love.
"Now Faith," admonished the vampire. "Remember what I taught you: the Jennifer you knew is dead. I am a demon even if I do have her rather splendid cheekbones and her very fond memories of you." She winked flirtatiously at the slayer and Willow jumped to the logical conclusion.
"You were lovers?"
"No! Jesus Red! I was fifteen and she was my watcher. She wouldn't even let me say the word love let alone get down and dirty...though I wanted to badly."
Jennifer smiled angelically. "Of course you know that neither of those things are an issue now. You are twenty-one and I am not your watcher."
Willow experienced a strong desire to hit the slayer with a hammer spell. In less than two minutes Faith had reverted to being a love-sick teenager.
"Faith, she's a vampire. You can't trust her."
"I think I've covered that," said the vampire. "But although I am not human, I still care for you Faith and I would look after you. I certainly wouldn't allow some do-gooding little slayer to put a knife through you."
Faith sadly shook her head. "I've done the evil sidekick thing and it sucked. I won't join whatever end-of-the-world kick you're on here."
Jennifer stepped back, mild surprise on her face.
"End of the world? Why would you think that? It's not true of course but I am interested in why you think it might be."
"It's kind of obvious. Vampires don't take jobs as prison warders without a damn good reason and for the past couple of days you've been filling the place with your cronies haven't you? They're everywhere, warders, guards and inmates. On the walk down here I thought my slayer sense had flipped out."
Jennifer smiled again and both humans felt their knees go slightly weak. "It's an effective little setup here. The state provides the meals and we save the taxpayers money by reducing the prison population. The end of the world would actually be somewhat inconvenient and is not an event included in my business model."
"You're saying this is a business?" Willow questioned sceptically.
"Of course. I see no reason why a vampire should not contribute to the economy."
"But how did you get the job? You can't just breeze in and take over a state prison."
"My predecessor died in very unfortunate circumstances several weeks ago, which was convenient I suppose" she answered candidly. "So I applied for the position. Happily my references were thought to be very satisfactory and the governor seemed quite pleased to have obtained my services. I believe we have some mutual business acquaintances Faith."
"Shit! You're in with those lawyer guys that recruited me to kill Angel."
'At last a reality check,' thought Willow gratefully, hearing suspicion leaking through Faith's voice.
"Wolfram and Hart. Yes they were very helpful. Now sit down both of you. I want to discuss your options."
"Thanks but I think we'll stand, over here, in this nice warm sunshine." Faith took Willow's hand and they both shuffled back until the sunlight from the half open blinds played over their faces. "We don't see a lot of sun."
"If you prefer, I understand that the cells are rather poorly lit." Jennifer leaned against her desk and regarded them with friendly amusement. "You present me with a problem Faith. After last night it is quite apparent that you have lost none of your abilities and your companion was equally effective."
"You sent that vampire into my cell?"
"Of course not. The fool disobeyed my explicit instructions but you know how some people are. You forbid them from the west wing and they feel obliged to find out why. However although she deserved to die, it will clearly be very inconvenient if my operatives keep vanishing. The security cameras fortunately developed a major malfunction last night but that cannot always be the case."
"You switched them off."
"I replaced the tapes with blanks." She crossed her long legs at the ankle and Faith drew a sharp breath. The vampire's lips twitched and she deliberately leaned back so her skirt rode another inch up her slim thighs. Faith's breathing hitched again. She came back to herself when Willow pinched her.
"Faith, she's using feminine wiles and you are falling for them, I mean look at her. Definitely wily."
"Wily?" said Faith incredulously and Willow tried not to blush but the spell was broken. Faith grinned more like her old self. "Red thinks you're wily. So what does your wiliness want with me or her?"
"Apart from what I hope will be the pleasure of at last meeting you on equal terms Faith..." The vampire licked her lips and Faith shivered. "...I want you to simply mind your own business. In return I will see that you have better accommodations, a number of other perks not usually available to guests of the State of California and ultimately your freedom, if you want it."
"You'd let us go?"
"Eventually. It would have to be done through the proper channels but yes."
"And we just have to keep our mouths shut. Seems like a bargain. Why not just kill us?" asked the slayer.
The vampire looked hurt and protested warmly "I don't want to hurt you Faith! As I said, I care about you, although termination is my fall-back position if you won't agree to my offer but first consider things from my point of view. I don't want any trouble or unfortunate publicity since this operation requires total discretion. I'll be honest with you Faith; if you had been alone, matters might have been resolved very differently but in conjunction with Willow...well I'm not sure I would want to explain to the stockholders why their investment was lying in ruins even if I eventually succeeded in killing you both. It would be self-defeating."
Faith slowly shook her head. "Manny was my friend and she's dead. I don't see why you should expect me to trust you not to kill us when our guard is down. From where I stand, you have already tried once."
"Your friend's death was unfortunate. And don't trust me, that's fine with me. Keep your guard up at all times just as I taught you Faith. There's no need to trust me, you will be no worse off than you are now. Neither of you has anything to lose by agreeing to this and maybe a lot to gain."
"Manny had three kids."
"I did not order her death."
"But you will order other deaths, other mothers, other children."
"Does it really matter to you Faith?" Jennifer inquired impatiently. "You have killed innocent people several times."
"That's something I'm trying to put behind me." Faith took a step towards the vampire. "JC, I could kill you now and put an end to this right here."
"Maybe not," interrupted Willow grabbing Faith's arm. "Ms Carlisle, umm do you mind if we talk this over for a short while. I think your idea is really great but Faith is finding it a little hard. She kinda wanted to get away from the whole wicked and sinful deal. Let me talk to her. And then we'll get back to you." Willow smiled and Faith was disturbed to see the same creepy insane countenance from the night before, cold calculation disturbing the glassy surface of dead green eyes. Even the vampire seemed unnerved by the wicca's expression, she hesitated for an instant before she slowly inclined her head in acceptance, perhaps convinced by the aura of chilly darkness that clung about Willow's shoulders like a malevolent outer skin.
"I suppose that is not entirely unreasonable. I'll give you one hour to consider my offer but I won't wait any longer." Jennifer pressed the intercom button on her desk. "Officer Wilson. Take Rosenberg and Spencer back to the cells."
Faith angrily shook the witch's hand off her arm. Willow did not seem troubled. They waited in silence for the escort, and while they waited the vampire ex-watcher allowed her eyes to travel slowly over Faith's body. Faith kept her face impassive but her nipples visibly hardened under her prison issue t-shirt. Willow scowled and shook the slayer's arm and the embarrassed slayer withdrew her eyes from the tall blonde vampire.
Jennifer Carlisle smiled slowly, enjoying the discomfort she was causing and noting with interest the possessive behaviour of the young witch. Perhaps the well-documented dislike between these two young women was changing into something else and as her employer was fond of saying, 'knowledge of people gave power over them and to have power was to have everything worth having'. Their relationship would bear watching.
***********
"Since you managed to con your way out of this somehow you might as well go for breakfast" said Officer Wilson irritably.
"Thank you Ma'am" Willow replied.
"There won't be nothing left so don't bother thanking me."
Willow bobbed her head understandingly. She grabbed Faith's hand and tugged her along in the direction of the canteen but the slayer still seemed dazed.
"Hello. Anyone in there?"
"I'm not going agree to what she wants so don't try to persuade me." Faith growled.
"The offer of freedom or the offer of her bed?" queried Willow. "You didn't act as though you were about to turn down the latter."
"No need to get jealous Red. Dammit I'm not the one who was getting a dark hard-on just cos some wicked blonde shares a diabolical plan with me."
Willow sighed resignedly. "We have to get a message out of here now and get help."
"What the fuck are you talking about? I thought you wanted to fall in with her little prison blood-bank scheme. Just talking about it certainly seemed to get you excited..."
"Okay I let a little of my witchy essence rise up," Willow exclaimed impatiently. "I was trying to make it look convincing. Faith, I may have done evil but I don't intend taking it up as a profession. Aside from that, the whole idea was just really creepy and not even convincing. Surely you didn't really buy any of that 'I'm just a business-woman-trying-to-make-a-buck-lets-do-a-deal' crap?"
"No...course I didn't." said the slayer defensively with just a touch of embarassment. "I just thought she was...Oh fuck! Why do I have to do all the work? You're the brainy one, so what do you think is going down college girl?"
"I don't know exactly but the woman is in cahoots with Wolfram and Hart and those guys are into Apocalypse now, preferably in the plural. They don't want to run a prison. They want to destroy all life as we know it. And did you see the photograph on her wall?"
"Not really interested at the time. I was looking at my long-lost watcher."
"I noticed what you were looking at," said Willow pointedly. "Anyway there was an aerial photograph of the prison. I couldn't remember what it reminded me of and then I did. The prison is laid out on an inverted pentangle." She looked at Faith significantly but the slayer's expression said an emphatic 'so what?'.
"It's the sign of the demon Baphomet, used by satan-worshippers everywhere. The administration block is right in the mystical centre."
"So the architect's a Black Sabbath groupie. Who cares about the building design?"
"Faith we are sitting on a giant symbol of evil which is being overrun by the undead and managed by a proxy of Wolfram and Hart, Evil Incs' attorneys-at-law."
"Probably not good then?"
"Probably not. Your watcher is playing for time, that's why she wants us to keep quiet. We have to warn Buffy before whatever is going to happen, happens."
"Buffy! Why the fuck do we have to warn Buffy?"
"Fighting evil is sort of her gig."
"It's mine too. I know I'm a little rusty but I can still kill demons."
Willow tried to be reassuring. "I didn't mean that you couldn't kick demon ass just as well as Buffy but we are going to need more than that. We'll need weapons, backup and research. I can do a waking dream spell..."
"No magic Red."
"Er the situation is different now Faith. I may have to use magic to save our asses when the beautiful Ms Carlisle finds out we're not going to fall in with her plans?"
Faith folded her arms determinedly. "You promised me no magic and on my understanding that means no spells, chants, charms or curses unless they are of the strictly non-magic variety."
"You are not being reasonable."
"No, I'm trying to survive. If you're right then anytime soon this place will be stewing in bad vibes. I don't want a wicked unstable witch adding to the frickin' mess and I don't want to have to fight off you and JC."
Willow's eyebrows shot up suggestively.
"Don't say it Red. You know what I mean."
Their conversation was cut short by the increasing numbers of prisoners as they approached the head of the canteen. Faith seemed to be moving very cautiously, looking over her shoulder every couple of steps.
"Fuck! They are everywhere!" she exclaimed quietly. "Stick to the sunlight Red."
As she spoke, someone cannoned into Willow almost knocking her off her feet.
"You should watch where you're going!" the inmate growled. "Or you might get into a lot of trouble carrot-head."
Faith sighed. It was the big bruiser who had molested Willow the first day.
"That is no way to treat a lady."
"What are you gonna do about it Spencer?"
"Umm let me see," mused Faith. "Pull your eyes out, tear your arms off and then beat you to death because you won't play catch with your eyeballs? Or maybe gut you from the inside out, using just my bare hands, an ordinary chair and this little plastic spoon. Gee there are such a lot of choices for a girl to make."
"Things change Spencer," the woman snarled and her face instantly transformed, becoming all teeth and yellow eyes. "Your girl is such a pretty little thing, I am going to enjoy eating her."
Several prisoners screamed at the hulk's deformed face but Faith laughed and the bruiser drew back, startled by Faith's indifference to her transformation.
"Not changed as much as you think loser but hell I think you look better" the slayer sneered. "What moron thought you were worth sucking on?"
The hulk charged and Faith sidestepped letting her crash into a stack of chairs. The space around them suddenly cleared of prisoners and guards. Hearing the ruckus Wilson came out of her office, peered over the balcony at the canteen below and swore soundly.
"Okay you two break it up now." she yelled. "You are both up to your armpits in shit. Give it up."
"It's alright Wilson," said a cool voice at her shoulder. "Let them fight."
"M..Ma'am?" stuttered Wilson. "We can't allow the inmates to fight. It would be murder in here."
"I know but just this once. Let's call it...an experiment in inmate self-management, then we can lock them both up in the cooler for a long time."
"If you're sure ...."
"I'm sure." The chief warden leaned on the balcony rail to watch and to the flabbergasted Wilson who was still trying to make sense of this madness she looked like one of those blood-lusting Roman emperor types you saw on the History channel, watching the gladiators fight to the death.
Faith glanced up, wondering why Wilson had stopped yelling, and encountered the sapphire-blue gaze of her former mentor. For a moment she forgot where she was; failing to notice that her opponent had picked herself up from the floor. Faith was rudely recalled by 200lb of angry vampire ploughing into her. She went down on the floor, trapped under her triumphant enemy.
Jennifer Carlisle shook her head disapprovingly. Her protege had picked up some careless habits.
With the wind knocked out of her by the impact, Faith was having some difficulty holding the huge vampire off.
"Not laughing now are you bitch?" snarled the vampire.
"No I just want to be sick." gasped Faith. "Do you floss? Cos your breath is pretty heady stuff. That's what an all meat diet does for you..."
The vampire snarled again and strained with all her strength, trying to close the last few inches to the tantalising throbbing veins in her victim's neck.
Off to the side Faith could hear a voice, Willow's voice but deeper.
"I call on you Hecate, confuse my enemies and bring forth your powers of transformation ...."
Fuck! She was chanting. With a heave of desperation, Faith rolled out from under and broke free. She threw herself at Willow and grasped the witch's wrists.
"Red, you promised me. Don't let me down."
A pair of meaty arms grasped her from behind and pulled her away. She gave one last glance of appeal to Willow and mouthed "Don't." before turning her full attention back to the fight. The vampire was again trying to bite her neck and the brute had a good hold. Faith stretched backwards to grasp the vampire's head in both hands and then leaned forward lifting the monster fractionally off the ground. she charged backwards, putting all her strength into slamming the suspended vampire back against the wall. The vamp lost her grip and Faith span around to deliver a series of heavy kicks and punches, neatly finished by smashing a plastic chair on the vampire's head. The dazed blood-sucker sank to her knees.
Faith smiled with satisfaction. She grasped her opponent's collar and dragged her a few feet to the left. A single shaft of sunlight fell on the vampire's forehead. To the shock and horror of the human onlookers the hulk's head suddenly burst into flame quickly followed by the rest of her huge body.
"Jesus H. Christ," said Officer Wilson gripping the rail with white knuckles. "What the fuck did she do?"
"She proved a theory for me," said the ex-watcher. "So I suppose you could say the experiment worked. I want you to take Spencer to the punishment block. If she resists shoot her. She's clearly very dangerous and I don't want any of my officers hurt."
"But how did she do it?" Wilson didn't want to take on something she couldn't understand. "Must be some kind of flame-thrower but I ain't ever seen nothing like it before."
Down on the floor of the canteen Faith was aware that every single person in the room, human or vampire, was watching her with a mixture of fear and disbelief. Their beliefs about the world may have differed but the fear was the same. Faith Spencer was a fucking scary woman.
"Stand aside everyone," Officer Wilson ordered. Two guards both armed and in riot gear were pushing through the the mass of onlookers. "Spencer get your hands up. You're coming with us. If you resist we'll shoot." Faith was aware of other armed guards approaching from the sides and there was one guard up on the balcony next to Wilson and her ex-watcher, with a rifle trained on the slayer's head.
"She's playing us," Willow said quietly but just loud enough for Faith. "They're human and she knows you can't kill them. Do I save us now?"
Faith glared at the witch and shook her head. As she slowly raised her hands above her head, a movement out of her right eye caught her attention. One of the guards circling her was much closer than the others. It was all Faith needed, she threw herself sideways and took the guard down. In less than fraction of a second Faith had recovered and was shielding herself from the sniper with the hapless guard's body, holding her hostage's gun to her head, .
"No-one move" Faith shouted urgently but everybody had stopped moving before Faith could get out the words. Aware that Jennifer's next objective would be Willow, the slayer yelled "Red get over here behind me." Willow obeyed immediately.
Jennifer Carlisle ground her perfect teeth in annoyance.
"Shoot them," she ordered the guard.
Wilson placed her hand on the guard's shoulder, restraining him from lifting the rifle. "Ma'am we can't, it's too dangerous, too big a chance of killing Torrance.
"It is a risky profession Wilson, now shoot them. That's an order. I will take full responsibility."
Faith could see JC and Wilson arguing. She jerked the guard to her feet and backed towards the service counter. Willow kept pace, keeping just behind the slayer. The service counter ran along one side of the canteen. On a normal day, several inmates with special privileges who worked in the canteen would have been serving food but as soon as the guns appeared, pointing in their direction they had all disappeared to hide in the kitchens and the serving area was clear.
"We have to make a run for it Willow." Faith whispered.
Up on the balcony, Officer Wilson was standing firm. "Ma'am, you caused this by allowing Spencer to fight. I won't lose one of my team because of your dumb experiment."
"You'll lose more than that if you don't obey my instructions. Give me the gun you fool, I'll do it myself." When the marksman hesitated, Jennifer Carlisle effortlessly twisted the weapon from his hands, shoving him aside and raised it to her shoulder. Wilson looked on aghast but then recovered to throw herself forward, pushing the muzzle of the gun down as it fired.
Hearing the gunshot and knowing this was their last chance, Faith pushed Willow back to counter.
"Now" she cried. Willow hauled herself over the counter as quickly as she could and Faith followed, vaulting the low barrier, still keeping a grip on the struggling guard, pulling her over the counter.
"Come on. Run." Faith urged and they sprinted through the exit to the kitchens. Several kitchen staff and inmates were hiding behind various objects. Faith pointed her gun at one. "Way out. Now!" A cowering figure pointed at a door.
"Where are we going?" asked Willow as they ran for the exit.
"How the fuck should I know? Out. You wanted a plan. This is the plan."
Willow pushed the door and it sprang open, sunlight pouring into the room. Across the open yard, half a dozen guards could be seen running towards them. They were trapped. "This is a plan?" she muttered sounding disgruntled.
Faith looked around desperately and then observed a closed door with a notice affixed stating: 'fire-escape keep clear.'
"In there." she snapped pushing the captive guard towards it. "Open it."
"I can't. It's one way only," mumbled the terrified warder. Faith shoved her to her knees
"For you maybe" said the slayer and delivered a violently well-timed kick to the lock. The door half-disintegrated in a shower of splinters. "On your feet." She hauled the guard back to her feet and started to drag her inside the fire escape.
"Do we have to take her?" asked Willow. "She's petrified."
" 'fraid so. We need some kind of insurance not to mention protection against marksmen."
"Where are we going?" said Willow without much hope as they headed up the stairs. The answer was about as bad as she had feared.
"The roof I guess."
"And then where?"
Faith didn't answer and Willow stopped climbing, watching the slayer heading up the stairs, pulling the guard along with her. After a few steps Faith realised the witch wasn't following.
"Anything wrong?" she called down.
Despite her fear and her doubts, Willow's lips twitched at the total inanity of asking such a question in the circumstances. "Nothing," she replied, starting to laugh. She ran after the slayer, taking the stairs two at a time.
Faith grinned and began climbing again.
TBC
TITLE: It's An Unlikely World Part 5 AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: NC17 for language mainly CODE: F/W with some B/F and W/T
FEEDBACK: Yup. Tell me the truth.
SUMMARY: This is a Buffy The Vampire Slayer fic. Faith is thrown together with an old enemy in prison.
WARNINGS: This jumps off from the end of BTVS season six and there are some spoilers. What happens next bears no relationship whatever to the events of season seven.
DISCLAIMER: BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy and Twentieth Century Fox. I'm just playing with their toys.
CREDITS: Not beta'd so beware and this is my first BTVS story.
PUBLISHED: 6 November 2003
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Buffy Summers was concentrating. She carefully transferred the contents of her mixing bowl to the cake tin, ignoring the intruders entering her kitchen.
"Hey Buff! What's with the brown goo?" Xander grinned broadly at the small blonde.
"Don't be so ignorant Xander, she's obviously making a fizzing smoke amulet," sighed Anya. "A classic defence against Chiltern demons. But I didn't know we had seen any and where the hell did you get the griffin guano? That stuff is priceless. I should know I tried to get some for the Magic Box ..."
"Brownies," muttered Buffy, ignoring Anya's misdirected ranting. "Chocolate. Touch anything Xander and you lose your hand." The slayer's voice rose slightly.
Xander snatched his fingers away from the bowl and picked up the local newspaper next to it. He scanned the front page quickly and scowled.
"I hate these guys," he complained and turned the paper so that the women could see the headlines.
LESBIAN KILLER REVENGE RAMPAGE
Xander began to read the column aloud.
"Willow Rosenberg, a UCS senior, is being held in the women's state correctional facility pending completion of the investigation of the disappearance of Mr Warren ??? and the shooting of Ms Tara McClay. Police believe the killings may be connected to an evil occultist group. Several of Rosenberg's associates have been suspects in prior criminal investigations. It is also known that Rosenberg had a sexual relationship with Ms McClay, one of the victims of this ..."
"Spoke to Willow's Mom last night." interrupted Buffy. "She wanted to know if she should come back to Sunnydale; if it would help Willow, or should she just keep out of the way. Apparently she and Mr Rosenberg are on the cruise of a lifetime. I said not to bother."
Xander grimaced. "Surprised she didn't share her sixties prison reminiscences with you ..."
"LSD possession and tying herself naked to a statue of the founder of Sunnydale to protest against the war," said Buffy tightly. "Oh yeah."
Xander made a disbelieving face.
"Always been hard to accept that she and Willow share any of that genetic stuff. Will always said her Mom must have bought her at a fundraising for Jewish orphans. Have you heard from Giles yet?"
"Yeah," Buffy answered, drawing out the vowel as she spread the mix over the tin. " ... he says we can apply for her release in the next couple of days. He thinks the authorities will be glad to get rid of her - they think she's a nut. Their investigation is stalled anyway. There's no body, no weapons and no clues. Just Willow's wacky confession and that's carrying less and less... "
Their conversation was suddenly stalled by a shriek from the living room.
"Dawn! What's wrong?" Buffy yelled.
"Guys! Get in here! You have to see this."The teen's voice was almost supersonic with excitement.
Buffy didn't hesitate, she hurled herself into the living room.
"Where is it?"
"There," screamed Dawn, pointing at the TV.
"What? I don't see anything." Buffy circled cautiously. "Is it behind?"
"No dork! It's on the news. Listen!" Dawn turned up the volume.
"... and just after 8am this morning, the prisoner, described as very dangerous, took one of the wardens hostage. There is another prisoner with her but it is not clear at this stage whether that prisoner is an accomplice or a hostage also. They are on the roof of one of the cell blocks. A full emergency has been declared by the Chief Warden and trained prison negotiators are attempting to make contact. Faith Spencer is described as one of the most dangerous prisoners in the Southern California correctional system. Her hostages are Mary Torrance, a warden who had been in the job for only six weeks and Willow Rosenberg, an unconvicted prisoner being held on suspicion of murder. We will keep you up-to-date with any breaking news on this hostage crisis. Our prayers go to the families of the hostages ..." The TV picture cut to a long range view of the prison.
"I will kill her" intoned Buffy. Her hazel eyes narrowed venomously.
"I don't believe it." Xander glared at the prison id photo of Faith now being displayed on the screen. "Every time she fucks us every which way."
"Xander, get the .."
"..car. On it. We'll be there in two hours."
The big guy was out of the house, Anya following on his heels, complaining. "You always jump whenever either of them is in trouble." She didn't have to explain who 'them' was. This was an old argument and Xander met it with his normal response.
"That's what they call friendship An; you should try it sometime."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Umm, my name's Mary you know. In case you want to call me or say something..." the warden's frightened voice trailed off.
Faith looked over her shoulder from where she was kneeling, towards her hostage, a burly black woman huddled on the other side of the small roof space, still dressed in the dark grey riot-control uniform, complete with kevlar jacket. The woman was sweating freely in the shimmering heat; fear prancing in her brown eyes as she met the dark slayer's indifferent gaze.
"I thought 'Hey guard-bitch,' would meet my requirements," Faith responded cruelly. "... but if you want to put us on first-name terms then, sure, Mary is fine. This is Red and I'm your hostess for this evening, Faith, 'psycho-slayer extraodinaire'." Faith pulled a handgun from her waist band and pointed it at the guard who shrank against the wall as Faith intimidated her.
Willow responded sharply. "Faith don't." The wicca took the guard's hand and squeezed it gently. "It's okay Mary, she's just a little antsy right now. This is her first breakout," Willow confided as if discussing a case of first-night nerves.
Faith rolled her eyes impatiently. The searing midday sun left little shade, its painful white glare reflecting up off the white chippings, forcing the slayer to squint as she kept watch. The slayer was pissed off, hot, thirsty and her knees hurt like hell from hours of kneeling on the rough, overheated asphalt roof.
"Red, I'm not interested in some dumb hack trying to put into practise her hostage-situation 101 assignment. I just want her to keep quiet and keep out of my way."
"Faith she didn't ask for this," Willow retorted. "She has plenty to be afraid of; none of us are likely to leave here alive if you won't let me help and I don't really understand why this promise to Buffy means so much to you," she finished in a rush. Faith didn't answer. Willow waited until frustrated by the silence she asked sarcastically. "I am assuming we are still trying to escape and not just sitting around waiting for them to come for us?"
"We are waiting for sun-down. I'd rather face the vampires than the guns."
Faith peeked southwards over the top of the small wall that rose around the small square section of roof they were trapped on. She could see something glinting in the sunlight maybe fifty yards away, binoculars maybe, or snipers looking for an opportunity to pick her off. It was the same in every direction.
"Don't the vampires also control the guns in this scenario?" Willow queried sardonically. She had seen the gleam of metal too.
"Well yeah, but at least I can kill the evil bastards, if they get near enough. And they can't surprise us here. I'd see or hear anyone trying to sneak up."
"Faith, they're not going to sneak up. They'll rush us as soon as darkness falls and then the only question will be how many you can kill before they kill us. You're beloved JC isn't going to want any of us to live through this."
"Why are you talking about killing?" wailed Mary pathetically. "You don't have to kill anyone Spencer. I have a little girl and I just want to go home to her. Please just let me go." The warden started to cry and Willow patted her gently on the shoulder.
The witch looked entreatingly at Faith. "Please Faith, let me deal with this. I can have us all out of here in minutes, seconds even. Mary can go home to her daughter and you and I can get out of here. All it would take is a small flying spell. I can do them in my sleep."
Faith snorted "I know what you can do in your sleep Red. No way are you doing magic. Could you promise me on a stack of Bibles that you wouldn't turn into Wanda the Wicked?"
Reluctantly, Willow shook her head.
"I thought so. There's some fucking big bad rising here who would probably be grateful for an armed and dangerous, wicked powerful witch on hand..."
"... I wouldn't be on hand, I'd be gone and we'd be in better shape to deal with whatever it is, from outside these walls. We could re-group, get some research done on this new, or ..." Willow amended thoughtfully, "... probably old, evil that's hatching and come back with whatever we need."
Faith wasn't having any of it. "I don't want you doing magic" she ordered.
"You are just being stupidly, stupidly, stubborn Faith. We are trapped here. There is no way off this roof; no matter how many vampires you kill." Faith looked away, and Willow, despairing of Faith's intransigence, demanded forcefully "Do you want to die here?"
"Do you?" Faith challenged and met the witch's eyes. Willow's expression lapsed into uncertainty. The slayer held her gaze and slowly Willow shook her head.
"Guess not," she muttered softly and quirked her mouth sideways, scrunching her eyes, as though bewildered by herself. It was cute in a way that would have had Faith reaching for a stake in the past but today the slayer just reached forward as though to stroke an unruly lock of red hair. Willow's face showed a little surprise and the slayer converted the gesture into a light tap on the witch's nose. Their gaze held.
"I don't want to lose you to the bad guys, Red" Faith said softly.
Tears were running down Mary's face making little dark rivers in the white dust that clung to her cheeks but she stopped sobbing long enough to whimper "What are either of you talking about?" She looked at her captors in turn, but neither responded, still caught up in their moment. "Vampires?" she prompted. "Evil?"
Faith turned her head to look at the disconsolate woman and smiled with an edge of wickedness. "Think I'll let Red here explain the bad in this institution of correction while I try and save our sorry asses."
The slayer winked at Willow and then went back to looking out for sniper positions and possible gaps although she knew trying to escape in daylight was hopeless. There was one way on and one way off this roof and they would be picked off before they got ten yards but in darkness they might have a chance, especially if they could sow a little confusion.
The guard looked at Willow for enlightenment. The Wicca gave an embarrassed little shrug.
"We think that some of your correctional officers are evil...not that I'm being you know all white liberal about this," she reassured guiltily and confusingly, "I mean evil in a really evil kind of way...I know jail is a tough gig, a hard job and all and someone has to do it...so I'm not saying that you know, like all prison guards are evil just that some of you, maybe, are...you know, evil."
"W..what do ya mean?" Mary stuttered, sounding more frightened than before. She flinched away from Willow, afraid that even the red-head was a candidate for the loony toons.
"Willow are you going to get to the fucking point sometime before we die?" Faith sighed impatiently. "See Mary, some of you bulls and some of the cons too, have become blood-sucking vampires. We have to get out of here before an enormous fucking lump of shit hits the proverbial and your old colleagues use us as the jelly-filling in their sandwiches."
Willow coughed and said, sotto voce, "Faith, I'm not sure we should just tell people about vampires like that; it's traumatic and it makes us sound like crazy people." An odd expression then came over her pale face as though finding something long lost. "Hey you called me Willow ..." she realised aloud and her earlier disapproval melted to a shy smile followed quickly by embarrassment.
That embarrassment was reflected back in Faith's dark eyes and her quick denial. "I did not ..." she snapped too quickly and then had to admit, "... well I did but don't expect it to become a habit...Red." Faith frowned, unsure why her slip made her feel uncomfortable. Willow was plainly perplexed by the dark slayer's sudden irritability and it suddenly occurred to Faith, watching the play of befuddlement and shyness on Willow's face, that there were few things on this earth, sweeter than a perplexed Willow. Faith's ill-humour faded quickly, her frown twisted to a grin and with an expression of fake innocence, she suggested, "Of course you could call me something other than Faith if you like...you seemed to have plenty of names for me last night."
Willow reddened at the memory. She visibly struggled for a moment to hold onto a semblance of seriousness and then she too was smiling.
"You are incorrigible."
"Whatever. Is that a name or a complaint?"
The slayer and the witch studied each other with mutual amusement until the easily forgotten Mary exploded with frightened frustration and dragged their attention back to the now.
"Who cares what your pet names are! Sweet Jesus help me! I am stuck on the roof with two crazies and a couple of guns and all they can talk about is their names." She rolled her eyes and half ordered, half begged. "Why don't you just let me go back to my little girl and you can go right on back to being all fresh and flirty and deciding what you should call each other..."
Willow yelped "We are not flirting! We don't do that." She saw Faith smirking and self-consciously moderated her voice. "I don't want you to be frightened Mary and I realise that you may find all this pretty hard to figure but believe me if we let you go now, you wouldn't survive. Those vamps in there will kill you before they let you out of here."
Mary rose to her knees and threw up her arms in despair. "You want me to be honest with you?" she looked at Willow and then at Faith. "You want me to be honest?" she yelled loudly. The two prisoners looked bewildered as Mary stared at them wild-eyed.
"You guys are completely nuts! You should give yourselves up right now! I mean right this goddamn minute!"
Her rough voice softened, becoming imploring. "Trust me, you jest ain't got what it takes to be criminals on-the-run. Firstly you gotta actually be on-the-run, not stuck up in no little turret on top of the most secure prison in the state of California. Second, you gotta be in touch with reality, not living out some old horror movie and third," her voice rose again, "you could call each other Ms Pinky and Ms Green like in that dog movie for all I care but just get over the darned name thing 'cos you are driving me crazy right along with you." She sagged back down and began sobbing again.
Faith made a face. She was getting pissed off with all the yowling. "Hey! That is not a bad idea guard-girl! I'll be Ms Black, all cool leathers and a Harley Hog,...and Red here, well that's kind of obvious, she'd be Miss Scarlett in the bedroom with the candlestick." Faith smirked. It was obvious that neither Mary or Willow understood the reference. "Haven't either of you ever played Cluedo?"
They shook their heads.
"Bummer," said Faith, her eyes sliding scarily sideways like some half-crazed teenager from a slasher movie. Faith could still be unnerving and she was in an evil mood. She directed her attention back to the hostage. "Mary. Thanks for the advice but you're still not going anywhere. So could you just keep the noise down? Or maybe you won't see another day let alone your kid."
"Faith! Don't be so heartless!" exclaimed Willow. "She's terrified."
"See this?" Faith lifted the handgun, "And that?" she gestured at the shotgun beside her. "When I took those from Ms Mary, they were trained on me and I don't think she meant me any kindness by them. She's a screw Red, a hack, a bull, a fucking correctional officer. She is not our friend. Come nightfall she is on her own."
"She's human and it's the slayer's job to protect her from vampires and demons" said Willow vehemently. Faith shook her head angrily and looked away over the rooftops.
"Again with the demon shit," muttered Mary crabbily. "Like that's a major urban problem! Sure it is, right up there with druggies, parking offences and doggy doo-doo. All I can say is bring on nightfall, I ain't got no problems with the dark. You just leave me here in the nice warm dark and I'll be happy."
"Mary, please shut up" Willow beseeched but Faith wasn't listening to either of them anymore. Her attention was fixed on a distant point.
"Bling bling," she intoned and dropped back down from the parapet where she was keeping watch. "Guards," she explained and picked up the shotgun, "three of them, coming from the south. They've got their hands up. Negotiators."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Can you go any faster?"
"Any faster and we'll be joining Willow and Faith on the inside, Buff."
Buffy sighed heavily and tried not to grind her teeth. She turned on the radio.
... and there is still no end to the hostage siege at the state's premier women's prison. The senior warden, Ms Jennifer Carlisle, said in a statement earlier today that her main concern was the safety of the hostages. No action will be taken that will jeopardise their safe return. Breaking news this afternoon, negotiators have established a telephone link with the escaped prisoner, Faith Spencer, in exchange for food and water ...
Buffy turned the radio off and glared at it.
"Hey! I was listening to that," Dawn protested from the back seat. "They might have given some news of Willow."
"Yes," agreed Anya reasonably. "She might be dead already and then this journey would be unnecessary. Though of course we would still have to collect the body ..." The vengeance demon shut up when she encountered Xander's glare in the rearview mirror.
"She's not dead," said Buffy with some certainty. "I would know."
"How?" chorused all three of her companions.
"I just would."
tbc
TITLE: It's An Unlikely World Part 6 AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: NC17 for language mainly CODE: F/W with some B/F and W/T
FEEDBACK: Yup. Tell me the truth.
SUMMARY: This is a Buffy The Vampire Slayer fic. Faith is thrown together with an old enemy in prison.
WARNINGS: This jumps off from the end of BTVS season six and there are some spoilers. What happens next bears no relationship whatever to the events of season seven.
DISCLAIMER: BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy and Twentieth Century Fox. I'm just playing with their toys.
CREDITS: Not beta'd so beware and this is my first BTVS story.
PUBLISHED: 6 November 2003
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
The street lights of the nearby town were starting to glow pink as dusk crept forward over the prison and the sun slowly sank into the western desert.
"Won't be long now," murmured Faith and rechecked her weapons again. Two guns, a fire-axe and a dozen large wooden splinters from the door she had destroyed getting them out onto this roof, formed their small arsenal. It had been Willow's idea to go back for the splinters; Faith had to admit the wicca was resourceful but then seven years of fighting evil sharpens your inventiveness she supposed. Faith's musing was interrupted by the jangle of the cell phone which the negotiators had given her. She checked the watch that they had also given her. It was earlier than the scheduled one hour contacts. Only half-curious, she picked up the phone.
"Faith," said a low voice.
"JC," she answered stiffly. Willow's head jerked round to watch her.
"Faith give this up now" her ex-watcher urged. "You can't hold out. You'll die for nothing and you know I hate waste."
Faith smiled "We'll die anyway JC. You never had any intention of letting either of us live."
"That's not true. I would have honoured my promise but you never had any intention of agreeing did you? You were just buying time. This may not have been how I would have planned it Faith but it's worked out well for me. You played into my hands. You'll die and no one will ask awkward questions about the deaths of two escaping prisoners."
"Forget it JC! We are not going to make this easy for you" the slayer snorted.
"Shame. But I have missed you Faith, very much and I will again."
"Yeah, yeah I'm going to die, I know, but for old-times sake just tell me one thing before you go JC. What is all this for? I mean I know it's the apocalypse, it's always the fucking end of the world but which particular one. You must know, after all you were a watcher..."
"Alright, though it's not like you to care about the bookwork Faith, you have grown up more than I realised. This is not the end of the world but the beginning of a new world. The birth of new gods. A dawn of the gods for the twenty-first century. A new hell for the living and the dead."
"Sweet," said Faith more shaken than she would have wished to admit.
"Goodbye Faith," said her old watcher and there seemed a tinge of sadness in the well-remembered voice and then the line went dead. Faith stared at the phone in her hand and threw it aside.
"What the fuck? Willow, this spell of yours to fly us off here. Why can't you teach me how to do it?"
Willow looked dubious. "Because we would probably all plunge to our certain deaths...if we left the ground at all!"
"Why? I can do a bit of chanting. I know you think I'm dumb as horseshit but hey this is my life or death and everyone else on the planet too. I can learn."
"It's not just learning the chant Faith, you need the magical skill to channel the spell and that's kind of 80:20 nature/nurture."
"You're saying you have to be born with it?"
"Pretty much...and then you have to learn to use it."
"Can you tell who's got the magic vibe and who hasn't. I mean I'm a slayer, that's already pretty mystical, so this may not be such a reach."
"Slayers don't have magical skills Faith. I have read the watcher diaries and they just don't. Perhaps their gifts are already so extreme that magic just over-eggs the pudding. There has never been a slayer/witch."
"So now you're witches!" interjected Mary sounding scornful. "You should have met my old granny, she thought she was a witch. 'Course she was about as crazy as you but then she was just a cracked old lady from Haiti, hardly spoke no English even. She had some kinds of excuses for all her dabbling in that voodoo stuff. When I was a child, she was always telling me that I'd got the gift but I used to say 'Grandma you're leading me astray from God's path with all this talk' and my Mama used to give me a pat and say 'that's right Mary, you resist the sinfulness'."
Faith looked at Willow and Willow looked at Faith. Their eyebrows raised in mutual question.
"Are you saying your grandmother was a voodoo priestess and she said you could be one too?" Willow asked carefully.
"No. I'm saying she thought she was. There ain't no such thing."
"Mary," said Faith sharply, staring into the gathering darkness. "You're about to see something else that doesn't exist either. They're coming. If one gets hold of you then do what Red told you and shove that big cross of yours in its face. Are you ready Red?"
"Ready," said the witch and clutched her makeshift stakes.
Faith smiled at her and then quickly leaned across to kiss her on the mouth. The slayer only had a second to appreciate Willow's shocked round "Oh" and Mary's heartfelt objection, "Puhleese," before a silent shadow fell on her left shoulder and she whirled to thrust her first stake of the night through the unbeating heart of the oncoming demon. A low growl from behind, alerted her that the soon-to-be dust bomb hadn't come alone. She swung the axe in her right hand and beheaded the second vampire with a championship backhand.
Mary screamed as first one vampire and then the other exploded into dust.
The dark slayer dropped the axe and grasped the shotgun, hoping to slow down any others before they could get over the wall. She could see at least twenty vampires coming across the roof towards them. Moonlight shivered on smooth metal; the invaders were not to be inhibited by tradition it seemed. They were here to get a result.
One of them hollered in the darkness. "Did you get them?"
"Hey dead boy!" Faith called back. "Your friends left kinda sudden. Couldn't see them for dust. Wanna join 'em?"
The vampires paused about twenty yards from the turret and began talking in low voices. After a few seconds they started to spread out, encircling the position.
Behind her, she could hear Willow muttering urgently to the sobbing Mary.
"What harm can it do?" the witch was asking. "Just say what I say...I'll anchor you. Mary, you saw those things. Don't you believe your own eyes?"
"I don't know...I don't know what I saw," the unbeliever snuffled weakly . " But I'll do anything you want, I just want to get away from here...get back home again."
"Then do exactly as I say."
"How much time do you need Red?" asked Faith. She had guessed what the Wicca was going to try and right at this moment, anything seemed like a good idea.
" A minute, maybe slightly more...it depends on Mary here. The spell works best in Latin."
"I don't know no Latin," Mary wailed. "We're all gonna die. Why can't you do it. You're the friggin' witches."
"If she does the spell moron, there's a good chance none of us will survive. Just take it from me, you do not want to see Red in action tonight." Irritated by the crying, Faith had to resist a temptation to slap her. For the first time Faith fully appreciated how lucky Buffy had been when she met Willow and Xander. Not just as friends but as courageous and committed team members. Most civilians would be more like Mary she supposed.
"I'm gonna cause a diversion and try and draw them away; get you some more time. If the mumbo-jumbo doesn't work Red then just run like hell for the stairs. We'll have to fight our way out."
"Be careful Faith and don't be long. Mary won't have much control, even if she's strong enough. We have to go together."
Glancing at the prison-guard weeping on Willow's shoulder, Faith rolled her eyes and said dryly "Well that's a snap then!"
She could just make out Willow's pale face in the moonlight. The witch looked determined. It made a nice change from passive despair and unusually for Faith, a small blob of optimism bubbled irrationally to the surface of her consciousness. She hopped over the small parapet with a small wave to the Wicca and then dropped into the shadows some five feet below. She began to run towards where she could sense the largest contingent of vampires, hoping to defeat any snipers with night-sights by zig-zagging. Willow's voice, quietly coaxing Mary to repeat a latin phrase, faded from her hearing and less than a second later, she was amongst the vampires and they started yelling and firing their guns wildly, regardless of each other. She heard some screams as stray bullets found a home in undead flesh.
"Over here," bellowed one of the vamps at his scattered brethren. "They're getting away. Cut them off." Running feet answered his warning.
Faith lifted her shotgun and at almost point blank range fired it into the back of the shouting vampire's neck. The hail of shot, severed his head from his body and an instant later the vampire turned to dust as his head bounced on the bitumen roof.
That worked well, she thought. A growl behind her, sent the slayer diving to the left and rolling for cover behind an air conditioning vent. She lurched to her feet and rammed her elbow back into the face of the vampire cautiously peering round the corner after her. He went down grunting in pain. His friend, who was just behind, wasn't so lucky, he charged the slayer only to find his own momentum being used against him as she sidestepped, grabbing his arm and propelling his face forward through the grille of the vent. The gaps between the bars were slightly smaller than his head and the vampire screamed horribly as his ears were sliced off. Faith moved on. Other vamps were moving in quickly, attracted by the screaming. She ran a little further on and then crouching down, she started to double back towards the raised roof. A vampire appeared in her path. Without hesitation, Faith swept his legs from under him and then, as part of the same move, fell heavily on top of him, ramming her stake into his chest as she collided. An instant later the slayer hit the floor, choking on the dust that surrounded her. She picked herself up and continued back towards Willow.
The parapet loomed up in front of her and she jumped, hoisting herself easily onto the ledge. The noise of a single gunshot reached her ears fractionally before something that felt like a punch from a troll hammer slammed into her back. Hot searing pain began. She began to fall forward.
"You're hit" said a worried voice and then Willow's arms were around her waist, supporting her as Faith stumbled off the low wall.
"No sweat," growled the slayer, fighting off the unfamilar concern, excruciating pain and a wave of nausea. "You ready?"
She could just see the shape of Willow's head nodding. The witch's spoken reply was not so reassuring. "Probably okay."
Faith chose to disregard the note of doubt. "Let's get on with it then."
"We have to hold hands in a circle. Can you stand alone?" asked the wicca. She dropped her arm from the slayer's waist. Faith grunted and stood alone. Her chest and arm throbbed and burned, her shirt was sticky with blood and she would have sworn she could feel warm blood running down her back. Pain and dizziness swept the strength from her legs and she began to sway. Willow immediately replaced her arm round Faith's waist, supporting the slayer's weight as best she could."Hands are more traditional but I guess this will do" she murmured. "The spell just says we have to be touching. Mary take my other hand and Faith's. That's good. Now repeat what you've learnt and just hang on. When we take off, don't look down, whatever you do," Willow instructed in her best teacher-for-the-day-voice. "Remember: we will move towards whatever you are looking at so I want you to start by staring at the moon. That should be safe enough to begin with."
She smiled encouragingly unlike Faith who glowered at the prison guard and growled. "Remember Mary I still have a gun, so no smart ideas about landing in the prison yard."
"Faith don't threaten our last best hope," Willow remonstrated. "Though she does have a point about landing on concrete - for a beginner - not a good idea."
Taking advantage of the fact that she was now resting her head on Willow's shoulder, Faith whispered in the red-head's ear, "Er...Red, what happens when we actually want to come down."
"We look for something soft and bouncy" was the simple and somewhat worrying reply. Faith wanted to laugh and instead began coughing. She almost cried out at the pain and twisted within Willow's grip. Trying to prevent her slipping, Willow tightened her arm around the slayer, and hitched her a little closer. Faith groaned some more; agonised by the increased pressure on her injured back.
"I think we should make with the hurrying-up now Mary;" said Willow, concern lacing her voice. "I can't hold Faith up much longer and she's badly hurt and may faint anytime; plus I think they're coming back."
Mary nodded, drew a sharp breath and stuttered slightly as she began.
"c..c..cano ad currum alatum A..Apollinis: laxa vincula terrae, tolle me et my asylum."
Mary stopped chanting and held her breath. Nothing happened. Willow sighed.
"Shouldn't we be doing the floating thing now?" Faith asked very quietly. If this didn't work the slayer was well aware that she would find it nearly impossible to fight and their last chance was gone. Willow would have to take over and then fuck knows what would happen.
"She made a mistake" said Willow, unable to keep the frustration from her voice. "Mary, just keep calm. Try again and remember it's 'tolle me et meos in caelum'."
"I don't think I can do this. I mean this is just crazy talk isn't it," Mary whispered uncertainly. She clutched convulsively at the hands holding hers, as a raucous yell of triumph penetrated the moon-softened darkness.
"Over here! I smell blood this way. They've tried to trick us."
Faith squeezed the black woman's hand gently. "Come on Mary. Think of your little girl, do it for her. We are out of time here."
At the mention of her child, Mary's back seemed to straighten, her grip on Faith's hand, relaxed from bone-crushing fearfulness to merely firm.
"I know you can do it," Willow encouraged, "Very strong aura. You can't fail."
Staring fixedly at the moon as she had been instructed, Mary slowly, carefully, recited her lines again. All three women felt the ground fall away as the spell loosened the ties of gravity.
"Dammit, it's working." breathed Faith against the soft skin of Willow's throat. Lightheaded from blood loss, she was almost enjoying the experience; the weightlessness had eased her pain and she was held so close by Willow that she inhaled the sweet smell of her skin with every painful breath. Faith couldn't identify it but the scent was familiar. Willow had no right to smell this good after the last twenty-four hours, the slayer protested to herself irrelevantly.
"It certainly is working," Willow concurred. "Hey that's really good Mary. You're doing really well." A note of envy entered Willow's voice, "It took me six months to float a pencil and she's flying with passengers on her first attempt!"
Awestruck by her own success and scared witless by what was happening, Mary momentarily took her eyes off the the infinitely distant lunar landscape to look down upon the dark street-lamp sprinkled earth that they were leaving behind at a respectable rate of ascent. There was a sudden lurch downwards. Willow squealed a warning.
"No! Don't look down."
"Sorry! Sorry!" Mary yelped and the downward trajectory stablised as she swung her eyes back to the heavens.
"Don't apologise; you're doing great. Just keep staring at the moon until we've got some height ..."
Adding emphasis to the point, the sound of gunfire suddenly breached the sky and several bullets went singing past, near enough for them to feel the disturbance in the chilling night air.
"...and we need it fast," Faith enjoined, looking back down towards the prison rooftops where she could still makeout several shadows peering up at them.
"We're climbing fast, I mean wow! You're doing really well, just keep it going," Willow exhorted.
"I can't believe this," Mary sighed shakily, dark eyes again locked on the shining half-moon. "This just can't be happening, tell me I be dreamin'."
Willow squeezed the older woman's hand. "No dream. You're flying," she reassured her.
"Are you helping her?" Faith inquired suspiciously in a low undertone.
"Channelling," responded Willow honestly, "I'm providing most of the control, but the power is all hers and she is truly powerful. I don't know the odds on taking an Olympic class wicca as a hostage. I'd guess they're pretty slim, skinny even, may be even emaciated..."
Faith rolled her eyes. She regretted it, her consciousness surfed away from her on a wave of pain and dizziness. She slumped a little in Willow's arms. The slayer was weightless - thanks to the levitation spell - even so Willow was afraid of dropping her. Willow shook her, trying to rouse her.
"Faith! Faith! Wake-up Faith. You can't sleep, not yet. Come-on Faith, you're the big bad slayer."
There was no reply. The slayer's head lolled on Willow's shoulder.
"We have to land somewhere. She needs treatment soon" the Wicca panicked. " But if we go down too close, they'll catch us."
"How about my car?" suggested Mary, not dropping her glassy-eyed gaze from the moon for even a moment. "It's a couple of blocks from the prison, parked off a side street. We could drive to my friend's place. He's a nurse."
Willow didn't jump at the offer. "Are you sure this isn't some kind of trap Mary? I mean I don't want to sound ungrateful or mean, only you have turned around kinda sudden."
"Ms Rosenberg..."
"Call me Willow," Willow interrupted, "I think fleeing bloodsucking killers together sorta breaks down the need for formalities."
"Willow," Mary amended and chanced a look at the Wicca. They promptly dropped fifteen feet. Both women screamed. A second later the plunge stabilised as Mary desperately fixed on the sky, trying not to blink as the cold night air stung her eyes.
"Sweet Jesus" she moaned, "that is the worst feeling I ever had and I thought I had just about experienced all the worst feelings I would ever have in the whole of my life, in just this one day."
Willow grimaced sympathetically and squeezed Mary's hand reassuringly.
"The supernatural world says a big howdydoo Mary" said Willow wryly, "think of it as like Disneyland: funny costumes, kids screaming and lots of eating; only without any of the fun and you're the fast food snacks." Realising she sounded bitter, she added. "Less standing in line though and believe me, you can have much worse experiences; today was quiet compared to some."
"Well I've seen enough to last me; but I owe you for getting me away from those things and when I report in tomorrow, I'll tell them that you busted out and then just left me by the highway."
"Mary! You can't go back. By this time tomorrow, there may not be anyone alive in that prison. Just stay home and don't go near that place again."
"I can't just walk out on my job," Mary objected.
"They would kill you in seconds, you know too much."
"They don't know that! Hell, I don't know that! Lord forgive my profanity."
"They'd kill you anyway to be on the safe side and because they like killing, Killing humans is their reason for being. You're just a tasty meal from the bloodbank."
"Oh," said Mary, evidently thinking hard about this. After a few more moments of quiet flight, the newly former prison guard asked nervously. "How do we get down anyways? I'm real cold and tired and I know now why I hates flying."
Willow didn't answer immediately. She looked down carefully. They were clear of the prison though the giant searchlights sweeping the area around the prison were still visible. Since they had gained quite a lot of height, she couldn't see any detail of the town that abutted the jail. She could only just make out the vague lines of streetlights and the moving lights of a few cars.
"Okay Mary, you need to level off. We're going to have to drop down a little, see if we can pick out a nice spot. Honestly I think it's going to be hard to find where you parked your car. Same county maybe but anything beyond that is tricky."
"Fine, but I really need to get down now plus I need to pee. Cold air always gets to me."
"Are there any landmarks you can think of - anywhere near your car - that we can aim for?"
"There's my church, Ms Rosenberg, its got the tallest tower in the county. Might be able to find that."
"WIllow," Willow corrected automatically. "Mary I want you to try and guide us towards the horizon and then gradually lower. Very gradually. When we've lost enough height, level off again."
"Man! This sucks!," whimpered Mary. "I've seen all those airport films and I've heard the 'we're gonna talk down the air-hostess' speeches. It never works. They always crash. And anyway there ain't no horizon. It's dark."
"I guess," Willow murmured trying hard to think. "Umm perhaps we could kind of parachute."
"Parachute! Parachute! Hell I forgot my damned parachute," Mary yelled. " Why did no-one mention I had to pack a friggin' parachute. And sweet Jesus forgive me again for swearing" she added fervently. "But I am sorely tried."
"No. I mean a spell that acts like a parachute."
"Now I know I don't like the sound of that..."
"If you can float, you can sink..." said Willow firmly. Mary stared at her and they started to fall again. "...in a controlled way please Mary!" Willow cried desperately, clutching tightly to Faith. Breathing too fast and gripping too hard, Mary again brought the little flying circle back under control.
"What's this spell then. Cos I mean I have to get down now" said the older woman, her voice shaking, "I am near spent. On the bright side there's no need to worry about the bathroom now. It's way too late for that." She shook her left leg. "Now I'm cold and wet. Let's just do this."
Patiently, Willow taught the agitated newbie the correct wording. It was a little easier this time, since this spell was in english, archaic but still recognisable. At last Mary was ready to believe she had mastered it.
"Tho' I still don' see why you can't do it!" she grumbled. "You are obviously some kind of professional."
"When we get down I'll tell you," Willow promised. "Let's find this church tower and then you can tell me where the nearest patch of grass is."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Buffy banged her fist on the wing of the car. It dented two inches, though the slayer didn't seem to notice. Xander thought to mention it, then thought again. Better the car than him.
"They flew out," she exclaimed angrily.
Anya was also annoyed. "It is extremely careless of the prison authorities to allow jet-packs into the prison, personally I want to see a reduction in my state taxes if that's the best..."
"Willow did a spell."
"But it said on the radio..." One look at the slayer's face and the vengeance demon went quiet.
"Where would they go?" Buffy marched up and down glaring at the walls of the penitentiary where sirens were still howling. "They could be anywhere but I'll find them and when I do, Faith is history."
As she spoke, a gate in the wall of the prison opened and a group of thirty to forty people emerged at a run. They ran past the watching scooby gang, heading in the direction of the town. They were mostly armed.
"That was odd," said Dawn.
"How odd?" asked Xander who was still calculating the cost of fixing his car.
"Didn't some of them look like prisoners?"
Buffy stared after them, her eye-sight better in the dark. "Dawn's right, some of them have the same uniforms that Faith and Willow were wearing."
"Well that's just terrific. More incompetence. Now there's a mass breakout." Anya was determined. "I shall write to the governor. He will not be getting my vote this time."
"I don't think you need bother," said Buffy slowly. "I think the posse scores a little too high on the pointy teeth and glowy eyes scale and he didn't get your vote last time anyway. You said he reminded you of a demon you once knew who cheated on you."
"And he won't get it this time either" said Anya decisively and with a touch of triumph.
"So perhaps Faith and Willow didn't have much choice?" Dawn suggested in a quiet voice.
"Perhaps they didn't," Buffy agreed, "but where are they?"
Xander stared into the darkness. "Well Buffster. I think we need to find them before the hole-in-the-head gang. Let's make like the cavalry."
tbc
TITLE: An Unlikely World AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: NC17 for language mainly CODE: F/W with some B/F and W/T
NOTES: Just a short update to prove it's not dead.
FEEDBACK: Yup. Tell me the truth.
SUMMARY: This is a Buffy The Vampire Slayer fic. Faith has been thrown together with an old enemy in prison. Together they have escaped and are now on the run from the living and the dead.
WARNINGS: This jumps off from the end of BTVS season six and there are some spoilers. What happens next bears no relationship whatever to the events of season seven. Except since now I have seen season 7, I will steal anything that I see fit.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
CREDITS: Not beta'd so beware and this is my first BTVS story.
BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy and Twentieth Century Fox. I'm just playing with their toys. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 7
A woman answered the door. Even with the light behind her, she looked young, maybe 16. Willow guessed she was the baby-sitter. She was wrong.
"Mom?"
The girl gasped and took a step forward.
"Mom," she yelled and threw her arms around Mary.
They hugged and the girl was crying and carrying on about how worried they had been. 'They' presumably included the two men Willow could see standing a little way back watching.
"Umm, Mary ... can we ...?" Willow interceded gently, not wanting to interrupt the reunion but afraid for Faith, lying bleeding in the back of the truck.
"Oh sure, be right there."
"Who is she?" asked the girl, still hanging on her mother. She stared at Willow, curious but not afraid.
"Seems to me like she's the other hostage," said the taller and thinner of the two black men. "You okay Mare?" He sounded genuinely concerned.
"Sure am, now I'm home with my baby girl." Mary couldn't stop smiling and a nice smile it was. The happy woman, her arms still wound around her daughter, beamed at everyone until she seemed to realise that all those present were looking slightly bemused or embarrassed or both. "I guess you're all wonderin' what's going on. Willow...that's Alvin, he's a friend and that's Jordan, my little brother. And this is Tori, my little girl."
"Hi," said Willow thinking to herself that the definition of little girl had certainly changed. Tori was taller than her mother, certainly no younger than 16 and, now that Willow could see her, gorgeous by any estimation.
"Hey," said the girl and grinned at her.
Jordan also smiled (very like his big sister's smile) and greeted her. "Yo Willow."
Alvin, the tall thin guy, didn't smile. Cold dark eyes looked her up and down and then he pointedly glanced away and ignored her. Willow didn't feel she'd met a friend, then Willow didn't particularly care at this moment. Her concerns had narrowed to the slayer outside.
"Mary can we get some help for Faith now?"
"Uh," grunted Mary still cuddling her daughter. "Oh yeah, Alvin can you call Danny and tell him to get over here and bring his stuff. We got a hurt girl in the truck. Jordan help Willow to bring her in. You can take her up to the spare room."
"What is this shit?" asked Alvin halfway to angry. "She a sista out there? Cause otherwise I'm thinking we take her up to County General."
"Can't do that," interrupted Willow. "Police are looking for us."
"So? An' you think what? That we're gonna hide you ..."
"Alvin just shut up and call Danny." Mary implored. "I'll explain it to you later. None of this is like you think. Please just trust me on this." He scowled and looked to argue until Mary placed her hand on his arm, quietly entreating him. "I know this is strange Alvie but you don't know how much. Strange don't do tonight no justice, it is beyond strange. If you knew what I'd seen... what I've done, if you knew and you could even believe your own ears and eyes, you wouldn't be arguing an' carrying on. I know you don't like them here Alvie but I owe them my life and maybe more."
Giving nothing away, Alvin shook off her hand, took a cell-phone out of his coat and walked away, making a call, a few words that a suddenly suspicious Willow couldn't make out.
She jumped as a huge hand descended on her shoulder.
"Come on there Willow, we need to bring your friend inside before someone steals her" Jordan whispered in her ear in a soft alto voice. Willow gaped at the big man and he grinned and winked. "That's the kind of neighbourhood this is. People like to share what you got."
They headed out into the raw night air. Jordan clucked disapprovingly over the poorly parked truck until Willow impatiently pointed him to the tailgate. Faith was quite still under the tarpaulin, her face ghost-white in the hard moonlight. Jordan fumbled and cussed in the back of the pick-up, trying to get his arms under her body. He at last managed to get a good hold of her. She stirred, groaning, as he climbed off the truck.
"Careful," Willow cautioned. "She's hurt bad."
"What happened," he asked as they walked back to the house, carrying his burden lightly.
"She was shot."
"I guessed that much. All the blood kinda gives it away. I mean how was she shot."
Willow hesitated, unsure how much to say. She didn't have to say anything. In the hall light, Jordan had recognised the slayer. He jumped and nearly dropped her. Faith groaned again. "Shit! I know her." Jordan yelped. "She's the bitch that grabbed you and my Sis. I seen her on the television. Are you giving my sister shit? Cause if she's scared of you I sure as hell ain't."
Mary was standing in the doorway to the living room. "Jordan! Does she look dangerous?" she exclaimed impatiently. "Get the girl up to her room," she ordered. "I'm gonna explain it all to you all and it is nothing like you can imagine." She shook her head and troubled doubt creased her face. "I don't know how I'm gonna explain but I am."
Jordan tried and failed to match his sister's determined glare, he surrendered when she turned it up a notch. Knowing better than to argue anymore, he shrugged his massive shoulders, settled the wounded slayer against his chest and slowly plodded up the stairs, Willow following in his substantial wake. Third door on the left, he pushed it open with his shoulder - didn't bother with the light - crossed to a large bed just visible in the dim light and laid the slayer down. He was strong enough to be gentle, even so Faith whimpered in pain. Willow took the slayer's hand and pressed it gently. Faith's eyes opened.
"Hey Faith, I'm getting you some help. Just hang on..."
The fallen slayer gripped the witch's hand and Willow winced; an injured slayer is still very strong.
"Hey Red, where the fuck are we?"
"Mary's house."
Faith closed her eyes again and muttered faintly "Who the fuck is Mary?" Her head lolled to the side and her hand limply released Willow's and dropped back on the bed. She had passed out again.
"She don't look good," Jordan whispered. "Danny had better git here soon, maybe too late even so."
Mary called from downstairs.
"Jordan! I need you to get rid of that truck now."
"Coming Sis. An' I can't wait to hear you explain all this shit."
Willow stayed where she was, uncertain what to do next and unsure about how much she could trust her hosts. As soon as she could, she would try and get hold of Buffy and Xander. This was bigger than she could handle alone especially with her witchy powers out of bounds. She jumped nervously when someone hammered on the front door and then relaxed as she heard obviously friendly greetings being exchanged. After a few minutes, a smallish black man entered the room carrying a large black holdall.
"That's the patient I guess," he said looking at Faith. "And you are?"
"Willow... Willow Rosenberg. I'm a fri..."
"...a wanted fugitive according to Channel 9 news," he interrupted. He was already busy cutting Faith's prison shirt open.
"Are you a doctor?"
"Nope. But I will be this time next year" said the little guy briskly as he gently turned the unconscious slayer over, exposing a gaping exit wound. He whistled. "At least I don't have to go looking for no bullet."
"Are you qualified to do this?"
"Do you have any alternatives? Would you like me to treat her now or do you want to see my diplomas instead. Cause if I have to go back for them, I'm afraid your friend is gonna bleed to death meantime."
"Sorry," Willow said.
"If you want to help; get some warm water and towels, whatever they use for disinfectant round here and ask Alvie for a bottle of his best rum."
"For her wounds..."
"No! For me Rosenberg! Us unqualified witch-doctors need a strong drink before we mutilate our victims. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer, are you?"
Willow scowled. "You're not related to anyone called Cordelia Chase by any chance are you?"
"Just do as you're told Rosenberg. Get moving."
Willow left the room and made her way downstairs. There seemed to be quite a few additional people now. Secrecy was not at the top of Mary's agenda. Willow felt uncomfortable under the mostly unfriendly stares and it was with some relief that she picked out Mary's daughter from amongst the small crowd.
"Hi! Tori. Umm... sorry, the doctor guy wants some warm water, disinfectant and towels and er... a bottle of rum. If you could just tell me where to get them..."
The girl turned a thousand watt smile on the flustered witch and removed herself from the lap of an obviously smitten young guy whom Willow hadn't seen before. "Hey no sweat. I'll get them for you. Mom'll be back soon. She just popped out for some supplies. We got a few friends coming round tonight."
Willow looked around at the gathering and mentally shook her head. A social gathering didn't seem like the best idea right now. Way to let the cat out of the bag. The whole family obviously knew about the prison break-out, so presumably everyone else did too. Mary's safe return to the fold was going to be noticed. It was just a matter of time before the prison authorities noticed too. She needed to get Faith away from here.
Tori came back clutching the towels a bottle of a medical disinfectant, and a tall bottle containing a clear liquor; her young man was in tow carrying the bowl of water. "We'll bring these up for you," she said. "This is Justin... my boyfriend," Tori introduced the young man very shyly and Willow guessed they hadn't been together that long.
"Thanks," Willow smiled warmly at them. The two teenagers followed her up the stairs giggling. Willow suddenly felt very old and rather sad. 'Don't be stupid' she berated herself silently. 'Enough with the self-pity.'
She pushed the door to the bedroom open. Dr Danny was laying out his instruments and assorted medical supplies. It was quite a collection and much of it clearly marked as the property of the local general hospital. Danny observed Willow's raised eyebrows. He looked a little guilty.
"I keep some stuff at home. In case."
"I'm not about to criticise," Willow said tiredly. "Escaped con here. We were just lucky to find you." She looked at Faith. What was left of her prison issue overall was soaked in blood. Danny had cut away much of the garment and placed temporary pads on the wounds to try and staunch the bleeding but a creeping red stain was already visible, seeping from under the temporary dressing. Faith's face was grey, drained of blood and covered in a film of dirt and dust. Even her hair looked grey, coated in the thin white dust from the tarpaulin she had been hidden under. She looked like an old woman, frail and ill. "How is she doing?" asked Willow. The witch was not even sure she wanted to know the answer.
"Not good. Still losing blood though not as fast. She needs a transfusion though but I can't really help her with that. I'm going to patch her up, try and stop the bleeding, clean out those bullet holes and start her on shots of antibiotics but without blood there ain't a whole lot else I can do... her pulse is weak... her blood pressure is dangerously low, her heart may stop anytime and I can't be certain the bullet hasn't caused some major trauma internally. Not to be too negative though, it looks like a fairly simple entry and exit and she's still breathing so the bullet probably missed any major organs."
Tori and her boyfriend were staring at the injured woman, fascinated horror on their young faces. "Is she going to die?" asked the boy.
"No," said Willow resolutely. "She is much stronger than she looks and she's been worse. Do your best Doctor."
"Well I admire your confidence Rosenberg. Wish I shared it," said Danny. He addressed the teenagers. "Now I want you two out of here. This is no place for kids." They both shuffled out reluctantly. Danny looked at Willow. "Are you sure you can cope with this?"
"Yeah," she shrugged. "I haven't been a kid for a long time. I'd better wake her."
"No she's better off unconscious."
Willow shook her head. "If you're going to be cutting holes in her you don't want her waking up suddenly believe me. She'd likely kill you." The witch placed her hand on Faith's shoulder and gently shook her. "Faith. Come on. You have to open your eyes." Willow increased the pressure and said loudly. "Wake up slayer." She shook her harder. There was no response. "I guess I'll have to bring out the big guns," Willow murmured. She leaned over and whispered in Faith's ear. "Buffy's here. She's got a knife."
The slayer's eyes flicked open. "Wha... Whaddya say. Where?" She peered round, confusion and fear marring her expression.
"Hey Faith." Willow gently ran her fingers down the slayer's cheek, brushing a few stray hairs from the grimy face. "This is Danny. He's a doctor I think." She smirked at Danny who scowled in return. "He's got to have a better look at your injuries. I'm afraid it's going to hurt."
Faith grunted. "What did you wake me up for then?"
"I didn't want you to be surprised and go all wiggy."
Danny opened the bottle of rum and held it out to Willow. "Get her to drink some of this, a lot of this actually. It'll relax her and dull the pain a little."
Faith's eyebrow lifted. "Give that here Doc." She lifted a shaking arm. He gave her the bottle. She tipped it up and took a swallow. "Whoa! That's good stuff!" She took another swig and grinned weakly at Willow. "Hey there Red. Wanna share?"
Willow smiled back and demurred. "Nah! That's all for you."
"Cool."
"I need to get started," Danny said. He tore the sterile packaging from an operating knife. "This is gonna hurt a lot. I have to clean some debris from this and check there's nothing else embedded in there, before I stitch you up. You have to turn on your side and keep still. Do you think you can do that?"
"Bring it on Doc. I love a little pain." Faith took another swig from her bottle and made a half-hearted attempt to look lascivious. Still flirting she looked up at Willow. "I'd ask you to hold my hand but that would be sappy plus I might break your fingers."
Willow took Faith's empty hand. "S'okay sap," said Willow, amused that the slayer looked a little shocked by the gesture. "I'll shout out if you hurt me. Are you sure you don't want me to say a little spell, ease the pai..."
"Red!"
"Just checking. See if you could be tempted." Willow gently squeezed the hand she was holding. "Brave little slay..."
"Fuck!" Faith yelled, announcing that Danny had started work. Willow winced at the abrupt crushing pressure on her fingers but said nothing. Faith noticed anyway and released Willow's hand.
She glared at Willow. "I don't need you to hold my fucking hand. This'll do me." She swallowed some more of the rum. "Go on quack. If you dare."
"Charming," murmured Danny. "I could just let her bleed out, if it suits you Rosenberg."
"Ignore it Danny. She's just a little crabby is all," said Willow. "It's her way when she's scared." Willow laid her hand on Faith's arm and held tight.
"What the... ?" The slayer didn't get a chance to express her outrage at Willow's statement. She screamed and gripped the bedhead with her left hand as Danny cut into her damaged back. It was the last sound she made. Somehow the slayer held her body motionless as the Doctor worked fast; all her pain directed at the the wooden head-board that twisted and groaned in her grip as Danny probed and prodded her wounded flesh, hunting for shrapnel. Eventually the wooden board could take no more torture; it snapped, splintered in two and as it did so Faith fainted.
"Thank the goddess," Willow murmured.
Danny grunted. He had begun to close up the wounds as best he could, turning Faith's limp body to get better access. Finally satisfied that he had done the best he could, he dressed and bandaged his handiwork. He stood upright, breathing a little heavily. "Not the right height for operating," he complained, as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his aching back. He pried the three-quarter empty bottle of rum from the slayer's unconscious grasp and took a swig himself, then he offered the bottle to Willow.
She shook her head. "I think I'm a little young for that stuff."
Danny eyed the broken head-board curiously. "She's pretty strong, isn't she?"
"She works out a lot," Willow replied disingenuously. The wicca stroked some hair from the slayer's sweat covered face. Willow had been doing some thinking and she was worried. "How soon can we move her Danny?"
"Depends, two or three days... course she may die long before then. Unknown complications, infections, heart failure. All possible."
Willow could hear laughter and talking from downstairs. A low-level thumping bass began: someone wanted to dance.
"Shit!" Danny exclaimed. "I'll get them to turn that down."
"It's worrying me: all these people and noise," Willow said quietly. "Danny, we have to move her tonight. The authorities are going to know soon that Mary's back home and then they'll come looking for us and if they find us here... it wouldn't just be Faith and me who suffer believe me. They'd take everyone who knew anything. Anyway to be on the safe side, Mary should be reporting in to the police; she might be able to throw off any suspicion that she helped us..."
"Ain't no-one reporting anything," said Mary firmly from the doorway.
"That's sweet of you Mary but it's too dangerous."
"I've already called the police..."
"What!" Willow started to panic.
"...and told them I've escaped from you. They are sending someone over to interview me. Meantime we have to hide you. Alvie is sorting somethin' out long term but I don't think they'll search the house now. I'll keep them downstairs and we'll move you later in case they get suspicious."
"Er... Alvin didn't seem so keen to help me earlier."
"It's true he don't like you, then he don't need to like you. He knows he has to do this to protect me. And you needn't worry about no-one else talking to the police neither. People round here know how to keep their mouths shut."
"Listen Mary, it's not that I'm not grateful but you know what we are up against here. You are going to have to hide as well. I can't protect you, and with Faith out of it, you, your family, your friends are all in terrible danger. We need more help than this. I have a friend, Buffy Summers, I have to find her. She is the only one now who can help us."
"Is she another..." Mary looked at Danny, embarrassed and then mouthed "...witch?"
"No. She's another Faith. Very strong. She lives in Sunnydale. I have to call her."
"Go right ahead, there's a phone in Tori's room across the hall."
"Great." Willow looked at the large silver cross on Mary's neck and thought of vampires. "Mary, you can't let anyone in. You understand what I'm saying and why. If anyone comes to the door: do not invite them in regardless of who they say they are; remember what I told you about them." Almost reluctantly she reminded Mary of the principal defence against vampires, knowing how slender a protection was being offered and how easily humans could be duped.
"What about the cops? They're due any minute. I can't keep them standing on the doorstep."
"If they're human they'll be able to enter without an invitation, so just let them follow you. Do not give an invitation, even to old friends... in case... they're not friends anymore."
"If they're human?" Danny queried. He looked amused. "Is this some kind of prison jive?"
"Shut-up Daniel." Mary glared at him and he subsided, smiling peaceably. It was plain that in her house Mary was used to getting the last word. The older woman was taking her lessons seriously though. "Okay! No-one gets asked in. Got it! Don't you worry girl. I don't want those things in my house for sure."
Willow smiled and relaxed a little. Mary was holding up better than she could have hoped. A siren howled outside and red and blue lights alternately penetrated the blinds on the bedroom window.
"Looks like the cops are here," Danny said peeking carefully through the blinds.
"I'll get the door," Mary said, looking determined and a little scared. She went out and Willow could hear her solid step on the stairs and her calling to Tori to leave the door.
tbc
TITLE: It's An Unlikely World Part 8 of ?
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: NC17 for language mainly
CODE: F/W with some B/F and W/T
SUMMARY: This is a Buffy The Vampire Slayer fic. Faith is thrown together with an old enemy in prison.
DISCLAIMER: BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy and Twentieth Century Fox. I'm just playing with their toys.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
NOTES: This jumps off from the end of BTVS season six and there are some spoilers. What happens next bears no relationship whatever to the events of season seven. Except since now I have seen season 7, I will steal anything that I see fit.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
FEEDBACK: Yup. Tell me the truth.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
CREDITS: Not beta'd so beware and this is my first BTVS story.
"Evening Ma'am. Sorry to disturb you. Are you Mary Torrance?"
"Yes I am."
Willow was hiding in the bedroom at the top of the stairs. Peering through the just open bedroom door, Willow could hear their voices reasonably clearly and could see Mary's back and head, and beyond Mary she could make out the face of the police officer barely illuminated by the light from the hall and partially obscured by a uniform cap pulled low over his eyes.
"Well Ma'am we'd like to interview you about the breakout."
Willow held her breath.
"Okay," said Mary non-commitally. She turned away and started to walk back into the house.
"Are you going to invite us in?" asked the police officer mildly.
Willow held her breath. 'Don't try to be clever Mary,' she begged silently.
"I ain't stopping you." Mary sounded tense.
There was a silence.
"I would prefer it if you asked us in. We don't want any misunderstandings. This can be a sensitive neighbourhood."
Willow swore silently. This didn't look good. Maybe these guys really were following some police etiquette or maybe they were vampires; she wasn't inclined to believe the Southern California police were that polite.
Mary remained solid. "I ain't saying more than I've said. If you want your interview you can have it. I'll be in my kitchen or we can do it here if you prefer."
Willow could see the police officer's face twist in a scowl. Mary disappeared from view and Willow couldn't make out what was happening until a moment later when she heard Alvin's voice.
"Mary! What the hell are you doing leaving them out there. Just ask them in and get it over with. It's fucking with my brain, them just standing on the doorstep."
"Alvie! Mind your language and just... mind your own business!"
Alvin appeared by the front door. "Get in here," he barked angrily at the cop.
Mary half-screamed from the interior of the house, "Alvie! I told you to stay out of this!"
The face of the police officer split in a satisfied grin.
"Thank you sir. That makes our job a lot easier."
Mary was screaming at Alvin. Willow held her breath. The policeman took a step forward and then another. His face flattened almost comically against an unseen barrier and he staggered back. He growled and swore and vamped out.
"What the hell?" Alvin yelled. "What the fuck?" The second police officer charged the door and also bounced off the invisible barrier.
Mary was having to yell above her screaming guests. "I been trying to tell you Alvie all evening. They are vampires. Real live vampires. That's what we escaped from at the prison."
Alvin sagged against the wall as Mary stormed past him.
"Get away from my home spawn of satan," she screamed at the undead policeman.
"We prefer to be thought of as real undead vampires and we're no-one's spawn," sneered the vampire. He smirked at Alvie who was still leaning against the wall, fear and disbelief warring on his face. "Since we're still out here, I guess this isn't your house sir but thanks for trying anyway. I'll remember to kill you quickly."
"You ain't coming in here."
The vampire grinned and said something. Willow strained to make out what he was saying above the cacophony of terrified people in Mary's hall. It wasn't reassuring.
"The boss'll be here very soon and she's bringing some backup that isn't so particular about invitations." He paused to allow that information to sink in. "You could make a run for it I suppose but we got you covered front and back." His grin became a snarl.
Willow had heard enough. She turned back into the room where Faith lay unconscious. Danny was still fussing around her.
"Is there another way out of here?" Willow asked.
"What are you talking about girl and what is all the screaming downstairs?"
"The bad guys have arrived."
"You mean the cops? Most people would think you were the bad guy Rosenberg."
Willow smiled thinly. "Sometimes they would be right but not today, not yet anyway."
Mary burst into the room, Alvie, Tori and Justin in tow. The two youngsters looked excited and scared. Mary was terrified. Even Alvie looked a little frightened beneath the permanent scowl
"What are we going to do? They're bringing some other kind of monster," Mary wailed. "You have to save my little girl."
"I have to call my friend."
"There's no time. The Chief Warden, Ms Carlisle, is here. You said she was the worst of all."
"Where is she?"
"She's just at the door, she wants to speak to you."
"Did you say we were here?"
"No but she didn't believe me. She says we have five minutes to hand you over. I said we didn't know where you be now but she just laughed. What are we going to do?"
"I say we hand them over," growled Alvie.
"Shut up Alvie."
"I'll talk to her," said Willow. She had made her decision and a strange feeling of calm had overtaken her. She knew that whatever the consequences, she wasn't going to let Faith fall into Jennifer Carlisle's hands or let these good people die. Willow advanced on Mary and hugged her tightly.
"Mary. When you get out of here you have to find my friend Buffy Summers. She lives in Sunnydale - she'll protect you."
"What are you going to do?"
"Trust me."
Willow descended the stairs, she could see the tall slender figure of the Chief Warden, standing on the doorstep, illuminated by the hall light. The vampire saw her approaching and smiled. Willow felt her heart skip a beat. The vampire was unearthly attractive; a small part of Willow even wondered whether it would be such a bad thing to be killed by something so beautiful.
"Good evening Ms Rosenberg," said Jennifer in her low sweet voice. "Where's Faith?"
"Watching the back of the house," Willow answered smoothly.
The raging storm of panic from Mary's friends had diminished to anguished weeping and quiet appeals to their saviour. Jennifer Carlisle's smile widened and her blue eyes twinkled merrily. She whispered, as though to a fellow conspirator, "Poor souls. They have no idea do they?"
Willow returned the smile and Jennifer Carlisle looked a little disconcerted.
"What do you want with us?" Willow enquired.
"To return you to prison of course. The state cannot have convicted felons roaming about."
"I'm not actually a convicted felon to be picky, but leaving that aside, if we came quietly would you leave these people alone?"
"Absolutely," Jennifer assured her, looking completely sincere.
Willow nodded slowly. "Okay then. You know I can't agree. I mean, you being a vampire and all, you wouldn't keep a promise like that. I guess my counter offer is that we'll stay here, keep away from you and leave you to get on with your great apocalyptic whosit."
Jennifer sighed regretfully. "You know I would love to believe that was a serious offer. I mean how perfectly civilised. Unfortunately my associates would kill me were I to be quite so naive..."
Willow grinned sheepishly as though she had been caught out in a minor white lie, "You're right of course - we couldn't let you destroy the world - it would be one of those pyrrhic victory thingies. Not much point in surviving today, if poof tomorrow! No world left. Okay my final final offer is leave Faith and these people alone and abandon your world domination scheme too."
Jennifer began laughing. "Forgive me Willow if I seem a little dense but why would I agree to those rather comprehensive demands when I can just have all of you killed?" Behind Willow a fresh round of wailing and screaming began as some of the frightened inhabitants whispered what they had overheard to the others.
Willow ignored the hubbub. "What if I kill you first?"
"You can't."
"Can too!" Willow exclaimed and then felt foolish as Jennifer lifted an amused eyebrow. "Why can't I?" she asked apprehensively.
"Because I took the precaution of bringing along those rather unpleasant hairy shamans that you can see chanting behind me and they are protecting me...well some of them anyway. The others are removing the vampire barrier. Should be about ten minutes they tell me."
"Oh," said Willow. This was it then. She had no choice. Her promise to Faith as hollow as everything else and Willow was angry, mostly she was angry with Faith for making her avow something that was never going to be an option. Did Faith really think that they were going to avoid magic? The dark blood circulating thickly in her veins, called out to the witch for fire and pain and she knew how to answer that call. Intelligence and imagination: Giles had warned her that she was uniquely powerful because she brought those two human qualities to her witchcraft. Most supernatural beings were stupid or close-minded which was usually why their plans were foiled. The few exceptions like Angel and herself were much more deadly.
Willow took a deep breath as she contemplated the end of her opponents. The shamans were easy actually. She would incinerate the air around them, scorching their lungs which would certainly get their attention and it would halt any chanting or attempted retaliation. Her options were more limited with the vampires. Vampires are not difficult to kill but she didn't know how many there were or where they were located. The most powerful spells for the destruction of vampires were impossible without the correct magical accessories and ingredients, none of which she had to hand. She smiled. Improvisation was the key.
Jennifer took a step back. She was not a stupid person and the sudden transformation of the green-eyed California college girl to a leering, white-faced witch with hell-blackened, blood-rimmed eyes glowing with hatred was not to be taken lightly. When the highly paid professional shamans behind her began to scream and roll on the ground as the very air around them burst into flames, sucking more air into the void, creating a powerful vortex, stoking the explosion of gases to even greater temperatures, Jennifer knew that she had a few seconds to run for her undead life. She backed away slowly, then turned to run: she had only gone two paces when her flight was interrupted by many screeching tyres and flashing lights that cut off her retreat. The vampire gazed fearfully at the noise and explosions of light; she was expecting to explode herself. A microphone was shoved in her face and a very well dressed woman with unnaturally rigid blonde hair, began to yell questions as cameras popped and flash guns fired so continuously that the whole area in front of the house was lit up.
"Ms Carlisle, Ms Carlisle have you found the convicts?"
A moment later there were three more microphones and more voices were screaming for answers.
Jennifer glanced behind her - any sign of the magical mayhem that was raging only seconds before had vanished. Willow had disappeared from the door, the shamans had disappeared too, swallowed by the supernatural conflagration which had dissipated without trace. Everything appeared normal except that to the disoriented vampire nothing seemed normal. She tried to gather her thoughts as the press of human flesh against her, further assaulted her senses, arousing her blood. She fought the temptation to vamp-out and feed on the infuriating vermin that surrounded her. She was vaguely aware of two of her henchmen who had not run away, staring at her, waiting for orders.
"No" she managed to say weakly. "There's no-one here." She gestured to the 'police' officers to leave. She didn't want them there if the real police were to turn up. They saluted and returned to their cars.
"I'm sorry what did you say Ms Carlisle? Can you speak up for the microphones?"
"I said there was no-one here. I can report that Mrs Torrance is home safely with her family but the convicts...have escaped."
A dozen of her interrogators peeled away to storm the house. The blonde reporter remained to interrogate the flustered vampire.
"Do you expect to remain as Chief Warden after this debacle. Are you aware that the governor has withdrawn his support?"
"I have not spoken with the governor but I can assure you that everything is being done to find and recapture them. I have no further comment."
"But Ms Carlisle..."
"No comment," Jennifer growled unable to hold back a feral snarl as the woman poked her face close to her own. The reporter withdrew slightly, unsure of what she had seen. Jennifer recovered, hid the snarl and smiled with her full charm. "I have to get back to the prison. Perhaps I could answer your questions in my car. If you wish to come." She gestured at the official black sedan with its darkened windows.
The reporter smirked. Typical politician trying to get round the press but this was an opportunity not to miss. The appointment of the new Chief Warden had stunk of corruption but no-one had been able to get near her. It was a scoop. The reporter followed the Chief Warden to her car and climbed in. The doors slammed shut and the car drove away, and as one of the large crowd of curious onlookers attracted by all the noise and commotion said to his friend: 'It was peculiar because he could have sworn he heard a woman scream.'
Back at the house, the Torrance family were holding back the crowd of reporters trying to get in; Alvin and Jordan shoulder to shoulder at the door, desperately trying to prevent the horde of pressmen from seeing Willow slumped just inside the door; while Mary, with typical and previously undrawn courage, ignored the strange transformation of her guest from a scared young woman to a creature of darkness, stroking her clawed hands and patting her hell-raiser hair while whispering what she hoped were comforting words.
"Just relax right there girl, let all those bad, wicked feelings go. The Lord will protect you in this Valley of Darkness. He has looked after us up to now and as we both know, no-one would have believed that we could have survived. Think of Faith upstairs. She believes in you. Let the evil go."
Willow looked sharply at the big woman crouched beside her.
"Faith!" she scoffed and a shiver of fear passed through Mary as the contempt on Willow's ghost-white face became hatred. "She was wrong and a fool. She shouldn't have believed in me. I broke my promise to her and I'm glad. It was stupid of her to think that this could have played out otherwise. Now I'm free."
Mary resisted the urge to flee. "You don't mean that Willow..." Any further conversation was deferred by a fresh kerfuffle at the door. New voices could be heard and suddenly Alvin and Jordan were sprawling in a heap and cursing as several people piled inside the door. Mary screamed. "Run for your lives everyone. They're inside."
Mary's friends and neighbours did not need a second telling and the house emptied as people escaped through the back of the house and out of windows.
One of the invaders, a petite blonde woman, was forcing the door closed, pushing photographers back and yelling at the pack of reporters "Sorry. You have to go. Police protection. Why don't you talk to the ones running away." She gave a huge shove, skittling the whole press pack and slammed the front door, leaning against it with a sigh of relief. Almost immediately, knocking began on the door which she and her companions ignored.
The group of intruders, a white man and three white women including the small and obviously extremely strong blonde, stood with their backs to the door looking around at the remaining people in the hall. Terrified again - attacks by the forces of evil didn't seem to become any less scary - Mary gathered Tori and Justin behind her and prepared herself to face down wickedness for what seemed like the thousandth time that day.
"Get out of my house you seeds of hell. You have fallen on stony ground here."
"Biblical metaphor," commented a taller, thin blonde woman with an amused expression of nostalgic recognition. "One of the least good defences against evil. Throw one of the youngsters to us as a distraction. It's much more effective."
"You will not touch them," Mary howled.
"We're not going to hurt you," assured the man, a nice solid looking fellow with floppy dark hair. He smiled reassuringly. "We need your help."
The smaller blonde was now advancing cautiously, watching Alvin and Jordan when she caught sight of Willow still slumped against the wall.
"Will!" The woman rushed towards the witch but braked to a rapid halt when Willow raised her veiny blood-shot face.
"Oh my God!" exclaimed the third woman, a brunette who was the youngest looking of the group. "Buffy be careful. She's gone all evil again."
Mary's broad face lit up with hope when she heard the name of the blonde. But before she could speak there was a melee of competing voices.
"Quickly. Throw someone at her and lets get out of here."
"An! Enough with the advice! Willow won't hurt us. Will you? Will! Speak to me buddy."
"Where is Faith? Did she cause this? I knew I couldn't trust her."
"Are you Buffy Summers?"
"I don't care who she is. She and her friends can get their white asses out of this house, this very instant."
"Mom. Be careful."
"Quiet everyone! Alvie be quiet."
"Just hang in there Will! You're going to be okay."
"Sure. After she's filleted a few people...you didn't see what she did last time."
"Anya!"
"How could Faith leave you like this?"
"Don't you worry Sis. I'll get 'em. No skinny little girl is going to put me on my back twice."
"Jordan. Stay where you are."
"Buffy. Up the stairs. Look."
"Dawn. Stay back."
"QUIET!" yelled Doctor Danny from his position on the stairs where he stood supporting Faith, with his arm around her waist. "JUST SHUT UP FOR ONE MINUTE." The dark slayer was dressed only in a thin night-gown borrowed from Tori; she was swaying a little, in obvious pain, perspiration running down her face but Faith was smiling.
The group of humans fell silent.
"Hey B," Faith said huskily. Speaking was an effort, though she still had a touch of her normal insolence.
Faith's mocking smile became a frown when her eyes found Willow. For a second she looked hurt and then the vulnerability disappeared behind her normal sneer.
"What the fuck Red? A few hours alone and you're back for your mojo fix."
"Looks like it," Willow agreed coldly. "Someone had to save our butts."
"Poor excuse Red."
"Not from my perspective and since you're so smart, what would you have done Faith? Let everyone die to protect my virtue?"
"I would have used my brains. I might have called the TV news station. Got a little coverage from the press and a little cover."
"Was it you that called them?" asked Buffy.
Faith shook her head and grimaced with pain at even that slight movement. "Well no...I didn't. It was just an example But hey it worked. Someone used their head."
"Yeah. Who?" said Alvin grumpily as though he was contemplating taking out a law-suit against whomever was responsible.
Everyone present looked at each other and shrugged.
"We just got lucky I guess," said Jordan
"It was the Lord," exclaimed Mary excitedly. "Jesus saved us. He made the call."
Xander eyed her doubtfully. "Maybe, but don't most of these news hounds monitor police radios?"
"It was the Lord," repeated Mary firmly. Xander made a face to say you know best. He then shook his head at Anya who was quietly mouthing 'loony-toon' as she pointed her right index finger at her skull and mimed screwing it round. Mary ignored the gesture though the other members of her family bristled. Anya was not making any friends here.
Willow shrugged, "It made no difference - another minute and Jennifer Carlisle would have been dead or on the way to dead. Perhaps the vampires called the press. It saved their necks not ours and now she's free to go back to her apocalypse. I hope you all enjoy whatever she has planned. I know I'm going to."
Danny was struggling to hold Faith up. "I don't really understand what is going on here but I need to get Faith back to bed. You're bleeding again."
Faith shook her head.
"A few more seconds Doctor D. Help me down, I want to talk to Willow."
He rolled his eyes but helped her down the last couple of steps while Willow pushed herself to her feet. She was defiant. "Are you going to tell me what a naughty girl I've been? Or that I can still be redeemed because...I don't want to be. I like this me. I don't want to be cured or trained or muzzled like some pathetic magical pet, barred from fully realising my power because you're afraid of me."
Faith was now standing in front of Willow, wobbling unsteadily. She lifted her hand and gently stroked Willow's cheek. Willow just stared at her, her features softened and the darkness in her eyes receded for a moment. Faith smiled at her and despite the dark slayer's eminent weakness and suffering, the smile was as bold and brave as any.
"I'm not going to say any of that. What I wanted to say Red, was that I'm sorry I let you down. It was my job to protect you and I failed." The slayer continued to gently draw her fingers down the still smooth skin of Willow's face, tracing her thumb along the dark veins which seemed to fade as she touched them.
"That's okay Faith," Willow muttered staring into the slayer's dark eyes, looking for and finding something that she no longer believed in. She looked confused and then angry. She smirked nastily: "There's nothing to forgive because you could do nothing for me slayer. I can protect myself better than you. Like I told you I want to be like this. I am going to have some fun at last."
"Told you," whispered Anya under her breath. "Here come the guttings and disembowellings."
"Then forgive me for this Red." Willow watched mesmerised as Faith drew her fingers gently down the side of Willow's face to the witch's slender neck, gently cupped her fingers around the back and leant in apparently intending to kiss the dark wine-red lips. Everyone in the room held their breath. The kiss never came. Abruptly, her hand a blur, Faith pushed her rigid fingers, hard and sharp, into the nerves at the side of the witch's neck. Willow didn't even have time to look surprised or make a noise as she fell unconscious to the floor.
A second later, the last of her remaining strength exhausted, Faith followed the witch down, sinking to her knees, mumbling "she's all yours B. Look after her. I need...to lie down now..." Faith pitched forwards on top of the fallen witch and lay there unmoving, blood leaking from her bandages onto Willow's clothes and skin.
tbc.
TITLE: It's An Unlikely World Part 9 of ?
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: NC17 for language mainly
CODE: F/W with some B/F and W/T
SUMMARY: This is a Buffy The Vampire Slayer fic. Faith is thrown together with an old enemy in prison.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Faith's blood was soaking through her night-dress. She lay collapsed on top of Willow's unconscious body and it was soon obvious that Willow's skin was returning to its normal colour as though Faith's blood was actually seeping into her. In just a few moments Willow had lost the unnatural looking white skin and the matt black hair, returning to her naturally pale-pink complexion and shiny red locks, like a garden gnome as she had once disparagingly described herself.
The audience of friends and assorted members of the Torrance family gaped until Xander found his tongue. "That was unexpected," he said wonderingly.
"Big whoop. It's just slayer healing," Anya snorted and rolled her eyes as though such things were totally boring and unworthy of comment. "Supernatural infection, smear on a bit of slayer blood, drive out the evil, blah-di-blah. Everyone knows that."
By contrast with Willow, Faith grew paler with each passing second. Danny crouched down by Faith, holding her wrist, his face betrayed his concern for the young woman who was slipping away, her life-force visibly leaking from her.
"She needs a blood transfusion. There's nothing more I can do for her without blood."
"Use me," said Buffy.
"Are you the same blood group?"
"More than you can guess," Buffy replied.
"You have to be exactly the same or you may kill her," he emphasised, trying to assess Buffy's understanding.
"We are the same I think. My watcher used to say that there was normal genetic variation between slayers except for one thing: our blood. The same blood has flowed in every slayer for millions of years."
"I have no idea what you are talking about," said Danny, "but I hope to God it makes sense. We must get her upstairs. Jordan?"
"Yeah I know," said the big guy. "Lifting and carrying is what I do."
"Not this time," Buffy interrupted. "I have her." She raised the collapsed slayer off the unconscious body of the witch, lifting the larger girl as though she weighed no more than a baby. Jordan grinned at her approvingly.
"Now that is my kind of girl."
Buffy smiled at him uncertainly, registering for the first time that not only was Jordan large, but he was handsome in a college football player way. He smiled back.
"Hi. I'm Jordan. Mary's little brother."
"Buffy...I mean that's me. My name is Buffy. Umm where are we going," Buffy muttered as a familiar shyness clutched at her tongue. Dawn, always alert to the signs of sisterly discomfort honed from years of observation and practice in embarrassing her older sister, looked up sharply. She stared at her sister and then at the solicitous young giant who was directing Buffy up the stairs. An instant later she met Tori's eye and the two teenagers burst into laughter. Finding an immediate bond in their shared amusement at the hopelessness of their adult relatives, the two girls introduced themselves to each other and then to all the other people in the room. By the time a lightheaded Buffy, missing several pints of her own blood, returned downstairs with Jordan supporting her and Doctor Danny following behind, the party had moved to the kitchen where Mary was making tea and coffee and peanut butter sandwiches for everyone and a convivial atmosphere had developed, apart from Alvin and Anya who were watching the proceedings from their chosen perches like a pair of silent gloomy crows.
"Would you like some tea or coffee," was the first question levelled at Buffy and then the deluge came.
How's Faith? Is she going to be okay? Would she need more blood? How many vampires/journalists/crowds of onlookers were still outside? What were they going to do next? Should they leave the house? What was all this about an apocalypse? What was an apocalypse? What was a slayer? Why were there two slayers if she was the chosen one? How strong was she? How strong was a vampire? How many vampires could she fight? The questions rained on her until one question of her own entered Buffy's head.
What had they done with Willow?
"I put her on the couch through there," Xander answered.
"Did you tie her up?" He shook his head. They stared at each other as the same worrisome thought entered both their minds. "Have you checked on her recently?"
One look at Xander's repentant face and Buffy ran into the room he had previously indicated, Xander on her heels. Nothing. Willow had gone. Xander cursed loudly and then had to apologise to his hostess who had followed them through. Mary's mom-style glare abated slightly at the apology but it was clear that the big woman had registered Xander as another young man who needed her guidance.
"We have to find her now," Buffy ordered, taking command as usual. "I'll search outside, make sure it's safe. The rest of you search the house. Mary can you make sure everyone is paired off and that you know where each group is looking. Everyone back here in ten minutes."
Mary nodded wearily. She stared at the half-eaten jelly sandwich in her hand. "Do you people ever get to eat a full meal, 'cause I am hungry." Sighing she put it down and began to organise.
"I'm coming with you," said Jordan following Buffy to the front door.
"No. There might still be vampires out there."
"So? You can protect me then." He grinned down at her. "I'll watch your back and carry those itty bits of wood for you. Stakes ain't it?"
They could hear Anya complaining in the kitchen "Why do we have to go in the basement? There is never anything good in the basement; they are always dark, damp and nasty and smell like Xander's socks. Why does anyone even have a basement? No-one ever uses one for anything useful, it is just a ready made home for bad things."
Jordan winked. "By the sound of it, I'll be better off outside with you than down in the basement."
Buffy rolled her eyes but she hesitated to agree "I'm not sure I want to face your sister if anything happens to you."
"I'm confident," he replied. "You've kept your friends safe."
Xander and a disgruntled Anya appeared behind them. Xander had overheard the tail end of their conversation and he chipped in, "but we have years of sweaty, pant-soiling running and hiding behind us. We have skills." He slapped Jordan on the back. "Not every civilian makes the grade."
"I can run," Jordan asserted. "One hundred in ten point five but I guess the hiding might be trickier." He pointed at his own bulk.
"Okay," Buffy said suddenly urgent as a rush of fear for (and perhaps of) Willow overtook her again. "I haven't got time to argue. You can come with but the first sign of trouble and I want to see that speed."
A distant shout of triumph carried down the stairs.
"It's okay everyone. We've found her."
"Thank god," said Anya. "That means we don't have to go in the basement right?"
"Dawn" exclaimed Buffy. The slayer was off and running up the stairs as though a dozen demons were behind her. Jordan and Xander charged after her.
"Is it always this crazy?" asked Jordan as they reached the stairs.
"Oh yeah," Xander confirmed. "It's not for everyone."
Jordan said seriously, as he took the stairs three at a time, "Maybe I could get used to it."
Buffy almost knocked over Dawn, Tori and Justin who were huddled giggling at the top of the stairs. "Where is she?"
"In there," replied her sister very quietly, holding her finger to her lips and pointing to the very room where Faith was resting after her transfusion. Buffy looked set to knock the door down.
"Everyone stay back. I'll deal with this."
"Buffy! No!" Dawn grabbed her sleeve, still whispering, "It's all cool, kinda sweet even. Vin Diesel not needed."
Buffy raised her eyebrows at that but she did open the door gently, peering in cautiously. By this time both her trusty minions had arrived and were crowding around behind her looking over the top of her head.
Faith lay on the bed, an improvised drip feeding blood into her veins. Willow was curled up on top of the covers, by the slayer's legs, asleep with her head resting on her arms. Faith's free hand was tangled in the witch's red hair.
"Man those two are into each other," Jordan exclaimed. Buffy cast him a quick glance, checking for disapproval but found nothing other than an endearing expression of awe. Xander on the other hand did not look happy.
"Now that is just plain wrong," he complained, struggling between fear for his oldest friend, dislike of Faith and a long-standing women in prison fantasy. "Sexy but wrong."
Faith slowly opened her eyes and met Buffy's. For a long moment they both just held each other's gaze until at last Buffy pushed everyone back and closed the door quietly.
"It's okay. Faith has her," she said firmly.
"That's all you can say," asked Xander.
"Yes that is all I'm going to say. Panic over. We can all start thinking about the apocalypse again."
Jordan snorted and then lost the grin when he caught Buffy's irritated glare.
"I'm sorry. I thought you were making a joke." He shrugged awkwardly.
Xander patted him on the back. "Don't worry big guy. Buffy saves her humour for the undead. She's pretty cool with the graveside wit."
"Xander! That is so unfair."
"And so true. Many is the vampire that has died with a merry chortle on his dusted lips."
"Eww," muttered Dawn to her new friends. "You see the grossness I have to endure."
"Merry chortle?"
Dawn shook her head despairingly. "I know. So uncool."
The three teens peered pityingly at Xander, who blushed and muttered about having left high-school and that if he needed a dose of Cordelia he could get it on the phone.
~~~
Willow lifted her head sleepily and wondered where she was. She felt the fingers tangled in her hair.
"Tara," she whispered before thought could hold back hope.
The touch withdrew.
"Sorry Red," drawled a familiar voice. "Lucked out again."
In spite of the painful strike of disappointment and the grey sadness of realising her loss again rolling through her waking consciousness as it did every morning like fog on a winter moor, Willow couldn't help but smile at Faith's fuck-you voice. It didn't fool her anymore. Little Manny had been right about Faith. She was a soft touch. Willow leaned up on her elbow to look at her companion. Faith was still very pale, near as pale as Willow and her eyes were closed against the bright sunlight invading the room through the gaps in the curtains. Someone had closed the valve on the makeshift drip in the night but it was still attached to Faith's arm, the empty bag was swinging from a coat hanger. The twisted remnants of the head board also hung as a reminder of Faith's latest brush with death.
"Winning ways deserted me long ago," Willow drawled back.
"I wouldn't say that Red. We lived through the night and you're still you and I'm still me. Guess that counts as a kind of victory."
"Still me and still you. Great." Willow closed her eyes and lay back down.
"It's so quiet," Faith murmured, obvious wonder in her voice. "No shouting or snoring or doors banging or anyone singing or screaming or cursing or keys jangling or anything. I'd forgotten what 'quiet' sounds like."
"How does it sound Faith?" Willow asked curiously.
"Sweet. It sounds so sweet. Like clean sheets and warm bread."
Willow rolled over on her arm and looked at Faith, honestly touched by the real feeling in Faith's words. "Hmm. That's almost how Buffy described heaven. She said how peaceful and warm it was. How safe she felt."
"I understand why she was pissed to be brought back then. Slaying is harsh."
Willow frowned. She didn't need reminders of her mistake in reviving the chosen one. Plus no-one seemed to understand what it had cost her in the end: the slide into magic abuse and the loss of Tara. "I thought you always enjoyed the slaying and killing Faith. You were so good at it."
"I liked winning and I liked the power and I liked being feared but sometimes the slayer has to fight knowing she's going to lose, and that sometime she will lose everything. Like I said. Harsh. Buffy was always braver than me I guess - that's why she lasted and I couldn't. Anyway doesn't seem important now."
"You seem brave to me," Willow whispered, uncertain maybe because saying nice things to Faith was still a little strange.
"Thanks Red."
"How are you feeling?"
"Peachy," Faith grumbled and opened tired eyes to peer at Willow. "How 'bout you?"
"Peachier," Willow grumbled in return.
For a moment they each maintained a reasonably good grimace and then both collapsed back on the bed, grinning widely and Willow giggling.
"We are so bad," Willow declared and giggled again. Without really thinking she took a hold of Faith's nearest hand and twined her fingers in slayer's. Faith looked surprised but didn't really pull away.
"Real bad," Faith agreed with her best laconic sneer. "The killer and the evil witch…"
The door of the room swung open and Mary bustled in.
"Well I don't think you need to be so all-fire pleased with your evilness," she exclaimed. "I was going to ask you if you wanted any breakfast. Now I ain't so sure."
"Mary," interrupted Doctor Danny as he appeared beside her, "I will be the judge of whether either of my patients is going to have breakfast. I have to say Spencer you're livelier than I expected tho' I didn't expect much. Off the bed Rosenberg. I'll get to you in a minute." He stuck a thermometer in Faith's ear and ignored her scowl as the cold instrument invaded her. He held her wrist and glanced at his watch. "Hold still. Funny how it's always the strongest who complain the most."
"I said nothing Doc."
"You have a conversational face and mostly it complains." After a few seconds the Doc let go of her wrist and shone a bright light in each of her eyes in turn. He then placed his stethoscope on her chest and listened for a few seconds. Finally the Doc withdrew the thermometer and blinked. "Temperature normal. Pulse normal. Heartbeat strong. Pupils normal. Eyes clear. I need to look at your wounds and change the bandages but right now apart from looking a little weary you're healthier than I am."
Carefully Doctor Danny cut away the dry-blood soaked bandages and gently prised them from Faith's skin.
"Ouch!" she yelped as the bandage finally came away. Danny paid no heed, he was too busy staring at the stitches in the almost healed skin.
"That is not possible."
He gently turned her on her side and repeated the exercise to reveal the entry wound in her back.
"Are you even the same girl who was here last night?"
"I remember you Doctor D, plying me and Willow with strong drink."
"I'm beginning to think I was the one drinking. How is that possible?" he repeated.
"Danny if you think that's strange. Well I can tell you the things I seen…"
"You have told me Mary but there is still a difference between hearing about weird shit and seeing weird shit. And that girl's recovery is weird shit. It almost offends me - all my medical training and I might as well not have wasted my time!"
"Not true Doctor," Willow assured him, "if you hadn't rigged up that transfusion Faith would have died. She needed slayer blood."
Faith looked revolted. "Do not remind me. Now I have B's blood running around inside me she is never going to let me live this down. She'll want me to swear to be faithful to her almighty Buffyness, speaking of which where is the one and only fashion princess of slayerdom?"
"She's gone to check out the prison," Mary reported. "See if anything is going on. She seemed to think we'd be safe enough here in the daytime."
Faith shrugged. "Maybe. Anyway I'm awake now." She sat up and groaned ignoring the Doc's attempts to hold her down. He threw up his hands. "Really stiff though," she said with a placatory nod at the despairing doctor.
Willow was more realistic, "Faith I don't think you're up to a fight yet so let's hope Buffy is right."
"B's always right. She'll tell you that. Anyway I'm fine."
Willow rolled her eyes and Faith smirked. Doctor Danny was now pushing and prodding at Willow. He didn't look too pleased.
"Nothing wrong with you either. If everyone was like you folk, us doctors would be out of business. That said I don't want either of you running about for at least the next coupla days. You might split your stitches and you," he said looking at Willow irritably, "well you just seem like trouble."
"I'll watch them Danny," Mary assured him. "I appreciate your help."
"It's okay Mary, just my whole world-view has to be re-written after last night and I don't like the new story one little bit. Anyway I'm going home to see my family and take them away from this place before it all goes to hell. Literally. My wife's not going to understand why we have to leave our home though."
"Lie," advised Faith. "Dying friend; long lost twin; won a million; tell her there's a plague at the hospital."
"Why thank you Spencer. I don't know how I communicated with my wife before I met you."
Faith grinned at his sarcasm. She liked him already. "Pleasure Doc."
He stomped off and they could hear him muttering about silly women as he thumped down the stairs.
"What about you Mary?" Willow asked. Mary made a face.
"I don't know. I want my baby girl away from here until it's safe but she's refusing to leave me."
"So. Why don't you just go with her?"
"Because I have many friends and family here and this is my community and I don't want to leave them to die. If I can do anything to fight the evil then it is my duty as a christian to help."
"Mary," Willow said as seriously as she knew how, "this is not something you should get involved with. All fighting demons and vampires has brought any of us is pain and loss. Please just take your family and go as far from here as you can."
"Have to say I agree with her Mary."
"Is there someplace in the world where there are no demons then?" Mary asked looking almost hopeful.
"No," Willow said cautiously, "but not everywhere is as dangerous as right here, right now."
"So you have a list of safe places, a timetable of when the evil will appear?"
Willow reluctantly shook her head. "Well no. But personally I would always check out the cemeteries, in daylight of course, and see how old most people are when they die. If there are a lot of dead teenagers then give the town a miss and keep driving. Vampires kinda like them young. Oh and any recently disturbed graves then definitely you want to move right along or lots of mausoleums or family crypts. Bad sign. If you can check the police records or even local news websites then that's pretty useful - unexplained disappearances, strange animal sightings, any weird seismic activity.."
"Girl. Can you hear yourself? I would rather stay here amongst the people I know than always live in fear that the evil may find me or mine in some strange place where I have to read all the obituaries and not allow anyone in my house."
"Point taken but Mary there is evil and then there is apocalypse. We're talking end of the world…"
"So how would moving to the next state help?"
"Again point taken Mary…umm…a good point."
"Red, cut to the chase and stop playing ping-pong. The thing is Mary that if you stay here you'll have a good chance of getting killed even if we stop the apocalypse. If you leave then you'll probably live to a happy old age if we stop the apocalypse. If we don't stop the apocalypse then we're all going to die anyway. And quite honestly if you stay then you may get us killed trying to protect you."
"So you're saying that I'd be in the way."
"Yeah. That's what I'm saying." Faith folded her arms and glared. Mary was not defeated however.
"What if you need to do magic? You needed me on the roof of that prison alright."
"Good point yet again Mary." Willow smirked and waggled her eyebrows at Faith's open-mouthed disbelief. Mary ignored the interruption - she was on a roll.
"Anyway I don't think any of you have a right to tell me that I have to go. You got me into this when it suited you and now I am involved regardless whether you or I wanted it that way. God has chosen me and I trust him to keep me safe."
"Fine," Faith snapped. "Just don't cry to me when it all goes wrong. Cry to God and see if he cares."
"Blaspheming is not going to impress me missy. I am staying right here."
The noise of the front door slamming and someone shouting for Mary ended the argument. Mary went outside into the hall. "It's Jordan and Buffy" she said with some relief. I better go and see if they need breakfast."
Faith glared after the large woman.
"Let it go Faith," Willow said wearily. "We tried. At least she'll see us all fed before she dies."
"Until she's killed."
"You really care don't you."
"Almost everyone I've known in the last five years apart from Buffy and you has died fighting demons or become a demon. Even Angel has disappeared. I don't want anyone else to die because of me. But as she says it's her fucking choice."
Willow picked up the robe that was lying on the floor and threw it to Faith. "Come on. If you can. Let's go down and see the others. Hear what they've discovered."
"Keen much," Faith said lightly though she could not altogether hide her surprise that Willow wanted to see the rest of the scooby gang.
Willow shrugged. "I need to apologise for last night and I really don't want the world to end just yet."
TBC
Charlie's Angels (ADULT) RATING: R and NC17 WARNINGS: These stories include same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further. ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where. DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations used in this fic are the property of someone who is not me. I don't own anything worth having. No infringement of copyright/trade marks is intended. STATUS: Complete
Source: Charlie's Angels: Full Throttle.
This was a truly terrible film but for some reason it has compelled me to write this fic...
Rating: Femmeslash, Adult, maybe considered non-consensual by some, definitely some BDSM in there.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
This is the most uncharacteristic bit of fiction I have ever written so if you have ever read anything else that I've written, be warned. This is not typical of my stuff.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
A lot can happen in 48 hours.
I suppose that's kind of obvious if you're an Angel. Aren't we meant to live faster than the speeding bullets we're so good at avoiding? It turns out some things are harder to avoid than bullets, like the realisation that as much as I try to think otherwise, my life is different now.
The last 48 hours have seen to that.
A lot of the usual stuff happened. We saved the innocent and destroyed the guilty and there was no need for any inconvenient trials or gathering of evidence: ‘business as usual' in other words. Not for me. Something else happened, something not in the agency's official account of the case. I want to set it down here, set it down on paper, reduce it to a memoir that I can discard and go back to my life.
I'm not the kind of person that has life crises. A life crisis suggests someone with depths and serious ambitions and a psychoanalyst. I'm more of a dork; the kind of dork who dances in front of the mirror, says stupid things at inappropriate moments and has cute fluffy slippers, cute friends and a cute boy who understands me. Okay so far so Bridget Jones. I haven't mentioned some of my less traditional feminine traits -the ones my exceedingly cute boyfriend has to ‘understand'.
Give me a car, a boat, a plane, a flying saucer and I'll drive, ride or fly at any speed, over any terrain and better yet, park the beast in a space smaller than its length; I've never forgotten a single fact I've ever read; dancing, acting, spying, acrobatics, kicking ass are all just fun sidelines; and when pushed, I can hack a super computer to make war, peace or a frappuccino. I'm not boasting you understand: this is just how it is and I love it. I can't quite leap a skyscraper in a single bound, but scaling the outside and then sky-diving off, is a normal day at the office for me: all without so much as a twinge of fear.
I have no real understanding of fear. I mean up until very recently, I didn't have any experience of it. One of the things that I admire about Dylan, is that she does all that I do even though she is often scared witless. I see her sometimes and she looks terrified though she never seems to hesitate, which is just amazing. Alex is harder to read, I don't think much fazes her. As for me, well occasionally I get embarrassed or concerned about my friends, but fear has never been a factor for me, before yesterday anyhow. Today it's all I can do not to run screaming for my mother. I don't because I'm fairly certain Mom would have nothing to say that would help me even a little.
Worse than the familiar lack of parental understanding, is the fear that Dylan and Alex won't understand either. See: there's that fear word entering my vocabulary again.
"What's up Angel?"
Three words. And a voice that made a question a threat; a threat something to hope for; and gave me a momentary panic that my cover was blown.
I looked up at her. Being on my knees in the sand seemed appropriate: a dark goddess raised from the glistening sea, and a legend amongst the earthbound angels of the Charles Townsend Detective Agency. I don't stay on my knees though. I‘m on my feet and gushing like the thirteen year old geek that still inhabits my skin more often than I would like.
"Madison Lee! You're like my favourite Angel," or something equally gauche. I'm amazed and proud to find that she knows my name. I can hear Dylan and Alex babbling incoherently admiring comments about her in the hidden radio in my ear.
Madison is well aware of the effect she has on other angels. She steps right inside my personal space and for a few panic stricken moments I think she is going to kiss me. Not that I would mind – I'm a twenty-first century gal and I'm cool with the whole Sapphic thing - not that I'd ever done anything like that you understand – but I'm cool and she is famously gay and incredibly good-looking, so when she just whispers a lame joke to my molar mike for the benefit of Alex and Dylan, am I disappointed? No. I'm just very, very relieved. Not so cool after all.
A few more friendly words and she leaves, but not before palming a nickel and dropping it in my hand. I catch the small coin on a reflex - I know what it is and my surprise must show.
"So I can find you," she mouths silently, careful to keep her face turned away from where Alex and Dylan are watching; lip-reading is an essential Angel skill.
Unsure what to do with the little tracking beacon - a standard piece of Angel equipment - I tuck the tiny device inside my bikini and promptly forget it as the demands of my job take over. I don't think about it again until I'm changing into my dirt-bike kit an hour later and it falls out of my discarded swimsuit.
Why would Madison Lee want to find me? I cannot begin to guess at her motives. More disturbingly I don't understand why I slip the tracker into my pocket and I certainly don't understand why I don't mention any of this to Dylan or Alex.
The dirt-bikes are good clean fun until the killing starts and then it's just frustratingly hard. I'm a little off my game. Dylan threw me for a loop when she let on that Pete was planning to ask me to marry him - I think that's what she meant, though she tried to dress it up as a hypothetical question. Actually I'm a lot off my game, and it's no thanks to me that the bad guy finally books a one-way ticket home to hell. At least the assassin's mark, a young guy called Max Petroni, is safe, and we have some leads to work on.
The next 12 hours are what I love about being an Angel: variety, performance, danger and fun. We don't stop until we retrieve the missing data, despite mixing it with some of the ugliest and nastiest bad guys you can imagine and a nun who was scarier than any gangster. Oh and I was offered a job by a lap dancing troupe! The whole gig was hard on Dylan though. The bad guy turned out to be her ex-boyfriend, a real piece of work, an ex-con, a snarling psychopath. She is scared of him in a way that I can't really imagine. She may not be the frightened girl who gave brave testimony against the freak eight years ago and put him away but that girl still lives inside her and gave him a power over Dylan that he didn't deserve. She was very quiet on the drive back, ignoring Alex and I doing our best impression of best friends.
We take the night off. Alex goes back to her Dad; I drop Dylan off and then go home to Pete who is waiting like an affectionate puppy. He is super concerned about my cuts and bruises. I have come home with worse before and it seems odd that he is making such a fuss this time. Then I remember that this is the first time I have returned in this sort of state to our home, the home we now share. For the first time I can see him beginning to understand what living with me might mean beyond cuddling, playing and loving. I feel a rush of love for him that quickly transmutes to desire. He won't play tonight: still upset about my injuries and scared of hurting me. No amount of teasing changes his mind. I'm disappointed. I don't often take the lead sexually and being rejected hurts although he means well. I give up and instead of passionate sex we go to Pete's tenth anniversary high school reunion where I manage to both impress his friends and make a total fool of myself. Pete doesn't seem to care either way and that is another of the things I love about him. He is preoccupied though, and I guess that he is trying to get up the courage to ask me the big question, yet somehow we get through the evening without him asking me to marry him, a failure that brings me relief and disappointment.
My giddy girlie side is really excited by the idea of marriage – I mean it's what I've wanted all my life – a nice guy who really loves me and doesn't care that I'm clumsy, geeky, babbling and accident-prone or, even worse, that I'm better at everything than he is. The adventurer and crime-fighter in me is horrified. I know that a serious relationship and being an Angel are incompatible. The agency and your fellow angels come first, last and everywhere in-between.
Lying in our bed that night, unable to sleep, adrenaline buzzing in my system, Pete next to me snoring lightly, I hear something rattle against the window. Senses alert, I drop out of bed and crawl to the window. I hear the noise again. Someone is throwing tiny pebbles at our windows. I open the balcony window just a crack and listen.
"Natalie! Wake up." It's a woman's voice in a loud stage whisper.
"Dylan, is that you?" Dylan is the only person I can imagine behaving like this.
"No. It's Madison. Come outside on the balcony."
"Nat Honey! What's going on?" Pete growls sleepily from the bed.
"Nothing babe, it's just Dylan," I lie. "I just have to speak to her."
"Okay, don't be long..." The heavy sigh that follows convinces me that Pete is asleep again.
I step outside and peer down into the darkness.
"Took your time," says Madison's voice mockingly.
"Where are you?"
Tall and skinny, she steps out of the shadows below, into the moonlight; it's bright enough to make out her figure though not her face.
"Can I come up?" she asks.
"Sure, I'll let you in."
"No need." She disappears into the shadows surrounding the house and then, seconds later, she is swinging her leg over the side of the balcony. Very fast - so much for anti-climb paint - even for me that would be very quick climbing.
"How did you do that?"
"Preparation and my little tracker buddy."
"Why?"
"Habit I suppose. I'm always prepared."
"No. I mean, why are you here?"
"I wanted to show you something."
I grin stupidly. "Like what?" I know she is smiling though her face is in shadow.
"Come with me and see," she invites me, her voice dropping low. She is standing very close now; her warm breath is floating across my cheek. I feel my heart rate step up and heat flood my skin. She is flirting and I am out of my depth. Anyway I'm not gay I howl in silent protest. It's not fair making me feel this way. She takes my hand gently; her fingers are cool and soft. Mine are a sweaty embarrassment.
"You're not afraid of me?"
Is this what fear feels like? I take a breath and step back.
"What do you want to show me Madison?" I ask, steeling my voice, my spine and every other part of me that seems to be wobbling unaccountably.
"Down there." She points to a shadow on the ground below the balcony.
"Your car...?"
"It's one of a kind..."
"Yeah I know, a Ferrari Enzo, it's not even on sale yet. How..."
"Would you like to drive it?"
She has found my weakness. Yeah of course I want to drive it; it's sex on wheels, better than sex, better than a long happy life, better than chocolate even but I'm not going to do it. I'm not going with her even for a Ferrari.
"You are afraid." She sounds disappointed.
"Afraid might be putting it too strongly. I'm a little anxious I admit."
"About driving the car...? Well I suppose it is a handful but it'll be fun and I'll drive if you're nervous."
There is just enough pity in her voice to send me over the edge. "Madison, I would love to take your car for a spin, if you can bear to be the passenger. I wouldn't want to make you nervous."
She is smiling again, a hint of white teeth in the moonlight and then she's holding out her hand to me. I grin shyly. Madison grabs my hand and starts to pull me into the house; I follow, giggling, as she hauls me, still dressed only in an old t-shirt I use for sleeping and a pair of Pete's boxer shorts, through my bedroom, past a heavily snoring Pete, down dark stairs, across my living room and out through the front door.
The car appears almost black in the light from the street-lamps. It gleams dully. Muscular, low and lean, a parody of a super-car, a flash bit of kit for the spoiled rich but this $600,000 puppy has a real pedigree. Madison is standing beside me, still holding my hand as I admire the Ferrari. She drops my hand suddenly. However my relief is short lived as she steps behind me, wraps a strong arm around my waist and pulls me gently against her; I feel her breath on my ear, the soft pressure of her breasts against my back through the thin t-shirt, and a slight electrifying jolt as her fingers slide over the bare skin of my midriff when she tightens her hold.
"Don't break her Natalie," she whispers in my ear and instantly releases me to step around to the far side of the car. My knees are trembling. I gratefully slip into the driver's seat before I can collapse.
I distract my brain by trying to familiarise myself with the layout of the controls.
"Coast or mountains," I ask gruffly, firing the ignition, already knowing her answer.
"Coast," she answers immediately.
I nod and pull as gently and quietly away from the house as the V12- engine will permit. Madison looks at me quizzically.
"What?" I snap at her. "Our neighbours are elderly."
"How considerate of you; you don't want to wake anyone. How is the boyfriend?"
I glance at her sharply. Her expression is entirely innocent. I return my attention to the road. We have turned out of my street now and I give my excitement free rein. The car surges forward, roared on by the engine. The edge of nervousness recedes as I begin to concentrate.
For the next fifteen minutes I drive as fast as the law will allow but no faster, not until we leave the freeway to join the coast road as it writhes painfully up the cliffs that overhang the Pacific. A lot of men gave their lives building this road: one of those many casually heroic engineering projects that the early twentieth century took for granted; constructed on the back of limitless ambition and fuelled by a seemingly never-ending supply of immigrant labour. Back then it had a serious purpose - linking growing coastal centres of population in the exploding economy of southern California – now it has been superseded by better roads in the hinterland but the road remains, a lethally dangerous mix of switchbacks, blind corners, rock-falls and crumbling edges; and then there's the boy racers with their toys, dodging the regular sweeps by the highway patrol, ignoring the warnings, the speed limits, the roadside memorials to the unskilled or the unlucky; and now there's me, a Ferrari and the first light of the day.
I glance over at Madison and grin. She looks relaxed in her black silk shirt, leaning back in the dark leather racing seat, strong hands resting lightly on her thighs. She hasn't bothered with her seat belt, then nor have I. We both know that if I screw up here, seat belts aren't going to save us. The engine finally howls her approval as I open her up.
Thirty-five miles and twenty-four minutes later I switch off on a small headland that juts into the ocean. The sun is not yet visible over the high cliffs behind us but the salmon pink clouds warn of its arrival. The sea is darkly calm and there are still two bright stars visible in the deep blue of the early morning western sky.
Madison stirs beside me and utters her first words since we left my apartment. "Damn you're good," she murmurs. Her eyes are dark and her red lips are slightly parted, her breathing is a little rough, and I don't mean to notice but I do, her nipples are hard beneath the silk shirt.
"You wanna head back?" I ask not very graciously. I'm panicky again and I want to get this over with, whatever 'this' is. "Thanks for letting me drive, it was awesome."
"Let's go for a little walk – stretch our legs. Come on," she adds as I hesitate.
A few minutes later and we are both standing shivering on the cliff edge looking into the blue-black pacific swell. Madison casually wraps her arm around my waist as though she has been doing this forever. I lean against her: partly for the warmth and partly because I can't think what the hell else to do. I shiver and again the cold is only partly responsible.
"Okay?"
"I'm not really dressed..."
She takes off her jacket and wraps it around my shoulders. "It'll keep you a little warmer." She puts her arms around me again and gently pulls me back to rest against her. I have to fight the impulse to place my head on her shoulder.
"Mmm" I grunt. She tightens her hold and I grunt again but this time from discomfort. Something is jutting in my side.
"There's something in your jacket."
"My gun," she says, unconcerned. "It's in the inner pocket."
She reaches further around me and slides her hand inside the jacket. I tense thinking she is going to fondle me but instead she withdraws a large, a very large, gold-coloured hand-gun. My half-prepared speech on how 'I am very flattered but it's not my thing' dies on my lips. Still holding me with her left arm, Madison raises the gun, sighting it on some imaginary target out at sea.
"What exactly is it that you do these days?" I ask, aware that my hackles have risen slightly. I look sideways at her as she stares along the barrel of the gun. There is something dangerous in her concentration, and not in a thrill-seeking way, a sudden coldness and ferocity.
"What I have to," she answers finally. She lowers the gun and looks at me and there is a flicker of mischief in her eyes. "And what I want to and whom I want to." Her gaze drops to my lips. I know what is going to happen and it does, in slow motion, like the instant before a car-crash. She inclines her head and smiles at me; the smile fades and her tongue peeps out as she licks her lips; she leans forward and very softly kisses me and then pulls away.
Of course after the impact everything suddenly speeds up to normal and the consequences ricochet about like scattering wreckage. I push her away.
"I have to get back...Pete will wonder where I am...sorry."
I walk back to the Ferrari, not looking back to see if she's following. As I reach the car, her hand grabs mine and pulls me to a halt. I have to turn to face her. She is smiling.
"You might at least have run and don't forget about screaming Natalie. I don't think my evil plans are going to be foiled by a little stroll."
I feel the back of my legs bump against the fender. Her arms trail around my neck and pull my head down towards her waiting lips. Every intake of breath, I can feel her breasts pressing against my own. Her heated gaze burns my skin and I can feel myself blushing. "This isn't a good idea..."
"Kiss me Natalie."
"I'd rather not," I mutter indistinctly and untruthfully. She insinuates her leg between mine and I groan as I feel the pressure in my clit.
"Liar," she whispers and pushes me hard enough that I lose my balance and collapse back on to the still warm hood of the car. A second later I feel her weight on me. My senses are unhinging my brain. She pushes my t-shirt up and her mouth closes on my bra-less breast; the wet heat of her mouth sets a fire as she sucks my aching nipple, chilled hard by the cold dawn. She bites down and now I do scream but the pain is instantly soothed by her tongue and my scream becomes a whimper of need. I cannot remember why I should stop this – if she doesn't touch my other breast soon I won't be responsible. Reading my mind, or more probably my helpless twitching, her thumb drifts slowly over my other breast, circling the erect nub and then rolling and pinching it between her fingers. I place my hands on either side of Madison's head and try to draw her up. She complies and an instant later her lips meet mine.
Any pretence that I might be maintaining that I am an innocent bystander, has to be left behind at this point. I am kissing her; tangling my hands in her hair pulling her closer, mashing my lips on hers.
It is my tongue that is begging for entrance, tracing a frantic path between her lips, past her teeth, tasting her, dancing, licking, withdrawing and returning. It is my hands that are raking down her back, yanking her shirt from her trousers, sliding inside the waistband of her pants, sinking fingers into the soft skin and hard muscle of her buttocks, pulling her into a tight embrace. It is my body that raises us up so I am leaning back on the hood of the car, with her astride me as I rip the buttons from her black silk shirt. It is my tongue, teeth and lips that leave harsh red marks, nipping and kissing the creamy flesh, half-cupped by her black silk bra, licking a line up the smooth skin to her neck and sinking into the beating pulse. And it is my gaze that sees the want and fear in her silk-black eyes as the fingers of my right hand push inside her silken darkness, past slick walls, ignoring the discomfort and awkward angle. Three thrusts and her head has gone back and she is panting. So am I and my body is telling me very forcefully that I have needs too. It's too much to take in; I glance sideways to look across the hood; something catches my eye; the light from the rising sun is gleaming on her golden gun.
I withdraw my hand a little too fast and Madison gasps, staring down at me in confusion.
"What's wrong? Don't stop."
I reach over to where she's placed the gun on the hood, pick it up and swing it to point at her dark head, flicking off the safety. She looks at me along the barrel of the gun. Surprise, desire, excitement and what is probably fear. I know that's what I feel and from her expression, Madison is having a similar experience though perhaps of a different order. I reach up and rest the mouth of the gun against her temple. Gradually I sit up.
Her chest is heaving and so is mine. My fingers, still damp from her crotch, wander up the smooth skin of her chest until my free hand rests on her shoulder. I push down.
She looks confused until I say, "Down." Like an order. It is an order. For a moment she resists, sulky resistance...until I press the gun a little harder against her skin. She seems about to protest so I place my finger on her lips. Almost unwillingly she kisses it, taking it in her mouth to taste herself. She groans and gives in, sliding down my body and sinking to her knees on the cold grass, never taking her eyes from mine. I break the eye-contact first, leaning back and lifting my hips in invitation. I rest the gun on my stomach: levelled at her head.
"Jesus," I hear her mumble but a pair of strong hands are soon pulling my boxer shorts down my legs. She kisses me on the inside of each thigh, before placing a gentle kiss just above my clit. I surreptitiously re-engage the safety on the gun and only just in time. The shock of her tongue swiping over the tiny bundle of nerves causes my body to jump and she has to wrap her arms around my hips to hang on; her tongue returns, sliding inside me, back to my clit and then inside again, working my pussy over until I am almost convulsing off the car, sobbing with release. I fall back onto the hood as my orgasm loses its power. Madison stays where she is, resting her head on my abdomen. I stroke her dark hair, mumbling incoherent words of gratitude. We both stay like that for a minute, recovering. One thing is clear to me - my boyfriends, current and ex, didn't know what they were doing. At last she raises her head to look at me. I lift the gun from my stomach to greet her.
"Come here," I whisper. "Slowly."
She crawls slowly up my body and all the while I keep the gun in contact with her skull. She is swaying over me, kneeling on all fours with one leg and one hand on either side of me. To a distant observer she would have looked like the one in charge of our encounter but guns change things don't they?
"Pull your pants down." She starts to rise and I interrupt. "No! One leg at a time."
Madison awkwardly pushes her already unfastened pants down her legs, alternating her hands so she stays in her kneeling position and the gun stays pressed against her head.
"Take them off. Carefully."
And she does. Lifting first one leg and then the other, balancing unsteadily on one knee. Finally she discards the pants, dropping them beside us.
"Your shirt."
With similar precision, she strips her shirt off. Leaving her dressed only in her beautiful underwear.
"I'm cold," she complains.
"You won't be," I promise and I start to sit up. "Turn around and lie back against me. Slowly,"
Awkwardly she does as I ask, following my instructions until she is reclining in my arms, her butt resting on the metal hood while her legs are parted, draped over mine. I stroke the heel of the gun down the side of her cheek.
"Warmer now?"
"Barely," she jokes feebly.
I smile against her neck and then bite hard enough to make her jump and shriek. I press the gun a little harder against the side of her head until she stops squirming. Satisfied that she's calmed down, I lean back to undo the fastening of her bra with my free hand. The garment drops away with a little help allowing me to reach around Madison's shaking body and play with her perfectly weighted breasts. She doesn't resist, turning her head into my shoulder as I knead and pinch her nipples, rolling them in my fingers, twisting them until she hisses in pain.
Finally I have had enough of this game and my fingers slide down her incredible stomach and tangle in the pubic hair at the juncture of her legs and then lower into the moist heat,pushing aside the insubstantial barrier of her thong. She is very wet. She whimpers as I withdraw.
"Touch yourself Madison. Very slowly."
She moans as she fingers herself. I place my hand over hers sharing the movement.
I remove the gun from her head and lay it on her thigh. The motion of her hand stills and she lifts her head from my shoulder to stare down at the weapon.
"Tell me you're not going..."
"...to fuck you with it? I don't know. Would you like that?"
"Do you care what I like?"
That is a question that I do not know how to answer so I ignore it and instead lift Madison's hand away from her crotch where it has been resting protectively. Very gently I slide the gun across her soaking curls.
"Lift your hips. I'm going to remove your thong." She does as asked and I push the tiny garment away over her thighs. Madison helps, wriggling and pushing until it drops on the ground.
"Now part your lips for me baby." She whimpers and twists in my arms. "It's okay. Just do as I say and you'll be okay." I plant small kisses on her neck and ear to reassure her that this is not going to end in some psychopathic bloodbath.
Shaking, she lowers her hands and slowly pulls her labia apart. We are both struggling to breathe and I swear I can hear her heart pounding though it may be my own. Beginning carefully, I rub the long metallic snout of the gun along the length of her vagina, pressing on her clitoris, twisting the gun until it is coated with her juices. After a few minutes of this she is shuddering again but it's different this time. Not fear but arousal. Her hips are lifting slightly. She wants me to penetrate her and perversely that's not what I want at all. She can have a little fun first though.
I change the angle at which I am holding the weapon and without further warning push it inside her. Her hips rise to meet the entry.
"Yes!"
I keep thrusting, building a steady rhythm that Madison is matching. Her movements are getting wilder. The feel of her backside writhing against me is sending me over the edge too.
"Touch my clit. Please Natalie. Let me come."
"Not just yet. Soon baby."
A few more thrusts and I grin and pull the weapon from her pussy. She howls.
"No! Please don't stop. Do you want me to beg? I'll beg."
"First I want you to clean this up."
In one movement I turn our positions about so I am straddling her, facing her, the gun pointing in her face. It pays to be a highly trained fighter and dancer. Madison's face is a picture of frustration.
"Clean. The. Gun." I insist wickedly. "You can beg when you're finished."
She shakes her head despairingly and opens her mouth to allow entry. As I watch her suck and lick the gun, my own arousal becomes almost painful. I consider taking it into my own hands but reject that idea. I have a woman with a very talented tongue at my mercy. "Enough." She pulls back, looking a little fearful. Pointing the gun carefully away, I move to straddle her face. Madison scowls at me and I smile cheerfully back. "Me. Then you...maybe."
"You are..."
"...sitting on your face holding a gun. And I need relief."
She rolls her eyes. "Oh please, stop with the fake threats. You've had the safety on since the beginning."
My grin widens. I throw the gun aside. But the overwhelming needs are still there... to be fucked and to be in control.
"Make me come on your face," I demand.
I don't know where I've heard that line. It seems to work though, Madison's dark eyes become even blacker and her breathing sharpens. My new lover pulls my body down to meet her lips and in moments I am howling at the sun while her tongue and lips torment my clit. A few minutes later she pushes three fingers into me and it's all over as I shake and arch and collapse. Madison holds me while I recover and considering that I have been torturing her for nearly an hour she is being very nice: cuddling and kissing me sweetly on the lips and murmuring sweet nothings. Then sweet something!
"Now," she growls in my ear, "it is my turn." And I find myself on my knees in the grass staring at a woman's pussy for the first time in my life as Madison locks her legs around my shoulders. The speed of our turnaround is, I suppose, the downside of fucking another highly trained fighter and dancer.
"And don't tell me that you don't know what to do Natalie. You've had two free lessons."
Knowing what to do and doing it are two different things. An impatient squeeze of her thighs suggests that Madison isn't too concerned with the right way or the wrong way. I kiss the soft skin at the top of her inner thigh and get an immediate reward. Madison moans. It's such an amazing sound. And although I have been teasing her forever and making her whimper and writhe, there is something different about it this time. This is so intimate!
I still hesitate but not because I don't know what to do. I am overawed by the sight in front of me. It's beautiful. Why would I think that? It's not how it looks exactly though it's not ugly but if I didn't think it was beautiful then I might think it was ugly. Soft pink folds and lips, swollen with blood and glistening with her juices. Her clitoris seems very small (not that I have very much idea about what is small and what is big in this new world.) It's just visible under a little hood of skin but I can almost believe I see it throbbing...for me. I guess that's what it represents. I did this to her. She wants me and this is how her desire looks and smells. And I am going to find out how it tastes...
"Natalie would you get on with it and fuck me already!" Apparently the time for contemplation is over.
I kiss her clit - that seems like a good place to start. Her hips lift immediately. A quick lick; she writhes and cries out in response and my nerves fall away. I bury my tongue in her folds, tasting, exploring and probing, feeling her reaction to each movement, discovering what makes her moan, what makes her hips thrash and twist, what makes her scream. I love the feel of her flesh under my tongue; the sounds she makes; the taste and smell. I love her wetness on my face. And most of all I love the sense of control. If I got a charge from dominating her with a gun then this is threefold that sensation. I mean, a couple of my boyfriends have refused to go down on me; now as I hold tight to Madison's squirming thighs, I cannot for the life of me understand why.
She is stiffening, approaching climax. I know I want to feel the moment when she comes. The act precipitates the event. As my fingers enter her, she cries out my name and spasms; wet hot flesh grips my thrusting digits as I push through her orgasm. Finally her hand pushes at my head. "Please..." she moans. I stop thrusting and after a moment, extract my fingers, fighting the desire to push them back and start again. I don't think she is ready. A last kiss on her clit, a last shudder and she slides down the hood of the car and into my arms. She's shaking, her head buried against my neck.
I push her away slightly and tip up her chin so I can stare into her tear-stained eyes. Tear-stained!
"Hey...Hey are you alright? Madison did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?"
"You will," she states flatly, "if I let you."
Her face changes and for a moment there is a different person looking at me. A hostile alien with hate in her eyes. The moment passes.
"Damn you're good." She smiles tiredly. "I knew you would be. A consummate driver. An outstanding fighter. Intelligent. Loyal and trustworthy. A perfect angel. I've heard everybody say it."
She stands up, naked, shivering as the morning breeze cools her.
"Of course the unspoken subtext Natalie, is why couldn't you - meaning me - have been more like her - meaning you?" She smiles and raises her eyebrows. "Funnily enough it seems that you, meaning you, are actually more like me, meaning me, than your fucking little fan-club realise."
She picks up her shirt from the car and starts to put it on, not bothering about her underwear. A second later and she is dressed.
At this point I am more than a little worried. Madison is clearly not a hearts and flowers kind of woman but she is placing distance between us damn quickly. However taking her cue, I hunt about for my discarded clothing on the grass. My head jerks up as I hear the engine ignite. Madison leans out of the window of the Ferrari. She is aiming her gun at my chest.
"Don't go back there Natalie. Find a new life. Be something else. Be yourself."
"What the...?"
She waves, and then in a blur of motion, reverses the car up the fifty yards onto the highway, stops for an instant and then takes off going back the way we came.
Unable to believe this is happening to me I drop my small bundle of clothes and stare after the diminishing patch of red until it disappears around a bend.
There isn't an awful lot I can add to this narrative after this point. Okay there was an amusing trip hitch-hiking back along the coast road. Amusing anyway, if you like stories about scoring a hitch from over-sexed under-brained frat boys. Eventually I got a ride from a nice old chap who let me drive his pick-up after I persuaded him that if he wanted to reach civilisation before nightfall we were going to have to break the 20 mile per hour limit and if I was driving then the police would arrest me. There was also a pretty funny scene with Pete as I tried to explain why I had disappeared in the middle of the night for five hours. What was funny? My excuse that I had to talk to Dylan who was very upset. Three minutes after I tell him, Alex is on the phone saying Dylan has disappeared; she has resigned as an Angel. So of course he believes me though he doesn't think much of my counselling skills.
After that it's pretty much as previously reported. Madison turns out to be our bad-guy. She gets a chance to tell me again how like her I am and I get the chance to deny it. I kill her with the help of my friends. I kill her because I am not like her.
And then we party, and because I am not like her, I party more than anyone, almost without a second thought for the burned body of my lover, on her back in the county morgue.
There'll be a post-mortem to tell us all that she died of multiple burns and then an inquest to tell us that she died because she was a bad person who deserved it. I don't suppose either report will say that she giggled if you licked the skin at the top of her thighs.
Pete is sweet and perhaps Pete is wise. He doesn't ask me to marry him. He buys me a puppy and stupidly all I can think is that I wish I could have bought a puppy for her. Maybe she would have been different, more like me. Maybe I wouldn't have had to kill her to prove that I am not like her. And maybe nothing's changed at all but then I wouldn't be afraid would I?
THE END
Title: Fantasy Author: ~allie Fandom: Star Trek VOYAGER Pairing: TORRES & SEVEN Rating: 18 Summary: This is AU based on the “world” created in Temptation; it will probably make more sense if you’ve read that first. It is also a little out of character for most of the main players as a result. Disclaimer: No copyright infringements etc intended. F/F interaction ahead of the NC17 variety, if it's illegal where you live, I suggest moving to Scotland. Feedback: Constructive criticism welcome.
How I saw the story continue....
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Bethany growled. Just like her mama did when she was as mad as Grethor. It was so illogical for this to have happened. All of her research indicated that she would be exonerated for this misdemeanour and “not” confined to the Brig.
How could Janeway, of all people, confine a child to the Brig?
Why did her mommy agree to it?
What was her mama going to say when she returned from her away mission?
What was “she” going to say to her mama?
More to the point; what was her mama going to say to her?
Oh, she was in so much trouble.
Her mama was going to “blow a fuse” just like her mommy said she did when she was real mad.
Bethany paced the cell, her restless Klingon side ready and able to fight her way out of the latest scrape she’d gotten herself into, but her human side was terrified.
How was she going to explain this to her mama?
She frowned – her little forehead ridges wrinkling – as she heard footsteps outside in the main Brig area. Although she had the benefit of both sensitive Klingon hearing and Borg enhanced audio-acuity she could not make out what was being said. She did, however, have a feeling in the the pit of her stomach that said it was her mommy outside the brig.
The click-click of metal heels on metal plating made Bethany’s hearts plummet to her toes. Her mommy was outside and heading towards her location.
Swallowing hard she pulled herself up to her fullest height and puffed up her chest. The littlest Klingon on board Voyager was determined not to show her fear.
Her mommy entered the code to lower the forcefield and stepped over the threshold into the cell. The imposing blonde ex-borg looked down at her child and smiled softly.
“What have you done this time Wa’Hom?”
Staring, dumbfounded at her mommy’s obvious calm, she could only stutter, “Muh…mom…mommy?”
Inwardly grinning Seven looked down at the miniture image of her wife and repeated her question.
Bethany’s frown increased until her eyebrows almost met in the middle and tried to formulate her repsonse.
“Mommy, I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Irrelevant.” Seven responded coolly, knowing her daughter’s abilities. “What did you do?”
Bethany could no longer maintain eye contact with her mommy and gazed at her feet as she spoke. “I fixed Capa’gwan’s chair in her quarters and changed Doc’s trousers.”
“You fixed the Captain’s chair? Clarify?”
“It’s squeaky. I fixed it. It doesn’t squeak no more.” Bethany elaborated.
“The Captain confined you to the Brig for fixing her chair?” Seven looked, and sounded doubtful that such an occurence had warranted time in the Brig for the little girl.
“She put me here for ‘being a menace to Voyager and putting her on her damn ass’; that’s what she said.” Bethany’s eyes filled with tears as she spoke.
Seven’s heart melted at the sight of her daughter’s eyes filling with tears. Kneeling in front of her child she spread her arms and embraced her child, who’d immediately dived into the welcome cuddle.
“Mommy?” Bethany sobbed. “Mama’s gonna be mad as Grethor at me now, isn’t she?”
“Most likely. As she will be the one who needs to ‘repair’ your ‘fixing’ of the Captain’s chair.” Seven kissed the top of her daughter’s head and stood again to her full height. “What did you do to it that ‘put her on her damn ass’?”
Bethany mumbled something under her breath. Although Seven heard what she had said, thanks to her own enhanced hearing, she made the child repeat it. “I forgot to tighten the bit which holds the seat to the back rest and she fell off when she sat on it.”
-The Beginning – Bethany’s decision to adjust the Captain’s Chair
“Beebop, I know you are very clever, but you can’t take the Captain’s chair apart!”
“Ni-mee, I can. I know how to fix squeaky!” The child responded as she puffed her chest up proudly. “Mama showed me.”
“Your mama will kill you if you do this.” Naomi wasn’t really scared of Torres. She knew she wouldn’t hurt her child, but trying to explain to the curious little girl, that repairs to the Captain’s chair were best left to the Engineering teams was a daunting task. She’d been arguing with her for nearly ten minutes when Bethany suddenly stopped gathering tools dropped them and stood stock still.
“Beebop?” Naomi frowned at the child’s sudden stillness. “What’s wrong?”
Growling low in her chest the littlest Klingon looked skywards then back at Naomi. “Baby come. She tell mama she ready to come.”
Rubbing her spikes in consternation, Naomi simply looked at the child. No one had ever managed to explain the link the child had to her parents. She could tell when one of her parents was in pain, happy, sad, or growly together (which translated meant they were kissing).
“The baby? Which baby?” Naomi knew both of Bethany’s parents were pregnant as she’d been helping in sick bay, with her own mother who was assistant medic, as part of her Captain’s Assistant duties. She now knew quite a bit of theory behind pregnancies and childbirth.
“Mama’s baby. Mommy’s baby not want to come out yet.” Bethany informed her calmly, picking up the dropped tools and turning back to the chair she was in the process of “fixing”.
Naomi shrugged and rubbed her spikes again. Turning back to her studies she contemplated the intracasies of warp theory and quantum physics. The stuff she studied for fun would make any normal teenager faint. She wanted to be as clever as Seven of Nine, and have her mother proud of her, so she studied hard with her assigned subjects and worked even harder on texts Seven recommended for her.
A satified sigh made her glance up at the littlest Klingon and raise her brow a la Seven.
“Done.” Bethany announced with satisfaction. “I to go Doc’s for check now, Ni-mee.”
“Yes, soon.”Naomi agreed. “I’ll just tidy this up first then take you.”
– The Away Mission - concurrent with Bethany’s repairs
B’Elanna Torres guided the mini anti-grav sled out of the cave for the final time that day and started towards the Delta Flyer. Cursing her Klingon physiology for the millionth time that day she shivered in the cool temperature of the early evening dusk.
The planet, to which she had been sent to for Dilithium ore, was a blazing furnace during the day, which suited her prefectly; but as the evening drew closer, the temperature plummeted with the darkening sky. For the second night in a row she was cold and getting colder, even under the exertion of mining and hauling Dilithium ore.
Although she was six months pregnant and due to give birth any day now she was still the best engineer onboard and the best person for the job of supervising the mining the Dilithium required for Voyager’s survival.
Shoving the sled a little harder she increased her speed as much as her six month pregnant frame would allow. Swollen with child she felt encumbered, unable to move with the same strength and grace she had previously, she struggled with both the sled and her own body.
Sighting the Delta Flyer in the near distance she cursed the various deitys she knew of; who seemed hellbent on preventing her from using a transporter to deliver her load quickly. The surrounding mountains were laced with alliemorphium which prevented getting a clear signal lock.
Sighing heavily, she pushed again and turned her thoughts to her precious loves. Her women. Her passion and her soul. Grinning at the thought of her wife and daughter, she wondered what kind of scrape her tinyWa’Hom had gotten herself into this time. There was never a day when Bethany didn’t manage to get into trouble for something – usually unintentionally, but trouble none the less.
Smirking at the thought and chuckling quietly to herself, she acknowledged Ensign allie ? and accepted the assistance to unload the sled’s contents into the Delta Flyer. Once safely stowed away she took the controls and laid in a course to take them off the planet to rendezvous with Voyager.
As she guided the ship into the stratosphere of the planet she felt a sharp twinge in her lower abdomen. Scowling deeply she looked to the Ensign sitting beside her. “Can you take helm control allie?”
Automatically transferring control to her console and accepting piloting command of the vessel she quietly asked, “Are you okay Leuitenant?”
“Yeah.” The growl escaped B'Elanna before she could stop it. “Fine, just a twinge. Wa’Hom Number Two is due any day now and she’s getting restless.”
B’Elanna moved to the rear of the vessel and removed a medical tri-corder from the storage locker. Quickly scanning herself her frown became more pronounced and she gasped in shock.
Turning slightly to gaze in the Leiutenant’s direction, the ensign’s eyebrows silently asked the question she was afraid to voice.
“Kahless, I’m in labour!” B'Elanna blurted out.
--Further Little Misunderstandings -- (VISIT TO THE DOC)
Bethany and Naomi arrived in sick bay hand in hand giggling like the little girls they were. The tension between the two surrounding the Captain’s chair long forgotten.
Bethany was due a check up to confirm her latent nanaoprobes were still inactive. Some of them would activate when she reached five years old, but the majority of them would remain dormant until Seven activated them.
The Hansen-Torres family had decided to activate them when Bethany was old enough to actively decide if she wanted the Collective-like link to her mommy. The way she was progressing developmentally, that would be sooner rather than later.
Passing through the entrance into sickbay Naomi felt the tension return to Bethany. The child had increased the strength of her grip on Naomi’s hand.
“Beebop? What’s wrong?” Naomi quizzed gently. “Is it your mama again?”
“Nope, smell ickey, something not well.” The child frowned and wrinkled her little nose.
Lifting her and placing her on the biobed Naomi looked around for the Doc. Unable to locate him, she requested the computer to activate him.
Appearing in a shimmer of blue sparkles the Doc looked around as he spoke. “Please state the nature of the medical emergency?”
“Doc, you funny.” Bethany giggled. “No ‘mergency, just me.”
“Ah, glad to see you Miss Hansen-Torres.” He intoned. “If you could just have a seat, I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Naomi frowned, the child was already sitting and the Doc was being overly formal with her. He usually referred to her as Beebop or my littlest klingon. Rubbing her spikes she wondered what was going on with him.
“Doc, me sitting already.” Bethany frowned too. “You broke Doc, cuz me can fix you if you want?”
“What? No, I’m not broken. I am practically perfectly perfect in every way. I am programmed in over five billion medical procedures and know how to treat a little girl for badficitis.”
Naomi’s frown changed to a scowl. Now she knew something was wrong. “Doc, Beebop is here for her nanoprobe check up, not allergies.”
“Who are you child? Why are you questioning me?” The hologram turned a couple of shades redder than normal indicating his displeasure at being questioned, especially by a minor.
Meanwhile, Bethany had hopped off the bio-bed and wandered over to the main sickbay console. Accessing the holomatrix controls was simple enough for her. She’d seen her parents do it a thousand times. Mumbling the authorisation codes her mama used for the controls she accessed the Doc’s matrix.
Ignoring the argument between the Doc and Naomi she frowned in concentration as she looked into the depths of the control panel. All of the wires etc looked intact, nothing obviously out of place. Moving slightly to her right she noticed the discolouration of the optical relay feeding the holo-emitter. The tiny gel pack feeding the relay had split and obviously leaked all over the relay.
The Doc and Naomi continued arguing, getting louder and louder with each passing sentence. Naomi objecting to being spoken to like a child and the Doc being his usual condescending self meant the two were at loggerheads and unable to move on from their current impasse.
Bethany fiddled with the wiring to loosen it; completely oblivious to the noise of the argument raging at her side, with the intent of replacing it with undamaged wiring.
A sudden high pitched squeak and silence from the arguing duo made her look up from her repair.
“Oh, Kahless! Me in soo much trouble.”
Ro’s reaction to Janeway confining Bethany to Brig
Ro Laren almost fell off her bed laughing at her wife; who couldn’t believe she’d been bested by the littlest Klingon. The child had an unerring knack of annoying Janeway but endearing herself to the rest of the crew as a result. There wasn’t a member of the entire crew who wouldn’t lay their life down to protect the Wa’Hom. The only other person who evoked this kind of reaction was Naomi, and the pair were inseperable.
Ro had the image of her wife falling ass over tea-kettle off the “fixed” chair indelibly etched on her brain. The look on Janeway’s face was incredibly funny. She obviously didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of what had just happened.
Ro had been “babysitting” Beebop whilst Seven was on duty and B'Elanna was off on the away mission. Naomi had visited to keep her little friend company. The two had been playing happily on the floor in the main room of Capa’gwan’s quarters, so Ro had retired to the bedroom to change her daughter’s diaper. Knowing that Naomi was sensible enough to keep Wa’Hom out of trouble Ro had no qualms about leaving them unsupervised.
Janeway had returned for lunch with “her girls” and had sat in the “fixed” chair and promptly ended up on her ass. Ro had re-entered the main room, holding her now clean and slumbering daughter, just as Janeway sat down so she saw the entire scene.
Unable to do anything to help prevent her wife from falling, she simply stood roaring with laughter. The children watched in horrified fascination. Naomi’s first thought was akin to a Torres stream of invective. “Great Spikes! We are in so much trouble now!”
The look on Janeway’s face made Bethany grin. She was used to her mama’s fierce glowers, so a force ten glare from Capa’gwan didn’t scare her. She started giggling, which in turn set off Naomi, which in turn encouraged Ro to laugh harder.
Janeway picked herself up from the tangled heap she’d landed in and lowered her command mask.
“Miss Hansen-Torres, Miss Wildman, what did you two do to my chair?” Senior Officers normally quail at that tone but the children knew Janeway too well to react the same.
Bethany piped up. “Capa’gwan, me fix it. No squeaky now.”
“YOU? You fixed it?” Janeway looked at her wife for confirmation but Ro could only shrug and point to their daughter indicating she’d been busy taking care of Naimh. “You, young lady are confined to the Brig! For being a menace to Voyager and putting me on my damn ass!”
Various choruses of “you can’t,” and , “you wouldn’t” echoed through the now silent room. Backed into a corner, Janeway now had no choice. She had to carry out her threat. Commanding the computer to transport Bethany to the Brig, she scowled at her wife and left the room.
Ro stared, dumbfounded at her wife’s over-reaction. Unable to comprehend the logic in confining a child to the Brig for a prank. Naomi silently shook her head and sobbed quietly, wondering why her world was slowly turning itself inside out.
----- CONCURRENT WITH BETHANY’S FIXING OF THE CAPTIAN’S CHAIR ---
There was no way B'Elanna was going to allow her wife to take part in this away mission. Seven’s pregnancy had been fraught with complications and false alarms, so she decided as Head of the House of Hansen-Torres that Seven remain behind onboard Voyager.
As the only other able-bodied engineer who knew how to extract Dilithium ore AND prepare it for refinement she would supervise the mission. Engineering had been decimated by an epidemic of badficitis which left them with only three engineers unaffected; herself, Seven and Ensign allie.
With more brawn than brain at her disposal, allie was the one who would be completing the manual labour of extracting the ore, all B’Elanna would have to do was push an anti-grav sled and assist in lifting the small crates into the Flyer. Nothing that a heavily pregnant woman couldn’t cope with normally.
--Back at the Delta Flyer –
Ensign allie manouvered the Delta Flyer through the shuttle bay doors and heaved a huge sigh of relief. A pregnant Klingon about to give birth was not her first choice of away mission partners; no matter how much she idolised the beauty, this was more than she could handle. She gingerly helped the cursing woman out of the Flyer and into the shuttle bay hanger.
Torres had educated Ensign allie in approximately forty new curses in twelve different languages over the twenty minute flying time from the planet back to Voyager. Every new curse heralded by a painful contraction for the Klingon.
“allie to the Doc.” She called as soon as she closed down the door control panel on the Flyer.
“Doc here Ensign, please state the nature of the medical emergency?”
“It’s Lt. Torres Doc, she’s in labour. She’s been having contractions for the last twenty minutes and she’s cussing up a storm.” allie informed the Doc.
“Get her to Sickbay as soon as possible Ensign.”
The Ensign frowned at the order and chose the most sensible course of action. “Ensign allie to Seven of Nine.”
The dulcet tones of Seven echoed in the cavernous hangar. “Seven here Ensign.”
“Seven, can you meet me in sickbay please? Your wife is in labour and cussing me all ways.”
“On my way.”
Gently wrapping an arm around B'Elanna and guiding her out of the hangar and along to the turbolift Ensign allie was in a quandry. How could she resist the temptation to hold Torres that bit closer than was really necessary? Secretly enjoying the close contact with her unrequited love she sighed and silently prayed one day she would find a love of her own who wasn’t already in love with someone else.
--Janeway’s explanation of why she confined Bethany to Brig –
Glowering at her wife Janeway tried to formulate her response in such a way that she didn’t appear like a vindictive or stupid woman.
She knew that the child had annoyed her profusley. She’d put her on her ass and then laughed at her. Janeway found that unacceptable. The child was forever making her look foolish, usually in front of the crew too. The littlest Klingon was far too clever for her own good.
There was no way she could do anything other than confine her to the Brig, it was the safest place for her. The child needed to be taught a lesson. Janeway was convinced that the safest place for her until one of her mother’s could collect her was the Brig, that way she wouldn’t throttle the little brat.
Lifting her head and sucking in a deep breath she spoke quietly to her wife. “She can’t “fix” anything else from the Brig. She can’t escape from the Brig. She can’t put me on my ass again if she is in the Brig. She can’t cause anymore damage to any more of Voyagers systems if she is in the Brig.”
“True Kath, mylove, but YOU are the one who has to explain that to Torres. She’s gonna “blow a fuse” at you for this one.” Ro warned quietly, the explanation was reasonable, Bethany was notorious for playing tricks on her Capa’gwan in front of the crew. She was also forever taking things apart and “fixing” them – usually at the most inoportune moments – trying to emulate her parents.
“If Torres doesn’t kill me then Seven will.” Janeway complained.
Bethany’s explanation to her mama about what happened to the Captain’s Chair & Doc’s trousers
A couple of hours later Ro collected her “granddaughter” from the Wildman’s quarters where Seven had left her after removing her from the brig. Escorting her to her mama and mommy in Sickbay to greet her little sister Ro held the little girl’s hand and smiled at the rascal’s antics. She’d found the whole situation hilarious.
Kathryn’s over-reaction was too much for Ro, she thought the whole incident was hilarious especially since it was a child who had once again bested the venerable Captain Kathryn Janeway. Janeway could face down the Borg Queen but was confounded by a child. Ro smirked, secretly proud of the little girl for keeping her wife in her place.
Seven had already informed her wife about the incident with the Captain’s chair and the Doctor’s trousers. B'Elanna had roared with laughter until her sides ached.
Only her Wa’Hom could end up in the brig at such a young age.
Ro and Bethany entered sickbay quietly, unsure if the new baby would be napping. As soon as she saw her mama sitting on the bio-bed Bethany’s chin dropped to her chest. She knew her mama would be mad at her for this one.
Not so much the Captain’s chair but the Doc’s holomatrix. When Bethany had pulled the damaged wiring from the protective casing she inadvertantly damaged the Doc’s holomatrix.
“Wa’Hom? What did you do?” B'Elanna asked as she opened her arms to invite the child into the offered embrace.
“Mama? You not mad at me?” Bethany clambered up the biobed (with a little help from her mommy) and cuddled into her mama. Spotting the new baby sleeping at B'Elanna’s side she whispered whilst smiling gently at the baby, “Caitlin here now?”
Gasping in surprise Seven glared at her wife – she’d wanted to tell Bethany of her little sister’s name. Shaking her head in silent communication B'Elanna denied having told her daughter the younger child’s name.
“I’m not mad at you Wa’Hom, I just think you should be supervised if you’re gonna tinker with the Doc’s holomatrix.”
“It was broke mama. I fixed it. I done it right too.” Bethany defended her actions.
“I know Wa’Hom, but the Doc really shouldn’t be wearing a pair of shocking pink spandex shorts and a flourescent green muscle shirt.
NEXT....
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
“I’m warning you right now; if you don’t stop and put that down you will spend the next ten years in the brig!” Janeway was scarlet in the face and puffing from over-exertion. She had been chasing Bethany around the ship for the last fifteen minutes.
Bethany called back to her Captain and honorary gran. “But, Capa’gwan; it’s mine! Mama said I could use it!”
“Bethany, stop!” Janeway bellowed in her command voice certain that the child would finally listen to her.
Bethany (Beebop to the crew; much to her mommy’s consternation) stopped and turned to face her Captain; unconsciously lifting the weapon she held in a defensive position. She looked along the length of the phaser at her Capa’gwan and appeared to take aim.
Neelix and Samantha Wildman exited the turbolift just as Bethany raised her hand.
Both screamed.
Loudly.
Startled, Bethany squeezed the trigger.
Neelix and Sam ran towards the prone Captain while the panicked child screamed at the computer. “Voyager – I want my mama – ‘mergency.”
B’Elanna and Seven had programmed the computer to recognize various distress calls from their child. Anything remotely resembling the word “emergency” or any recognizable fear in her voice would beam the child to her mama’s location and out of whatever danger she had gotten herself into this time.
Torres whirled at the sound of the transporter whine in the confined space of the Jeffries Tube she was currently sitting in making repairs to damaged systems. Surprised at the sudden appearance of her daughter she frowned.
“Wa’Hom? What did you do this time?” She quizzed as she crawled towards her daughter.
Short enough to be able to stand comfortably in the cramped area, Bethany ran to her mama and clung tightly to her. Wrapping her free arm around the waist of the child B’Elanna twisted until she was seated; then pulled her daughter closer.
The soft baby scent of her daughter combined with a tinge of fear automatically put B’Elanna on edge.
“Wa’Hom?” Lifting the child’s chin to gaze into her eyes B’Elanna reiterated her question. “What did you do this time?”
“Mama?” Bethany pouted an exact replica of her mommy’s pout (guaranteed to make B’Elanna melt) and tried to smile. “Don’t be mad at me?”
“Just tell me what you did?”
Batting her long lashes at her mama and glancing briefly at the floor then back to her mama, she replied. “I shot Capa’gwan.”
***********************************************
Seven received the summons to join her wife in Sickbay during a lull in the procedure she was conducting. The computer continued its calculations as she logged out and advised Tal Celes that she would return as soon as possible.
Making her way briskly to Sickbay, she pondered the request from her wife. If it had been an emergency she would have been advised to hurry: but the evident calm in her wife’s tone meant there was nothing urgent or life threatening.
There had been a distinct lack of any action surrounding Voyager recently, except the usual smatterings of smutty comments about their sex life; and how they enjoyed “threesomes”. (With the Captain amongst others.) This was becoming tedious, how Seven longed for an adventure where she didn’t have to have such strength or control; where someone else (preferably Torres) made her decisions for her, whilst allowing her some individuality.
Entering sickbay she was surprised to see the Captain lying prone on the biobed. Rushing over to her side, she quizzed her wife as to her presence and the problem.
“What happened to Kathryn? Why is she here? Why are you here? How is she damaged?”
Bethany hung her head and cooried further into her mama’s shoulder. She knew exactly why the Captain was lying there. Glancing up at her mommy through her long lashes she tried to smile.
“Bethany? What did you do?” Seven asked of her daughter as she perched on the edge of the bed. Lifting Janeway’s hand and caressing it gently Seven eased her pregnant frame further onto the bed.
“Mommy, I dint mean it. It was a accident.” Bethany mumbled into her mama’s throat.
Looking to her wife for confirmation of the accident and the details of it Seven frowned at the pallor of her adopted mother’s skin. The normally robust woman looked decidedly worse for wear.
“Soch, she really didn’t mean it. I spoke to Neelix and Sam Wildman. They saw what happened. Bethany and Kathryn had been playing velocity, at the end of the game they went to the mess hall for a drink, then back to the quarters for a shower and to change. Neelix told me that he saw them racing from the turbolift with Bethany being chased by Kathryn. Bethany had hold of her modified velocity phaser. Janeway thought she’d lifted a real one so gave chase to get it back from her. When she couldn’t catch her, she bellowed using her command voice. Bethany got a fright and shot her accidentally.”
Torres was having a hard job keeping the laughter out of her voice and the smile from reaching her eyes.
“When she realized what she’d done, she got Voyager to transport her to my location. I don’t know who got the bigger fright. Bethany or Janeway.”
“Oh, I think that would be me!” Janeway muttered from the bed.
“Capa’gwan, I is sorry. I dint mean to shoot you.” Bethany crawled from her mama’s arms onto the bed beside Janeway as she spoke.
“I know Bethany. I’m sorry I shouted at you.” She leaned over to kiss the tiny ridges on the child’s forehead.
Satisfied that her “Capa’gwan” had forgiven her Bethany clambered down and moved out of the line of sight of her parents. They were conversing quietly with the now recovering Janeway and the Doc. The prognosis was good, no permanent damage, except to Janeway’s pride. The phaser had been modified to use a much lower than normal setting since it would be a child who was using it.
Suddenly the entire sickbay was plunged into blackness….
****************************************************
Bethany had the sickening feeling that she was about to get the blame for the sudden darkness which engulfed sickbay. She whimpered, trying to recall the last known position of her mama: and where she was in relation to that position.
B’Elanna growled a string of curses as she tried to sight her daughter by using her sense of smell and keen Klingon hearing.
Neelix picked himself up from the Mess Hall floor wiping at the disgusting mess on his apron; grumbling about the waste of good Leola Root stew. Looking around he tried to remember exactly where Naomi and Samantha had been sitting eating.
Naomi squawked, calling out for her mother.
Samantha Wildman cried out for her daughter.
Janeway cursed her luck yet again and tried to hail the bridge to find out what was going on.
Seven wet herself…. Well, actually….Seven’s waters chose that moment to break and her labour to start. She frowned in disgust at the damp patch, which was rapidly spreading beneath her. Being married to B’Elanna for over ten years had taught her a multitude of curses in various languages; added to the ones she already knew; several of which she muttered under her breath.
“Mama? Mommy?” Bethany’s fear of the dark overwhelmed her Klingon instinct to remain quiet in times of danger. The child wailed plaintively into the darkness. “Mama, it weren’t me this time. I dint do nothing.”
“Wa’Hom? When you climbed down off Capa’gwan’s bed, where did you go to?” B’Elanna was still struggling to locate her daughter in the darkness.
“B’Elanna, she is approximately two metres to your right and slightly behind you, she was playing underneath the Doctor’s main console.” Seven spoke evenly through the pain in her midsection.
Her nanoprobes kicked in to lessen the pain of contractions and allowed her to concentrate on locating her daughter and seeing her safely into B’Elanna’s arms. “She is directly to your left, if you turn slightly you will be able to touch her head with your left hand.” Seven instructed her Borg enhanced vision playing a huge part in locating their wayward daughter.
Touching the crown of her daughters head with one hand and reaching for her with the other, Torres gently guided the child into her arms. Her keen hearing picked up the laboured breathing coming from her wife’s general direction. “Seven, are you ok? Are you hurt?”
“I am undamaged B’Elanna, I am simply in labour.”
“Oh, Kahless Soch, you fair picked your moment didn’t you?”
Bethany looked up at her mama; she knew the baby was due. She could hear the child’s impatience and sense the impending arrival. Silently she calmed the child through their link. Glancing towards her mommy in the murky half-light of sickbay she whispered, “Mommy, Rebecca wants out, but I told her to quiet, we need the lights on first.”
“Thank you Bethany.” Seven grimaced through the pain. B'Elanna carefully made her way back to Seven’s side and placed their daughter at the foot of the biobed. Heading over to the main console again she set about getting power back on in Sickbay.
Janeway meantime had moved slowly and carefully from the biobed towards the exit. She needed to know what was happening on the bridge of her ship and since communications was off line; she had no choice but to make her way there.
Forcing her fingers into the slight gap between the doors she pushed and pulled until she could get a hold and tried to pry the doors open. Her own strength was insufficient to open the doors, causing her to growl curses which would rival B'Elanna.
Seven kept one eye on her daughter who was sitting at the bottom of the biobed, alternately whimpering and reassuring the new baby, whilst trying to maintain a cool demeanour through the pain. B'Elanna set about restoring power to Sickbay so that she could re-activate the EMH.
Bethany climbed down off the bio bed and wandered over to the doorway where Janeway was working on getting the doors opened. Seven saw her safely beside Janeway and relaxed slightly. She knew that the Captain would not let her come to harm.
Not realising that Bethany was standing right behind her Janeway turned and started to walk over to question B'Elanna about the manual release controls for the doors and promptly fell over the child.
Sprawling ass over teakettle and landing in a heap on the floor Janeway growled. “For the love of God child – do you have to put me on my ass every time…?”
***************************************************
Hours later the emergency dealt with and power restored to all parts of the ship Seven and B'Elanna rested comfortably in their bed. Baby Rachel was snuggled safely in her cot next door, right next to an angelic Bethany who was snoring slightly.
Exhausted from the exertions of childbirth but incredibly horny at her wife’s languid touch Seven shyly spoke to her wife.
“Benal, tell me of your dream?”
“Again? I’ve told you this before.”
“I know. However I want to hear it again. I’m too tired too move, but I want to listen to your voice telling me...”
“Ok....” B'Elanna interrupted as she settled further into the bed and started talking.
I stood and walked over towards you, smirking at the anticipation on your face. I knew that you wanted this as badly as I did. I saw you lift your head and eyes as I glided closer to you. I saw your eyes dilate with your lust for me.
I could sense your arousal – it pounded my soul in waves – its flush coloring your skin with a light blush. I could almost feel your heart triple hammering in your chest. I could hear your breathing escalate. I could hear you pant your pleasure at the thought of me loving you.
I could sense your satisfaction at the thought of kissing me. I lowered my tiny frame to straddle you, sitting on your thighs, my fingers automatically reaching for your hair at the nape of your neck.
My lips graze softly across yours, gently, tasting you, taunting you with whisper soft caresses. I feel you groan into my mouth as I escalate the kiss, my soft tongue gently forcing its way into the hot cavern of your mouth.
I feel you pull me closer into your body, tightening the hold you have on my ass. Kneading my cheeks and running your hands upwards along the length of my back.
I press against you tightly, almost crushed in your embrace, as my tongue duels with yours, sliding softly together, caressing your mouth and teeth. My right hand travels from your neck downwards. In slow delicate movements, I trace your neck and shoulders as I move my hand around your body to your chest.
I am breathless and dizzy with the kiss. I had been breathing through my nose but I need more. I want to breathe deeply, urgently, but am reluctant to pull away. I feel you make the decision for me as your lips leave mine. I hear you pant your pleasure as you heave a gasping breath.
My hand slowly caresses your upper chest, whispering promises of things yet to come. I toy with the buttons of your shirt. I tease you. I move my fingers further down to the swell of your breasts.
First…to my right…then across your body…to my left.
As my hand travels, I feel your shiver; I ghost my hand across your right breast and feel the nipple raise and solidify under my touch. I feel your lips trail kisses along my neck as you duck into my shoulder and sigh.
I smile at the reactions from you and continue my journey across your chest. I caress you gently, knowing that the slow burn of arousal will have caught flame in you and propel you towards passion.
I feel you. I sense you. I ache for you. I respond to your passion and power. The hold you have over me is irresistible; I cannot deny the love I have for you. I flow towards you, drawn to my destiny: to you.
I gently loosen your shirt buttons and reveal your body to my hungry gaze. Parting the soft cloth, I separate you from the material. My hands busy, my mouth returning to recapture yours.
Our oral duel continues as my hands busy themselves divesting you of your bra revealing to me your breasts and your puff of pleasure into my mouth. The cool air of the room has made your flesh goose-bump. My hands trailing your flesh increase them.
I wander across your cleavage from right to left and back again. Teasing you. Smirking at you; squirming beneath me. Feeling and hearing you become more inflamed by my touch.
I wander lower to the waistband of your trousers gently prying them open. The button popped loudly in the quiet room. Shivers of stimulation travel the length of my own spine as I hear you gasp again into my mouth.
Pulling you closer, crushing you against me I slide my hand inside to touch you. Your curls are damp with arousal, your dew collecting on my fingers as I probe deeper into you.
I hear you growl at me as my fingers slide inside you. Your excitement is obvious. Your kisses becoming brutal in their intensity but I lap it up. I can take your need, your lust, and your desire. Your hands rake at my back.
I feel you rip my top trying to remove it from me without breaking the kiss. I gasp into your mouth. The slight pain of your hands gripping and pulling at me excites me further. I grind into you forcing my hand deeper inside you.
Breaking the kiss, you howl my name begging me for release. Entreaties and pleas to various gods and goddesses flow from your luscious mouth. Desire floods your core and my hand, closer and closer to your peak; you scale the heights of passion at my bidding.
I break from your mouth and lower my head – capturing your precious nipple in my mouth - grazing my teeth across the tip. My free hand lowers to capture your engorged clit between forefinger and thumb.
“I love you.” I whisper.
It is enough.
I send you screaming over into bliss.
~fin
Last ever...
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
DISCLAIMER: No copyright infringements etc intended. F/F interaction ahead of the NC17 variety, if it's illegal where you live, I suggest moving to Scotland.
NOTE: This is AU based on the “world” created in Temptation and is the final instalment of the Fantasy series; it will probably make more sense if you’ve read it first. It is also a little out of character for most of the main players as a result.
RATING: 18
FEEDBACK: Constructive criticism welcome.
AUTHOR: ~allie
Future Misunderstandings –Years Later
She sat perfectly still watching the monitor closely; the object of her desire was heading away from the Mess Hall and towards the turbo lift. The screen flickered and shifted viewpoint to the camera over looking the turbolift and the corridor with a deft flick of her fingers on the keypad. The view of her unrequited love was tantalisingly brief as she entered the turbolift and headed towards the bridge. Although there were no hidden cameras in the lift she had tapped into the communications grid and could hear the command to take her intended paramour to the bridge.
When her mama found out what she’d done she knew there would be hell to pay but 14-year-old Bethany really didn’t care. She knew that she was the one for her, as Seven was the one for her mama; she knew that they were destined to be together, but why they couldn’t be together was more than the young woman could fathom. She wasn’t currently dating anyone so that should leave her free to date Bethany, but the age gap between them had to be the only thing putting her off becoming involved romantically.
Startled from her daydreaming at the sound of her mama’s voice over the comm link, she hurriedly switched the monitoring programme off and replied to the hail.
: Yes mama? :
: Can you meet Seven in Astrometrics and help her run a new power cable to the view screen? :
: Yes mama. : Grumbling about the interruption to her free time she hurried to clear away the evidence of her surveillance and headed towards Astrometrics.
~~~
Entering the lab quietly she saw her mommy engrossed in her work, her long blonde hair cascading freely down her back as was the norm on her off-duty periods, her jaw set in the usual determined way when she was focussing intently on something. Seven had volunteered to help B'Elanna with the repairs to the Astrometrics viewscreen so that they could spend some “quality” time together. They may have been married for years but that didn’t stop them from enjoying their mutual passions. Each other being their favourite.
Not realising her mommy had noticed her entry she coughed gently to announce her presence.
“Come in Bethany. Can you hand me the sonic screwdriver please?”
“Mama sent me to help you.” She informed her mother whilst handing the equipment over.
“I am aware of that. I also wanted to talk to you which is why I asked for your assistance.”
Swallowing hard at the implications Bethany raised her left eyebrow á la Seven and queried. “About what?”
“Your surveillance of a certain female on board.” Seven barely glanced at her daughter but could tell automatically that the words had a huge impact on the young woman. Her breathing escalated and her heart seemed to skip a beat as she realised the import of her mother’s words.
“Surveillance?” Bethany hedged. “What surveillance?”
“The one you have been conducting for the last eighteen weeks. The one which, when a certain red-head finds out about it, will cause you a lot of trouble.”
Blushing furiously but not denying all knowledge of it Bethany smirked as she lowered her eyes to the floor. “Which red-head? There’s two on board, ya know.”
~~~
Seven looked up and frowned at her daughter. For one so young to be so stubborn there had to be a Klingon gene in there somewhere. Recalling her daughter’s birth and early escapades she smiled at the audacity of her daughter. She always did have more courage than common sense. She never backed down from a challenge and refused to acknowledge superior intellect until it proved her wrong, usually the hard way.
There was the incident when Bethany was eight. The crew of Voyager were having some well-deserved R&R on Pageno, a pleasure planet in the Vindici sector, when the security team had contacted Janeway to inform them of Bethany’s misdemeanour.
Her natural curiosity had led her to the inner sanctum of the Government building where she proceeded to have a thirty-minute argument with the AI over her rights and responsibilities as an eight year old. Pageno citizens considered 8 years to be the age of majority. Bethany, according to them, was supposed to be at work helping the rest of the Voyager crew with the repairs they so desperately needed completed. Bethany had advised the AI that as she was only eight this was not acceptable, her mama was the Chief Engineer and would not allow her access to engineering as it was deemed to dangerous for a child to be there. The AI had been unconvinced of her statements and had queried Voyager’s computer to verify the claims.
Bethany had taken umbrage at having her honour questioned and proceeded to cuss the AI in several languages whilst thumping it with her fist. The AI had requested security assistance when she raised a laser scalpel and threatened to remove its heart and feed it to her pet targ.
Although her mama was proud of her for defending her personal honour Bethany had been confined to quarters for 24 hours by Janeway for using threatening behaviour. To her, as a representative of Voyager, it was “conduct unbecoming of a crewmember” and she was punished as such. On her release Bethany and Janeway managed to get tangled in one another’s personal space as they both moved in the same direction at the same time. The resulting collision meant that Janeway ended up on her ass on the floor with Bethany sprawled across the length of her body.
Muttering about “that damned child always putting me on my ass” Janeway scrambled to her feet and departed the Torres-Hansen quarters for the relative safety of the bridge.
~~~
“You know very well which one I refer to Bethany. You also know that I am aware of your subterfuge and illicit use of Borg algorithms to mask your trail.”
Bethany’s tanned features paled at her mommy’s words. She knew that she was in very serious trouble. Not even attempting to deny the accusations she straightened her back and stood at parade rest to face her mommy’s wrath head on.
“Bethany, if your mama and I are aware of what you are doing then you should know that the Command Crew will also be aware of it. Your use of Borg algorithms was ingenious, but you failed to mask the Borg signatures on them, therefore exposing your actions to anyone with access codes higher than that of crewman. Why do you insist on pursuing the impossible?”
“I seek only perfection mommy. She is the embodiment of passion and perfection for me. I know that she would love me, if only she gave me the opportunity.” Bethany sighed her answer.
Closing the gap between them, Seven embraced her daughter and smiled. “You cannot force love. If it is meant to happen then it will, regardless of your actions. She may not be ready for a relationship with you, with anyone; there may be circumstances which prevent her from being with you.”
“Mommy, we are talking about the same person here aren’t we?”
“Yes Bethany, I know that you’re feelings have changed. I know that you no longer view her only as a friend and that you have set your sights on Naomi as your partner. I also know that the Naomi is aware of your infatuation and will reject any and all of your advances.” Seven explained gently.
“You can’t stop me!” Bethany exploded at her whilst pulling away from her mommy’s gentle hold.
“I have no intention of stopping you. I am simply giving you all of the pertinent information you require to make a logical, sensible decision.” Seven’s patience with Bethany was legendary. The two of them could debate the most heated of subjects for hours without Seven losing her cool.
Years of fighting with B'Elanna had taught Seven that anger and logic were not friends, so for one to overcome the other, reason had to be applied. Look at the situation from all angles then decide on the best course of action. So she explained patiently to her daughter. “You know that Naomi is not interested in girls. She is, to use an ancient phrase which you and your mama love so much, “straight” and will reject you should you make it known to her that your feelings have changed.”
“But she told me that she loves me!” Bethany howled, throwing herself back into her mommy’s embrace.
“She swore she would love me forever!”
“You misunderstand the terminology she used when speaking to you. As her best friend she loves you, yes. As a surrogate sister, yes. As her lover, no.” Seven gently pulled her daughter’s chin upwards to meet the sable eyes. “She is not interested in you that way. She loves you with all of her heart but it is not a romantic love she feels. It is platonic.”
Pulling sharply away from her mommy Bethany turned and fled Astrometrics in tears.
~~~
Launching herself at her bed Bethany allowed the tears she’d been holding back free reign. They coursed down her cheeks as her heartache poured from her soul. She couldn’t fathom why her own mommy would be so against her having a relationship with Naomi. It wasn’t like Seven didn’t know who she was or that she was a nice person.
Everyone knew Voyager’s first child was one of the nicest people in the galaxy. That was what made her so special to Bethany, that and the fact that she was stunning! Naomi had grown into her beauty transforming from the ugly duckling child who’d first befriended Seven to the beautiful young woman she was now.
Bethany’s tears refused to stop as her heart quietly broke into a million pieces. She curled into the foetal position and managed to cry herself to sleep. It was this position B'Elanna found her in several hours later when she’d finished her repairs and returned home.
Sitting on the edge of her daughter’s bed she gently caressed the faint brow ridges and blinked back tears.
“Oh daughter, how I wish I could take the pain away for you. Unrequited love is horrible to deal with at the best of times, but at your age it seems so much worse.” She whispered.
Snuggling closer to the warmth of her mama’s body Bethany sought the security of her mama’s caress. “Mama, why doesn’t she love me?”
Unsure if her daughter was dreaming or actually awake B'Elanna whispered gently. “Baby, I wish I knew what made some of us like women and some of us like men. People have been trying to answer that question a lot longer than you and I have been around.”
Opening her eyes to regard her mama Bethany. “I’m not interested in anyone else mama. I love Naomi. I don’t care who else likes women, men, or whatever. I only want her to love me too.”
Caressing her daughter’s ridges again B'Elanna countered. “She does love you baby. You are her best friend. You’re like sisters to one another. You just misunderstood the context when she said she loved you. She is so protective of you that you would think she had given birth to you, not me. You mean the world to her, but she’s interested in boys as lovers, not girls.” B'Elanna smirked, “although, if she was into girls, I think you’d have some competition, I heard that the Delaney Twins were into Naomi too.”
“They better not go near her!” Bethany exploded out of bed in a tangle of bedclothes and pillows. “I will rip them apart if they go near her! Naomi may not want me but THEY ain’t getting their claws into her!”
Laughing as she grabbed her daughter by the shoulders and pulled her into a Klingon bearhug. “Easy tiger! They think she’s cute, most of us do, but that doesn’t mean they’ll do anything about it.”
Standing with her arms folded across her chest, her chin jutting out in defiance she looked like a mini-replica of B’Elanna from years past. “If I can’t have her then no other woman will! We’ll have to come up with a plan to get her a boyfriend and keep her away from them! I’m not having them anywhere near her; they are far too old for her!”
Grinning at the vagaries of youth and the resilience of her daughter’s heart B'Elanna clapped Bethany on the shoulder making her stagger forward as she replied. “As long as there are no more future misunderstandings you should be okay.”
Farscape Stories RATING: R and NC17 CODES: Various WARNINGS: These stories include same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further. ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where. DISCLAIMER: The characters and situations used in this fic are the property of the Jim Henson Company. I don't own anything worth having. No infringement of copyright/trade marks is intended. STATUS: Complete
TITLE: Once a Peacekeeper AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: NC17 CODE: Aeryn Sun/Gilina GENRE: Farscape
SUMMARY: Basically this retells the story of episode 1.07 "pktech girl" from the point of view of Gilina and provides a whole lot of back story about her relationship with Aeryn Sun. I thought the whole ep was a subtext fest and I didn't know of any other fics which covered it.
WARNINGS: Angst, sex and language
The characters and situations used in this fic are the property of the Jim Henson Company. I don't own anything worth having.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
NOTES: All of the scenes from 'the present' are transcripts of scenes from the episode, told from the point of view of Gilina but using the same dialogue and action.
The present ....
I'm frightened. I heard a noise in the dank darkness and assumed the Sheyang had come back so I hid behind this stinking desiccated corpse, I can feel it's sharp shoulder bones lightly pressing against my cheek, but the voices I hear are not those frelling scavenging Sheyang, they're some other thieving scum. It makes no difference. If they find me they'll kill me. No-one loves a peacekeeper, not even a harmless little tech like me. Dren! They've seen the lights on the communications panel. One of the male voices is close. I've gotta stay still,only the skull on this thing isn't too stable. It's gonna fall apart I know it. Hell, stop shaking girl. They've got a light shone on the corpse. They must have seen me. I have to run.
The corpse disintegrates in a shower of dust and bone as I throw myself forwards and shove one of the bastards aside. I don't really get a look at him, I just hear him yell. I weave between the control panels, crouching to avoid their fire. A blast misses me and then I have nowhere to run. A huge Luxan is aiming a strange looking weapon right at me. I cringe away knowing this is the end of my miserable little life.
"Mine" he growls and his fingers tighten on the firing mechanism.
Before he can fire someone grabs me from behind and shouts "No." A sebacean male holds me, shielding me from the Luxan who scowls and slowly lowers his weapon. A tall dark-haired sebacean female appears beside the Luxan. She is carrying an obscenely large rifle that she also trains on me. We lock eyes. Oh God it's her.
"Officer Sun" I squeak. And then, just to make things worse, I follow up by blurting out "The escaped prisoners."
All three of my captors look shocked and the man stops sheltering me and backs away. "How does she know us?" he asks. He's a good looking guy and it's a few microts before I remember from the pk briefings that he's not Sebacean. He looks like one of us but he's not. Commander Crais has been chasing him through the uncharted territories and that is how my team came to be here, on the deserted, crumbling hulk of the most famous ship in the fleet - the Zelbinian - lost to the peacekeepers for over one-hundred cycles. The way I feel at the moment, I wish the frelling ship had stayed lost.
"Aeryn?" prompts the man again.
Officer Sun walks slowly towards me, playing her torch light over my face. "Because she's from Crais's ship," she states flatly, a long delayed answer to the man's query. That she recognises me is obvious but she does a great job of hiding how well she knows me. Must be all that practice. She stops in front of me, staring at me. I can't take my eyes off her either, I can't help it, why the frell does it have to be her?
The past .......
Annan and me are walking down to the tech eating area, we take a short cut past one of the restricted recreation areas, should be quiet enough at this time of day. As we pass, half a dozen soldiers lurch out of a bar, they're drunk, pleased with themselves and calling each other names. One of them notices us, a big blonde guy, I tense as he nudges his companion who glares at us. She's good-looking in a scary, dark-goddess-of-death kinda way. I realise that I recognise her but then Aeryn Sun has quite a rep so that's not too surprising. The story is that she handed her lover over to Crais on suspicion of being a traitor. (Suspicion is quite enough on this ship.) The rumour also has it that she got transferred to a prowler unit as a reward. In other words - a perfect peacekeeper. The bastards surround us.
'This area's off limits to techs.' says the blonde guy ignoring three other techs who are walking past just a short distance away. Lucky bastards. No, me and Annan, we're the entertainment for today. 'I think we're going to have to teach you a lesson,' blonde guy says with a smirk.
'What were you staring at Tech?' asks Sun coldly. She does cold real well, like she never says anything differently. She gives me the creeps even if she is frelling attractive.
I shiver and look at the ground. Total self-abasement, that's our best chance of escaping a beating.
'Nothing Sir,' I stammer in my best poor little tech girl voice.
'Liar. I saw you looking myself. I should kill you now for lying to an officer. Name, rank and assignment. Now.'
I'm frightened. How could I be such a frelling fool? We've gone from a drunken beating to disciplinary execution in two stupid words.
'Sorry Sir, I meant I saw that you were officers and that it was none of my b..business. Gilina Inez, Tech first class, Carrier support.'
The bitch seems satisfied with my answer but blonde guy's not finished with us yet. 'What about your friend here?' he asks. 'She seems very quiet. Answer me you useless bitch. What the frell were you doing here?'
Annan's more than quiet, she's petrified. I can see the poor fool shaking from here. She ain't gonna pull this off. I have to draw their fire. I raise my head to speak and catch Sun looking at me; her eyes are slowly descending my body, checking me out. She must have noticed the movement of my head and quickly looks back at my face, our eyes meet and there's that flash of recognition. I swear I must carry some kind of mark on my forehead. She's shaken. I can see fear shade her grey eyes.
'Eyes front Tech.' she snaps at me. I spring to attention. Her hands clench in indecision. 'Get out of my sight both of you. I don't want to see either of you around here again. Is that clear?'
'Clear sir.' I grab Annan and haul her away, ignoring the argument that has broken out behind us. Sun is getting some stick from her fellows for letting us go before the fun really got started. There's a loud crash and I sneak a look back. No-one's looking at us. They're silently watching Sun beat the crap out of one of the others. I shrug and keep walking. Curiosity never pays.
The present...
She is yelling at me like a drill sergeant, like I'm the peacekeeper that got mixed up with some filthy aliens and abandoned her unit. Frelling hypocrite. Traitor. The look on her face is half crazy, she knows exactly who I am even as she demands my name. The man cuts in. He's all reason and compassion but in my experience they're always the worst, worse than Sun and all her yelling He has influence over her and that marks him as dangerous.
She is telling him that I'm bound to lie to them. I try not to smirk, typical soldier, she thinks I'll lie because it's my duty as a peacekeeper but I'm going to lie if it saves my own hide; that's what I've learnt in my thirty three cycles. Techs lie to live. We learn young. She's stopped shouting but the look in her eyes is venomous, daring me to slip up and betray myself or her or the whole frelling peacekeeper corps.
The guy is questioning me and I'm spilling my guts. I can feel her standing behind me, circling. I sound scared because I am and my mouth's so dry I'm hardly able to speak. He gives me something to drink and I tell him about how the rest of my unit died here while investigating what had destroyed this ship. I know what she's thinking: she's wondering how I survived, whether I deserted them.
She asks a question, the cold contempt in her eyes slipping through her harsh voice although the question is straightforward enough.
"Can you tell me what happened here? How the Zelbinian died?"
I tell her truthfully that I don't know and then I call her a traitor. Now I'm not trying to be brave or uphold peacekeeper honour, I just know these frelling soldiers. If she thinks I'm a good peacekeeper then she'll take me at my word.
The past .........
Frelling officers, why can't they fix anything themselves? My unit are down on our targets so rather than spare anyone who's working the current shift, I have to go up to the officer decks and fix some pig's lights in my own time and I was just going off duty. It's not exactly what I call a frelling priority either since they only go to their quarters to sleep and screw and you don't need lights for any of that. Room 2512. I shove my ident chip into the door and wait to be admitted. After a minute the door opens, and yeah, it is dark.
'Tech First Class, Gilina Inez, reporting sir.' I hear a sharp intake of breath.
'What took you so long?' a disembodied voice enquires. Dren! It's her, Officer Sun, her clipped Pleisar regiment accent is easily recognisable. This is not good.
'Sorry sir. I came as soon as I got my instruction.'
'Get on with it and then get out.' Her voice is low and harsh, a kinda sexy voice if you can get past the threatening tone. I shake my head. I'm losing it. Rule one: never get attracted to the soldiery. That way lies humiliation, pain and sometimes death.
'Yessir.' I fumble my way over to the lighting controls, feeling pretty stupid because I've forgotten my torch, but not about to admit any error. It's just as well we're trained to work in the dark. What we're not trained to do is collide with our superiors. Damn. I stumble and would have fallen but she catches me on some kind of reflex. I feel her arms go round me, my face is against her warm neck, her breasts against mine. Frightened, I drop my tools and swear silently. This is it. She'll beat me senseless and then report me for sleeping on the job. My body tenses waiting to be hurled aside. Surprisingly she helps me stand. Her arms stay wrapped around me and abruptly tighten, pulling me hard against the length of her body. Her hands are stroking my back. Normally I'm quick on the uptake; didn't make Tech First Class this young without knowing how to work my superiors but this situation has me flummoxed. What's she thinking? She has just broken about three thousand rules, written and unwritten. I'm completely outta my depth but a bit of grovelling usually plays well with peacekeepers.
'Sorry sir. I apologise for my clumsiness.' I'm about to wax lyrical on the fruitful subject of how unworthy I am when she kisses me on the mouth, hard. No misunderstanding there. Decision time again, my lips part and she groans. We're kissing for real now. She's a bit rough, probably only ever been with soldiers, but I can't deny how my body is reacting. Her hands are under my t-shirt and she snakes one up my rib-cage 'til it reaches my left breast. She groans again. Touching my breast real slow, she's not kissing me now, concentrating on her hand as it strokes and squeezes pliant flesh, her thumb brushing my hardening nipple. This is getting too serious but I can't think of any way out, so might as well go with it. I lift my hands to caress her shoulders, no jacket, bare skin, soft as Delvian silk. I feel her shiver. Strange to think of such softness under all that brutality.
She takes advantage of my raised arms and lifts them higher; pulling my t-shirt over my head. Her arms tighten around me and I'm pressed against her t-shirt, I can feel erect nipples pushing into my bare skin. Her hands explore my naked back and she's kissing me again. After a few microts of this it occurs to me that she is hesitating; kissing me, stroking me and playing with my breasts but uncertain as though she is not sure how to proceed. I wonder if this is her first time with a woman. I would have smiled excepting that at this moment my mouth is fully occupied by and with her tongue.
The present...
They decide to believe me but for some frelling reason they still wanna have a look around the Zelbinian so now we're walking along more dark derelict corridors. The Luxan has frelled off somewhere and Sun is patrolling the corridor ahead looking all butch and soldierly. Me and the human (as he calls himself) are lagging behind. I can't understand much of what he says but I know one thing for sure. It makes no frelling sense, a peacekeeper like Sun hooking up with lesser beings like these losers. This guy is too good to be true and about as different from Aeryn Sun as matter from energy. Still it makes sense for me to try and get some credit with him against the future, so I thank him for saving me from Sun. He seems pleased by my grovelling. I think he likes me.
We keep moving. Sun and the human (called John apparently) are yapping away and they get in an argument about peacekeepers and whether we're a good thing or not. Sun tries to sell the party line to the human, the one about peacekeepers maintaining order in the galactic nuthouse. She still thinks of herself as a peacekeeper despite the death warrant. The next thing I know is that I'm covered in green snot.
A frelling Hynerian on a floating throne has turned up and expressed his displeasure at my presence in the classic Hynerian way. I can't believe this circus. Seems the Hynerian doesn't agree that peacekeepers have a place in this Universe or any other. (Bad experience I guess.) He doesn't dislike me in particular, he just hates and despises every peacekeeper who ever was born, that's the gist of the little green fella's argument anyway, so I'm not winning any popularity contests except with John. Again the human covers for me, subdues the warty little Hynerian slug and makes it clear to one and all that I am not to be touched. He's like no-one I've ever met before. I've noticed already that Sun is always watching him. At first I thought it was because she didn't trust him but it's not that. She likes him. I guess she's never met anyone like him before either. I'm jealous. Not sure of whom yet.
The past .........
Teaching a prowler pilot to make love, that's a first. The more pessimistic side of me worries that today will end with another first: my execution. However hormones are wonderful things and mine are on full alert; death seems like a minor price at the moment. I push her away slightly but we keep kissing. She makes a sound in her throat and tries to pull me back but I hold my ground. Then I'm lifting her t-shirt out of her pants, raising it slowly up her body. She stops protesting and breaks the lip-lock long enough to let me lift the shirt over her head. Once it's off she wants me back in her arms. I'm having none of it, I want her naked. With ease born of too much practice, I unfasten her bra and slide the straps off her shoulders. I can feel her shivering under my fingers. It's not just light panels I can fix in the dark.
We move back in close and my arms wrap back round her. We both groan as our half-naked bodies press together, soft sweet pressure of skin, I feel her bend slightly to kiss me again. My mouth opens willingly to her insistent lips and tongue. I run my hands run over her smooth back and let them stray, wandering down the curve of her waist, to her hips and then slowly stroking upwards again until my seeking fingers can play with one smallish perfect breast, cupping it and lifting a little to feel the weight against my palm. She breaks off from the heated kisses and gasps slightly as I run my roughened tech thumb over the straining nipple. Without her full lips to distract me, I fall back on kissing and nibbling her neck and throat, inhaling the clean sharp scent from the warm skin, standard issue military soap, officers, for the use of, but somehow at this moment it seems like a strange intoxicant. She's shaking, whether from fear or anticipation I don't know, I'm not gonna ask. My hands are on her belt buckle and she stops moving. She is breathing slowly, deliberately, struggling for control, tremors running through her. Too slowly I unfasten the buckle and slide the fastening of her pants aside.
Damn! I forgot about her boots. They're going to have to come off first. How the frell am I gonna manage that in the dark with her standing up? I'm not even sure where the bed is. But old habits die hard and I'm not about to let an officer know that I've screwed up. I return to kissing her mouth, forgetting my fears in the still unexpected sweetness and let my fingers explore her other breast. She leans against me, clinging tightly, having trouble supporting herself. Time to up the ante. My fingers leave her all-too-wonderful breasts, I ignore the whimper of protest, my hand travels down her smooth firm belly to tangle in the soft curls at the juncture of her legs. She groans and lifts herself against my hand, trying to force my fingers a little lower. I comply but not inside her. I tease her gently. She's wet and desperate.
'Bed,' I murmur in her ear, 'where is it?'
The present...
More corridors, more crap and then we find the burnt remains of Officer Crander. Pretty revolting. He's completely charred but red flesh is visible in his open, screaming mouth. I knew him and so did Sun. She's obviously shaken. "What was he doing guarding the likes of you? This was grunts work," she barks at me
I have to say I enjoy seeing guilt stain her traitorous face when I explain that every person in her unit had been disgraced by her defection, demoted to every dren job on the ship, and that's the way they're gonna stay until she is found and executed. My pleasure's short-lived. The Leviathan has spotted the returning Sheyang ship and we are collectively in deep dren.
"Why are the Sheyang back? What didn't you tell us?" Aeryn's all violence and threats, throttling me against a bulkhead. The Luxan's with us again and he urges her on to kill me but she's quite angry enough without his help. "Is that why you're still alive?" she screams. "Because you co-operated with the enemy?" I can't breathe. I try to speak but she is going to kill me. John pulls her off.
"That. Is. Enough." He bites off each word.
She backs away, bitterness and mistrust swimming in hard grey eyes. John turns to me and in that soft, holier-than-thou voice, tells me that Officer Sun was not a traitor and that she never had a chance. Of course he's so different from us barbarous peacekeepers that he's gonna give me a chance (a last chance naturally) to tell the truth. I hope he means it. Anyway I have no choice other than to believe him so I tell them what little I know about the Sheyang scum and their plans to salvage the defence shield, the last remaining worthwhile piece of equipment on the damned ship.
The past ............
Somehow we make it to the bed without falling over. I push her back onto it and start unfastening her boots. A few clumsy microts later and the boots and trousers are off at last. I cover her overheated body with mine and she whimpers again. Just the sound excites me. I know her body is lean and strong and yet all I can feel is incredible softness and warmth shading to heat, the familiar shock of pleasure that always takes me by surprise. I want to see her face, to know her pleasure better, but the darkness is total and I must rely on my remaining senses. She pulls me closer and one long smooth leg nudges mine apart, hot wetness grinds against my thigh as she twines herself about me and buries her face in my shoulder, biting and licking the skin. Roughly she takes my hand, pushing it downwards - this is spinning way out of control - I pull away hard, pinning her wrists to the bed.
'What's wrong?' She struggles a little but years of hauling equipment have left me stronger than I look.
I bend down to her ear and whisper. 'I want you to remember this night, remember me. We are going to take this slow and I want to drive.'
So I lower myself to her again and start again, for long moments we just kiss. I say 'just' but it's hard to describe the sense of connection I feel with this tall, dark stranger who kisses so well. I find myself stroking her hair, running my fascinated fingers through the incredible silken length. I have never seen her hair down and I had no idea it was so long, definitely not regulation. But now she is moving under me again, her legs wrapping helplessly around me with involuntary need, thrusting against me. I guess she needs more than kissing. Sadly I leave her mouth, working slowly down her throat, sweet and salty with perspiration; my mouth and tongue, nipping and probing, learning her vulnerabilities, her needs, lingering in places, resisting the temptation to leave marks on the pale-remembered skin. We gasp together as my nipples slide across her stomach. I kiss around the top of her legs and she squirms, the scent of desire is strong, musky and intense. My heart is hammering like a pulse rifle on overload.
'Open your legs wider.' I instruct. She does as she's told, like a good little soldier. I move over her and hesitate, sudden doubt lurching inside my stupid tech head. Suppose she hates this, suppose she kicks me out. Don't be a fool Gilina I scold myself, she wants this as much as you do. She's shaking like ten million electrons are passing through her and if it turns out she doesn't like it, well you've had worse one night stands. Tentatively my tongue tastes her, hunting for her exposed centre in the wet darkness. She bucks and cries out harshly. Still nervous I hold back; a whimper and she grabs at my head trying to force me back. All fear diminished I stroke the small hardness and close my lips around it, nibbling gently. She moans loudly. A few more strokes and then my tongue is probing deeper, tasting the slick surface, gently penetrating. She swears loudly and imprecisely. I grin to myself and cruelly move away, kissing her inner thighs a few times before I lift my head, enough to ask, 'What do you want Officer Sun? Sorry I didn't understand.' (Okay the words come out more breathless than controlled but I feel her shudder.)
Silence. She's either shy or stubborn. I lightly brush my thumb against her clit and push gently at her opening with one finger. It slips inside easily. I withdraw very slowly and run the sopping finger round her inner lips, moistening them unnecessarily. Her breathing is helplessly ragged. My mouth needs something to do so I lower my head to lick slowly, only just touching, never enough. She writhes against the tiny motion. I slide two fingers inside her and she groans as I move them slowly in and out. Her hips jerk rapidly in an attempt to make my torturing fingers move faster. Instead I stop, just touching at the entrance, barely penetrating her, ignoring the sobs of frustration.
'What do you want Officer Sun?' No answer.
'Tell me Aeryn.' I pass my tongue over her swollen nub a few times to make the point.
'Please. Oh frell, please.' she mumbles.
'Please what?' I'm pushing my luck but she has only one mistress at the moment, and she lies between her legs.
'Make me come curse you.' she gasps.
Better than I hoped, the shaking voice nearly pushes me over the edge. I move my fingers inside her, pushing harder, deeper and faster. She moans loudly, soft cries are torn from her. 'Please,' she begs again. That deserves a reward. I return to suck and lick the tender flesh, she yelps and strains even harder, thrashing about on the bed, then her inner walls clench at my fingers and she's crying out and spasming. I keep working until she collapses with a final cry. A few microts pass before I withdraw my fingers and tenderly kiss her clitoris, she twitches and whimpers, totally spent.
I'd be pretty much done-in as well, except for the agonising tension that has been building between my legs. I move up her body to hold her, kissing her lips, praying that it occurs to her that I might need a little help here but certain that if she touches me at all I'll explode. She holds onto me like she's afraid of the dark.
The present...
That's it. Now we're gonna to fix the defence shield. There's no point in telling them that a full tech crew is needed or that some parts are just fried to hell, that's not what they want to hear. I tell John later; I tell him that I'm afraid she will execute me for failing to try. He tells me she's not like that anymore. He explains that his companions are not killers and I can see he's including Aeryn in this, like she's one of them! He's a frelling fool if he really believes that, once a peacekeeper always a peacekeeper. I'll say this for him though, we work well together, the guy knows his physics and for an alien he's alright, a really gentle man. He reminds me of a senior tech I knew one time, though I still don't understand how Sun can bear to be around such an alien; she despises weakness, in herself and others.
She surprises me in other ways. She works like a beast of burden, fetching and carrying for us. I can remember when she would sooner have died than lift a finger to help a tech let alone take instruction from one. I tell her off, just like I would a junior tech, for bringing the wrong type of cable, sending her off to find a replacement in this dripping, rotting tomb. Unsmiling, she does it without complaint. How the mighty have fallen; perhaps that's what they mean by irreversibly contaminated.
The past .......
So I'm lying there, in Officer Sun's bed, in Officer Sun's arms, burning for release and what happens? Her call-to-stations sounds. Next thing I know I'm on the floor while she scrabbles around in the dark, swearing and looking for her uniform. She's out the door and all I hear is: 'Get the frelling lights working before I get back and then get out of here, you piece of dren.' Frelling great.
I'm still naked so I figure I have a choice. I can just get on with my job and fix the lights or I can finish what I started and bring myself off but really I'm just not in the mood anymore so I hunt round the floor to find my clothes. I put the only shirt on and curse. Unless I've lost a lot of weight in the past arn this shirt ain't mine. Amusement is tempered with terror. Sun has gone off in my shirt and I'm left with an officer's undershirt and no jacket to cover it. No way I can explain that so I'll just have to stay here and hope that her mission doesn't last into my next duty shift. Dren! How could she not have noticed? She's at least a whole size bigger than me. A bad thought pops up. What if she's killed and doesn't come back? A glaring darkness opens in my heart. Oh no ... no feelings; that is a huge great frelling no-go area. Fix the damn lights you dumbass tech and think about something else, anything other than frelling Aeryn Sun.
The present...
All hell breaks loose, the Sheyang are heating up their weapons. Only a few more microts and we'll have the defence shield - I am frelling good, I wouldn't have believed it myself if anyone had said I could do this.
Aeryn has really come through too. She's working like a Bannick slave; sweaty, dirty and frelling beautiful. She does her stuff well, does what she's told. I get her to help me connect the final conduits and our arms brush against each other. She jumps as though touching a live wire and brushes me away. She'll do it on her own. I can't help feeling the familiar old stab of pain. Rejection and Aeryn, go together like frelling twins.
John's fingers are flying over the wiring now (I could certainly use him in my unit) and I think we're gonna make it, if any of it works of course.
We're there, I complete the last contact. Sparks are flying and the damaged panels are smoking like grunts on a break, but it is working. Microts later we feel the impact of the Sheyang fireball. The shield holds. Aeryn looks at me and we share a Peacekeeper moment of arrogance; of course we have defeated the lesser beings, nothing to shout about, that's what we do. John is more demonstrative and hugs me under the pretext of being thrown about by the impact forces.
Our self-congratulation doesn't really get a chance to take flight before the doomy voice of the leviathan pilot is informing us that there are holes in the defence shield and if they use small attack ships, the Sheyang may be able to squeeze through the holes and board us. Now John wants me to install the unused half of the defence shield on their leviathan. This is frelling never-ending and he's got to be kidding. He wants to transfer all this hulking great machinery from the great Zelbinian and put it in a leviathan with completely incompatible systems. I feel Sun's prowler-grey eyes on me and years of habit kick in. I'll do it. (Well actually what I tell them is some morra-dren about doing it for them despite my peacekeeper oaths and duty.) Resigned to another impossible task, I wonder how many peacekeepers have died because the techs have been too scared to say no. Then I look at her unforgiving face and I think maybe I can do it for her.
The past .......
I've fixed the lights, tightened a loose connection. Sun coulda done it herself and then I wouldn't be in this mess. We wouldn't be in this mess.
The one comforting thing about sleeping with women in the peacekeeper corps, is that you are very unlikely to be exposed as queer unless caught in the act, by multiple witnesses of the opposite sex. If there is even the slightest suspicion that the informer might be involved then she will also be tortured and executed. This makes queer relationships fairly safe as almost no-one will take the chance of ratting you out in case awkward questions are asked about how the rat found out. A classic example of how the military mind achieves the opposite of what is intended. So I wasn't concerned about Sun confessing all, she might as well swallow the business end of a pulse rifle and fire it, however a tech wandering about in an officer's under clothing is suspicious in itself and I couldn't think of a single acceptable explanation. I tried for 6 arns. I don't think 'I found it in the wash' is gonna fly but the time is now edging close to the start of my duty shift. If Sun doesn't get here soon ....
The door opens. 'You're still here.' She enters the room tiredly, slings her jacket over a chair, strips the shirt over her head without hesitation and throws it at me. 'Frelling uncomfortable, you try flying a prowler in a straitjacket.'
I look at it. Misshapen and soaked with sweat. Great. Now I'll be disciplined for uniform violations. I look at her. She has stripped completely. She's beautiful. All my resolutions to put this behind me disintegrate. The blood rushes south and I wish that I'd spent the previous six arns with my hand between my legs instead of trying to think of excuses because now I'm going to have to go on duty and think about her until the end of my shift.
'Get out tech.' are her last words as she heads into the shower.
Wrinkling my nose I put on the damp, smelly shirt and try to ignore the rather disgusting pleasure I feel at wearing something that she has just worn. Hoping I look like a tech on a house call, rather than a criminal and corrupting influence, I take one last look round. I don't expect to be back.
The present...
We're still here working in this rotting mausoleum, I'm a bit bored and I've noticed the way John keeps looking at me so I think I'll have some fun. I get him over on some stupid pretext and then manage to fall back against him. He holds onto me and I can feel his arousal against me. Damn but these humans are like Sebaceans. We kiss and it's nice, humans are really gentle, perhaps there is something here for me after all.
"I've set up four of the components," announces Aeryn as she strides around the corner. She takes in the situation between me and John and barely pauses, although her voice takes on some thumping emphasis, "in the maintenance bay." She lifts up one of the heavy components and with impressive strength, heaves it over her head. For a microt I think she's going to chuck it at us; she just says with heavy sarcasm and heaving breaths. "Sorry for interrupting." And she's gone.
I'm half-relieved, I thought she would kill me for dereliction of duty at least; certainly worth a good beating in the past but I guess she has changed. A part of me also feels guilty, as though in some way I have cheated on her. I shrug the feeling off with annoyance, I owe her nothing and she has no claim on me.
John is upset. He takes off after her and it hits me real sudden, he's not really interested in me, he wants her. You're a fool Gilina. Things are no different here, you're still not as good as her. Then I wonder if she feels the same about him. I shake my head. It's hard to imagine a prowler pilot experiencing a love of anything except battle. Lust of course, camaraderie with their unit, pride in being a peacekeeper and contempt for everything else. That about summed up the emotions that every peacekeeper soldier would understand. Anything else is foreign and weak, I remember Aeryn explaining this to me.
John comes back. He does not look happy. There is a lot to do and for once I'm frelling grateful, I don't want to talk. Him and her, typical frelling luck.
I set John up with two polar coupling plates and tell him to keep them apart. I don't look him in the face. I don't want to see the lies forming in his eyes.
The past .......
Shift over, I head back to my barracks for a shower and a change. I'm just in the door when my communicator sounds. 'Gilina you're in deep deep dren. That officer whose lights you fixed has complained about you. Report to the deck supervisor.'
For a moment my heart stops; then I think if she had reported me for screwing her, a small army of internal security would have arrived to drag me away immediately to protect the morals and virtue of all these innocent little peacekeepers. I don't feel much easier. I can't understand what she is doing. I grab a clean shirt, I'm real tired of people sniffing oddly as I walk past, and set off for the deck super's office.
Half an arn later I'm trudging back up to officer quarters having been given a warning about shoddy work. Sun has complained that I didn't fix the lights properly and she wants to see me personally to discuss my lack of motivation. I consider the possibilities: she is panicking and wants to beat a promise of silence out of me, she's disgusted and wants to beat me stupid for corrupting/controlling her, the lights don't work and she wants to beat me for being incompetent.
Reluctantly I push my ident chip into her door. The door opens quickly. The lights are on - that's one theory ruled out. I enter quietly and the door closes behind me. Sun is lounging in a chair, her long legs stretched out, feet resting on a low table.
'Officer Sun. You wanted to see me? Have I done something wrong? I can check the lights again?' I enquire in what I hope is an appropriately humble voice.
She looks at me and smiles cynically. 'That's quite an act you put on tech.' She rises slowly, dangerously and deliberately looks me up and down.
I keep silent. She isn't raging or angry so I don't know what's coming. That makes me more nervous than anything else. Years of habit kick in and I snap to attention. I watch her in return, reasoning that while I'm standing about and waiting for whatever pile of dren she chooses to heap on me, I might as well admire the view. Her hair is down and I can see what I've only felt, a dark fan spread around her strong shoulders. Fine muscles ripple along her arms but her hands are quite slender and, from memory, smooth. Prowler pilots don't seem to get the calluses that other soldiers and techs take for granted.
'Come here.' Her voice is low and there's so little emphasis that for a moment I think I've misheard. I look into her face. Her eyes are dark with desire. 'Now. Don't keep me waiting.'
I cross the floor in a few strides and stand in front of her. The heat is already building inside me. She lifts her hand to my face and brushes a loose hair from my eyes and bends to kiss me, very gentle and insistent. Soft velvet as her tongue invades my mouth. My knees are buckling. Those strong arms are around my waist supporting me. 'It's my turn,' she says slowly.
The present...
We are in deep dren. One of the Sheyang made it through the defence shield and boarded the Zelbinian. He's coming our way. I'm trying to complete this damn transfer process but it won't go any faster and John's stuck, straining to keep the two polar plates apart. If he lets them touch then that's it. We vaporise and everything around us. I tell John I won't leave him to die alone. Why I even say that, let alone mean it, I don't really know, maybe I'm changing too?
The Sheyang is at the door trying to burn a hole through it with the worst case of halitosis I've ever seen; worse, he's succeeding. John is calling for Aeryn to help. She got cut off and has had to find another route back to us.
John is almost comical when he sees the Sheyang spitting fire, acting like he's never heard of such things before. I want to laugh until the endless void of fear reasserts itself. The Sheyang breaks through the door and immediately belches a damned great fireball which John just avoids, frell knows how.
I can't do any more to speed the energy transfer, it's too damn late, so I get behind John and crouch against him and wait for the end. The Sheyang is cranking up another flaming burp. It looks to be all over for us until a microt later, heralded by a loud metallic jangling, our dark knight arrives. She's all heroic efficiency, sliding down the lifting chains from an upper deck, her pulse rifle in one hand, firing twice as she hits the ground. The Sheyang dies, his own gas ball ignites in his gullet and blows him apart, spattering flaming debris all around us. As if they know the danger is over, the polar plates in John's hands cease to spark and pull together. He sinks to his knees in relief, dropping the plates to the ground.
"Sorry about the mess." Aeryn doesn't sound sorry. Despite the past and notwithstanding the likely future I feel my knees weaken as I watch her arrogantly stroll over to look at what little is left of the fallen Sheyang. Her expression is cocky. She still has what it takes. And I still love her.
The past ..........
Her hands are gently undressing me. I cringe, not because I'm not enjoying myself but because I could do with a shower. She hesitates. 'Is something wrong tech?'
'No. I mean yes, I really need a shower.'
She looks perplexed and nods. She leads to me to her bathroom. She starts to undress me again and herself too. I can't believe how achingly aroused I feel. It's not lack of experience of naked females; I've been sharing communal showers in barracks dotted round half the galaxy for the whole of my existence. I usually sleep in a room with at least ten other female techs. But I'm showering with this beautiful prowler pilot and every other experience is fading to nothing. The water rains down over our bodies and she is kissing me under the spray. She won't let me soap myself, her fingers play over my body sliding over the slick soapiness, massaging my aching muscles. She has talented hands. Slender hands that can fly a prowler through ten g's and dodge the frag fire of a carrier attack. Hands that are making my blood run faster and driving my senses insane. Hands running over my buttocks, tracing patterns on my breasts, stroking near my aching sex. I moan with need. She turns me round and pulls me backwards, hard against her. Erect nipples press against my shoulder blades as she buries her face in my neck, her tongue traces my ear. She whispers: 'You are beautiful.' One hand is gently squeezing my breast, rolling a painfully erect nipple between her fingers and I'm gasping as the sensations multiply and concentrate. Her other hand has traced a path down my side and then circled round my hip to play with the springy blonde pubic hair. The indescribable yearning is returning five-fold. I need her now.
'Touch me.' I hardly recognise my own voice. Obediently she turns me around, warm water still bouncing off me, tumbling down my skin in waterfalls and falling onto her as she sinks to her knees in front of me. Strong arms brace me and my legs part. Her tongue penetrates my core and swipes across the sensitive nub of nerves. My legs are shaking and if it weren't for her support I would collapse instantly. She nuzzles my sex, exploring with her tongue. Each touch sweeps strength from me and I really believe I will fall. It is too much. I look down at her dark head and run my fingers through the soft damp hair and whisper, 'Aeryn, I have to lie down.'
Reluctantly she withdraws from her discoveries. She rises from her knees and as she stands, her body travels across mine, smooth, muscled strength pressing against my whole length, pushing me back against the cool ceramic wall of the shower, her thigh parting my legs, I feel my inner muscles clench involuntarily. I groan and open my eyes. She is gazing at me with an expression of such gentleness that I am almost frightened. She starts kissing me again, soft lips gently parting mine and I feel as though the centre of my being is opening. When she stops, I know that for me, this is a new world.
'Please Aeryn,' I beg, although I could not say in words what it is that I want from her.
She opens the door of the shower and half lifts me out. The air outside is chill and I shiver. She frowns and moments later has wrapped me in a huge towel and I'm being led to the bed.
Aeryn climbs onto the bed and kneels, holding her hand out to me. I drop my towel and take the offered hand. She draws me to her and her hands travel down my back, her nails trailing gently and agonisingly across my sensitive skin. Her mouth finds mine again and again I am lost, we fall sideways onto the bed in a tangle of legs and arms. Her hand has found my centre and her fingers enter me, slowly, filling me, and then very slowly, she pulls them back. I want to scream. She repeats this, imperceptibly increasing the speed and, as she does so, her mouth kisses its way down to my right breast. I cry out when she tenderly takes my hardened nipple in her mouth, pulling the stiffening flesh with her sharp teeth. I am frelling beside myself, moaning and whimpering, as her fingers, mouth, tongue and teeth discover how to drive me to insanity.
Relentlessly she is kissing down my ribs, over the slight swell of belly; I jump as her tongue dips into my navel. She nuzzles my thatch of blonde pubic hair and arrives at her destination. Inside me her hand slows, gradually she withdraws, leaving me empty and as I watch she licks the wetness that coats them, looking into my eyes, watching my neediness, her own expression a strange mixture of apprehension and curiosity. Her eyes drop and she stares with avid concentration at my exposed sex. I don't have time for this looking. My clit is desperate for attention. I'm desperate.
'Aeryn, this is cruel, you have to touch me,' I whimper and my hips thrust helplessly. Carefully she urges my legs farther apart and hesitantly dips her head between my legs. I hear her moan quietly as her tongue makes contact. Then I can't hear anything or feel anything other than that single point of connection and the mounting wall of pleasure pressing for release. Unexpectedly her tongue leaves me and I groan loudly in frustration and then again in pleasure as it is quickly replaced by her hand. Her fingers push into me relentlessly. I stifle a scream, biting my lip to keep silent. I know the sound proofing in these cells and it's not nearly enough.
'I want to watch you,' she breathes. 'Open your eyes.' With some difficulty I force my baby blues open to meet her gaze. Hers have darkened nearly to black.
The present...
We're back on the leviathan and they're arguing about what to do with me. Aeryn is not speaking, she just watches me with those icy grey-green eyes and I stare right back, fascinated by the hard lines and planes of her face. I've rarely had a chance to just look at her and I can't stop, she meets my eyes and I'm drowning. I hardly notice what the others are saying but I hear her harsh voice with its abbreviated accent.
"The tech will not reveal our presence."
She wants me to go back to the command carrier but I don't want to leave. She spins some long spiel about how dreadful it is to be banished from what you love. She's right there but it's leaving here that's the banishment, going back to my pktech life of indentured toil, leaving John, leaving her.
"You are smarter than that, Gilina," she says and I cannot hide my surprise. She has never used my name. A small spark of joy lights my heart. She has said my name. It's then that I realise that I will do whatever she wants. Anything to keep her safe. I nod slightly and look away to hide the tears filling my eyes.
The past....
The last tremor fades. She moves slowly up my body.
'Okay tech?' she breathes in my ear.
I can only nod. It's always okay. For 63 days my reason for living has centered on these snatched arns with Aeryn. Arns stolen in junction rooms, switching halls, maintenance conduits, rarely in bed and sometimes, like today, in her prowler. She smiles and stretches against me and then grimaces at the cramped conditions. 'You in any hurry?' I shake my head. 'Me neither. Let's get a little more comfortable.' We wriggle around until she is lying back in her flight seat with me cradled naked in her arms. Her left hand is drawing absent-minded patterns on my skin. 'The most beautiful sight there is,' she says quietly, staring out at the stars visible through the cockpit cover. Looking at her sharp profile shadowed against the starlight I find myself agreeing.
'I love you.' I say the words and then feel the enormity of them and their truth and the grotesque unwisdom of speaking. Her entire body goes rigid. Her hands fall away from me and I am naked.
'We have to go back. Go aft and get dressed.'
'Aeryn.'
'There is nothing to discuss. We have to get back to the carrier.'
'Aeryn. I didn't mean what I said. It was just the moment. I didn't mean it.'
'I cannot have feelings for you. You cannot have feelings for me. You know this as well as I. Peacekeeper lives and success depend on each of us being able to follow orders and take action without emotional confusion. One day tech you may have to abandon me or destroy me. Could you do that? Without doubt. Without hesitation.' I hesitate and Aeryn shakes her head angrily. 'This association is terminated.'
She meant every word. She never looked at me again or appeared to know I existed though we saw each other every day (thanks to the fact that I had wangled myself into her unit's tech support team in order to make meetings easier). When she disappeared with the escaped leviathan it was almost a relief. I didn't even cry. By then I had already lost her and done my crying.
The present...
The time is here. Answering my distress call, the peacekeeper command carrier is on its way to get me. As expected the Sheyang ship fled when it detected the incoming command carrier and now the leviathan and its strange crew must do the same. She's standing beside me but she won't look at me. I think there are tears in her eyes but that can't be. A soldier would never cry.
"Crais will ask you many questions." she says. Her voice wavers just a little.
"I will lie" I assure her and I mean it.
She nods. "I wish I had been so smart," and now she looks down at me and I want to die right there. Her face creases and maybe she really is going to cry but instead she turns to leave. I cannot stand to see her go and grab her arm, something I could never have imagined being able to do. She stares at my hand on her arm, a little shocked. My fingers slide down her arm to her wrist and she grasps my hand. I try a small smile and my heart breaks as I see her try to smile back. Something more to keep forever. And then she's going. The powerful stride taking her rapidly away from me. I look at the wall and blink back more tears.
John is leaning on the opposing wall of the leviathan, watching curiously. He says something I don't really understand and I smile easily, so much easier with him, we both joke about how impossible it is. I am sad to leave him but I have to go back and if I'm honest I know he isn't going to ask me to stay anyway. He holds my hand and we kiss with real affection. A part of me hopes that maybe he will go back to her and kiss her and the next thing she feels will be his lips that have just touched mine. On that thought, I kiss him with rather more enthusiasm and then he's letting me go and the doors are closing and I'm crying alone.
The End.
TITLE: Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel STATUS: On-going AUTHOR: halfofone FANDOM: Buffy The Vampire Slayer RATING: PG13 CODE: Buffy/Tara FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome. SUMMARY: Tara has left Willow. Buffy is feeling sorry for herself. They are both fleeing for their lives from the demon of the week NOTES: This is set in season six. It is a more cheerful fic than the eps in season six might warrant. No need to say that really 'cause amputation of your leg without an anaesthetic would be a more cheerful experience than most of season six! SPOILERS: Probably. Anything from seasons one to six is fair game. ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where. DISCLAIMER: BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy. I am just playing with their dolls.
SUMMARY: Tara has left Willow. Buffy is feeling sorry for herself. They are both fleeing for their lives from the demon of the week
NOTES: This is set in season six. It is a more cheerful fic than the eps in season six might warrant. No need to say that really 'cause amputation of your leg without an anaesthetic would be a more cheerful experience than most of season six!
BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy. I am just playing with their dolls. TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
A fireball whizzes over my back and past my left ear and there's an acrid whiff of singed hair. My hair. Whoa! You have to give them credit. The demon dimension is really trying to come through for me. I want to die again (third time's the charm) and they want to help me. Would have got my wish this second, except that the 'The Powers That Be' have a wicked sense of humour: saved by an itch on my leg.
'Kay Buffy', I mentally stick a pin in my balloon of self-absorption, 'enough of the dying rap'.
I have to keep Tara safe. Willow will toast my ass if I allow Tara to get even slightly singed and I'm sure that my own death wouldn't help me escape the wrath of Will; she'd just bring me back to kill me again! Willow loves Tara. I know that for certain even if the pride of wiccadom have apparently split up, which is a way weird idea! They seemed to be made for each other, forever. I don't know what happened. Neither of them will talk to me about the break-up and no-one else seems to know what went wrong either.
Another fireball howls past us and whistles me back to the present. Tara is looking pretty scared.
"Hey! Any chance of magicking up some kind of defence type thingie like a shield or a forcefield?" I ask not very hopefully.
She shakes her head and manages to look really guilty as though she should have remembered to pack her anti-fireball spells this morning. "I don't think so. I'm not s..s..sure." She frowns. "Willow would know. I think the dragons are magical... you know... not real."
I peer down the narrow rock crevasse towards the entrance to the chasm. A scaly snout with flaring nostrils peers right back at me. The animal opens its maw, revealing some not so minty-fresh and very large teeth. It roars loudly, expelling a smoky breath; the noise bounces up and down the walls of the small crevasse. Behind the dragon's head I can see the shadowy figure of the beast's rider.
"They look real enough. What I want to know is who are the guys riding them? Did you get a look?" I say this, more for something to say than expecting any useful information. I know the drill. I stagger about in an ignorant haze while my enemies cook up elaborate schemes which I never really understand even when I have defeated them. It is not my job to understand evil; my job is to destroy it. I only have to know enough for that.
"S..sorry." She looks at me, all apologetic again. "Too busy running for my life I guess." A shrug and a shy grin punctuate her apology. I grin in response and start to think aloud.
"Okay so they've got us corked in here... so why stay down there instead of coming in after us? Perhaps they're not much of a threat without their dragons or maybe they're scared of me." I am speculating without really having a clue. Tara's smile fades and I know she's thought of an answer and that I'm not going to like it.
"Perhaps they're waiting for someone else. Maybe someone wants to umm... talk to us."
"A demon?" I sound doubtful 'cause I am. "Talking not usually a strongpoint with demony types. Maybe they want a full breakfast and they just followed their noses." I indicate my Doublemeat Palace uniform. Tara nods and grins at me again. I act all offended.
"Hey feel free to disagree. I don't smell that bad!"
She looks immediately worried and contrite and tries to reassure me. "Y..you smell nice, most of the time." Her blue eyes widen with embarrassment and I want to laugh. "Not that I go around sniffing you. That would be strange and bad and I'm n..not like that."
"You're not? But you are a Wiccan - I've heard that there are folk who think that's strange and bad."
"Not by Sunnydale standards."
"You have a point. Anyway strange and bad are part of my job description; everything in my life is strange or bad or both." I feel the bitter chill of my reality overwhelm me again and finish more harshly than I meant. "Why should you be any different?"
She is hurt by my words and unable to disguise it, although she tries by staring hard at her shoes as though seeing them for the first time. I want to smack myself.
The stiff silence is interrupted by a shrill male voice. "Send the witch out slayer. We will let you go." The accent is odd. Sort of Irish but not.
"Who are you?"
"That is not your concern slayer. Just deliver the witch."
"I'm sorry" I answer as brightly and helpfully as a I can, "making deals with demons and delivering innocents to dragons is not in the slayer handbook but," and I am trying to be helpful here - you should always give your customer an alternative - "I can deliver your ass to hell if that's any use."
The voice doesn't seem interested in my offer. "I am not a demon and she is not an innocent. She is an abomination. I will give you until daybreak to consider my offer. Then you will both die."
"Save yourself the wait shrill-boy. There's no deal. If you want to kill me why don't you try it now?"
"Until daybreak slayer."
I step into the narrow corridor of stone and have to throw myself to the ground as two thin streams of fire streak towards me. I feel the heat pass over my back and roll back into the shallow indent in the rock wall that is providing us with cover. The dragons hiss with what I fancy to be disappointment.
"I guess we won't get out that way. Tara do you have any idea who this guy is?" She is huddled against the cold wall on the other side of the crevasse. "Tara?" She looks up at me and even in the dim light filtering down from above us I can see she has gone deathly pale.
"I'm not sure," she whispers. "Maybe."
"Tara I need to know what I'm fighting, so share."
"I think he might be the Great Wizard; the first of his kind."
"You mean like the very first ever?"
Tara nods.
"What would this great wizard want with you?"
"Not me - I mean - not me in particular. He just hates witches. Women with magical power."
"Not big with equal opportunities then. Just how 'great' is this wizard."
"I thought he was a myth. My mother told me the story when I was a little girl. When I grew up I assumed it was just a story to scare girl-children into being good."
"Were you scared?"
"Yes."
"Were you good?"
She shrugs and smiles weakly at me.
"Yes of course you were."
************
I can just see stars through the narrow gap of the cliffs rising above us. Darkness has fallen rapidly. It's hard to see in the gloom, even for me. Tara must be completely blind.
I have to admit that I'm stuck for any ideas. If I were here by myself I could probably climb out but Tara wouldn't be able to even if it weren't pitch black. No it's probably best to wait for the bad guys to make a move. If they thought it would be easy then I'm sure they would have arrived already so I guess it's a stand-off for now.
Taking advantage of the dark I wriggle across the passage to the gap where Tara is crouching.
"How are you doing?"
"'Kay," she whispers very quietly. I slump down beside her and contemplate our position again. It doesn't seem any better from this side of the crevasse. I put a hand on Tara's shoulder. She is shaking slightly: cold or fear I suppose. Well at least I can help a little. I take off my jacket and awkwardly arrange it arround her shoulders.
"You'll freeze," she objects.
"No way! Slayer thermal underwear, as recommended by a long line of stiff-lipped watchers, for those chilly nights amongst the graves. Doubles as body armour."
She giggles. "Is it sexy?"
"As hell." I put my arm around her shoulders, to conserve body heat.
"You're crazy," she whispers and snuggles against me: warmth, softness and sandalwood and she's stopped shaking.
"Go to sleep" I advise.
"No. I won't leave you to w..watch alone Buffy. Anyway I don't think I could sleep. You can sleep if you like. You need your strength."
I shake my head and then feel stupid - she can't see my dumb blonde little head in the dark - so I add the verbal explanation. "Slayer senses, early warning in case any of the shadowy guys try to push up here ahead of the deadline."
"I can set a protection spell, it will warn us if anyone tries to sneak in."
"Cool," I say, "What's the warning? Thunder, sirens, bells?"
"Just my voice saying 'you have a visitor'."
"Visitor!" I exclaim, amused by the less than intimidating spell. "Shouldn't it at least say 'Halt. Friend or foe?' "
Her voice is shy as she explains. "It's not really a protection spell, I use it instead of a door chime. I can change the message if you like ..."
"No. It's fine. As long as it lets us know that something is coming."
"Oh it will," she assures me. "It works for everything; animals, humans and demons. Sometimes I forget to include kitty fantastico in the exceptions and then it just sounds all day."
"You can't stop it?"
"No but it only lasts for a day. It's okay Buffy, just rest and I'll watch. I'm too scared to sleep yet anyway."
"Nah. Better not. Battle strategy to think about."
"In a little while. Let me take care of you first."
I want her to take care of me. That is not such a little thing to say. For the first time since I was summoned back, the harsh reality that daily buffets and bruises my soul has lost a few of its hard edges. The irony of feeling more human at a moment like this is not lost on me. Somewhere along the line my head has come to rest on her shoulder. She puts an arm around me, to draw me closer and starts to mumble a quiet chant. The gentle cadence and low tone seems to ease my tension and I feel myself getting drowsy. I should stay awake and think of a way out of this but I feel safe, floating deeper into unconsciousness until my senses blur and there is just warmth, softness and sandalwood.
***********
"You have a visitor."
My eyes flick open. Daylight! Where did that come from? My eyes focus on a small brownish shape close to my face. A small rat is looking at me expectantly.
"Ugh!" I squeal and push myself backwards against the rock wall. The rat looks equally startled and runs behind a small pile of rocks. I sit up too quickly and yelp loudly as a sharp pain skewers my stiff neck.
"Ow! I hate sleeping outdoors. Oh and look at my jacket!"
I have been sleeping on it apparently. It's a crumpled filthy mess; yet another article of my clothing has bitten the sartorial dust. I should be called Buffy the wardrobe destroyer.
"Tara did you... "
She's not here. I look around desperately, foolishly. There's only four or five feet of space to search and it would not be possible to hide anything bigger than that rat.
"Fuck!"
Now I don't normally swear but in this case I think it is reasonable. A scrap of paper pinned by a rock catches my eye. As I fear, it's a note from Tara.
'Dear Buffy, I don't want to be any more trouble to you and I know the first wizard will not hurt you if I am not here so I have given myself up. Don't try to rescue me. It will be too late by the time you read this message anyway. For what it is worth you will always be my hero, my family. No one ever stood up for me the way you did. Give my love to Dawn and Willow. Love Tara. PS: please find a good home for Miss Kitty. PPS: be happy, your friends love you. PPPS: I love you.'
"Fuck!"
I snatch up my ruined jacket and start to run down the narrow rock-walled passage not hesitating to worry whether the magician still has his dragon flunkies on guard. There is nothing there. Tara was what they wanted and they had her... or maybe not. I skid to a halt. The rat! Maybe he turned Tara into a rat or maybe she did it herself.
Berating my own stupidity and praying that the little creature hasn't disappeared, I run back up to the dead end. Scrabbling amongst the small rock fall where the rat had hidden, I see a flash of brown and make a grab for the Tara-rat and promptly drop it again as the little brute bites me. Memories of history class and the black death come back to me. Wasn't that something to do with rats? My unusual foray into the past comes to a rapid halt as the rat makes a break for freedom. I throw my jacket over it, scooping it up. It squeaks pathetically and I feel a rush of affection for the poor little thing.
I need to get home, back to Willow and hope to God she can sort this mess out. I set off at a jog, all the while whispering soothing words to the little animal in my jacket, ignoring the curious looks from passers-by, praying not to meet anyone I know and trying not to imagine the state of my hair or clothing.
********
Willow, Xander and Dawn are in the kitchen as I crash through the backdoor. They look relieved.
"Starting to worry here Buff," Xander says, smiling. His expression darkens in slight disapproval as he takes in the lock dangling from the back door. "You might want to review your door opening skills, this is getting expensive."
I ignore him and address Willow.
"Will, I've got Tara here. She needs help."
"Where? She's invisible!"
"No! Rat." I look round the kitchen to find something to place my captive in and eventually settle on a large steel pan. The small rat looks very frightened and I almost forgive it my sore finger. Willow looks at it dubiously.
"That's Tara?"
"I think so. I'm not sure. She was captured by some wizard. I found the rat when I woke up."
"You were knocked out? Are you okay Buffy?" asks Dawn, looking concerned.
"Umm no. I was asleep." I look guilty, well I feel guilty and everyone is always telling me I am an open book so I guess I look guilty and Willow is suddenly a lot less sympathetic though it's Xander who asks incredulously.
"You were asleep while Tara was in the hands of an evil magician?"
"It's not like it sounds. Will, I'm sorry." Her angry eyes are demanding explanation. "We were trapped but safe for a few hours, Tara persuaded me to have a rest and when I woke up I found this note." I give the note to Willow. She reads it with a scowl; when she finishes reading she's not any happier.
"You let her do this? What the hell were you thinking about Buffy?"
"I screwed up I know but we can put this right Will. Well you can anyway... " I finish lamely.
Willow is peering at the Tara-rat. "It's okay sweetie, I'll get you back. Just hang-in." The rat sits up on its hindlegs and squeaks at her. Willow's face softens with love and I have to look away. Remorse, fear and resentment mingle in an uncomfortable cocktail. The remorse I can understand and fear for Tara is still coursing through me; the resentment is just my usual reaction to the pair of them. I'm jealous and I'm never quite sure of whom or why.
"Wait here," Willow snaps at us darkly, "I have to get some supplies. Don't let her escape or eat anything she shouldn't." She stalks from the room and a few seconds later the front door slams. Xander goes out after her muttering about a new lock.
Dawn folds her arms and raises her eyebrows and I feel my hackles rise. It's one thing to be reduced to size by Willow but I am not taking criticism from my little sister. She has just read the note.
"What?" I challenge irritably.
"Messed up this time," she says smugly.
"I don't need you to remind me."
She just grins annoyingly then waves the note at me and looks serious. "Buffy, I don't want you to use this to split them up if they get back together."
"What are you talking about?"
She has my attention now. There was something about that note that I have been trying to avoid thinking about, and I'm still avoiding, but Dawn definitely has my attention.
"Tara loves you."
"Yeah well she loves you too, though that is harder to understand." My breathing is slightly rougher but I'm not about to deny my denial. Dawn has no such hangups.
"No, I don't mean love in the friend way. Tara has a huge, Texas sized crush on you - God knows why - misplaced respect for all that self-sacrificing slayerness in my opinion."
"It's not true." I can feel my jaw jutting painfully, I am trying so hard to be sincere. Unfortunately Dawn is oblivious to my determined innocence. She contradicts me.
"Yes it is. But she is hardly going to tell Miss Straight America about her feelings is she?"
Visions of Tara parade before my eyes: smiling shyly at me as we research, looking pale and frightened when I go into battle, laughing with delight at my more spectacular training routines. I really have tried not to notice how often she comes to watch me train or how much I show off in front of her. Outside of fucking Spike (and how weirded out is that little hell of self-abuse) making Tara smile has been the only comfort stop I allow myself on the slow train to Miseryville. Something I've attributed to a special understanding based on our shared unhappiness: both snatched from heaven - me actually and she from Willow. If anyone can comprehend how alienated I am then that would be Tara. Plus she has always understood me and known what to say even at the worst of times. It's her gift.
"Shut up Dawn. Not in front of the rat. Anyway I don't see why you think I would split them up. I would never do that to Willow and in any case, you're right. I'm straight! I'm fond of Tara but not like that." I think I sound convincing.
"All I'm saying Buffy is be careful, don't tramp around in your big boots and ruin everything the way you always do."
"Oh thanks Dawn. Thanks for the vote of confidence. Willow is my best friend and Tara is ... my best friend's love and a good friend too, and I have very small feet."
"Just as long as you remember."
Her attention is distracted by the rat scrabbling to get out of its metal prison.
"Oh she looks so frightened," says Dawn worriedly, "or maybe hungry. What could we give her?"
"Willow said not to feed her ..."
"An Oreo! What harm could that do? All that chocolatey, nutritious goodness. Please Buffy ..."
"Well I guess so. I don't know what rats eat but they must like cookies."
Dawn is already rooting in the kitchen. She produces a packet of Oreos and tears it open, offering the first cookie to me. Enmity temporarily forgotten, we split the cookie in half and each proffer a piece to the rat. After a few moments of cowering, the little animal twitches its little nose and stretches up to nibble the piece offered by Dawn. After a few tentative nibbles, the rat decides it really likes cookies and the Tara-rat finishes the remainder in a few seconds. It looks at us expectantly. Dawn looks at me and I nod. Twenty minutes later the packet of cookies is half-empty. Neither of us hear Willow return until she is standing right behind us.
"Oreos?"
We jump guiltily and I drop a cookie on the rat's head. She squeaks excitedly - either in terror or gratitude.
"Hey they're harmless aren't they?" Aren't they?" I ask pathetically.
"Yeah but Tara hates Oreos. I guess her rat-tastes are different." Willow shrugs as she watches the rat demolish the cookie and then scuttle round the pan, happily wading in the crumbs.
"Have you got everything you need?" I ask, impatient to get on with this. I want to get Tara back so I can stop feeling wretched about her and go back to feeling wretched about the rest of my 'new' lease of life.
"Mostly but I'm a bit short of dried witch's butter."
"Ew," squeaks Dawn making a noise not unlike the rat. "Is that like... made from witch's milk?"
"No moron, it's a mushroom" I explain smugly. Willow looks as astonished as Dawn. "What? Am I too dumb to know anything? Actually Tara showed me some. I thought ... well like Dawn ... ew..." I trail off feeling a bit sheepish.
Dawn glares at me and mutters irritably "And you call me a moron."
"Can we concentrate here people?" Willow interrupts the sisterly banter. She doesn't sound too patient. "I've pretty much understood this animal transformation malarkey but it can still be hard to reverse. I have to find the right combination of chant and herbs to counter the particular spell used. And there are quite a few to try, so lets get on... before Tara is sick on all those Oreos."
An hour passes and my attention is flagging. Magic is too like chemistry and my lack of ability in that area is legendary. The rat looks equally bored. Dawn is on cover-up duty - since Tara will be naked when Willow turns her back - we are taking turns to hold a large blanket to throw over her at the moment of transformation.
I keep replaying my earlier conversation with Dawn and have just convinced myself for the twenty-third time that Dawn's an idiot and Mom must have dropped her on her head when she was a baby.
Tara can't love me; she wouldn't be that stupid. And I have never, ever been interested in women that way... except Faith... yes but Faith fitted that whole psychotic killer personality type that so clearly attracts me and there was the whole slayers under the skin dynamic. Anyway I hated Faith which often seems to accompany wild attraction for me. Look at Spike. Tara is not a slayer, a vampire, a psychotic killer or a man and I don't hate her. She scores zero on the 'Buffy's perfect partner test'. I feel exasperated with myself. Why am I even thinking about this. It's just stupid. My alter ego folds its arms, cocks an eyebrow, and asks snidely 'Then why does the thought of her getting back with Willow, who is (never let it be forgotten) your best friend, make you so antsy?'
A magical glow from the floor is a welcome distraction and alerts me that we may have struck pay-dirt. There's a flash and Dawn throws the blanket over a body that is forming on the floor. A few seconds pass.
"Tara?" I enquire. The blanket slowly moves and a head appears. A dark head.
"Who are you?" says the stranger at the exact same moment that I say the same thing. We stare at each other. Out of the corner of my eye I can see Willow sinking to her knees.
The brunette looks angry. "I don't know who you perverts are but you can tell that blonde chick that glowy eyes or no glowy eyes she can keep her hands off my boyfriend."
"Amy!" I exclaim angrily and Willow agrees tiredly.
"Amy."
"Then where the hell is Tara?" yells Dawn. "Where is she?"
Hollow aching fear opens up in my heart. Tara is lost. I lost her.
TBC
TITLE: Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: PG13 CODE: Buffy/Tara
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
PREVIOUSLY: Buffy mislaid Tara and Willow was not impressed. Buffy has also discovered that Tara has a crush on her. Buffy isn't sure how she feels about this revelation but she does know that she has to rescue Tara from the great wizard who kidnapped the witch.
BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy. I am just playing with their dolls.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
=Chapter 2=
"Willy!" I say, sadly disappointed, "Willy I have a thirst. I have a thirst and you are a barman, yet you are not living up to your calling. I have a thirst for knowledge. So quench it."
I complete my admonition of the barman to whom demons bare their non-existent souls with a firm shove that sends him crashing back into a stack of barstools.
"Think of all the times I've helped you."
"Slayer be reasonable!" he whines from the floor. "I can't tell you what I don't know. And what times have you helped me? I don't remember no help from you."
"You're alive."
"So? I'm human and you don't kill..."
"You should thank me Willy for remembering. Maybe, one day, I'll forget. Maybe today..." I pick him up and set him on the bar. The fingers of my right hand tighten around his throat.
The demon bar is crowded yet not one of Willy's customers lifts a finger or even their heads to watch. He's on his own with the slayer that not even a hell-god could kill. I sometimes wonder how Willy has lived this long, a known snitch without any apparent friends or allies. He must mix a mean 0 Neg cocktail.
"...and I have only your word that you are human." I look over at Clem whose scrofulous dangly bits are shaking with amusement. "Is Willy human?" I ask.
"Human!" exclaims Clem jovially. "It never occurred to me that he might be human. I mean why wouldn't one of these fine fellas eat him? In fact I might be persuaded myself, if I were of that persuasion of course." Clem looks a little nervous. His diet is something we have never discussed although Spike has hinted to me occasionally that there are very few stray cats in Sunnydale and it's not because of effective contraception.
"Okay Willy here are your choices. If you're a demon I'll have to kill you - after all it's my sacred duty - then again if you're human, Clem here has some interesting recipes he'd like to try on his friends; however there is a third way: just spill everything you know about this great wizard and we'll let your true self remain a scummy little secret." My hand squeezes his scrawny throat harder. He'll have bruises and his face has turned a disgusting shade of purple. He thrashes helplessly. I release the pressure enough to let him breathe and speak.
"K..killing me won't save her."
"Her! How do you know there's a 'her' to save? What do you know Willy?"
"Lucky guess..." A squeak of fear spurts from his lips as I shove him hard, propelling him across the bar. Angry adrenaline and worry are not a safe mixture in slayer. I vault over and pick him up by the lapels of his dirty coat, slamming him against the wall, taking satisfaction in his loud grunt as the air is driven from his lungs. I am controlling myself but only barely.
"One last time Willy. What do you know about The First Wizard?"
Willy is crumbling. "Alright! alright! I'll tell you what I heard but it ain't much. He's outta town. North of the 'dale in the hills. He's set up shop in an old cave. I don't know where exactly."
"Think harder," I growl and slam the little weasel against the wall again.
"Hey! I'm co-operating."
"Was there ever any doubt that you would?" Bang! Willy's head thumps against the wall. Willy can see I'm more than a little out of control. His eyes are frantically swivelling, looking for some kind of escape.
"Ow! Please don't do that," he snivels as I continue to assault the wall with his head. "He's got these girls... witches... imprisoned in the cave... not what he's looking for though. He hasn't found Her yet."
"What are you babbling about? Where is Tara? What has he done with her?" I ask roughly, shaking the the snitch like a rattle.
"I don't know anything about no Tara. He's looking for a great witch. An evil sorceress. I don't know the details... just that his sidekicks are in town asking a lot of questions."
"And where will I find these overly curious vermin? I'd like a chat with them... before I kill them."
"I think that youse are a little confused slayer."
Willy's tone has changed. There's a confidence there that's almost cockiness. He's realised something and that something has changed the balance of power. I don't know how but I do know that feeling of the ground shifting unexpectedly: this is Southern Cal after all. I set him down. A small grin appears on his face. Willy is cool in a crisis, I'll grant him that, maybe that's the secret of his surprisingly long life.
"In what way am I confused Willy? And this had better be good because that wall is already missing its regular encounters with your skull."
I can't believe it - I must be losing my mastery of intimidation - Willy is actually smirking. Yep there is actual hilarity in his beady black eyes.
"I don't think you should be disrespecting him or his supporters that way slayer. After all He is one of yours. The-powers-that-be won't like two of their champions facing off."
"What?" I am openly mystified.
"Don't you get it? The First Wizard is one of the good guys. His boys are champions, every one of 'em... Knights of the Round Table."
"Willy you are so going to get it. I don't know why I let you waste my valuable time. That has to be the lamest..."
"Hold up there Buffy," says a familiar and unwelcome voice. Spike grabs my fist just before it can permanently disconnect Willy's lower jaw.
"Spike! Let me go. I'm warning you."
"Darlin', I don't actually care if you paste Willy's stoaty little face all over the wall but the miserable squealer is telling the truth for once." Spike grins at me and I feel instantly annoyed. Smug British bastard.
Mr blonde and self-satisfied then explains: "Merlin, or the First Wizard as you call him sweet-cheeks, is not a demon: specialises in tracking down witches and warlocks who've gone all evil, and then decommissioning them, permanently."
Despite my overwhelming need to be cool in front of the assembled vampires and demons (who are showing a little more interest now that Spike has turned up and seeing the widespread leering amongst the assembled evil and undead, I strongly suspect that Spike has been boasting about the sudden sexual turn in our relationship of mutual loathing) I can't help squealing in an unslayerlike manner "Merlin! As in King Arthur and the sword doohickey?"
Spike smiles patronisingly. "That would be Excalibur. Yep that's the one."
I don't know what to make of this information. Why the fuck did Giles have to run away to England when I need him. I feel irritated by my ex-watcher's selfish need to get a life and it's an instant before I notice that Spike is still restraining my clenched fist only now he's sort of caressing it. I snatch my hand away from him and step away from both him and Willy. The urge to kill hasn't deserted me though. A large and bulbous demon is making suggestive, revolting gestures with his or her tongue for the entertainment of his or her companions. His or her actions are clearly aimed at me, as his or her friends are watching me closely, snorting and punching each other like a group of high-school males who have sneaked into a strip club.
Clem sees my face and tries to intercept. He isn't quick enough. The sound of a snapping neck is quite distinctive. Every head in the bar turns towards the noise. They are predators and death excites them, however their interest wanes quickly amid loud sniggers. My victim is complaining loudly, his or her head hanging awkwardly at a right-angle to his or her body. A broken neck is obviously only a painful inconvenience rather than life-ending.
Clem shrugs and grins. "Next time, go for the rolls of blubber. That's where her brain and other vital organs are hidden," he advises.
"Thanks Clem." My anger has abated and I feel a little ashamed of my loss of control. I look round for Willy but the creep must have sneaked off while I was distracted. "I have to get back to Willow and the gang. We are going to have to find out a whole lot more about this wizard and then I am going to hunt down one of these knights and force him to take me to Tara."
"Yeah right!" Spike interrupts. "You'll not break them. Lotsa fun trying but they'll not crack. I tortured one for several weeks. Silly bugger died on me and I never got what I was after."
I shudder. Spike reminiscing is almost more loathsome than Spike doing well... almost anything.
"Thanks for the warning. I'll just have to use my brains - not an option that's open to you really, is it William."
"Hey," he protests but the grin is still present. He lifts his eyebrows suggestively. "Very cranky. Very tense. You need a little help relaxing slayer." The whole bar collapses into sniggers and cat-calls. Spike's grin becomes a smirk and he looks triumphantly round his cheering section which is a mistake as he doesn't see the kick coming. A satisfying snapping of ribs provides the percussion accompaniment to the concerto of smashing glasses and bottles as Spike's body crashes into the back wall of the bar.
"Thanks Spike. That really helped. Now I feel relaxed and ready to face another day of slaughtering your buddies." Now it's my turn to smirk and I take the opportunity. Silence falls on the assembled demons except for the pathetic groans from Spike. "See you around." I saunter out of Willy's bar aware of the malevolent gazes following me out the door. Fortunately Willy's customers are not exactly the cream of demonkind and not one of them is prepared to lose their lives taking me on. Idly I wonder if Spike will make it out alive. He has plenty of enemies and in his weakened state some of the jackals might take advantage and have a go. I really don't care. Tara needs me and my demon lover is just going to have to take his chances.
***************
I report back to Willow. She is barely civil and orders me out to find one of these knights pronto - not that she has to - I can barely contain myself. Xander and Anya are already out on patrol while Willow and Dawn are going to try and locate the Wizard using magic. I think I have the easier end of the bargain. How hard is it going to be finding a bunch of men in armour walking around Sunnydale? I walk quickly down Revello Drive towards the center of Sunnydale. It's a beautiful afternoon and most of the local kids are outside riding up and down the sidewalks on their bikes and skateboards. A couple of guys in suits are going door to door selling vacuum cleaners or God - not for the first time I wonder how such a fucked-up place as Sunnydale can look so normal and why anyone still lives in a town with a murder rate ten times that of any LA ghetto.
I hate this town. I have always hated it. Everything's about the killing or the dying. Even the crappy little mall has four funeral parlours who fight it out through a series of discount wars - two coffins for the price of one. The local newspaper has two full time obituary and funeral reporters. I don't understand why anyone with a choice comes here; they must see that there are just too many cemeteries. The dead visibly outnumber the living and many of those dead rest in grander 'homes' than their descendants.
Main street is as normal looking as Revello Drive and there is no sign of any swords or sorcery. Half-an-hour later I have covered the whole East side of town without any luck. I am about to start all over when my cell phone starts to vibrate. It's Xander.
'Buffy. I think we've got something.' He's whispering and I can barely make out his words. 'Meet us by the clock-tower.'
I set off at a run, a slayer run, and there are a few very surprised drivers as they are passed by a girl on foot and in heels. A couple of minutes later, I skid to a panting halt near the old clock tower where Riley and I defeated the gentlemen. There aren't too many landmarks in Sunnydale and the few that there are, all have some association with slaying. Bitterness wells up inside me. I can never get away from myself here and it seems I can never get away. I hate this town and yet I'm back again. Trapped until I die again. And even that will probably only bring a brief peace until I'm recycled once more by my 'friends'. Speaking of whom, there's no sign of Xander or Anya nor any knights in armour. I feel irritated once more. I don't have time to go on wild goose chases except of course I do and that's more annoying than anything else. Is there anything more pathetic than me?
I walk past some bushes and hear an urgent whisper.
"Buffy! In here."
I stare at the talking bush. It speaks again though in a different voice, and not to me apparently.
"She can stay out there! There is not enough room and she is a girl."
"I suppose you would be happier if she was a demon!"
I close my eyes and count to ten. The bush keeps bickering with itself.
"If I have to be squished against someone in a physically confined space, I would prefer that someone to be male."
"Yeah well, if you're talking about up close and personal, I'd prefer two women."
"I know that is one of your fantasies - like the chocolate chip icecream and the..."
"Anya!"
"Guys!" I protest quietly while leaning over pretending to fiddle with my shoes. "Come-on there are more important..."
"To you maybe. We all know that pleasing you is most important... especially for Xander."
"An!"
"GUYS! Knights of the Round Table. Tara. You called me... Remember?"
"Sorry" mutters the bush in stereo. There follows some agitated rustling before an excited exclamation.
"Look over there! The small car parked behind the jeep."
Two men in black suits, ties and shirts are getting out of a small dark grey Honda. They're met by two more men, also in the kind of suits that scream 'I belong to some scary government agency'. These are escorting a young blonde woman towards the car. Somehow escorting is not the right word. She isn't struggling or protesting but it doesn't seem voluntary. Alarm bells begin to ring in my head.
Two more identikit guys get out of the vehicle, both from the driver's door, one after the other. I blink. That's four men who just got out of the driver's seat of a very small car and I could have sworn the car was empty when the first two got out. Two of the men help the girl into the car and then get in after her. I blink again. Either the car is empty or they are all lying down which would be some feat since it really is a small car.
"Weird huh?" says the bush. "That makes ten guys we've seen get out of that car." I can only nod at the weirdness.
The remaining four guys in black are scoping the land with that excessive over-efficient zeal that is normally associated with presidential bodyguards checking for threats. I'm half-expecting someone really important to leap from the Honda. Then I make eye-contact with one of them. We stare at each other, I can see a slow acknowledgement on watching guy's face that I am watching him and he is watching me. It's an orgy of looking. An orgy without sex but with lots of looking. Watching guy says something to his friends and they start looking too. Soon there is walking. I briefly consider running away before I remember that I'm the slayer and they should be afraid of me.
"You there! Girl!" says leading guy loudly in a strange accent. I realise with a jolt of adrenaline that the accent is the same as the shrill wizard I had heard the night before though there was nothing shrill about this man. He is speaking, or rather ordering me to stop, in a dark mellifluous baritone. An idea breaks out.
"Xander. Whatever happens stay out of sight," I mutter quietly to the bush, never taking my eyes off the four approaching men. "I've seen these guys on Revello Drive. They're going door to door. As soon as it's clear here I want you to warn Willow."
The men in black see me muttering and immediately they speed up.
"She is casting!" yells Mr Deep-voice in warning. They break into a run, splitting up to surround me. I point at one of them in what I hope is a magical way. My 'victim' ducks.
"Surrender witch!" The one to my left throws something at me. It hits my shoulder and explodes into a glittering shower of powder. I don't feel anything but I guess that's because I am not a witch. I drop my hands, flutter my eyes and try to look frightened.
"Don't hurt me," I beg and sink to my knees.
Two pairs of strong hands grip my shoulders and arms and lift me bodily back to my feet. I don't try to resist.
"She is not very strong," one of the men holding me is saying in the same weird accent. He is, like the others, tall, big and good-looking in a jock-way. I would bet all of these guys played football in school.
"I don't think this can be the one," says my guard.
"There is magic here. I can smell it," says deep-voice. "We will take her to the inquisitor. The evil-one would be clever, disguising her strength to hide from us."
For a moment, I wonder if the jocks-in-black have guessed at the unplanned plan that has presented itself to me. If they have, they are not concerned. The two men holding my arms march me towards the parked Honda. I don't resist. They open the passenger door and push me inside and get in after me. Immediately there is a weird sinking sensation. The interior of the car vanishes as the seat swallows me. I sink into darkness but it isn't empty darkness. I can feel myself being pushed and squeezed through some sort of semi-solid sponge which closes behind me. I can't breathe or make a noise because of the pressure on my chest and the moist sponge-stuff forcing itself into my mouth and nose and ears. It doesn't taste or smell or feel good. In fact it's like choking on cake soaked in gasoline. My eyes are stinging even though I have them tight shut. Then I feel myself rising, the stuff around me becomes grittier and then suddenly I can breathe. My head has emerged into air and my body is following on behind, the crushing pressure disappearing at last. I am lying on what feels like a cold stone floor sobbing for breath and coughing. Oddly I can hear birds twittering somewhere. There's also some squealing and quiet wailing - I am certain this is not a happy place After a few seconds I open my eyes and blink.
My escorts are sitting on the ground beside me and even they seem to be taking a few moments to recover. One of them pats me on the back as I continue to choke.
"You should not open your mouth while you are passing through the earth," he says a little sympathetically.
I glare at him. "I'm sorry.,," Cough. Cough. Splutter. "That would be me screaming when the car-seat swallowed me."
"It will pass."
I continue to glare until my gaze slides past him to where I can see in the dim light of a burning torch, several girls sitting and lying, chained to a dark stone wall; one of them is crying. There are also a large number of small cages piled in the corner of this cellar or dungeon. The bird noises seem to be coming from there.
"Where am I?"
My kidnappers are on their feet now. They haul me to mine before the sympathetic one answers my question.
"You are safe for the moment witch. You will be questioned soon and I hope you can find it in your heart to tell the truth."
"Oh I'm all about the truth," I say forcefully, dropping the frightened little woman act. I am going to find Tara. "And you guys are going to share some truth with me right about now." I break their hold on my arms and push one aside before spinning to deliver a kick that sends the other man sprawling on the floor, followed by a fierce kick to the side of his head. He sags immediately and I judge he is out of action for a few moments at least. The guy formerly known as my only sympathiser is coming back into the fray and he is pissed.
"Desist Witch!"
"You desist first," I retort very unimaginatively.
He circles me slowly with his fists raised, sneering, "The Lord of Magic will fillet your mind and gut your memories. You will be less than a zombie, an empty vessel, new-born into the world without a past, family or friends."
"Hmm? That sounds almost attractive. I may have to get a consultation after I finish kicking your ass!"
I am now officially frightened, not for myself but for Tara. Suppose I'm too late and the wizard has already given her a magical lobotomy. That would be her second, which is too many in one young life. The fear gives me urgency and I rush him. He half-blocks me but I get in a couple of blows and he staggers backward. I take advantage of his lack of balance to step in and finish him. Too easy. He falls unconscious to the stone floor His companion is stirring again and trying to stand. A final kick to the head sends him back to join his friend on the floor.
At last! Free of distractions. The girls chained to the wall have fallen into a frightened silence; they shrink away as I approach. It's obvious that they don't see me as a potential rescuer.
"Hello." I smile. "I'm Buffy and I'm going to get you out of here."
They look blank and even more frightened. Confused struggle has been added to their mixture of expressions. I guess that they are trying to work out who I am. By the state of their dress it's obvious that they have been here a while.
"It's okay. You don't know me. Umm... Do you guys know who you are?"
More scared silence. A blonde girl about my age shakes her head mutely.
"It's okay," I soothe again. "You're going to be alright." I feel relief, guilty relief, that none of these girls are Tara. A quick look at the ragged towers of cages makes me less happy. They are full of birds, rats, rabbits, mice and a few more exotic animals that I don't recognise. There are even a couple of glass tanks holding snakes. I'm guessing these are the failed escapees. The witch and warlock trawl has been very successful; I would never have guessed that there were this many magic folk, even in Sunnydale. I desperately want to believe that Tara isn't in one of these cages as I hopelessly scan the furry, scaly and feathered inhabitants just in case there's some kind of identifying mark or expression. A blonde rabbit hiding behind a fringe or a bird with a stammer or a shy blue-eyed guinea-pig trying to be invisible. There's nothing to see.
Turning back to the four chained girls I ask "Have any of you seen a girl called Tara?"
The reaction is a little more than I was expecting. All four girls scream and huddle against the wall. They start sobbing. I gape at them, seriously scared now. Something really awful must have happened to Tara.
"What has happened to her? Tell me!" I grab the shoulder of the nearest girl and force her to turn towards me. "You must tell me."
"She is with him!"
"With him," I repeat confused. "In what way 'with him'?"
"She helps him."
I shake my head. "Can't be the same Tara. Blonde, about 5'8", stutters."
The girl nods. "That's her." And then the girl screams and points at something behind me. "That's her!"
I turn slowly and there, protectively flanked by two more former school-jocks turned government-agent wannabees, is Tara.
"B..B..uffy," she says slowly. "You shouldn't have come."
TBC
TITLE: Heaven Must Be Missing An Angel
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: PG13
CODE: Buffy/Tara
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
NOTES: This is set in season six. It is a more cheerful fic than the eps in
season six might warrant. No need to say that really, 'cause amputation of
your leg without an anaesthetic would be a more cheerful experience than most
of season six!
DISCLAIMER: BTVS is the property of Mutant Enemy. I am just playing with
their dolls.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
SPOILERS: Probably. Anything from seasons one to six is fair game.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
== Chapter 3 ==
She looks older. Which is strange as it has only been two days - not even that - I decide it must be the torchlight.
"Hey. It is you. I mean it really is you."
I say this partly for something to say to fill the awkward silence and partly because I want her to tell me that she is really her and not some brain-washed wizard's sidekick or magical floozy.
"Yes. I'm me."
This doesn't actually get us anywhere and the silence returns as we stare at each other.
"So... erm...what's the what then?" I watch her face. She's giving nothing away so I prompt. "Tara, I'm just a bit confused - don't we normally save the innocent?" I point with my chin at the four girls cowering against the wall. She shrugs and makes a cute little face.
"They're not so m..much with the innocent. The animals are innocent though...mostly I think."
Silence again.
I decide to try again. "We were worried about you..."
"I know. I'm sorry but I wish you hadn't come. I'm not in any danger."
"You could have let us know... Willow is out of her mind."
Tara jumps and looks nervously at her companions. She glances back to me, her face sort of trembles and scrunches up uncomfortably - no rabbit facing down headlights ever looked more stricken. Tara Maclay, the worst liar ever, is going to lie.
"I... didn't want to... I mean I couldn't... you know ... hey underground... and no phones... here...and I've been really busy."
"Busy?" I query and allow a touch of sarcasm to enter my voice. "You have a job here now?" She nods at least I think she nodded - I was distracted by the shuffling feet and flapping hands. "That was fast. Abducted one day, gainfully employed the next. I hope the pay is good."
"I do have a job actually. No pay though." She smiles weakly at me, trying to be reassuring. "Reversing animal transformations is slow work... and questioning the prisoners." I don't feel reassured.
"You have a job as an interrogator?"
It doesn't sound very likely. Tara must be reading my mind.
"I know that doesn't seem like me. But I'm quite good at it. People just seem to tell me things..." Tara shrugs and smiles shyly which is the most normal thing I've seen. She doesn't look evil or under some weird mind control. I feel a little less anxious.
"I guess that makes sense. You're easy to talk to - I can see that - and perceptive. You know all my dark secrets after all..." I smile too and the tension eases.
"N..not so dark... B..Buffy." She blushes suddenly as though she has just had an embarrassing thought. "Hey! Do you want to get out of here?"
"I have a choice?"
"He doesn't want you. You're not who he's looking for."
"Who is he looking for Tara? He's kind of on my turf and I know it's wrong of me but I don't really like to share. If there's some big bad here then that's my business."
She cuts in.
"Merlin watches for dark magic vortexes forming in the magical ether. Then he and his champions follow until they track the source. Usually a coven are responsible, sometimes just one person, an especially powerful witch or a warlock. In the last four months, he's tracked a vortex to its origin in Sunnydale. It's a big one Buffy. Merlin says he hasn't seen one this large for five hundred years."
"Merlin... you're on first name terms with the guy now!"
"Not really Buffy. He only has the one."
"Too cool for two names I guess. Am I the only super-hero with two names?" I sneer. Tara looks patient and I mumble "well I have issues too... so he's magical storm chaser guy."
"Kinda. I really think we should talk about this somewhere else." She looks around anxiously and then stares pointedly at the captive girls but somehow I get the feeling that she's not all that keen on having a discussion in front of the suited goons who are still watching me very carefully. The girls are whimpering. I feel sorry for them.
"Are they the cause of the vortex thingy?"
"No. They're just a small time extortion coven, working over local businesses for payoffs. You know - 'pay up or we'll turn your staff into rabbits or m..make your nose turn blue'. They've had their memories wiped and they're gonna be rehabilitated. Merlin has a program in several towns far away from any hellmouths or mystical convergences."
A magical protection racket - only in Sunnydale I muse. "So does he know who he's looking for?"
Tara frowns worriedly and shakes her head. "Not really. Would you like a coffee?" She changes the subject and I take the hint.
"Yeah that would be great - but I need to call Willow and Dawn, let them know..."
Tara nearly jumps out of her skin. "No!" she half shouts and then in response to the puzzled looks bearing down on her (even the witchy mafia stop crying for a moment) adds more moderately "I m..mean you can, l..later... after coffee." She looks at me pleadingly.
"Okay but I don't want to leave it too long. They're really worried about you and really angry with me. I thought Willow was going to turn me..."
"Buffy!" Tara shrieks unexpectedly and throws her arms around me. "Sorry baby. It's just so nice seeing you - I just want to get you alone. I've missed you baby." Surprised I hug her back and then, awkwardly mindful of Tara's note and her declaration of love, start to push her away.
"Tara?" I query as the blonde clutches me tighter and presses her face against me.
"Don't mention Willow," Tara whispers vehemently in my ear. To the goons she just smiles and mutters almost inaudibly "Didn't want to embarrass her...see Buffy's my girlfriend sort of...we would appreciate a little privacy now."
The suits look disdainful and I definitely get the feeling that they do not approve of Tara's display. I'm not sure I approve either - Tara is holding me quite tightly and I have an odd feeling somewhere in the region of my abdomen that is not normally associated with being hugged by a girl.
"As you wish Miss Maclay" says the sharp suit. He and the not so sharp suit trundle off down an unmarked corridor, no doubt on their way to chisel their jaws or press their suits or whatever it is bodyguards or secret servicemen do in their off time.
Tara releases me but keeps hold of my hand. The odd abdominal feeling doesn't go away - note to self - give up anchovies. She leads me towards the open door. We walk hand in hand down a stone corridor for a few yards and climb up a circular stone stairwell - it's amazing how many ancient stone dungeons there are in California.
Tara reads my mind again. "Decor's a bit AD 500 Castles and Gardens. I think the Dark Ages was a comfortable period for him." She finally releases my hand. I smile and notice she's blushing. There's definitely a conversation that we haven't had hanging in the air.
A couple more acres of stone and we enter a circular, high-ceilinged room that continues the 'Adventures of Robin Hood' look. The room is mostly lit by wall torches and a large open fire though a little daylight shoots through two very narrow windows high on the walls. A couple of brown fur rugs that howl (at least at one time they howled) medieval are spread on the stone flags. I notice that Tara carefully walks around them. A four poster bed hung with pale cream linen drapes dominates the room. It's the only vaguely comfortable looking item of furniture.
Apart from the bed, the only places to sit are a heavy dark wooden monstrosity, large enough to accommodate a man in full armour and a small wooden footstool. The other piece of furniture present is a huge wooden chest of drawers covered in strange carvings.
"I haven't really made it a home yet," Tara says quietly taking in my ill-disguised disapproval.
"Yet? You're thinking of staying here!" I exclaim angrily. "What the hell Tara? This is crazy."
"Buffy please calm down. Shut the door and let me explain."
Biting my lip I obey, swinging the heavy wooden door shut on huge hinges. It closes silently.
"Sit over there."
Tara points to the bed. She has sat herself on the huge wooden chair which makes her look tiny, like a doll. I comply and slump down on the edge of the bed only to find that it's not nearly as soft as I had hoped and I yelp. The mattress seems to be stuffed with rocks. So far this has not been a good day. First I lose Tara and spend several hours of my life watching Willow sprinkling smelly herbs over a rat. Then I get hauled through liquified earth, in the process ruining more items in my rapidly diminishing wardobe, just to find that Tara not only doesn't need rescuing but has joined a rival team and seems to have been promoted to trusted sidekick and now I have a bruised ass to go with my bruised ego. I am a tetchy slayer.
"So explain," I grunt tetchily.
"Willow..." says Tara hesitantly.
"Yes I'm getting she has something to do with this. Could be the way you jump on me whenever I mention her name."
"Did Willow ever explain why we split up?"
"Tara I don't really have time for relationship stuff..."
"She used magic on me. Against me. To make me forget an argument we'd had."
I stare at the blonde witch. "Will wouldn't... I mean she would never hurt... I'm sure she thought..."
"She thought it was for the best? Is that what you're going to say? B..Buffy I love Willow and I know she wouldn't mean to hurt me but she did. She assaulted me Buffy."
"That's a little strong Tara."
"Is it? Would it be okay if one of your boyfriends slipped you a roofie. Would that be okay?"
"No. It wouldn't. But this is Willow. She did a wrong thing Tara but she's so sorry - I mean she hasn't told me why you left but she is really beating herself up over it. I've never seen her in such pain. There is no way she would do it again."
"Buffy she can't help herself."
"What do you mean?" I feel a chill.
"Her magic use is like an addiction. She can't stop. She is using it more and more and it's getting darker. That's why we fought. I wanted her to give it up for a while, stop using it for small things even but she wouldn't. Couldn't."
"Tara, I don't understand what you're saying..."
"She is powerful Buffy," Tara interrupts softly and there is pain in her gentle blue eyes. "Think about it. She was able to battle a hell-god; she's mastered telepathy; she even brought you back from the dead; She couldn't do those things without extraordinary power and she's totally self-taught. Those feats needed great darkness... maybe it's all m..my fault...when she battled Glory, tried to take revenge for me, all that hate..."
I can see Tara is rambling a little now but a great neon sign begins to flash above my head as I realise where she is going with this.
"You think that Willow is the source of the magical storm that brought Merlin and his flunkies here."
Tara looks down and nods.
There is silence.
Tara and I are really beginning to get the hang of these silent moments. They're hardly even awkward now. So there's a mostly non-awkward silence while I try and understand what this means. What this means for my family and friends.
"Willow's the big bad" I say experimentally trying out the words. It doesn't sound plausible.
"Not yet," Tara corrects me. "M..maybe together we can stop her."
"I can't slay Willow," I protest.
"No you can't Buffy but Merlin can and if we don't prevent her becoming evil then he will."
"I have to warn her," I say firmly, standing up. Tara's face becomes even sadder. In fact her whole body language is sucking the happiness from the room like an emotional black-hole.
"Do you think I haven't tried," Tara says very quietly. "She won't listen to me."
"You've talked to her about this! When?"
Tara is clearly bemused by my bemusement. "You don't know - I mean I called last night! About five minutes after Merlin cleared me of dark magic use. I called her..."
No way I can believe this. "But she would have told me! I didn't get back home 'til this morning. She sent me out looking for you. She spent hours transforming a rat."
"She transformed a rat!"
"Short version - I thought it was you. It wasn't. Nice girl once she calmed down - nothing to do with Merlin though. Do you think many rats in Sunnydale are actually humans?" Tara raises an eyebrow and I cough and try to focus. "Umm... back to Willow - Tara, she was worried sick. Why would she lie..." I stop and stare at Tara. "Unless she wanted me to find you."
"Or she w..wanted you to find Merlin."
I sit down again abruptly on the bed and grunt at the discomfort. "Ouch! This mattress is harder than Giles' head and even lumpier - how do you sleep on it?"
"Who said anything about sleeping?" Tara says with some feeling.
"Oooh! Do you have something to confess Miss Maclay?"
Tara blushes adorably. "No. Nothing to confess. Just bruises...I don't mean sexy bruises...just from the lumps...in the bed..."
I fake a disappointed grimace. "So no wild sex amongst the warlocks and witches..." She shakes her head and tries to hide behind her fringe. I can't resist.
"I should hope not now you're introducing me to everyone as your girlfriend."
Tara blushes an even deeper shade. "I was j..just trying to stop you talking about W..Willow."
"Why didn't you just kiss me? That's a great silencer."
Tara just looks at me and bites her trembling lip. I realise that she is actually upset.
"D..don't tease me Buffy."
"Sorry. I didn't mean...did you not mention coffee some time back?"
Tara recovers herself enough to say "Sure. There's a machine close by." She gets to her feet as I ponder the strangeness of finding a coffee machine in Braveheart central. "It's kind of a strange medieval coffee machine though," Tara adds with a small grin. She giggles and then blushes.
"This I need to see," I assert and hold out my hand to her. She looks at it and starts to reach for it but then drops her hand quickly, reminding me again of the awkwardness between us. She turns away towards the door. I have to deal with this.
"Tara. Wait. We need to talk. About feelings. Your feelings." There's another silence but this one is full-on awkward. Tara stands looking away from me, her arms wrap defensively around her own body. I push myself off the concrete mattress and stand behind her.
"It's okay Buffy. There's no problem...I'm fine. I don't expect anything." She sounds as though she is about to cry.
"That's not a 'no problem' voice" I disagree. "So I'm correct in thinking that your postscript to the note meant what it said..." Silence and her arms wrap even more tightly round herself as though trying to hold herself together. "You love me not in a friend way," I continue to probe. The silence continues. "Tara." I touch her arm and she jumps. "It's okay. I'm not going to freak."
"No it's not okay," she whispers. "I shouldn't have told you. I really didn't expect to see you again Buffy or I wouldn't have, ever. I'm sorry. I couldn't bear to think that you would never know that you were loved."
"That's fucked up."
She turns to stare at me, her cheeks blotchy and tear-stained. She's shocked.
"That's fucked up." I say again. "You want me know how you feel but only if you're going to die!"
"I didn't want you to feel..."
"Feel what? Sorry for you?" I query roughly. She flinches.
"I didn't want this" she throws back at me, almost angry. "I didn't want awkwardness and arguing and questions and yes I didn't want your pity. You're straight and it's like the most basic mistake any gay girl can make, to fall for an unobtainable straight girl especially a nice one."
"Maybe not so nice," I counter.
She gives a short disbelieving laugh. "Buffy you are maybe the kindest, most honourable person I have ever met. You define nice."
I decide to ignore that - nice is just so far from how I've felt for months. "What about Willow? Does she know about...this?" This thought has bothered me quite a lot since I read Tara's note - what if I contributed to their breakup. Another Buffy disaster in the making.
Tara is meeting my eyes now - hers are soft and tear-filled. She is earnestly explaining.
"I was attracted to you from the beginning Buffy but no more than that - not while I was with Willow. I always knew that it was capable of becoming a full-scale crush but I didn't let myself think about it. When Willow did what she did...I guess I looked to you for comfort. I felt we had both suffered and I blamed Willow for your pain too. You needed a friend and Goddess knows I did. It wasn't a big jump to love."
"You've certainly been thinking about this." This comes out snippier than intended. She nods resignedly.
I don't feel happy about her explanation. It seems dangerously like it was my fault if only because Tara was able to substitute me for Willow so readily.
"It wasn't your fault we broke up Buffy. Our problems had nothing to do with you. I mean I still love Willow and no-one can replace what she meant to me but she needs help that I can't give her."
"How do you do that?"
Tara just looks at me, obviously not knowing what I am talking about.
"You always know what I am thinking - except this time of course - but mostly."
"You are very open Buffy."
"So know me as 'open-book Buffy'. I always thought I was mysterious and deep...kind of."
She smiles tiredly. "Well then I guess I spend too much time thinking about you, w..watching you...worrying about you... I used to know what Willow was thinking but she grew away from me and I couldn't reach her."
So neatly she brings us back to Willow.
"Why didn't you tell me about Willow before. I could've talked some sense into her - you know that Willow got us all into magical trouble awhile back, just before she met you I think, and nearly joined d'Hoffryn as a vengeance demon..."
"I know. She told me about it - she thought it was funny."
"So did I...afterwards. Willow was so guilty - She made cookies every day for about four weeks. Xander got this little gut..."
"But it wasn't funny Buffy. It's who she is or who she could be."
"You're being over-dramatic."
Tara is angered by this. She steps back a little to a safe distance - somehow we had come closer and closer together. "Do you think d'Hoffryn doesn't know whom to choose as a vengeance demon? That he doesn't recognise potential?"
"Like he has some sort of job aptitude test? That's piffly Tara. He just picks on vulnerable women who have been cheated on or mistreated."
"Lots of women are cheated on Buffy. They don't all get invited to be vengeance demons. I'm a witch, like Willow, but we understand witchcraft differently. For me it's something I was b..born to, a gift, a curse sometimes, that I have to honour and treat with respect. For Willow it's like a game that she's discovering, one of those computer games with levels and power-ups. On each new level she can find new powers and has new foes to overcome."
"I know that feeling a little..."
"...but you don't enjoy it," Tara interjects and shakes her head. "Willow is like Faith."
That is too much for me. I step closer, agitated and gesturing and over-emphatic.
"No she's not. Faith's an evil uber-bitch who hurts people for fun." Talk of Faith always pisses me off. She's like this big failure that lurks around me like a bad hair-cut and now the woman who professes to love me is telling me that my best friend and my worst enemy are alike. I know I'm scowling but Tara is not intimidated.
"F..Faith is a damaged neglected unloved child without family or friends who was handed enormous power and then somehow expected to turn into a d..decent reasonable human being without any help from anyone. For you slaying is a duty and often a burden; for Faith it was a wonderful game where for the first time in her life she was always the winner - just like Willow who went from class geek to super-cool Wicca - and they have both become addicted to the power and the game. Neither knows when to stop."
That's the longest speech I have ever heard Tara deliver but I'm still scowling. See that's the reason I really hate Faith: everyone always makes me feel guilty about her because I didn't look after her and save her from her skanky self. Somehow that badly-dressed big-mouthed slut is my fault. Yeah I do have a problem with her.
"Do you have a crush on her too?" I snap childishly. A faint grin appears on Tara's face. She takes my hand and starts to rub the back of it gently.
"You couldn't help Faith and I can't help Willow."
"Honestly? I didn't want to help Faith but I do want to help Willow and I am not going to give up on her whatever you say."
Tara drops my hand.
"You think I don't want that too! I loved her more than life but that wasn't enough for her. When I left her I felt like the biggest failure that ever lived. She is the most wonderful person but watching her sliding towards the Hellmouth and not being able to stop it was too hard."
"You should have talked to me Tara."
The blonde witch nods sadly.
"I should have I guess but you weren't in great shape yourself Buffy and I just couldn't make things worse for you. I also kind of hoped that my leaving would be what she needed to pull it together."
"What the hell do we do?"
I feel frustrated. Stopping evil is usually so straightforward even if it is inhumanly powerful and apocalypsy. I kill the demon of the week. The evil ends. It's all about the slaying. Willow is my best friend. 'So what?' says a little hard slayer voice inside my head. 'You loved Angel and you killed him. You even killed yourself. Death is your gift. It's what you bring.' Thankfully Tara breaks in and interrupts my murderous inner slayer pep-talk.
"I think you should go home. Try and persuade her to talk to Giles. I know he was worried about her magic use. He wanted her to get some formal training in England but she wouldn't leave Sunnydale."
"Because of you."
"Because of you. When you died she wouldn't accept it. She wouldn't leave you in some hell dimension. I don't know why she was so convinced that's what had happened but I've never seen anyone so focused...it made me kind of jealous...and she master-minded the slaying too, kept saying she didn't want you to come back to a big old mess. She took charge of us and we performed miracles. Apart from the slaying she studied magic, researched resurrection, learnt enough robotics to fix the Buffy-Bot, looked after Dawn and Spike, comforted Giles and Xander. She was amazing: strong, caring, tireless but there was such a cost - she was relying on magic to get her through the mundane stuff and then she needed it to keep the miracles coming. She changed, became harder. I don't know what she did as the final element of the resurrection spell but whatever it was I know it was bad. She stopped talking to me about it."
"Great," I mutter dejectedly. Willow's problems are all my fault. Tara is watching me closely. She takes my hand again, her thumb slowly circles over the back.
"I say again, it's not your fault Buffy. She was so sure she could do it and we all wanted her to be right. We all wanted you back so much. Me included." Tara gives my hand a squeeze and tries to smile. I try to smile back. Neither of us does a good job I think.
"So I go home and try and talk Willow into visiting with Giles. What are you going to do?"
"Stay here. Transform rabbits. Keep watch. Give you a heads up. Pray to the Goddess that you get her away from here."
"I don't want to leave you alone here."
"I'll be okay. Merlin is a good man and I am in no danger."
"Even if he finds out about Willow and your relationship."
Tara's certainty wobbles visibly but she still manages a half-smile.
"I'll be fine."
"Come with me."
"I can't. She'll know how I feel. It might be dangerous for her and for everyone else."
"What do you mean?"
"She'll sense my feelings...about you. Now you know and she'll be able to sense the connection."
"Umm Tara...she may know already."
"You showed her the note?"
"I had to..." I start to justify myself but apparently I don't need to as Tara interrupts.
"Of course you would...why am I so stupid? Stupid and selfish and immature and stupid...I should never..."
"It's okay. Calm down. I don't think she thought that much about it - I mean it could have just been sisterly type love right?" Our eyes meet and I know one thing for sure, Dawn has never looked at me like that. The funny wanting feeling in my abdomen is back and other body parts are also sitting up and taking notice. Even my fingertips are tingling. I want to touch her face, feel her skin, stroke her hair. And, this is getting crazy, I want to kiss her.
Tara drops her eyes.
"I d..don't think Willow is that...dumb."
She looks at me again and there is fire in her blue eyes. Her breasts are rising and falling in sync with her deepening breathing. My own is rough and unsteady, I've felt less puffed after fighting nests of vampires however I'm the slayer and action is my thing so I act. One step forward. Not much action but my limbs are only barely obeying me.
Tara steps forward shakily so we are only inches apart, I can feel her warmth. We are staring at each other fearful and wanting. The yearning in my lower stomach has refocused as a taut need. Very slowly I reach out to take each of her hands in mine. She pulls slightly and I have to tighten my grip to hang on.
"You can't..."
"I can't what?"
"Want this," and she bends the last few inches to graze my lips with hers before raising her head to stare into my eyes again.
"Oh I want," I growl and wrap my arms around her neck, pulling her lips back down to mine.
tbc
NOTES: This is a Buffy/Tara fic set in season six. It is a more cheerful fic than the eps in season six might warrant. No need to say that really, 'cause amputation of your leg without an anaesthetic would be a more cheerful experience than most of season six!
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
CREDIT: Anyone who is still reading this!
PREVIOUSLY:
Buffy has found Tara in Merlin's castle. It turns out that Tara was not imprisoned by Merlin but has actually joined forces with him in finding Witches and Warlocks who have gone bad. Tara has also warned Buffy that Willow has been abusing her magical powers and is the source of a great magical vortex that Merlin is hunting and that Willow is in a lot of danger.
Buffy is also disconcerted to find that she has feelings for Tara that are not simply those of a friend!
AND NOW:
"Are you sure Merlin isn't going to chain me up somewhere?" I ask uncertainly. Tara is taking me to meet the great man and I still can't quite accept that he is one of the good guys.
"Yes I'm sure." Tara, who has been leading me by the hand, pauses and glances over her shoulder. "Do you want to be t…tied up? Normally I don't do that until the third date."
"Tara!" I protest and she breaks down in quiet giggles. I put on my most intimidating slayer face which kinda works as she looks a little worried and stutters "I d..didn't mean to…" and that makes me pulls her close and we kiss and cuddle for a minute. I am still a little freaked by kissing my best friend's ex and a girl at that but the freak-out to lust ratio is dropping all the time.
"I wasn't really..." Annoyed I was going to say but Tara interrupts.
"I mean who knew?" she says and I can hear the smile creeping into her voice "...that the Slayer is a prude?" One look at my outraged glare and she takes off running.
"I am not! I'll show you just how unprudish I am Ms McClay." I chase after her along the twisting stone corridors and, just as I am about to catch her and take my revenge in some way that I haven't yet decided, she comes to a sudden stop rounding a corner and there's a collision and we both end up in an ungracious heap on the stone flags.
"Eek! Unh!" is Tara as I knock the legs from under her.
"Ouch!" That is my head hitting a boulder protruding from the wall. "Oof!" that's me again as Tara lands on my stomach.
"Good afternoon my ladies," says a high pitched male voice. I peek up from underneath Tara's elbow and after adjusting my gaze downwards, about three foot lower than where an adult face should be, I meet the concerned gaze of a very old hobbit. I know this is a hobbit because only two weeks ago Xander forced me to go with him to see a marathon session of that ring thing. Anya had refused on the grounds that one of the evil Orcs reminded her of one of her many exes and it was too painful. Dawn laughed in my face. Willow who can normally be relied on to manage Xander's geek-out sessions was out of town so that left me to sleep through the ten hours of interminable swordplay and I can get that at home. There were lots of pretty guys to watch however so it wasn't a total bust.
As I relapse into a mini daydream about Vigo Mortensen and the sweet guy who nearly gets burnt alive by his father, the hobbit meantime is helping Tara to her feet.
"We were umm just practising..." she mutters red-faced and shy and gorgeous. All the heroic actor-boys flee my brain. I sit up as she clambers off me. I miss the weight of her body already and realise that I am incredibly aroused.
"Practicing what?" squeaks the tiny man. He is dressed in what appears to be one of Giles' bath-robes, the ones he thought made him look sophisticated but actually didn't. In the little guy's case the robe is around his ankles and flowing along the ground behind him. He looks more sophisticated in it than Giles ever did.
I clear my throat and try to sound nonchalant which isn't that easy when you suspect there might be a large bump swelling inelegantly on your forehead and you have just discovered that you might be enormously gay, not just a little hand-holding and smooching with your BFF kinda-gay which you had rather been hoping.
"Running away. It's an essential skill in our line of work. We definitely need the practise…"
"I see," he says doubtfully, staring at my forehead. I know for sure now that there's something, probably ugly and eye-catching, and certainly painful, bulging above my left eye. I poke it carelessly and wince.
"Merlin this is B..Buffy Summers, the Slayer."
"This little guy is Merlin?" I exclaim and bite my tongue but too late. Winning friends and influencing people - it's a Buffy speciality. "Of course you are Merlin, I mean obviously you are Merlin," I say and now I sound too friendly like I'm his biggest fan. Play it cool Buffy. "It's the voice...yeah...I recognise it from the other night…So…Hi…Nice to meet you at last without the dragons…or are they pets?" And the stupid is back.
Merlin draws himself up to his full three foot height. "When you have reached my age Mistress Summers you too may be a little shrunken. Why are you here?"
"I was worried about Tara. Going missing like that."
"I thought that you had communicated with your friends Tara," he says reprovingly.
"I did, but the m..message didn't get to Buffy."
"Well I'm a busy slayer - I don't always pick up my messages." I am not about to apologise to this mini-Giles.
"Well I think two of my knights would have been happier if you had picked up your messages." He wags a crooked old finger and I find myself apologising after all.
"Umm…sorry about that. A misunderstanding…you know how it is…what with the kidnapping and the dragging through the earth thing. Are they okay?" I ask politely though I really could care less about the fate of his heavies.
"Just concussed, contused and confused," says Merlin who then starts chortling to himself. I am not sure what chortling is exactly but it has to be something like the noise the little guy is making, accompanied as it is by strange tiny facial tics that might be smirking in hobbit-land. I guess he's made a joke. Giles would probably have liked it I think sadly. I miss Giles.
"I have to go home," I say too quickly, getting to my feet. Tara glances at me and I can see her trying to read my mood. "it's okay...I'm okay but I need to get back and see Wi..Wi..Dawn."
"That's an unusual stammer Mistress Summers," Merlin says evenly but there is a glass edge in his shrill voice that wasn't there before. I feel a certain professional respect for his alertness. My brain leaps into action to try and explain my slip. Fifteen seconds later I wish my brain had stayed asleep.
"I call her Wimpy at home and sometimes it just slips out. You know it's like a pet name not that I think teenagers need pet names but she is my sister. Dawn would kill me if she heard me use it in public. Did you know that Dawn's my sister? My younger sister. Yep she is. My little sister and I have to…to go back…home that is…and…er…check on her…Wimpy."
I close my eyes if only to avoid seeing Tara staring at me. Why could I not stop speaking? I'm sure it can't be that hard - other people do it - people who are not soon to be widely known as Buffy the Motormouth and voted person least likely to be able to keep a secret.
"Younger siblings can be a trial." Merlin agrees, nodding sagely though for some reason I don't see him with little brother and sister hobbits waiting at home in a little hobbit house. "You must go then and ensure that Mistress Wimpy is safe," he says mischievously as I wince but there is still some tension in his wizened gaze…or do I mean wizard gaze. Focus Buffy. He has sensed I am lying. Tara must be right I am an open book, well that and a babbling fool! Of course he knows I'm lying - I can only hope that he thinks it is some 'girl' thing.
"Right…I'll be off then…soon…leaving that is. Umm Tara, can I have a word."
"Of course," Merlin says affably now, beaming, "You wish to kiss your lady fair goodbye. Do not mind me young slayer. I like to see young love."
Tara sees the irritation on my face and rapidly steps between Merlin and myself.
"I'll w..walk you out Buffy. Thank you Merlin."
She grabs my arm and tows me away before I can complain about not wanting some pervy ancient guy watching me kiss Tara. As we round the corner she bursts into giggles to the extent that she can't speak although she continues to pull me along.
"What is so funny?"
"WImpy…" she gasps through exploding giggles and snorts.
"Good name for her but you are never to tell her. Ever."
"Cross my heart," she whispers and then stops and places my hand on her chest. I can feel the beat of her heart under my fingers.
"It's very fast," I note aloud. "All that running and sniggering at poor Buffy…"
"No. This is you Buffy. B..because you're near and because you're going to kiss me." Her blue eyes have darkened and my pulse picks up a rapid stutter in response. I push her back a little so she is against the wall and draw her head down to reach my lips. Again it feels weird but right. For a few long seconds we kiss slowly, giving and taking; it's not that different from kissing a boy I suppose except that it is. I tighten my hold and my body is telling me even more strongly that it wants way more than this when she lifts her head a little, nipping at my lower lip before finishing with a very gentle kiss.
"I'll see you soon. Call me."
"Come back with me," I beg her again. "I don't want to leave you here."
"It would not be safe Buffy. Not yet. Now go!" She waves her hand at a small studded wooden door in the wall and it swings open. A flood of California sun-beams push through the opening, scattering light and shadows on the grey stone walls. The space immediately feels warmer.
I duck out through the low entrance and straighten up in the full heat of the sun; I'm expecting Tara to follow but the wooden door swings shut and then I can't see it anymore. In fact I can't see anything other than the stretch of dirty white scrub-land towards the horizon a dirt track road and a low rising rocky escarpment. There is no sign of a medieval stone castle.
"Tara!"
There's no answer. I stare at the empty space in front of me and tentatively feel around in case the castle is invisible but there is nothing to feel except the heated air rising off the desert sand and rock.
"Damn," I swear. Reluctantly and feeling very uneasy I turn to leave before realising that I haven't the slightest clue about which direction I should walk. Plus I am definitely not wearing the right shoes for hiking in the desert.
Without warning a large green neon sign with an arrow appears in front of me. 'SUNNYDALE. Five miles and turn left at the canyon.'
Wondering who could be watching me I glance round nervously. The sign changes to a large flashing red heart. I start to smile but then a pair of sneakers hit me on the head as though dropped from a great height.
"Ow!"
The sign changes again, blinking slowly blue. 'SORRY!'
"S'okay," I say to the sign feeling a little dumb and not sure if she can hear me. There is no reply and the sign fades away.
I sit down on a rock to change into the sneakers. A gangly bird on long legs, and with an even longer tail that is pointing straight up at the sky, is looking at me and for some reason I think it is waiting for me. It pokes about a little in the scrub but keeps watching me until I stand up. When I do, the bird walks a few feet in the direction of Sunnydale and then stops to glance at me, angling its head curiously on one side so it can watch me from one eye. I suppose it has been sent here to lead me home. That's really cute though an SUV with air-con would have been nice too. I follow on and the bird starts to run. It's a quick little thing and before I know it I am charging along in its wake at a full slayer gallop, panting to keep up. Annoyed and sweating I slow down to a fast walk. The bird looks disapproving when it realises I have dropped back but slows too, staying just ahead of me.
A dark smudge is visible on the highway and I realise after a few seconds of squinting through perspiration and a swirling heat-haze, that it is a parked car. I trot towards it and can see at least one person leaning against the side of the vehicle; a woman I think.
"Hello," I call. The figure straightens up and shades her eyes to look at me. She looks sort of familiar. Then I know.
"Erm..Will? Is that you? Wow! It is you!," I call a little too enthusiastically. "This is great. Just who I wanted to see…the very person…couldn't be better."
Willow grins at me and waves and I relax. She doesn't look evil, in fact she looks just like she always has, my best friend and most loyal supporter. The running bird is standing beside me watching Willow curiously. Willow sees it and I suddenly have a very bad feeling. She walks to meet me and her expression has changed from goofy friend to…scary not-friend! Oh my lord. Tara is right. I see Willow mumble a few words and the bird beside me squeaks and then poof, a whisper of smoke. But the bird hasn't disappeared into thin air. It's been roasted just like in a cartoon. I stare in horror at the small brown carcass lying on the highway. The fact that it smells good too makes me want to throw up.
"Willow! What the hell?"
"A spy," Willow says casually. "You've seen Tara?" she asks not dwelling in the moment. I however have a distinct need to dwell in the moment. In fact the moment has me setting up house and moving in forever.
"You killed it!"
"You kill things too," Willow points out reasonably. She's still smiling but now I realise it's creepy, a creepy smile and not at all like my shy and sweet-natured best friend.
"Yeah! Things!" I exclaim angrily. "Demons. Not harmless little animals."
"I don't think it was harmless. Probably not even an animal."
"God!" I yell. "It was human?!?"
"Possibly," Willow agrees without raising her voice. "Whatever. Can we move on from our formerly feathered friend now?"
"How can you just say 'whatever'? Willow what is wrong with you?"
"Wrong with me! You're asking now? I mean why take an interest in me now Buffy? You never have before. But of course I'm all 'evil' now." She makes those irritating little rabbit ear signs as she drawls the word evil and rolls her eyes. "Well I don't have time for your bourgeois morality Buffy. Where is Tara?"
"Safe from you," I answer too quickly. Something like grief is swelling inside me. Willow was a part of my family and I've lost her like everyone else to the fucking bad guys. The knowledge is almost intolerable.
"Well you're not safe from me Buffy so I suggest you tell me where Tara is before I forget that we're friends."
I feel cold despite the burning heat of the desert. I can hear the hunting cry of the First Slayer calling me to slay the evil one. I tell it to shut up and let me think.
"You're my best friend Will. I'm not going to forget that but I won't lead you to Tara."
"It's her fault you know," Willow snaps petulantly. "She left me to cope on my own. I mean she just walked away from me."
"You abused her Will. She had no choice."
"Of course she had a choice. She should have stayed with me and none of this would have happened. I would have changed with her help. But she didn't want to help me because she wanted someone else. She wanted you, the glorious slayer."
"That's not true. Tara loved you, she just didn't know how to cope with your magic use. And you've changed. Believe me."
Willow scowls at me. The heart-to-heart is over apparently. She turns and waves at the car and another figure gets out and comes towards us. It's Amy. I should have guessed she was involved.
"Hi Buffy," she says almost normally but I can see she is frightened, terrified even. And she has reason it turns out, as before she can say another word and before I can deliver the witty comeback, she has dropped to her knees in the red dust, apparently choking. Willow just watches stone-faced.
"Stop it Willow."
"I know there's no point in torturing you Buffy. All that slayer courage - you would never crack. But it's different watching someone else suffer isn't it?"
Amy is on the ground, writhing and making sad little grunting noises.
"I don't care about her Willow. You're wasting your time. Let her go before you lose your only minion. Hard to come by good minions."
"Well you would know Buffy. That's all Xander and I ever were to you. A couple of stupid minions. But you're not fooling me - I know you won't let Amy die even if you don't like her."
"That's not true. About the minion stuff. You and Xander are my friends. I love both of you."
"Where's Tara." Willow has lost interest in our angsty conversation and is back to business.
By this time I am really worried about Amy. She has gone blue and is almost still, clutching her throat. "Look I don't know. I really don't know. There was a castle but it disappeared."
"Where?"
I reason to myself that Merlin is quite capable of hiding himself and Tara from Willow.
"Alright it's about a mile up the road. But there's nothing to see. NOW LET HER GO!"
"Nothing for you maybe - I will find her." Willow looks briefly at Amy and the fallen girl relaxes from the contorted position she was lying in and begins to draw huge shuddering breaths. "Still alive," Willow notes calmly. She looks up, suddenly perplexed. I hear it too. A sound like gathering thunder, growing in volume. We both look towards the source of the noise. There's something in the distance, glinting brutally bright in the harsh sunlight. Something coming very fast.
"The cavalry I believe. Not that they will arrive in time to save you. You have stolen Tara from me Buffy and I'm not going to forgive that."
She raises her hand and begins to wave it while muttering in a strange and unpleasant language. I look around for somewhere to hide but there's nothing higher than my ankle. I look into her eyes that are dark with madness and see nothing that reminds me of my friend. Oh well…She brought me back to life and I guess it is fitting that she should send me back into death. I straighten up, shrug and prepare for my third death. The muttering pauses. Willow has probably just realised that death is not much of a threat where I'm concerned and perhaps she finds this disappointing. Then I realise that she's staring wide-eyed at the remains of the bird she roasted earlier. It is starting to glow and it is getting bigger. Much bigger.
"Merlin!" she swears and runs off toward the car. Amy who has been sitting with her head between her knees also gets to her feet and staggers after Willow. I guess it's better the psychopathic, evil monster you know than the one you don't.
I'm at a loss. If this is a magical booby trap then I need to make with the running but where to run to. Following the witchy Bonnie and Clyde is not an option as their car is already roaring away down the highway, and then there's the shining thunder of God knows what bearing down on me from the South. My indecision lasts less than a second but it's less than a second too long. There is a flash and I am knocked onto my suffering backside.
"Dear God what an extraordinary sensation. Utterly impossible to describe," says a very familiar fussy voice.
"Giles," I squeal leaping to my feet to hurl myself on top the materialised form of my former watcher. A few burnt feathers drift in the rising heat. Too late I realise that it's a butt-naked Giles that I am hugging. "Ewww! No clothes." I roll off as quickly as I leapt on and stand back up, looking anywhere but at him.
"Buffy please...I believe you've perforated my eardrum."
"But what are you doing here? And why have you no clothes? Gross Giles!"
"Yes…sorry about my…er…undress. Sadly clothes are not included in the transformation process, as I am sure you remember from your time as a rat. And I'm afraid I could not delay any longer if I was going to stop Willow from her nefarious…"
"But you were roasted!" Forgetting for an instant, I glance quickly at him, he is getting up, and I almost bite my tongue off trying to suppress another squeal at the sight of all that pink flesh and…dear God…buttocks! This is more horrifying than anything that has happened to me in my life including two deaths.
"I was quite safe thanks to this rather effective amulet actually. Made for me specially by the Devon Sistren Coven. Quite remarkable - like having nine lives or actually four as it is..."
"Giles why are you here. And if you have an amulet then why not boxer shorts."
"Stop obsessing about my unclothed state Buffy. I will explain everything later. Your other rescue party is arriving. A little late of course." Giles sounds smug but unconcerned about the approaching cloud of dust despite his lack of clothing. I more than make up for his lack of concern - the California Highway Patrol are not known for their sense of humour or tolerance for nude Brits.
Then the loud noise is upon us and it is exactly as Willow had said, the cavalry are here - nine knights in polished steel armour on enormous horses. They do not even blink at the sight of a naked man on the highway. It occurs to me that they are all Brits like Giles and maybe this is how everyone behaves in England. Note to self: stay away from England as not good place for sensitive young slayers.
"Where is the witch?" asks one of the knights urgently. I avoid his eye since I recognise him as one of the suited goons I put out of commission early in the day, plus I don't really want to send them after Willow. She is my problem. Giles doesn't seem to share my scruples.
"That way," he says pointing in the direction in which Willow and Amy had driven.
"Thank you sir," called one of the knights as they turned their horses down the highway. One throws a blanket to Giles. They then gallop off at high speed in pursuit of Willow.
"Giles, you sent them after Willow. I know she's evil…"
Giles is wrapping the homespun brownish-green blanket around himself like a toga. He looks like an extra from Braveheart. The look rather suits him.
"Buffy, they are on horseback, each having the power of one horse. Willow is in a Mitsubishi with the power of 130 horses. They are very unlikely to catch her. I feel this is one area that Merlin could usefully modernise if he is to keep up with the modern witch."
"You sound like you know him."
"Our paths have crossed."
"Share," I prompt, sensing a story.
"It was an unhappy incident in my youth. I would prefer to leave the memory there." Giles has started walking along the road. I quickly catch him up, not that it takes much effort. Giles is clearly finding the hot tarmac very uncomfortable under his bare feet which I am so not looking at because they make me all too aware that he is totally bare under that flimsy blanket. I have reassured myself for years that Giles is composed entirely of layers of tweed like a rag doll and is totally lacking any naughty human bits. The trauma of discovering so emphatically otherwise has not got any less in the last sixty seconds. Perhaps Tara is right and I'm a prude - I need to be more grown-up. Giles is still hopping along bravely.
"Doesn't that amulet-thingy protect your feet?" See I managed to say something about his bare feet without gagging. More grown-up already. Giles just sighs.
"It protects me from magical attack Buffy. Not blisters."
"I've missed you Giles," I say happily. It's amazing how tired sarcasm from Giles can make me feel better already. Giles glances down at me and smiles awkwardly.
"Well. That's umm…I have quite missed you too actually. After you, you know…"
"Died?"
"Yes. That. Well life was less…"
"Less what?"
"Just less," he says gruffly and changes the subject. "We need to plan how we are going to free Willow from the Whiffle possession."
I stop walking to exclaim "Willow's possessed?"
"Yes of course she's possessed, by a Whiffle demon I'm certain. Surely you didn't think that Willow would try and kill you." Giles looks astonished and I feel mortified as that was exactly what I'd thought."
"So Willow's magic addiction is all down to some demon called a Whiffle - sounds kinda cute."
"Whiffles are not cute," Giles answers emphatically and again he seems surprised at my ignorance although why he of all people should be surprised by Buffy's empty store-o'-knowledge I don't know. "And no," he adds impatiently. "The Whiffle did not create her addiction. Willow's obsession with magic was the key that allowed the demon to enter her soul and take over."
"Enter her soul!" This does not sound good. Then something else occurs to me - if Whiffles are common knowledge…"So why doesn't Merlin know about this Whiffle demon? I mean Tara was really afraid for Willow, she was sure Merlin would kill her if he found her."
"Most likely," Giles agrees chillingly. "As I said before some of Merlin's methods are a little outdated. And some of his attitudes make his methods look modern." I'm getting the strong impression that Giles, in that stuffy British way of his, definitely dislikes Merlin. I notice that Giles is shuffling from foot to foot - perhaps they are really hurting - but then he asks the 64k question.
"Buffy, I need to ask you about Tara," he says quickly then stops just as quickly and goes to polish his spectacles before realising that he doesn't have any. He is looking anywhere other than at me and is blushing redder than the red sand of the desert all around us, like a chameleon trying to disappear and I guess that's how he feels too. "Are you involved with Tara…I mean...umm romantically…or sexually...?"
I don't answer. Partly because I don't see why it is any of Giles' business and partly because I'm not really sure what the answer is; instead I stare really hard at a cactus by the roadside, which by the way is totally gross and looks like a giant deformed traffic cop directing traffic. By this time neither Giles or I are looking at the other and this bit of the desert is getting some pretty intense scrutiny.
Bravely Giles tries again.
"Buffy I wouldn't normally pry into your personal life but this is important."
I take a deep breath and stare even more fixedly at the ugly traffic-directing cactus. "I guess romantic might describe…I mean she likes me and I like her more than just…we kissed and it was nice, really nice...but no sexy stuff…definitely no sex…well not yet…and may be never…not even sure how…okay I kinda know but the details…I mean what…"
"Enough," Giles croaks. "Thank you Buffy. We can…umm…work with that."
"Giles what are you talking about?" I manage to look at him.
He straightens up and I can see that he is going to deliver a lecture. Nothing relaxes Giles like delivering a big speech.
"The Whiffle demon is a vile parasite; it finds a person who is already weakened by some obsession or addiction, enters his or her soul and then manipulates his or her weakness forcing its victim into more and more self-destructive behaviour. It then feeds on the host's own guilt and despair. The demon drives the host to greater depths: a drug addict thieves from his family; a gambler embezzles her employer's money; a middle-aged man cheats on his wife; an alcoholic hurts her children."
"Not everyone who does those things is possessed," I object.
"No," Giles agrees. "The demon finds people who are innately decent but have some weakness. It needs their guilt to feed upon. A wicked person would not be of any value to the Whiffle demon."
"How do we kill it?" This is the part that interests me.
"They are easy to kill," he says and I am satisfied until the inevitable 'but' arrives, "but only once they have left the host."
Next obvious question. "So how do we make it do that?"
"The Whiffle demon only leaves the host for the final feeding when the host's despair is complete. Usually the host is dying or is about to kill himself. At this point the host's soul is a delicacy as far the Whiffle is concerned. Anyway it has to leave before death else it would die with the host which is of course an alternative way of killing a Whiffle. Simply murder the host."
I stare at Giles. I hardly even notice that one shoulder of his blanket has slipped down.
"That is obviously not an option," he says, his brow wrinkling impatiently. "Our plan must be to force the demon to leave Willow before she dies which will be neither easy nor pleasant. Willow is a perfect victim for a Whiffle: she is gentle, good-hearted, gullible and enormously powerful. The Whiffle will not want to give her up nor release her to death too soon. I have no doubt its objective is to capture Tara, you and probably Xander too and then force her to torment all of you to death or madness. However we may be able to speed up the process and then kill the demon when it leaves."
I have a very bad feeling about where Giles is going with this. "What exactly are you suggesting?"
Giles looks very serious. "I am suggesting that we destroy the happiness of our friend by utilising the demon's own plan against her, by forcing Willow to kill Tara."
TBC.
TITLE: Janeway Redux STATUS: On-going AUTHOR: halfofone RATING: R CODE: J/7 FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome. SUMMARY: Set five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her? SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers. ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where. DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
Set five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would be own Star Trek but it's not and I'm don't. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
===The Delta quadrant - Five years after Voyager first encountered the Devore===
The red alert klaxon woke Captain Chakotay. A second later Voyager shook with the impact of weapons fire. Cursing he scrabbled for his comm badge.
"Chakotay to the bridge. What's happening Tuvok?"
"A warship has emerged from a transwarp conduit off the port bow and fired on us Captain. They are hailing us: demanding that Voyager heave to. We are trying to outrun it but it is maintaining pursuit, and Captain," Tuvok hesitated, "the vessel appears to be Devore in origin,"
"Open fire if you have to Tuvok. I'm on my way." Chakotay struggled into his uniform pants and boots. This was no way to wake up after only two hours sleep. His tiredness abated as the adrenaline pumped through his veins and the Captain's brain kicked into gear. He wondered why Tuvok had said that the vessel only appeared to be Devore. His first officer was always precise. Chakotay picked up his jacket and headed out of his quarters towards the turbolift.
A minute later he was on the bridge. A huge black ship was clearly visible on the aft view screens. It seemed very close. Another burst of green phaser energy bounced off Voyager's shields.
"Shields at 69% Captain." reported Lieutenant Harry Kim at ops. "They seem to know where to hit us Sir."
"Why are the Devore this far from home and what the hell could they want?" Chakotay wondered aloud. "I never thought we would see them again."
"I cannot speculate as to their intentions Captain." Tuvok replied in the same tone of voice he would use if he were discussing a new staff rotation. "However it is probable that the pursuit relates to our contact five years ago. Captain, it should be noted that this ship is not following standard Devore boarding procedures nor is the communication signal consistent with the Devore Imperium. We have attempted to scan the vessel, but we were unsuccessful in penetrating the shields."
Chakotay cast aside any further hypothesising. They needed facts. "Ensign open a hailing frequency to the ship" he ordered and paused momentarily waiting for the link to be established.
"Unknown vessel please identify yourselves and end this unprovoked attack. We will return fire if necessary."
As he spoke the great black vessel fired on Voyager and the smaller ship lurched as the shields flared. Harry Kim was openly worried as he reported "Their weapons seem to be more powerful than in our previous encounters with Devore sir. Shields are now at 23%. Another hit will leave us defenseless." Looking up from his console he hesitated and then continued too quickly "Captain, the weapons signature seems to be... Borg!". The tension on the bridge immediately increased. There could be no negotiation with the Borg and surrender would mean assimilation.
"Tom, evasive manouveures, try and keep out of range of their phasers," Chakotay sounded calm as he continued to give orders, "Harry see if you can slow them down a little, target the ship's engines and fire phasers at will." Turning to Ensign Nicoletti at the tactical station, Chakotay asked quietly "Susan is there anywhere we can run to?"
"There is a nebula less than 0.2 light years from here if we can make it. It should be large enough to hide in and its emissions would disrupt sensors. But it will take at least 33 minutes to reach at maximum warp," the ensign answered quickly and completely. She had been expecting the question - after ten years in the Delta quadrant, crew members knew exactly what was required of them.
Chakotay grimaced. This was a little too uncomfortable then again there wasn't much choice. It seemed his unknown opponent wasn't going to give him any opening. "Tom set course for the nebula, full speed. Harry, report."
"Captain I have returned fire but with no effect. The ship is gaining"
Chakotay suppressed a frown.
"OK Harry let's try and really shake them up. Target engines with torpedoes, full spread, fire at will. Tom. Make sure we don't take another hit."
Voyager's torpedoes hit their mark and exploded around the pursuing ship's glowing engines.
"The ship has slowed Captain," reported Harry Kim, "and it is damaged but the shields are regenerating quickly."
"OK let's take advantage of this and make tracks for that nebula. Tom, quick as you can."
Almost before Chakotay could finish speaking another blast rocked the ship. Some of the bridge personnel were thrown to the ground as power surges shorted their consoles causing a fanfare of pops and small explosions.
Harry's voice rose through the noise "Shields are down and Voyager has taken heavy damage. There are casualty reports from decks 6 to 8. There is a possible hull breach on deck 7. I am reinforcing the structural integrity fields."
"Nicoletti where the hell did that come from?"
The ensign struggled back to her station.
"A second ship has appeared from a conduit between us and the nebula Captain." Another phaser blast shook the bridge.
Hanging onto his console, Harry Kim despairingly issued more bad news: "direct hit on the starboard nascelle. Warp engines are damaged and we are venting plasma. Engineering are trying to reroute power to the port engine."
"We are losing speed Captain" said Tom, "I can't maintain power."
Nicoletti interrupted. "Captain, the second vessel is hailing us."
A voice, which Chakotay had thought he would never hear again except in his dreams, echoed through the bridge.
"This is Janeway, Marshal of the Free Alliance privateer, Fearless. Voyager your shields have gone and your engines are damaged, power down your weapons and prepare to surrender now. Yield and prepare to be boarded." Almost as an after thought the voice added "Or die."
At that moment Chakotay knew that this must be a bad dream. The voice was undeniably that of Kathryn Janeway, former captain of Voyager, but the message was being converted from another language by the Universal translator. The familiar voice and the inconceivable demands continued, resounding in the shocked silence. "Commander Chakotay, obey my orders and live. You have one minute to comply."
"If you have any ideas Tuvok now would be a damn good time to share them. What or whom the hell are we dealing with?" asked Chakotay, unable this time to repress his astonishment. "Is it the Borg? Do they have the Captain?"
"It is extremely puzzling Captain" Tuvok understated though outwardly the Vulcan had betrayed no surprise at hearing the voice of the lost Captain. "If these ships are Borg then they have not identified themselves as such nor do the vessels appear to be Borg in any other respect. The communications we have received from them were not Borg signals."
Chakotay considered the few known facts.
Otherwise unassimilated Devore ships with what seemed to be partially Borg propulsion systems, weaponry and shields, twenty thousand light years from the Devore Imperium. Yet only five years ago the Devore had no transwarp or slipstream drive though of course they may have developed it and had never heard of the Borg. Of course if they really were Devore then perhaps it really was Captain Janeway aboard that ship, maybe she had found a way back to them but then why would she attack Voyager?
He had no answers and in the end it came down to this: Voyager and its captain had been out-gunned and out-manoeuvered. This battle was lost. Chakotay made the only decision possible.
"Tom, all stop."
Voyager came slowly to a halt and the pursuing ships slowed and positioned themselves either side of the small white ship, their dark hulls almost invisible against the space behind. A tractor beam fastened on to the smaller ship, removing any hope of a quick get away. Chakotay looked at the faces around him and tried to think of something to say and failed. Instead he addressed their attackers.
"Commander of Free Alliance vessel Fearless we are prepared to negotiate terms with you. Permission to come aboard is granted."
Tuvok immediately started issuing orders to the crew and readying them for invasion. "All crew are to implement condition yellow. Prepare to be boarded and do not engage the enemy without further orders. The Captain is negotiating the terms of our surrender. Retreat to decks 1 to 5 and 12 to 15 where there is less damage. Security teams are to prepare themselves for a possible defence but repeat do not engage the enemy without orders."
The crew of Voyager waited to meet their conquerors, and wondered what they would see: soldiers of the Devore or the Borg or something else. After an agonising few seconds came the unmistakable whine of transporters and on each deck dozens of soldiers materialised. Harry Kim at tactical recorded over five hundred intruders before the bridge was taken and he was captured and knocked unconscious. The rest of the bridge crew were also rapidly and brutally subdued. The invaders shackled Chakotay and Tuvok together and dragged them into the Captain's ready room. Elsewhere on the ship, individual crewmen found themselves outnumbered three to one. All hopes of mounting a defence evaporated. With no orders forthcoming from the bridge Voyager's crew were swiftly disarmed and the frightened crewmen herded down the long corridors towards the cargo bays where they were held under heavy guard.
Amongst the invaders were indeed many Devore soldiers dressed in their usual black uniforms, however not all of the boarders were Devore; a great many Delta quadrant species were present; even the Brenari telepaths so loathed by the Devore were in evidence and there were many species completely unknown to the crew. But there was one chilling commonality among the invaders: the Borg-like implants visible on many of their faces, arms and hands. Yet these soldiers were not the Borg. These were not silent, implacable, walking-dead men. They were noisy, aggressive and piratical; pushing and shouting, cursing and swearing at their prisoners. They wore no single identifiable uniform and many, apart from the Devore, seemed to have a taste for bright colours. All were heavily armed but even in their weaponry there was variety and an apparent gothic pleasure in wearing lethal looking swords and knives in addition to the more usual forms of hand weapon.
Ensign Vorik watched as a heavily manacled B'Elanna Torres was taken away, still shouting abuse at her captors. The Chief Engineer had put up a fight and two of the invading soldiers lay dead on the floor of engineering. Sheer numbers had finally overwhelmed her, yet the invaders had not seriously injured the Lieutenant despite their own losses. The Vulcan thought that this seemed surprisingly disciplined behaviour for such rowdy pirates.
Still contemplating this paradox, he was doubled over by a blow to the stomach from a creature as broad as it was tall and with no apparent facial features. A guttural voice barked "Hands behind your head you skinny bastard and get in line." The engineering crew, minus their leader, were then marched out in a line, any hesitation or slowness being met with blows. As they marched away a replacement crew from the invasion force entered main engineering.
After ten minutes walking along corridors Vorik could see a small group approaching from the opposite direction. The Voyager engineering crew were pushed against the wall of the corridor and forced to their knees by their escorts shouting and waving weapons in their faces. The soldiers had become very agitated when they spotted the approaching group.
Four figures walked smartly towards them. Vorik took a chance, and looked up to watch them pass. The two beings in front were bipedal, tall, willowy and identical in appearance, dress and movement. Quite irrationally he found himself assuming they were female although they were, in humanoid eyes, quite androgynous. They looked straight at him, their dark heads turning in perfect synchronisation and two pairs of beautiful golden eyes looked into his and then passed by.
They were followed by a brutish animal as ugly as they were beautiful, three metres tall and also bipedal but with a strong resemblance to a Terran warthog with a fleshy face and prominent tusk like teeth. Its body was covered in reddish coarse hair. The creature was lightly armoured and carried no weapons except a curved blade nearly two metres long.
Behind the brute a smaller figure appeared, dressed in a black Devore uniform. Vorik looked into her face and with disbelief registered the features of Captain Kathryn Janeway. Her red hair was cut shorter and she seemed paler and a little thinner than he remembered. Then he noticed her hand, as she lifted a tricorder like device and stopped to scan a power relay in the adjacent wall. The hand was covered with an unmistakable tracery of Borg implants. She did not seem to notice the Voyager crewmen crouching against the wall of the corridor and walked past them impassively.
After the group had passed the prisoners were hauled to their feet and pushed on towards the waiting cargo bays. A wide-eyed Crewman Ryan looked at Vorik and mouthed "Did you see her?" A heavy blow on the shoulder with the stock of a disruptor rifle put an end to any attempt to answer.
==Old friends, new aquaintances==
Captain Chakotay struggled to sit up; the weight of Tuvok's unconscious body which had been thrown on top of him and the chains around his ankles and wrists made it hard to move. The Vulcan groaned incoherently as Chakotay tried to shift him.
"Tuvok. Tuvok are you alright. Wake up Commander."
Tuvok's head was resting on the Captain's chest and Chakotay winced a little when he realised that the dampness he could feel was blood from the his first officer's head wound, soaking through his uniform jacket.
Tuvok stirred and groaned again. Chakotay spoke to him gently, "Tuvok. Try not to move. You have a head wound, it's bleeding and you may have other injuries. I'll help you." Gently he helped Tuvok to ease into a sitting position between his legs so that the Vulcan was leaning against him. Chakotay could clearly see the deep gash in the Vulcan's skull. Unfortunately with his hands chained there wasn't much the Captain could do to stem the bleeding. He hoped it was slowing.
The door to the ready room hissed open and Chakotay looked up as Captain Janeway entered her ready room for the first time in five years. She hardly looked any older than when he had last seen her. He started to smile, Then he saw the Borg implants and fear and horror wiped the smile from his face and the words from his lips. Cold blue-gray eyes regarded him without any hint of emotion. Behind her a huge ugly bipedal warthog had entered the room together with a male soldier in Devore uniform.
Janeway spoke slowly, almost clumsily, in Federation Standard English.
"Captain Chakotay your ship is mine. We will discuss the terms of your surrender." He saw her take in the condition of Tuvok. She spoke in the same slow English and with a touch of regret. "It appears that Commander Tuvok is injured."
She addressed the Devore male by her side but this time the Universal translator kicked in as she addressed him in an unfamiliar language.
"Jerholdt bring Voyager's Doctor here. Let him treat the Bridge crew and then I want him taken to the cargo bay to treat any other injuries." Her voice became lower and menacing as she continued to speak to the soldier. "And I hope Major that the Commander's injuries are not typical of how you obeyed my orders."
Jerholdt looked nervous but replied steadily. "Marshal there have been no serious injuries amongst the Voyager crew although our marines have suffered several fatalities and serious injuries." Janeway nodded slightly to acknowledged his words and turned her back as the Devore left the room. She looked at Chakotay and Tuvok and, for the first time, a hint of a warmth entered her face. She switched to English.
"You don't look very comfortable Captain. Release them Kraal." She ordered quietly.
The warthog grunted and snorted. "It is safer to keep them tied up."
Janeway smiled then and continued in a mocking voice. "Kraal could you be afraid? Or perhaps you think you cannot protect me from such fierce creatures?"
"I can protect you Kathryn from far greater dangers than these pathetic creatures" replied the Warthog grumpily, "but you always like to make my job harder."
Chakotay was surprised at the clearly affectionate tone that Kathryn used towards the unappealing creature. The brute moved with agility and grace as it bent down and took hold of the chain that joined the manacles on Tuvok's hands and ankles. With a twist of his great hands and a small grunt Kraal snapped the chain and Tuvok was able to stretch out his legs. With a similar lack of effort the great beast broke the remaining chains leaving Tuvok with a broken manacle dangling from each wrist and ankle. The brute lifted Tuvok aside from where he had rested against Chakotay, and then Chakotay's bonds were broken equally quickly. Chakotay stood, grimacing slightly as the blood returned to his limbs.
"You could have used the unlocking code rather than destroying the ship's property," said Janeway, grinning openly now at the creature.
"Yes, but I was making a point. Do you think they understood? They do not look very intelligent and it surprises me that you survived as long you did in their company. We took their ship with little effort and they do not seem to be worth the journey," replied Kraal and he accompanied his words with a snort which was utterly derisive.
"Captain Chakotay, you have not impressed my colleague. But then he does not know you or this crew." She paused for a moment. "I am sorry about the manner of our reunion Chakotay but I am operating under certain constraints which made this approach necessary."
Chakotay was silent and his former captain said sharply "You don't have anything to say?". She stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm. "Chakotay you need not fear me. This ship and its crew are still important to me."
Glancing down Chakotay looked at her hand and the dull grey metal threading through it and could not stop himself from pulling away from her. He had never been able to forget his horror at being linked to a Borg hive mind.
"Are you..." his voice sounded hoarse and he steadied himself, trying to overcome the sudden dryness of his mouth, "Are you really Captain Janeway?"
Following his gaze down Janeway looked at her own hand and frowned a little, then she looked into his dark eyes and smiled the same lazy smile that he remembered so well. He remembered also how much he had missed her, missed their easy friendship, how much he had lost. Her smile became sad as she recognised the hurt on his face. Her distinctive low voice was gentle and reassuring.
"It is me Chakotay. An enhanced model perhaps, as Seven of Nine would have it, but none the less I am Kathryn Janeway former captain of the USS Voyager."
Startled again, Chakotay exclaimed "Seven of Nine! Is she with you?"
Janeway's expression darkened and she became brisk. "No. Seven is not with me. But she is the reason that I came looking for you. Look Chakotay I have a great deal to tell you but we will have time for explanations on the way back to Devore space."
Chakotay protested "Kathryn, the Devore Imperium is twenty thousand light years from here and it has taken Voyager five years and a lot of luck to travel that distance. You can't ask us to give up those gains."
Her eyes had hardened from the soft blue-grey of a few seconds before to an unyielding grey, any sympathy, real or fake, vanished from her steel-plated voice.
"I had forgotten how awkward you could be Chakotay. I am not used to having my plans questioned." Kraal snorted a little and looked unrepentant when Janeway scowled at him but the interruption seemed to calm her. She sighed and rubbed her face and said in a quieter voice. "I'm sorry Chakotay but command protocols are a little different in the Free Alliance. I'm afraid you will just have to excuse my occasional bursts of despotism."
She smiled at him reassuringly and her voice was again gentle and persuasive. "Chakotay the return journey will take just one week and, with good fortune, you, and the rest of the crew, will be home in the Alpha quadrant within two months. Trust me I am going to explain."
Ignoring Chakotay's still obvious suspicion, Janeway then knelt down to Tuvok and and hugged him carefully. "Tuvok it is wonderful to see you again old friend."
The Vulcan's face showed some alarm at the embrace despite his best efforts, as well as some discomfort from his injury, however he answered her calmly, as though meeting Janeway at some Starfleet social event. "I am gratified to see you also Marshal Janeway and to know that you are well."
Despite the situation Captain Chakotay was amused by Tuvok's extreme politeness but the Captain felt battered by the revelations and sudden changes of fortune. Kathryn had certainly retained her ability to disconcert and he could not shake the feeling that he was being manipulated. It was important to remain alert to possible opportunities, to recover some advantage. At the moment Janeway held all the cards and he could only go along with her plans whatever they might be. He made a conscious effort to look more relaxed and confident. He walked to the nearest couch and sank down and stretched out his legs and then sat back, smiling at Janeway who had now released Tuvok. She looked relieved.
Kraal was standing watching in the corner; he snorted again and muttered but his alert pose eased and he leaned his great bulk against the wall with one hand resting lightly on the huge sword that he carried.
Tuvok was still on the floor, propped against a step; he sagged slightly and Janeway immediately became concerned. "Jerholdt. Where is the Doctor?" she snapped, presumably to a communicator hidden somewhere on her uniform.
Jerholdt's communicator reply sounded a little tinny "My apologies for the delay Marshal but the Doctor has been less than co-operative."
"Well tell him Tuvok is injured and Captain Janeway says he is to come to her ready room immediately."
She heard Jerholdt repeat her words and then someone gasp. Then they heard the Doctor's voice. "What do you mean Captain Janeway. If this is a trick, it's not a very clever one. Obviously my good man no-one bothered to tell you that we lost the captain five years ago." By the end of the sentence the Doctor's tone had moved from bluster to become smug and superior. Chakotay offered a wry smile to his former captain. Some people never change was the unspoken thought. Janeway did not return the smile.
"Janeway to the Doctor."
She spoke in her most forceful command voice. "I am here in my ready room and we require your services. Now." Her voice became rougher. "In future Doctor if I give an instruction I expect immediate obedience. Deviation from this will not be tolerated and either you or one of your shipmates will be punished. Is that clear?" Not waiting for an answer she closed the comm link, "Janeway out."
There was a momentary shocked silence while Chakotay and Tuvok stared at the ex-captain. Janeway said carefully, "Chakotay it is imperative that you understand that my behaviour in front of my present crew may not be as you remember me. Please do not interfere. You may speak freely in front of Kraal and in front of my first officer Nithqref but no one else. Many of the Fearless's crew may also be trusted but as you do not know them it is better to trust no one. The Devore marines and the crew of the Revenge believe that you are unwilling prisoners and it is better that they continue to do so. To avoid any further complication I think it would be easier if Voyager's crew were also informed of the true situation on a need to know basis only."
Before Chakotay could ask what the 'true' situation was, a buzz at the door informed them of the Doctor's arrival with Jerholdt.
"Enter" said Janeway. The Doctor was pushed, complaining into the room. As he entered his gaze fell on Captain Janeway and he spluttered "Captain it is you. I can hardly believe it."
Janeway did not lift her eyes from the padd she was studying. "You do not have permission to speak Doctor. Treat your patient."
The Doctor opened his mouth and then thought better of it. He drew out his tricorder and moved to examine Tuvok.
Continuing in a voice that would freeze the feathers off a penguin, Janeway turned her attention to Jerholdt. "I want you to supervise the transfer of all healthy prisoners to the holding cells on the Fearless. We will only require a single platoon of marines to remain on Voyager after the transfer has taken place to guard any remaining sick prisoners while the Doctor attends to their injuries. You may then transport yourself and the remainder of your men back to the Revenge. Remember Major, no members of Voyager's crew are to be hurt. If any of them cause you any trouble then sedate them. When the Doctor has completed his work any prisoners remaining on Voyager will also be transferred to the holding cells. Report when you have completed the transfer and the withdrawal. Dismissed." Jerholdt turned smartly and left the room.
Janeway spoke again.
"Nithqref get here as soon as you can and please bring B'Elanna Torres with you." There was no answering voice from her communicator but she smiled and said. "I know. She's a handful."
The Doctor was finishing his treatment of Tuvok's head injury. He hesitated and looked at Janeway warily, then said "I have completed treatment of Tuvok's injury, Captain, but he should really remain under observation in sick bay for at least two days."
"Understood. Now get down to the cargo bays where the remainder of Voyager's crew are being held." As Janeway looked at him, the holographic doctor could have sworn the he felt the room get colder, "Doctor you have your orders. Please do not give me reason to be angry. Go. Commander Tuvok will be transferred in due course to the sickbay on the Fearless with the other injured prisoners." The Doctor hurried out of the ready room without another word. Smiling again, Janeway looked at her former officers, "I should have tried that approach with the Doctor years ago."
Chakotay had at last gathered his wits sufficiently to ask questions. "Captain, er I mean Marshal, what is going on here? Why are you transferring my crew to your ship as prisoners?"
"It is standard procedure. If I did not do it, Jerholdt would be suspicious and I would be endangering everyone. Listen Chakotay I will explain to you as soon as I can but I need to get the crew safely aboard the Fearless first. Suffice to say that I need your help but in return I will ensure that you and your crew get back to the Alpha quadrant."
Tuvok heard her words and noticed the phrasing. "You do not intend to return to the Alpha quadrant with us Captain?"
Quietly, she replied "My home is here in the Delta quadrant Tuvok; I have a family here. I am no longer a Starfleet captain." Both Chakotay and Tuvok felt the world slide a little further off its axis. She grinned lopsidedly. "It is one of the ironies of our lives in the Delta quadrant that Chakotay has become the Starfleet captain and I have become a rebel leader and an outsider in my own space. Lifting her chin she asked, "Would you like to see my family?" There was a mixture of determination and hesitation in her voice as though she wasn't sure that this was the right thing to do but wanted to anyway. Chakotay wondered briefly if Kraal were the lucky man and inwardly shuddered at the repellant images.
Janeway pulled a wallet out of her jacket and opened it. Inside was a picture of Seven of Nine standing with her arm around a smiling Janeway. Both women were dressed in outdoor clothing and they were standing in front of a wooden dwelling, that in the Alpha quadrant would have belonged at one time to an ancient pioneer or backwoodsman. Two small children stood in front of them.
Chakotay felt his mouth drop open again. The two children, both girls of about two and four years of age, were the spitting image of Seven of Nine except for their red hair and the lack of any apparent Borg implants. Janeway returned the picture to her jacket.
"It was taken six months ago on a trip to the back country on Kraal's home world. Two weeks later a faction within the Devore Imperium recaptured Seven of Nine. I have not seen her since. The children are with Kraal's wife in a Free Alliance colony. Chakotay I need you to help me rescue Seven before the Devore kill her."
The pain in her face and the note of pleading in her voice brought all his chivalrous instincts to the surface. He had loved this woman once and been forced to abandon her against his will. It would be nearly impossible to deny her whatever she wanted.
Another buzz at the door brought in a marine officer carrying a report. Janeway was immediately all cold efficiency and discipline. Chakotay slid back into his role of defeated commander and slumped on the couch, watching the small woman as she sat at her desk grilling the subaltern about his report.
Small wonder, Chakotay pondered, that Janeway could see no future in Starfleet. A lover of the same sex, and a former Borg at that, would damn her on two counts. The modern Starfleet expected its captains to conform to norms of behaviour - such stuffy and conformist attitudes had played a large part in Chakotay's decision to leave Starfleet many years before - however even without the unconventional family, he knew that Janeway would have had a hard time explaining to Starfleet many of her actions in the Delta quadrant. That would have been true even five years ago, and it was plain that she had been far from inactive since. There were many possible accusations that could result in a discharge from the service if Starfleet felt so inclined. And, even if all the other matters could be ignored or glossed over, there remained the apparent Borg assimilation of the Captain. Although the assimilation process had been reversed or arrested in some way, Kathryn Janeway was to some extent undeniably Borg.
Another buzz at the door and two beautiful androgynes entered the room side by side, followed by two soldiers holding a handcuffed, gagged but still struggling B'Elanna Torres. The escorting soldiers dumped her on the floor. Janeway looked up from her reading and dismissed the subaltern and the two escorts. One of the latter could not forbear from aiming a hard kick at B'Elanna's head as she lay on the floor. The engineer slumped into unconsciousness. A sharp word from Janeway and the soldier scampered from the room apologising for his existence. It was clear to Chakotay that Janeway was feared by her Delta quadrant crew in a way that had certainly not been true when she captained Voyager. It disturbed him. Trying to be rational, he realised that like a Maquis captain, Janeway may have had to adopt many unorthodox methods; cracking heads was often the only form of discipline widely recognised. That said, she had still changed; brutality towards her crew seemed to be very out of character with the woman he had once known.
Janeway's voice interrupted his thoughts "Captain Chakotay this is Nithqref, my intelligence officer and second in command."
Looking up, Chakotay could see her gesturing at the two androgynes. Slightly embarrassed he said "I am sorry Marshal but I didn't catch which one ....".
Janeway laughed "No you misunderstand, they are Nithqref. One mind, two bodies. Nithqref is a member of the Halquine species. The Halquine have many unique abilities." She smiled gently, more like her old self. "And Nithqref has been a good friend to me."
The tall beings did not say anything aloud but Chakotay could hear a voice speaking in English apparently inside his mind and from the manner in which Tuvok's eyebrow had suddenly lifted, Chakotay guessed he was having a similar experience.
"I am pleased to meet the great Captain Chakotay and you also Commander Tuvok. Kathryn has told me many things about you both."
Collecting himself Chakotay smiled as warmly as he could. "It is a pleasure for me also, Nithqref, to meet someone so obviously valued and trusted by my Captain."
Nithqref smiled - with both faces in unison.
Tuvok had made his greeting telepathically but for the sake of the two humans he then spoke aloud. "You are an entirely telepathic species without any spoken language. I find that most fascinating. How do you communicate when not within telepathic range of your crew?"
Any answer was forestalled by a groan from the engineer lying on the floor. Kraal stepped forward and hauled B'Elanna Torres upright.
"Now the pleasantries are over," he grunted, "perhaps we should do something about your little friend here." B'Elanna Torres scowled at him from behind her gag and struggled.
Janeway grinned slightly. "I should perhaps warn you Kraal, the Lieutenant is not as manageable as many of Voyager's crew."
Kraal wrinkled his nose in what Chakotay had begun to recognise as a sneer. "I do not think this little one poses much of a threat." He unlocked her chains with a key code and as they fell away the engineer unleashed her considerable pent up fury in a crushing kick to the stomach. Kraal found himself reclining on a large chair, several feet away, with the engineer starting to swing at him with his own sword. Struggling to his feet, he threw himself out of the way as the blade crashed down through the seat splitting it in two. A stream of Klingon invective rained down on him as B'Elanna prepared for another swing.
"B'Elanna drop the sword," Chakotay intervened and stepped between them. B'Elanna Torres tried to push him aside. This time he said more loudly "B'Elanna I said that's enough. Put down the sword this instant Lieutenant. That's an order." She stood swaying for a minute the sword half raised over her head. Standing between her and Kraal, Chakotay could see the half-Klingon's sense of self returning. He relaxed. The Klingon battle rage was cooling and she started to breathe more normally.
"One day Chakotay you are going to allow me to finish one of these fights" she grumbled. "You're always such a kill joy." B'Elanna then threw the sword to the floor and looked around her as if seeing the room for the first time. Her gaze lighted on Captain Janeway. Disbelief warred with hope. Hope won.
"So the rumours are true! In Kahless' name Captain." In two strides she had covered the distance, picked the ex-Captain up and tried to swing her round, only to drop her rather unceremoniously on the floor. Janeway looked up at her with a pained expression.
"No offence Captain but for a small woman you're pretty heavy" B'Elanna gasped apologetically.
Kraal had recovered by this time and infuriated by the apparent attack on Janeway, he grabbed B'Elanna Torres from behind, lifted her a metre off the ground and started to shake her.
"Put me down you great oaf" yelled the half-Klingon. "Don't you recognise an affectionate hug? No of course you don't" she taunted. "What am I saying? Who would hug a man who is a dead ringer for a warthog? I'll bet even your mother thinks twice!" Kraal shook her harder and growled with rage.
Picking herself up, Janeway gestured at Kraal to put B'Elanna down which he did reluctantly. The half-Klingon and the Warthog stood and glowered at each other.
Janeway addressed her former engineer with a little sarcasm. "Impolite as it was for you to mention my weight B'Elanna, it is true that a cyber-enhanced skeletal structure does tend to add a few pounds."
The normally fearless half-Klingon stepped back with an ill disguised look of terror. Chakotay was watching Janeway carefully and observed the pain in her expression as she reassured B'Elanna.
"I am not going to assimilate you Lieutenant and, despite the appearance, I have not been assimilated by the Borg either."
"If you were not assimilated by the Borg, Marshal Janeway, then how did you acquire those?" asked Tuvok, his eyes fixed on the implants on her hand.
At first Janeway glanced away, appearing to be annoyed by the question, then she raised her hand, examining the back of it as carefully as though it were strange to her. She half-smiled, another echo of her former easy charm. "I am what you might call a prototype" she explained. Her smile seemed to chill, losing its charm as she added, "Not a satisfactory prototype from my progenitors point of view."
"Five years ago, as you no doubt recall, the Devore were lords of all they surveyed in a very large sector of space. It didn't last. Only months after Voyager left Devore space who should arrive but the Borg and they meant business."
"The Devore are nothing if not determined and well organised militarily; they put up one hell of a fight but like most species, resistance was increasingly futile and the Borg made steady inroads in a matter of weeks. Many of the Devore colonies and slave worlds were assimilated. Just as it looked hopeless, an opportunity fell into the laps of the fortunate Devore - Seven of Nine, to be precise - looking for me." She paused, taking in the varying expressions of her prisoners. "However I think it would be better if I told you this story from the beginning and now is not the time. I need a report on Voyager's space worthiness and a repair schedule. B'Elanna. You are to work with Nithqref and report back to me in two hours."
The note of command in Janeway's voice was still so familiar and current in the chief engineer's memory that B'Elanna Torres responded "Aye Captain" as smartly as any new ensign on her first mission, turned smartly on her heel and had taken two strides towards the door before the engineer skidded to a halt just before the exit, with an apologetic look at Chakotay.
If Kathryn Janeway was amused by B'Elanna's embarrassment she hid it well. "What are you waiting for Lieutenant," she queried impatiently. "Captain Chakotay has surrendered his ship and you are under my command."
B'Elanna stared at her captain, seeking confirmation. Chakotay nodded his agreement with Janeway and B'Elanna left the ready room, muttering what sounded like an oath of some sort. The Halquine followed and further cursing could be heard as the telepath silently introduced itself to her.
"Captain Chakotay, I'm glad that you have accepted your position. We will continue our discussion at eighteen hundred hours this evening. In the meantime please accompany Commander Tuvok to sickbay. Dismissed."
Janeway's demeanour was now fully that of her new, more intimidating self, her orders to be obeyed without question. Chakotay found himself on his feet, almost propelled from his chair by Kraal, and helping Tuvok out of the room before Janeway had finished giving instructions to her sub-ordinate.
"Kraal. Captain Chakotay and Commander Tuvok are to be detained in sickbay. I want you to bring them to the briefing room at eighteen hundred. The Doctor, Neelix and B'Elanna Torres are also to be present." Kraal scowled at the last name. His stomach still ached from where the half-Klingon had kicked him. "And Kraal, no-one else apart from Nithqref and yourself is to attend, or to even know that we are meeting. Oh and see if you can find them some food."
The big beast nodded his understanding. He followed the two Voyager crewmen onto the bridge. "Here we go again," he said to them cheerfully, a suspicion of a smirk on his warty face, "determined to take us through the Haroun Nebula. I feel quite nostalgic."
"Haroun Nebula?" queried Chakotay.
"Normally a metaphor for certain death, only a lunatic would actually plan a crossing. Of course in Kathryn's case, the passage through the Haroun Nebula is historical fact and a turning point in the first Borg war!"
"Then it would appear," said Tuvok, "that Captain Janeway remains as she was in at least one respect."
"You are not reassuring me Tuvok" muttered his captain. "You are not reassuring me at all."
TBC
TITLE: Janeway Redux
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: J/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Set after five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
SPOLIERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 2 - A Captain lost
When her audience were seated Katherine Janeway, Marshal of the Allianceof Free Worlds, and commander of the warship Fearless, stood up and walked over to the transparent aluminium window of the briefing room on Voyager and looked out at the stars. She was nervous. No more so than her guests she reasoned. Glancing over her shoulder she smiled reassuringly at the B'Elanna who had been uncharacteristically quiet. By contrast Neelix had been unable to stop crying or talking up until a few seconds before. He was wiping his eyes, still overcome with emotion at meeting his Captain again. She extended her smile to him and he responded with a teary grin. Slowly, she began to speak.
"It is strange to stand here looking out from this room. I had not expected to ever see Voyager, or any of you again and, if I am honest, I did not intend to try even when I finally acquired the means to do so." Janeway glanced around the room, to see the reaction of her audience range from dismay to sorrow. "Many things have happened to me in the last five years, some terrible and some wonderful. I hope that when you hear my story you will not judge too harshly and you will not feel that I should have left you alone. Whatever you may think, I can tell you now that I would not change the decisions I have made, because for me there has been one outcome of that fiasco five years ago, which makes any of the subsequent suffering worthwhile and bearable. My family. To be exact my wife and children. If I had stayed on Voyager, Seven of Nine and I would never have formed any relationship because I would not have permitted it."
There was a stir in the room at these words. B'Elanna swore gently and wonderingly, Neelix began to cry again but this time he was smiling. The Doctor was about to form words when Janeway caught his eye; he rapidly closed his mouth. Janeway continued.
"I suppose it is something of a surprise to those of you that never really knew Seven. And that probably means all of you." She could not prevent the note of recrimination that entered her tone; she gave herself a mental kick and a reminder that she was here to get their help. Needing a distraction, she walked to the replicator. "Coffee, black." When the mug appeared she picked it up and without stopping took a swig. She promptly spat it out, gasping "It's boiling!"
"I'm sorry Captain." said B'Elanna through laughter. "I should have warned you but I finally got around to repairing the damned thing."
The laughter broke the tension. Janeway grumbled "My first cup of coffee for five years and you try to kill me."
Still smirking at Kathryn's expression, it occurred to Chakotay to wonder how the Devore had survived Kathryn's withdrawal from coffee. She anticipated his question.
"Before any of you ask how I survived even a week without coffee let me tell you that I have found a wonderful Delta Quadrant substitute. Not as healthy as coffee I'll admit but it serves the same purpose." The Doctor groaned aloud.
"Sorry Doctor" Janeway said with a wicked grin. Nursing her cup of coffee, Captain Janeway slouched elegantly down into a chair at the head of the table. There was nothing of the Borg in the way she moved, the innate gracefulness and barely contained energy were exactly as her crew remembered.
"Back to my story. I'll start at the very beginning. Some of you may remember my arrest by the Devore, but Kraal and Nithqref do not. Chakotay has offered to fill in some details of things that happened after I left the ship."
=The Delta Quadrant five years earlier=
Voyager slid through the darkness, creeping away from the malaise of the Devore Imperium. Captain Janeway gazed out of her ready room window. Three weeks earlier the Captain had tricked the Devore inspectorate and helped a group of telepathic refugees to escape. She still felt the satisfaction of seeing the chief inspector's face when he realised that she had deceived him completely. Kashyk was a clever and devious man and he had not expected the forthright and open captain of the Alpha quadrant vessel to display a level of cunning of which he himself would have been proud.
Yet she knew they had been lucky. Kashyk had let them go rather than have to admit to his superiors that he had been fooled. A less arrogant or more dutiful man than Kashyk would have arrested them and faced the ridicule of his peers. She was anxious to be out of Devore space as soon as possible.
Her comm badge beeped - Harry Kim's voice - "A Devore inspection vessel has been detected at 110,000 kilometers off the starboard side Captain.
The captain walked quickly to the ready room door and entered the bridge.
"Report Mr Kim".
"The inspectorate are hailing us Captain."
"On screen Mr Kim."
The Devore Inspector Prax filled the view screen. He had been Kashyk's side kick but not half as charming as his boss.
"I have a warrant to inspect Voyager" he intoned in a dull monotone. "Prepare to be boarded."
"Where is Inspector Kashyk?" Chakotay asked.
Prax almost cracked a smile. "He is on extended leave of absence while he is investigated. Prepare for boarding."
Sighing Janeway addressed the crew. "We are to be boarded by the Devore; please co-operate......in the usual manner."
"What about Voyager's telepaths Captain?" asked Tuvok, himself a telepath.
"Somehow I don't think that the Devore are that interested this time." she replied. "However tell them all to lie low just in case."
She walked back to her ready room with Chakotay and waited for the Devore to make known their demands.
"Devore inspectors have materialised on deck one only Captain" reported Harry Kim. As he spoke four heavily armed soldiers came through the door of the ready room followed by Prax.
The inspector peered at her and smirked "Captain Janeway. I have a warrant for your arrest and detention. You will accompany us back to our vessel."
Janeway stood up. "On what grounds are you arresting me?" she asked calmly.
"Deviation from the prescribed route through Devore space" came the terse reply. "As this is a first offence, your ship may continue on its way but you, Captain Janeway, will be sent to a secure detention centre in the non-Devore Detention and Resettlement Zone"
"Wait a moment" interrupted Chakotay angrily. "What about an investigation and trial. Aren't you running away with yourself?"
"You are unfamiliar with the Devore Justice system as it is applied to gaharay. The procedure has one stage only: detention. Sentences are mandatory."
The cold grey man smirked a little more. "You are lucky that Inspector Kashyk has some very good friends or the charges would have been more serious. As it is the Inspector will have his wrist slapped for a minor omission and you will only lose your captain. Of course, were you to resist arrest then a much more interesting situation would arise, your vessel would be impounded, the crew imprisoned and the senior officers executed."
Looking out the window at the vast bulk of the Devore vessel and realising that others would have arrived in support or would be joining very soon Kathryn Janeway made the only decision she felt to be correct in the circumstances.
"Chakotay much as it pains me to agree with Inspector Prax, we have got off lightly. You are in command now and it is your responsibility to get this ship home."
"Kathryn you cannot be serious. These charges are entirely spurious...."
"They are the local law Chakotay and we knew that when we entered Devore space. Under no circumstances are you to further endanger Voyager by attempting a rescue. That is my final order. Inspector Prax if you would like to lead the way." So saying Kathryn Janeway walked out of her ready room for the last time onto the bridge. One of the Devore thugs moved up behind her and cuffed her hands behind her back. Harry Kim took a step forward.
Captain Janeway put on a brave face. "Don't worry Harry. I have been in worse situations than this. Safe journey everyone."
The Devore transporters removed the captain and her guards from the bridge and the Devore vessels moved off at high speed going to warp almost immediately.
"Pursuit course Commander?" asked Tom Paris who had already started to lay in the coordinates.
"Yes! No! Belay that order! Set course for the Alpha quadrant, impulse speed only. I'll be in the Captain's ready room. Please ask Commander Tuvok to join me as soon as possible." Chakotay left the bridge but still caught Tom Paris' parting comment.
"Yes Commander. I hope the Captain's seat is still warm."
*~~~*
Kathryn Janeway was pushed roughly off the transporter pad by the Devore thug who had been holding her. As she hit the ground her head collided with a well aimed boot and she sagged into unconsciousness. Her last thought was that today she should have been playing velocity with Seven of Nine. She hoped Seven would not be too disappointed.
*~~~*
When she came to, she groaned, her head was pounding. Disorientated, she wondered why she was apparently lying on a hard floor; then the events of her arrest came back also and she groaned again. She opened her eyes slowly, squinting at the bright light and found herself looking up at a pale-pink ceiling. Carefully she lifted herself on one elbow and looked around. She was alone though she could hear voices and shouting. She sat up. Her Federation clothes had been removed and she was now dressed in rough cloth pajamas. There was no blanket but it wasn't cold.
She was in a small cell roughly three metres long by two metres wide. A narrow bench stretched the length of one wall. The three solid walls were of some polymer which she didn't recognise. The ceiling and floor and bench were of the same material. Smooth and flawless. Nothing or no-one held in this cell had ever made a dent or a scratch on those walls. The fourth wall was a double force field and double rows of emergency power supply cells could be seen clearly on the outside. Not much hope of a power cut helping here. A single, bright, light, positioned on the other side of the force field illuminated the cell.
She stood up carefully, walked to the edge of her cell and looked out into what appeared to be a narrow unlit chasm. She could clearly see across to the far side of the chasm about 20 metres away. It was a wall of brightly illuminated prison cells just like her own. Cells were stacked on top of each other as high as she could see and when she looked down she could only see more cells. Three or four faces peered out each one. So far she had this cell to herself which, as it was barely big enough for one person, was some comfort. She also realised that her side of the chasm was probably also a wall of prison cells although she could not get near enough to the edge to see for herself.
There was a lot of shouting between the cells but without her universal translator Kathryn had no idea what any of it was about. Two guards walked up and down a narrow walkway that was suspended in the gap between the two walls of cells but not actually touching either side. The walkway could move up and down and along the chasm like an elevator.
She wondered if she was still on a ship or whether she had already arrived at the detention centre. She dismissed the latter idea. It would take three weeks for the Devore ship to return to the main centres of population and she had not been unconscious for that long. The wound on her head was still relatively new and she certainly had not been without food for three weeks. The pain in her head had subsided a bit but she could feel the dried blood at the base of her skull.
Discussions with the Brenari that she had saved from Kashyk, suggested that the detention centres were actually work camps of some sort although even the Brenari knew very little about them. Just that no one ever came back.
A loud and discordant clanging noise did not help the pain in her head. The noise continued for a few seconds; Kathryn suspected that it was a warning of some sort and probably presaged some daily event. The other prisoners seemed excited; their shouts and screams increased in volume and quantity.
She was swiftly proved correct as a small hollowed out cube,10 centimetres square, materialised on the floor at the front of the cell. The cube was filled with some clear liquid. She picked it up and sniffed. Well it didn't smell offensive. And then tasted it. Water. Realising she was quite thirsty Kathryn drank the water. She then looked more carefully at the container. It seemed quite soft especially where it had been wet. A piece broke off in her hand and she tasted it. It was food. There was insufficient taste to even concern the Starfleet geniuses who designed emergency ration bars but it was definitely food. Disciplining herself to eat the stuff she forced it down. As she did, she slowly became aware of the despairing keening noises coming from the cells around her. Looking out towards the cells opposite she quickly understood why. She could see the food cubes materialising at the front of the cells opposite, short sharp brutal fights determined who would eat and drink that day. It appeared that only one food cube was beamed to each cell regardless of the occupancy. The losers could only sit and mourn and grow weaker, further diminishing their chance of eating or drinking when the next cube arrived.
As she looked more closely she could see the desperate condition of many of the cell occupants. Many just lay motionless on the floors of their cells. Occupancy of the sole bench in each cell was again decided by the relative strength of the occupants; although this seemed to the lost Starfleet captain to be of academic concern as the floor and bench were of identical hardness.
Some hours passed without event. Kathryn wondered how the prisoners were expected to wash or answer the other calls of nature. It occurred to her that perhaps the fight for the bench was not academic after all, perhaps some receptacle would be made available but she rather suspected not. Further observation confirmed this to be the truth. All of which rather puzzled her as the cells had appeared, at least earlier in the day, to be scrupulously clean, in fact you could, and did, eat your dinner off the floor. The occupants also appeared to be clean.
After the passage of yet more time the prison lights dimmed. The cells became quieter although not much. Quarrelling and crying could still be heard. Kathryn tried to sleep but could not get comfortable on the hard bench. She had not been able to bring herself to pee or defecate on the floor but knew it was only a matter of time before it became routine.
Sleep was made harder by the noise of the moving walk ways that appeared outside the cells periodically. The guards shone strong lights into the cells as they passed and shouted at prisoners who they thought were transgressing some rule or other. Occasionally they shouted at her but she could not understand what was being said.
When the lights went up hours later it was almost a relief.
Another loud clanging noise announced the start of one of the most god awful noises Kathryn had ever heard. It set her teeth on edge.
It wasn't for some time that she was able to identify the source of the noise; until she saw a large machine traversing the wall of cells opposite, pausing at the entrance to each cell; she realised that gigantic sonic showers were moving up and down the rows of prison cells blasting everything inside the cells clean. There were several of the beasts moving over the fronts of the cells and it still seemed to take hours.
As the cleaner passed in front of her cell the force fields went down but there was no where to go as the cleaner completely covered the opening of the cell. The sonic settings were much higher than would be found on a domestic shower and the noise actually physically hurt. For several minutes the torture continued and Kathryn's head felt as if it would explode. Then the force fields went back up and the cleaner moved to the next cell.
A short while later the loud clanging noise announced the arrival of the food cube and the start of another daily cycle.
*~~~*
After 9 or 10 days Kathryn was half mad through boredom and sleep deprivation. The daily cycle revealed little more about the operation of the prison than she already knew. Careful observation had shown that prisoner transfers were accomplished by transporting directly to and from cells but she had guessed as much. Apart from that there was little to do other than watch her fellow prisoners fight, starve, go mad and die. It occurred to her that she could do with a little forced labour just to alleviate the boredom. Her inability to understand any of the languages she heard was also driving her insane.
Shortly after the daily food ration had been delivered a guard appeared outside her cell on the walkway and started gesturing to her to get on the bench. With a mixture of hope and fear she realised this was done before a prisoner was transferred to a cell to avoid nasty transporter mix ups.
Seconds later a transporter beam appeared and two forms shimmered into existence. Kathryn felt dismay. One additional prisoner might have avoided any major fights but there was definitely insufficient food for three. Two tall and impossibly slender, impossibly beautiful creatures stared into her face. Their flawless, smooth dark skins shone in the unforgiving cell lighting though their eyes were seemingly lit from within by a dark golden fire. They were apparently identical in appearance, dress and movement. They gazed at her for a moment and then blinked in perfect unison. A noise outside startled them and they looked towards it, their movements perfectly synchronised.
Kathryn was fascinated despite her fear. 'A starship captain can do better than this Janeway' she scolded herself. Smiling in what she hoped was not an offensive gesture for these people she offered the remainder of the food cube that she had been keeping for later. Miming eating the cube she offered it again and wondered which of the two beings would take the offering. To her delight they each smiled, reached out a right hand and taking one half of the bar snapped it in two. They then proceeded to eat the food exactly together. Even when the creature with the slightly smaller bar of food had finished first he (or perhaps she) continued to chew in the same rhythm as its still feeding partner. They finished chewing together and swallowed at exactly the same moment.
At that moment Kathryn heard a strange sound which seemed to be inside her head. It was a voice. She felt panic as the voice continued. At first she could not understand what it said but after a while the words became meaningful.
'I am Nithqref' it said, echoing slightly.
Oh god! I have gone mad thought Kathryn.
'No kind fellow prisoner you are not mad. I am Nithqref of the Halquine.'
Kathryn looked up quickly at her two fellow prisoners. "Which one of you is Nithqref?" she said out loud.
They both smiled and the voice in her head repeated 'I am Nithqref.' Watching her confusion, the beings took pity and added 'One mind, two bodies.'
Kathryn was astonished. In all her years as a Starfleet officer she had never encountered such a being. "Greetings Nithqref of the Halquine," she said, getting a grip on her self as she welcomed them or (was it, it!) to her cell such as it was. "I am Captain Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager."
'I think you will find it easier Captain Janeway if you think of me as Nithqref rather than attempting to classify me with your rather primitive language structures.'
Kathryn laughed aloud. "I wouldn't presume to ever classify you Nithqref. How do you understand my language, primitive as it is."
'I do not understand your language, I understand your thoughts.'
"You are reading my mind as I am speaking?"
'Yes. Does that bother you?'
"Not at the moment. I am just really grateful to be able to converse with anyone." She felt concern from the strange being.
'You must learn the prison lingua franca if you are to survive Captain Janeway.'
"Call me Kathryn. Can you teach me?"
'Not directly as I have no direct access to any language but I can help you. Give me a moment to speak to some of our fellow inmates.'
Disconcerted, Kathryn could understood why telepaths might frighten the Devore. Such abilities were outside her understanding and it was clear that the telepathic species she knew in the Alpha quadrant were not typical of those in the Delta quadrant. However she pushed the fears aside as unworthy narrow mindedness and found the smiling voice of Nithqref inside her head.
'You are a very unusual person Kathryn. Are you typical of your species?' She did not know how to answer that question. Her embarrassment communicated directly with Nithqref. The two elegant faces laughed in perfect synchronicity.
'Do not answer if it embarrasses you Kathryn. To get back to the matter of learning the local languages, I think I have found a suitable teacher for you.'
A woman's face appeared in her mind. With utter clarity, Janeway understood that the woman was dying but she did not know how she knew. "Is it true? Is she dying?" she asked Nithqref. Janeway could sense the sorrow in the Halquine's reply.
'She is dying, and will die regardless, but she wishes that her last act will be to transfer her knowledge to you. She has given her consent. She is Brenari and does not fear me, or this act. I will try and shield you from the worst of her pain but it may not be entirely possible. Do you wish to continue?'
"Are you sure that this will not hurt her?"
'It will do her no further damage Kathryn.'
Kathryn drew a deep breath "I wish you to thank her and to wish her a better life in the next world." Kathryn knew the Brenari were firm believers in an afterlife. After a few moments the face of the woman in her mind smiled.
Nithqref stood on either side of her and placed a hand on each of the captain's shoulders.
'Now I wish you to relax Kathryn and think of as little as possible'
Kathryn tried to think of nothing, staring at the vague marbled patterns in the pink surface of the synthetic cell wall. As she did so, thousands of images and words and emotions seem to play across the surface of her mind. Then she felt enormous sadness and fear and despair. Unable to prevent herself she started to cry. She felt Nithqref enfold her and the sadness seemed to be pushed away. After a few minutes the emotions faded but she knew she would never forget that despair and suffering as long as she lived.
'It is over Kathryn. Do you understand the voices around you?'
She listened to the babble of shouts and screams from the surrounding cells, and gradually came awareness what they were saying.
"Yes. More than one language I think." Her elation was swiftly snuffed out as with deepening horror she realised that not only had she acquired the languages of the dying woman but her knowledge, beliefs and memories also. She could remember the woman's suffering, the fear of her own death, then watching members of her family dying and since they were Brenari, sharing their suffering and fear also. She could feel the hope they shared that the torment would cease and the strength of their belief in better world to come. And all this was just the surface skin of the woman's mind, her immediate past, beneath were layers and layers of memories, feelings and knowledge. Janeway felt sick. It was an act of total voyeurism and she could not close the door.
'It is impossible to separate knowledge of a person's language from their wider knowledge and memories.' Nithqref interjected, trying to calm the swirl of fear and disgust in the small red-head's psyche.
"But these are not my feelings" she protested with angry desperation, writhing physically within the Halquine's grasp as though to escape from the memories she now shared.
'They will fade as you forget them just as they would have faded for her.' The Halquine hugged her and stroked her. Gradually Kathryn stopped struggling.
Still very shaken, her voice quivered as she said "It's like the Borg, I feel as though I have just assimilated someone."
Nithqref's reply was not comforting.
'The process is not dissimilar although the mechanics are different. Indeed there is some speculation that the Borg were once a telepathic race.'
Janeway shuddered with uncontrolled sobs. Nithqref continued to hold her as for the first time in many years, tears rolled down her cheeks.
TITLE: Janeway Redux
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: J/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Set after five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 3 - A new Captain
Voyager - One day after Captain Janeway's arrest and detention by the Devore.
As Chakotay arrived for the briefing with the senior staff, he was aware of the hostility he would face. Tom Paris had been openly expressing the view to anyone who would listen, that it was criminal to have left the Captain with a bunch of Nazis. The crew of Voyager were more familiar than most with that period of Earth history having been forced to enact it in holodeck simulations by the Hirogen. Everyone understood the analogy between the Devore Imperium and the Third Reich.
The Devore oppressed many of the local systems and enforced their power by the ruthless use of slavery and detention camps. They particularly hated the telepathic races and relentlessly tried to eliminate them or imprison them in the many labour camps that supported the military might of the Imperium. It was likely that the Captain was being taken to just such a camp.
Chakotay knew that many of the Voyager crew would be traumatised by the loss and he had expected to have to deal with a lot of anger and distress. The Commander had never in the past had much time for Starfleet counsellors but he could certainly have used one now. Even the former Maquis crew had grown to respect the captain and B'Elanna Torres in particular was completely devastated. Janeway's support and trust over the years had restored B'Elanna's self esteem. The grieving chief engineer refused to speak to Chakotay after Janeway's arrest except in response to matters directly related to engineering operations. Tom Paris' sniping and B'Elanna's silent treatment were difficult manifestations of loss but Seven of Nine's behaviour was something else. It had not occurred to Chakotay to worry about the former Borg's reaction.
Seven of Nine had tried to kill him.
*~~~*
The previous day, soon after Captain Janeway's arrest, Chakotay and Tuvok had been seated in the Captain's ready room discussing the options when the Borg entered without announcement and spoke sharply with barely contained anger. "How do you propose to recover Captain Janeway?" A pair of icy blue eyes interrogated Chakotay and he shivered involuntarily.
"Seven it is customary to sound the door chime before entering the Captain's ready room. The current situation will be addressed at the emergency meeting in 10 minutes." Chakotay felt weary and didn't really feel like dealing with the Borg's rudeness.
Seven of Nine ignored his words. "Voyager is still on a heading for the Alpha quadrant. Why? You are abandoning her are you not" she stated.
"As I have already said this will be discussed by the senior officers, together." A little surprised at Seven of Nine's vehemence Chakotay then said more gently, "Seven, the loss of a Captain is always a tragedy for a starship and Captain Janeway was more than just a colleague, more than just a captain...."
"You speak as if she has ceased functioning. That is unacceptable." Seven was almost whispering and Chakotay realised with astonishment that the emotionless Borg was in pain. "You will change course to pursue the Devore vessel and rescue the Captain," she ordered, her voice strengthening and becoming fierce again.
Chakotay's own guilt and despair made him answer her with a conviction that he did not feel, "Seven we cannot do that. The Devore are too strong and would destroy Voyager and the crew. The captain knew this and her last order was that under no circumstances should we attempt a rescue."
"Do you believe Commander that, were the positions reversed, Captain Janeway would leave you or any crew member with the Devore?"
Chakotay blanched. That was it. The question he had not wanted to ask himself. His rational self answered that such a question was hypothetical and that he had to do what was best for the ship and the crew. Kathryn had often taken what he thought were outrageous risks with the lives of everyone on Voyager. Her self-confidence sometimes bordered on dangerous arrogance but she had the skills, abilities and courage to back up her choices. The alliance with the Borg against species 8472 exemplified both the risk taking and the brilliance.
Chakotay knew with certainty that Kathryn would not have left anyone to the justice of Devore. However he was not Kathryn Janeway. He did not believe he had the right to march Voyager's crew to almost certain death, protected only by his abilities as a captain and luck. In the Maquis he had fought many dangerous battles against heavy odds yet the risks were always carefully considered. The Maquis had too few resources to do otherwise and it was no different now. One bad decision and any hope of surviving and returning to the Alpha quadrant would be lost.
Seven of Nine still stood motionless in front of him waiting for his answer, Chakotay noticed her hands clenching. "Seven..." He paused not quite sure how to continue. "I realise that Captain Janeway meant a lot to you." This was untrue. It was a surprise to him that the Borg cared about anyone. "The captain understood the risks and put the lives of her crew and the safety of Voyager before her own life. We would be betraying that sacrifice if we disobeyed her order."
Seven of Nine answered quickly, "then do not risk Voyager commander, give me a shuttle and I will find the Captain and return her to Voyager."
Chakotay sighed and stared at his hands, resting on Kathryn's table while he sat in her chair. He felt like an interloper, giving orders in her place.
"I cannot do that Seven, we are not yet clear of Devore space and any such action by members of Voyager's crew would be considered an act of aggression. It would endanger the ship just as much as if Voyager itself were involved."
"Ensign Paris is correct." Seven's tone was icy. "You have usurped the Captain and do not wish her to return."
Tuvok moved towards her. "Seven of Nine your analysis is faulty and it is inappropriate to address the Commander in such a manner"
Chakotay stood up and leaned forward on the desk, outraged by her accusation. Before he could put his outrage into words, a Borg-powered uppercut lifted him off his feet and thumped him against the wall behind the ready room desk. Pain exploded in his face. Seven stepped neatly round the desk and picked him up, slamming him against the wall, cracking his head. Two more blows impacted on his chest and he heard a crack of bone. He screamed and lost consciousness.
Caught off-guard Tuvok was slow to react, he finally moved to pull Seven off Chakotay, urgently summoning the doctor and a security team as he went. Her hands were on the new Captain's throat, and Tuvok found it tremendously difficult preventing the ex-drone from throttling Chakotay. It took all his strength just to hold her. Eventually the security team arrived and rushed to assist the struggling Vulcan.
"Fall back" he ordered. "Phasers on heavy stun, fire on my mark!". Tuvok let go of the battling ex-drone and stepped back.
"Fire!" he ordered. The two security officers turned their phasers on Seven and fired. As the phaser blasts struck her she staggered. The impact stunned Seven just enough to allow the newly arrived Doctor to sedate her with a hypospray. Seven of Nine sank to the ground. The Doctor quickly focused his tricorder on the fallen woman.
She'll be fine," he assured with obvious relief.
"Take her to the Brig, said Tuvok calmly although he could not disguise his breathlessness. "Level ten force field and two armed guards," The security team removed Seven and Tuvok turned his attention to Chakotay and the Doctor who was now attending him, clucking disapprovingly.
"I can't do anymore here. Computer - emergency transport, two to sickbay," said the EMH. He sounded urgent.
"Is his condition serious? "Tuvok asked the Doctor.
"It will be Commander, if I stand around here gossiping." With that the Doctor and Chakotay's prone body shimmered and disappeared.
Tuvok looked at the blood staining the wall and allowed himself to admit that the current situation was disturbing.
*~~~*
The Doctor had treated Chakotay's injuries without too much trouble, three cracked ribs, a shattered jaw, a cracked skull and a ruptured kidney were dangerous if untreated but posed no great difficulty for the skills of the EMH. Chakotay was up and about the following day although he still felt some discomfort.
Chakotay now sat in the delayed senior staff meeting aware that most of his colleagues had some sympathy with Seven of Nine even if they thought her actions were extreme. He heard B'Elanna say admiringly, in a deliberately loud stage whisper, "I'll say one thing for her - she certainly stands by her friends. Who would have thought our resident ice queen had it in her?"
Chakotay called the meeting to order.
"I am going to make this brief. As you know Captain Janeway was arrested and detained by the Devore Imperium because of alleged breaches of the law governing their space. Rather than precipitate a fight which she knew we could not win, Captain Janeway agreed to surrender herself in return for Voyager's freedom."
Looking at the expressions on their faces Chakotay hesitated before finishing, "I am not going to betray the Captain by returning on a fool's mission and losing the ship and crew which she loved so much."
Tom Paris opened his mouth to protest but Chakotay spoke first. "I know some of you think this decision is cowardly or worse self-interested but your opinion matters less to me than doing what I know to be correct for Voyager and the crew. There will be no further discussion. Meeting dismissed."
The senior staff looked at each other with shock. Up to this moment they had not really believed that Chakotay would abandon the Captain.
Harry Kim managed to speak "Commander we can't just leave....." He tailed off when he saw Chakotay's expression. Tom Paris was on his feet, complete contempt stamped on his face. He was not intimidated by Chakotay's glare.
"I never took you for a coward 'Commander' Chakotay; it seems I was wrong. Of course you never really respected her did you? Perhaps you felt it was about time she gave up command to you... "
"That's enough Lieutenant Paris! Get back to your station. And that goes for the rest of you. Dismissed." Paris threw him a hate-filled look and stormed from the briefing room. The other senior staff filed out in sullen silence. Last to leave, B'Elanna Torres turned back at the door, hardly restraining the snarl that curled her lips. "How the hell are we supposed to accept this Chakotay?" she demanded angrily.
"You will accept it because I am ordering you to do so and because this is what the Captain wanted. If you can't obey me then at least obey her."
"She would not have left any of us behind Chakotay. You know that!"
He met her accusing glare. "What would you have me do?"
B'Elanna shook her head in despairing frustration. "I don't know." She scowled. "Can I ask what you are going to do about Seven of Nine? Lock her up for saying what everyone else is thinking?"
It was Chakotay's turn to scowl. The ex-drone had left his ribs sore, but she had bruised his self-esteem more with her self-righteous certainty and easy judgement. She didn't have to choose between feelings for Kathryn and the lives of one hundred and fifty people.
"That, Lieutenant, is a matter of ship's discipline and I have no intention of discussing it with you. You are dismissed."
Tuvok who was watching the encounter, experienced some disquiet as Lieutenant Torres tensed visibly and her fists clenched hard. Tuvok prepared to defend his Captain again. It would be unfortunate if physical attacks on the new captain by irate crew members were to become the norm. However Torres didn't attack her old commander; she just glared and muttered insolently "Yes Captain. I will obey!" Her tone of voice suggested that for her this was not the end of the matter. She left the room without a second glance, leaving Chakotay and Tuvok alone.
Chakotay exhaled deeply and put his head in his hands. "I think that was the hardest thing I have ever done." He sat still staring at the table and rubbing the tattoo on the side of his face. "Tuvok. Have you spoken to Seven of Nine?"
"Yes Captain. She is unrepentant and has expressed the opinion that you will not be as lucky next time."
"So what shall we do with her. Keep her in the brig forever? Even if that were possible, and I do not underestimate her ingenuity and determination, it would be a constant drain on ships morale." Chakotay looked perplexed. "I can't resolve this at the moment. Inform Seven of Nine that she is to remain in detention for sixty days and the situation will be reviewed at the end of that time. It will be necessary for her to regenerate periodically. I want her confined in Cargo bay 2 rather than making regular transfers to regenerate. I will authorise the necessary work to secure her regeneration alcove and part of the surrounding area."
Tuvok nodded and turned to go when Chakotay spoke again "Tuvok do you think it is possible that Seven of Nine is in love with Captain Janeway?" He wasn't sure why he asked. It was a foolish notion and Tuvok was the last person to have an opinion on such matters.
Tuvok had seen the distraught Borg nearly weeping, striding up and down the brig like a tiger, calling down revenge on the heads of all her crewmates. "I think, Captain, that is an entirely logical conclusion although I doubt Seven would use that terminology."
*~~~*
Six days later B'Elanna Torres was reviewing the overhaul of one of the class 2 shuttles. She and Ensign Vorik had each been working double shifts, adapting the shuttle and improving its weapons and shields using similar technology to that employed in the Delta Flyer. One adaptation which had intrigued Vorik was the installation of one of the Borg alcoves from Cargo bay 2. When he queried the Chief Engineer, B'Elanna had informed him that the project was confidential and other members of the engineering crew were not to be involved. Vorik maintained total discretion as B'Elanna knew he would.
Engineering had completed work on adapting part of cargo bay two as a secure brig. The additional Borg alcove, which was now on the shuttle, had been removed as part of this work and in the process B'Elanna learnt a great deal about Borg engineering. She applied much of her acquired knowledge to the shuttle enhancements. It rather embarrassed her, looking back at when Seven had first arrived on Voyager, at how ignorant she must have appeared to the Borg.
Seven of Nine had been transferred to the cargo bay a week earlier and access to the cargo bay was now severely restricted. Any requests to enter the cargo bay had to be routed though Tuvok. B'Elanna Torres had been in there on only one occasion, to review a minor problem with one of the force fields. The Chief Engineer was upset by the sight of Seven of Nine, slumped on the floor, entirely defeated. This was not the arrogant stubborn Borg who annoyed her so much but a very vulnerable, unhappy and lonely woman.
The Lieutenant cursed Chakotay for being so ham fisted in his dealings with Seven of Nine. Chakotay could only see the young Borg as a threat and he had never trusted her, despite the many occasions that Seven had saved Voyager. Nothing if not honest, B'Elanna had to admit that she had also been guilty of fear and narrow-mindedness. Only Captain Janeway had ever consistently shown Seven of Nine any kindness or understanding even when Seven was at her most outrageous.
However, seeing Seven in such pain solidified B'Elanna's resolve to carry out her plan. The shuttle was now ready and Torres took time to stock it with supplies she had gradually been squirreling away over the last three weeks. She had logged the shuttle as unavailable for ordinary missions while it was being overhauled. The next part of the plan was unlikely to be so easy for the half-Klingon.
B'Elanna recruited the assistance of Voyager's only child. She knew that Naomi Wildman adored Seven of Nine and had been pestering her mother to allow her to visit her friend. Everyone was amazed when the Chief Engineer started to spend some time with Voyager's youngest crew member, volunteering for babysitting duties and allowing the child unprecedented freedom.
Naomi was delighted at being allowed in engineering and being asked to assist the Chief. Not only that, B'Elanna told the child wonderful stories about Klingon heroes and heroines. Naomi's mother may have been a little concerned at the high body count in these stories but Naomi thought they were wonderful and rather thought that if she couldn't be perfect like Seven of Nine then perhaps she could be a Klingon warrior instead. She added a Bat'leth to the top of her list of desired birthday presents.
After a few days B'Elanna went to see Samantha Wildman and volunteered to arrange and supervise a visit to Seven of Nine, Naomi's mother had been unsure but Naomi was so pleased that her mother stifled her objections. B'Elanna obtained permission for Naomi and herself from Tuvok who had lifted his eyebrow but acceded to the request without any apparent hesitation. "I trust Lieutenant that you will discourage Miss Wildman from smuggling in a hacksaw." B'Elanna looked at him oddly and wondered if he suspected something.
Outside cargo bay 2 B'Elanna decided that she did not want Naomi to see the Borg in such despair and that she had to somehow make Seven act a little more in character, so she went in first, asking Naomi to wait outside. Seven of Nine was huddled in the corner of the secure area.
"Seven - you look like hell!" Not perhaps the most endearing greeting but Seven at least looked up if only to glance away almost immediately. "Seven someone wishes to visit you; I think you will appreciate the visitor." The Borg ignored her and B'Elanna felt a little desperate which quickly became anger.
"Seven I know you have been roughly treated but this attitude is not going to get you released anytime soon."
No reaction.
"Listen you pathetic excuse for a human being and a borg, Kathryn Janeway would be ashamed of you sitting there feeling sorry for yourself. Do you think that is how she would expect you to behave?"
At the mention of Janeway, Seven was on her feet, glaring at the Klingon. "How would you know what she expects Klingon? This collective abandoned Captain Janeway as easily as the Borg would terminate a damaged drone. You displayed none of that much vaunted humanity and concern for the individual, but only your selfish concern for yourselves. Do not presume to understand me Klingon."
Satisfied that an angry Seven at least looked more like herself than the sad creature she had been five minutes ago B'Elanna grinned and called out "Naomi - you may come in now."
Naomi ran in looking as cheerful as ever. Her face fell at the slightly grim surroundings of the cargo bay turned prison and at the two armed guards who were watching carefully. Then she saw Seven and brightened.
Seven was obviously bemused at her visitor but asked in a much more even voice. "Naomi Wildman why are you here?"
Naomi beamed at her and said "To visit you of course silly. I have been trying to for ages and ages but B'Elanna said she would help me." Naomi looked around. "I don't like it here. Why is Captain Chakotay keeping you here?"
Before Seven could explain Chakotay's iniquity B'Elanna interrupted hastily. "Naomi don't you have something for Seven?"
The child beamed and lifted up the padd she was carrying. "I have written a story for you all about...."
B'Elanna interrupted again hurriedly. "Er... Naomi put the padd down here in the food transfer box. Don't tell Seven the story, it will spoil the surprise." To her relief the two security guards were looking amused. B'Elanna felt a momentary guilty niggle at the deception taking place.
"Alright." the child replied a little disappointed, and then said with obvious pride "B'Elanna helped me with some of the difficult bits about engineering and encryption codes but I made up lots of the story and drew all the pictures."
Seven looked at the Klingon and there was almost a hint of amusement in her eyes; B'Elanna reddened and muttered "Just a babysitting thing." She punched the transfer button and the padd materialised on the other side of the forcefield.
Seven looked back at the child and felt warmth for the first time in three weeks. It seemed she was not entirely friendless. "Thank you Naomi Wildman. I will find the information useful. We will discuss it on your next visit."
B'Elanna grinned. "You bet you will. Come on Naomi, the bridge assistant has many other duties to perform." So saying she marched the child out.
Naomi called back as she was dragged round the corner "We can play KadisKot next time Seven and I will tell you a story about a brave Klingon princess."
Seven sat down again and felt her misery and helplessness creep back. But some of what B'Elanna had said returned to her and she straightened her back. The captain would not have liked Seven to be defeated like this.
Seven looked at the padd. The story had a title - "Seven of Nine rescues Captain Janeway." Seven began to read the story and as she read, admiration for the half-Klingon rose in her. Hidden in the story was a detailed plan of escape timed to the second.
Much other data was also hidden in the padd using Borg encryption codes that the Klingon had somehow learned, and these included specifications for the shuttle, command codes and as much information as B'Elanna had been able to find on Captain Janeway's last known whereabouts and the details of her arrest. Seven checked the time; four hours to go before the escape attempt began. The Borg memorised the contents of the padd and then deleted all the incriminating evidence. She did not want Naomi to get into trouble.
*~~~*
Seven walked to the back of her secure area one minute before zero hour and waited. Exactly on time there was an explosion outside and the cargo bay doors blew in. A fire had started in the corridor and the two security men ran to get fire extinguishers from the nearest emergency cabinet. It took them only two minutes to get the blaze under control but when they turned back to the secure area the Borg had gone. A panel was hanging from the ceiling and a hole was clearly visible.
"How did she get up there?" asked one. The other was busy summoning Tuvok, "Commander, Seven of Nine has escaped through a ceiling cavity. We are pursuing but request some back up." The two officers then fetched a box, climbed up and into the ceiling and started to look for the Borg.
Two minutes earlier, Seven of Nine materialised in the adapted shuttle where B'Elanna was busy entering lockout codes to the main computer to prevent anyone seeing the transporter log. She looked up and acknowledged the Borg. "No one knows you are here yet, I have successfully masked the transporter signal. They are all running around searching for you on deck 2, following a trail of false clues. I am going to manually jettison the shuttle in two minutes. Do not activate any of its systems for at least 15 minutes after it is jettisoned or Voyager's sensors will detect you. The only systems working on the shuttle will be inertial dampeners, shields at ten percent and minimal life support. I have installed a form of cloaking that we tried in the Maquis - it only works while the engines are off-line and the ship is using little or no power but it does at least disguise life signs and the power signatures of some systems including the inertial dampeners."
"Lieutenant Torres why are you helping me?"
B'Elanna tried to look irritable to mask her feelings "Seven don't be obtuse. The Captain meant a lot to me you know. You aren't the only one who loved her. Now get going Seven. Goodbye and good luck finding the Captain. I will try to keep them off your track as long as possible." B'Elanna moved to the door of the shuttle, she hesitated and without warning, ran back and hugged the Borg fiercely; not looking back again, the Chief Engineer then exited from the shuttle and ran at the double to the shuttle bay door controls.
A force field went up between the shuttle control area and the launch pad and B'Elanna Torres guided the manual shuttle launcher with Seven's shuttle towards the bay doors.
The launcher was intended for emergency use only and allowed malfunctioning shuttles to be ejected into space in the event of serious problems.
The bay doors opened, hopefully unobserved by any monitoring equipment. B'Elanna had worked hard to hide all these events from internal sensors and warning systems. Seconds later, the launcher catapulted the small shuttle out into space. The shuttle disappeared instantly as it was thrown out of warp. The deceleration from warp speed would have killed the Borg instantly without inertial dampeners.
B'Elanna closed the shuttle bay doors and dropped the force field. She made her way to main engineering having no doubt that Tuvok would eventually work out the sequence of events but determined to give Seven as much time as possible.
*~~~*
B'Elanna Torres stood at attention in front of Chakotay and Tuvok. Chakotay was saying "B'Elanna I cannot believe you helped her do this."
She looked him in the eye. "I more than helped her Chakotay, I thought up the plan and carried it out. Seven just did as she was told. Ensign Vorik had no knowledge of what I was planning. I told him this was a secure project, which he was to mention to no one."
"So you are going to take full responsibility for helping a prisoner to escape, sabotage, damaging ship's systems, misusing Starfleet supplies, stealing a shuttle, falsifying logs and records and causing other Starfleet personnel to also commit offences." He sounded exasperated though B'Elanna noted that there was a certain admiration underlying his voice. She had pulled off a fine Maquis style mission.
B'Elanna pressed her advantage. "Look Chakotay you can lock me up in the brig if it makes you feel better but consider this. What would you have done with her? Watched her go mad in prison? Had her sewing mail bags for twenty years? I have done you a favour. There is no reason or need to go after her. Let her go."
"There is some logic to the Lieutenant remarks, " said Tuvok, surprising everyone including himself. "Seven of Nine has been gone for three days. It would take Voyager more than five days at high warp to catch her, it will take Seven another two weeks before she comes into contact the Devore and by then we will be far from their space. It is highly unlikely that they will pursue us so far beyond their own borders."
Chakotay considered his errant chief engineer. "Why should I trust you B'Elanna. How will I know that you will not pull a stunt like this some time in the future when it suits you to disregard me?"
Torres said nothing.
"I will place a reprimand on your record. In addition you will lose you replicator privileges for six months and will be expected to attend a course on Starfleet command protocol given by Tuvok. You will also fully log all your proposed work schedules with Tuvok and these may be subject to inspection." Torres was gritting her teeth - the loss of replicator privileges for six months was a heavy blow, not to mention all the paperwork. But she knew she had got off lightly. Janeway would have scalped her.
"And" Chakotay continued, "you will bring the remaining class two shuttles up to the standard of the stolen shuttle in your own time without the assistance of your staff. If you step out of line then you will be busted back to ensign and sent to the brig. Dismissed."
Before she turned smartly to leave, B'Elanna grinned cheekily at him and her expression clearly said you know I was right. With difficulty, he prevented himself grinning in return. He watched her leave before addressing his first officer.
"Tuvok I agree that pursuing Seven is a waste of time. Log Seven of Nine as absent without leave." He then said to no-one in particular "I hope she succeeds."
TITLE: Janeway Redux
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: J/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Set after five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 4 - A place to die
The Devore prison ship
Kathryn lay huddled on the hard bench, her back against one of Nithqref's bodies. It seemed like an eternity since she had left Voyager; in reality it was less than four weeks. As she stirred she felt Nithqref in her mind and sighed; sharing a cell with a telepath was more intrusive than she had guessed. She regretted the thought immediately, feeling Nithqref's hurt.
"I am sorry. The inactivity is making me jumpy. I just wish we could arrive wherever we are going and have a change of routine."
'We may look back on these days as halcyon. It is certain that our future will not be comfortable' the telepath replied sternly.
"Is it necessary for you always to be quite so gloomy?" said the former Starfleet Captain rather snippily. "Sorry! Sorry! I am not at my best first thing; must be the coffee deprivation." She deeply missed coffee at all times but it seemed worse when she had just woken up.
Nithqref looked at her closely and was concerned. The food and drink shared between them was insufficient to maintain three bodies and Kathryn was insistent that Nithqref received a two thirds share once she had realised that both the Halquine bodies had an equal requirement for nourishment. She looked thin and weak.
'This coffee may have been a very fine beverage Kathryn but it is equally likely that dehydration, starvation and apprehension also playing a part in your feelings. You are ill.'
The need for more fluid was especially acute. The Halquine resolved to make sure that today Kathryn had a larger share of the water, yet knowing how stubborn the small woman could be, it would not be easy. Yet again Nithqref reflected on the good fortune in being transferred to this cell. Kathryn Janeway was a born survivor and a leader and cared for those she led. Unfortunately it was also true that another few days would see them both too weak to survive regardless of how they rationed the food and water.
The sounds of the cleaning units began and Kathryn shrank against the Halquine. It was strange the creature reflected that the good Captain found this daily occurrence to be more painful than anything else but as on every other day the Halquine attempted to divert the Captain by telling her stories, explaining local politics, showing her images of the Halquine home world before the Devore had invaded and many of the other places which Nithqref had seen in eighty years travelling in this sector.
After the ordeal was over Kathryn relaxed and began to ask questions. She found it hard to speak now because her tongue was swollen - lack of water she supposed. At least Nithqref made it easy for her. She only had to think about what she wanted to know and the beautiful alien would reply. Mainly she asked about the resistance to the Devore; how it was organised; who were the main players; what were the weaknesses and strengths. Nithqref was careful to tell her things in such a manner that Kathryn would not be able to reveal real names and places were she to be interrogated. The Halquine had no doubts about the Starfleet officer's sincerity but also knew that very few people could survive a Devore interrogation.
With a telepath in the cell, Kathryn now found the whole experience of the prison to be much less lonely. She had an open channel to the huge number of other telepaths on the prison ship and through them access to rumours and information about the outside world. The Devore inspectorate were well trained at hiding their thoughts from the Brenari but many of the other Devore aboard the vessel were not as well trained or as naturally resistant. The Brenari Resistance were adept at identifying such weak personnel and watching their minds for relevant information.
A rumour had begun to spread about some terrible new enemy that the Devore had encountered. Finally Nithqref produced an image of the invaders stolen from the mind of a high ranking Devore official. Kathryn groaned as she recognised the invader. "The Borg".
Nithqref had heard a little about the Borg from travels outside the Devore Imperium and from the widespread network of Halquine listening posts that stretched throughout much of the Delta Quadrant surrounding the Devore Imperium. The few thousand Halquine, who had survived and remained free after the Devore had invaded the peaceful and non-military Halquine home world, had made it their business to become the intelligence network of the Free Alliance Resistance. The Devore despised the Halquine as telepaths and had little understanding of the powerful telepathic abilities of the race. The Halquine lack of a verbal language and lack of resistance was enough to convince the Devore that the species were stupid and no threat. The Halquine and their allies did nothing to dispel this belief.
Unwillingly Kathryn revealed the nature of the Borg to the Halquine and the Brenari. The feeling of rejoicing that had started to fill the prison was abruptly replaced by despair and concern for those planets in the immediate vicinity of the invasion. Kathryn could hear the non-Brenari shouting the news to each other and it seemed to echo in her skull as it was passed from cell to cell and wing to wing.
Later that day Kathryn felt ship shudder slightly and surmised that they had dropped out of warp. "Perhaps we have arrived?" She sounded hopeful and Nithqref smiled and shrugged, The Halquine was not optimistic about what they would find at their destination, however Kathryn's guess seemed to be correct. The cells were now emptying rapidly as the air hummed with transporter noise.
A feeling of panic gripped Kathryn and she said hurriedly "Nithqref, in case we are separated I cannot tell you how much I will miss you." She then realised her own foolishness, Nithqref knew exactly how much she would miss the strange alien. She threw her arms around the Halquine's bodies. At that moment the transporter beam latched onto them and they shimmered out of existence in their cell, to be recreated elsewhere a moment later. The instant after they re-materialised, Kathryn leapt back from Nithqref and tripped over, landing awkwardly on her knees.
The first thing she heard was a familiar, smooth dark voice. It seemed pleased.
"Well! Well! Well! The mighty Captain Janeway on her knees, and she seems to have brought some unfortunate friends."
The voice was speaking in its native Devorean which she could understand but some instinct in Kathryn prevented her responding. Her command training came back to her - when captured, hide anything that may be an advantage. She looked blankly towards the source of the voice, already knowing that she would see her former opponent, Inspector Kashyk of the Devore Imperium.
"Of course" said Kashyk pityingly, "without your formidable technology you cannot understand me." He gestured to one of the guards who walked over to Kathryn, hauled her up by the collar of her prison clothes and slapped a communicator on her sleeve.
"That's better isn't it Kathryn?" He smiled at her with that mixture of menace, dishonesty and openness which she had come to know so well. It occurred to her that perhaps sometimes Kashyk did not know when he was telling the truth either.
Trying not to let her dry mouth get the better of her, Janeway answered politely. "Inspector Kashyk. I did not expect to meet you again."
She felt Nithqref in her mind. 'This man is afraid of you Kathryn and he hates you. Be careful.'
She saw Kashyk's eyes jerk round to look at the Halquine. "Did you just attempt to read my mind you telepathic scum?" he inquired. His voice didn't even rise and Janeway shivered. This was his turf; he did not need to shout. Nithqref looked at him without expression or even apparently understanding. Kashyk raised an eyebrow and one of the guards stepped forward to club Nithqref's nearest body on the back of the head. It collapsed, to the total distress of the other body which fell also. Kathryn felt the cries of pain and separation in her mind. She steeled herself to show nothing.
"Get it out of here." Kashyk snapped and the two bodies - one completely limp and the other writhing in pain - were dragged from the room. He smirked. "It is very amusing to separate the Halquine - almost like cutting out the eyes and ears of a normal humanoid, but sadly those two are required for research. They are not an intelligent species but their unique physiology is apparently of interest to our scientists."
Turning his attention fully to Kathryn, his face twisted in a bitter attempt at a smile.
"Kathryn," he said softly, his voice dripping hate and falling on her ears like acid, "our happy reunion in this... facility... is entirely the consequence of your actions. The High Command feel that my encounter with you and your ship demonstrated that I am no longer fit for the challenge of commanding a ship in the field and that my talents are better suited to a desk job, overseeing this stinking death camp."
For a second Janeway felt sorry for him. She knew exactly how she would feel - denied command of a fleet vessel - she feared a similar fate were she ever to return to the Alpha quadrant. Her sympathy was short lived as she remembered Nithqref's pain. She shrugged and looked the Devore in the eye. "It was unfortunate that Prax was not more loyal. Perhaps he felt unloved."
"Unfortunate for you also." Kashyk moved closer and back handed her across the face. She staggered, tasting blood from a cut on her lip. "My job does have its compensations" he said candidly. "I am to interrogate you. The High Command wishes to know more about the Federation and it is believed you have some knowledge of the Borg also. A species we recently encountered who are proving somewhat troublesome." Kathryn almost laughed. Kashyk's arrogance was still cast-iron. He saw the amusement before she could disguise it. He hit her across the face again. She sprawled on the floor and was swiftly picked up by two guards. They held her upright to face the inspector.
"It is not wise to laugh at your captors Kathryn and consider this Captain - you have no hope - no-one is coming to rescue you; I can do exactly as I wish with you, for as long as I wish, and thanks to modern medicine, I can probably keep you alive indefinitely or at least until I get bored. I would like you to ponder your helplessness Captain Janeway so I will not commence the interrogation until tomorrow. Take her away."
The two guards twised her arms behind her, while a third chained her legs and then passed the chain up to shackle her wrists also. They shoved her forwards and she fell and was dragged along the floor and thrown bodily out of the inspector's office. They proceeded in that manner, dragging, shoving and pushing her, along corridors and down flights of stairs until they arrived at a dimly lit, filthy corridor full of unpleasant smells. They stopped outside a barred door and removed the communicator from her arm and the chains, unlocked the door and threw her inside. The door banged shut and was noisily barred behind her.
Kathryn lay there on her side, on what felt like a rough brick floor, bruised and winded. She wondered whether it was worth opening her eyes, or whether it would be better just to let the dizziness and exhaustion have sway. After all, she was likely to see nothing good. Overly pessimistic as it turned out when after a few minutes, she eventually did open her eyes. She felt a certain sort of crazy relief. The cell was filthy. No sonic shower had been by here in a long while. She rolled over and looked about with more interest. Some light was seeping in through a tiny barred window high on the wall. "Well" she said aloud. "This is more like it - a proper dungeon."
Then she heard what was unmistakeably a growl from the darkest part of the cell. She got to her feet a little shakily. "Who's there?"
A deep animal voice said in the main lingua franca of the region, "I see that dinner is moving tonight. My complaint to the chef must have been heard."
Kathryn backed towards the door and tried to see into the gloom. She could just discern a bulky shadow crouching in the corner. She tried not to flinch as the thing unfolded and rose up to tower over her. It was nearly twice her height. She still could not see its face but two gigantic hairy arms were just visible folded across the thing's enormous chest.
Taking a defensive position and trying to control her voice Kathryn replied "I am sorry but dinner will be delayed."
"Ah. Food with attitude," the thing snorted and took a step forward into the weak light.
The creature was extremely unattractive with a long broad snout and on each side of its mouth, a long and yellowing tusk-like tooth jutted along its face and forward of its snout like exaggerated sideburns. A pair of small reddish eyes glared at her from a face covered in short, coarse red hair.
To her dismay Kathryn felt herself swaying; lack of food and water and the rough handling had taken their toll. Blackness rose up and covered her. The last thing she heard was the deep sneering voice saying "I don't know why it is, but the ladies always fall for me."
*~~~*
Kathryn woke up gagging. She opened her eyes and looked up into the ugly face of her cell mate. He was holding her up by the shoulders and trying to pour some liquid into her mouth. Without thinking Kathryn forced her arm, with all her remaining strength, up into his jaw. His head snapped back and he dropped her.
Rolling away from him, coughing, she snapped "Dammit I thought you were going to eat me not poison me."
"I was" he replied furiously rubbing his jaw "but you are skinny, dirty and unappetising. And this arrived"; he indicated two plates of thin grey paste on the floor; "It looked so good that I lost my appetite for small frightened humanoids."
As the threat of becoming kibble had apparently diminished, she sat up.
"What happened?"
"You fainted with terror when you saw me." he made a face that Kathryn decided was a smirk and she immediately lost her temper.
"I did not. I am a Starfleet captain and I am not frightened of an overgrown hog like you." Shocked at herself her inner voice said Get a grip Janeway. You are not in a school playground.
The beast seemed unperturbed and even amused. "Say what you will, I stepped into the light and you lost consciousness. Then the guards arrived with this fine repast and indicated to me that it would be unwise to eat Inspector Kashyk's prize prisoner."
"Oh God Kashyk. I had forgotten."
"How pleasant for you. I find it very difficult to forget the bastard."
"I can understand that," she croaked. Kathryn's two day old thirst became paramount and she looked around for the container of liquid that the thing had been trying to force down her throat. It was sitting on a bench behind her cell mate. The latter saw her looking longingly at the container and the ugly face twisted into some sort of expression, possibly a grin; he reached over to offer her the container.
"It's alright," he encouraged, "it is only water."
Kathryn took it quickly and drank deeply. It looked a bit murky but tasted wonderful. With an effort of will, Kathryn stopped herself draining the cup and proffered it back to the thing.
"Drink as much as you like. There is plenty more running off the walls" her companion said casually. "How long were you on the prison ship?" he asked while fetching another container of water from the dark recess in which he had been sitting.
"Nineteen or twenty days. I am not entirely sure."
He snorted derisively. "I am surprised that a feeble little creature such as you lasted that long however since we are likely to be sharing this abode for at least this evening I will introduce myself. I am Kraal, Captain in the Parath Guard. And you are?"
"Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager."
"Well that means nothing to me. You are far from home?"
Kraal's tiny eyes bulged slightly when Kathryn told him that home was about forty thousand light years distant in another quadrant of the galaxy.
The beast grimaced slightly in what may have been a smile. "Captain shall we eat first and then you may tell me your story? I am particularly interested in how you have offended Inspector Kashyk. The guards seemed all a twitter with anticipation of your coming interrogation."
Kathryn laughed despite herself. They settled down to eat the plate of grey paste which tasted like porridge oats flavoured with quinine. It was at least plentiful and after eating Kathryn felt in better shape than she had for several days. She then told Kraal her story, how Voyager had come to the Delta quadrant and some of the highlights since that day. When she reached the part about her deception of Kashyk she knew Kraal was impressed. He was less impressed that Vooyager had left her behind but Kathryn did not linger over the details of her capture or the journey here.
The ugly creature was now lying on the floor snoring. Appearance aside, it seemed she had been fortunate in her cell mate once more. She felt pain as she realised that she missed Nithqref and the constant presence in her mind. It was worrying that she still felt nothing from the telepath. The Halquine had said that contact would be maintained regardless of the physical distance. Must still be unconscious, she reasoned, or dead. She pushed this last thought away; Kashyk had been clear that the Devore wanted the Halquine alive. Feeling unreasonably cheerful she at last allowed herself to think for the first time in weeks about her ship and crew. Recounting their exploits to Kraal had made Kathryn extremely homesick. She hoped they had left Devore space and were safely on their way. She tried to imagine the daily routine of the ship operating without her and wondered how Chakotay had managed the transition.
She then thought of Seven of Nine and the ache inside grew worse. The Borg had lost another friend and she didn't have many to lose. Kathryn suddenly felt worried about her protege. Without Kathryn's protection the ex-Borg might be exposed to a great deal of hostility on Voyager; Chakotay had never trusted Seven of Nine and his expectation was still that she would betray them.
She remembered the last occasion she had seen Seven. The beautiful blond had come to Janeway's quarters at 0100, the night before her arrest, to quiz the Captain on some decision Kathryn had made that day which the Borg could not agree with. It wasn't unusual behaviour. Seven of Nine had some difficulty with the concept of off duty hours.
Kathryn sometimes affected annoyance at being disturbed, but as Seven pointed out, the Captain was never in bed anyway, and if she were honest, Janeway had enjoyed the discussions and even the arguments. Seven made the Captain feel a little less lonely and isolated.
Kathryn fell asleep on the cold prison floor thinking of her astrometrics officer.
TITLE: Janeway Redux
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: J/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Set after five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 5 - The Search Begins
The same star date - Ninety light years away
Seven of Nine looked at the view screen with concern. A wide scan revealed very large numbers of ships of different sizes travelling at high warp away from the immediate area mostly heading further into Devore territory. The cause of this exodus was not apparent however she reasoned, it might make it easier to travel unnoticed as part of the multitude.
Seven noticed one small ship seemed to be at a standstill. It was only half a light year distant and appeared to be Brenari. She set a course for the ship although she was not exactly sure of her purpose other than a need to start her search in earnest; the occupants might offer some information.
As she approached, a scan revealed the ship was damaged and the engines were non functional but the damage did not seem to be the result of phaser fire or torpedoes. The most likely scenario was a genuine malfunction. She could detect two humanoid life forms which the ship sensors did not recognise.
Seven hailed the stricken vessel. "This is the Federation shuttle Faraday - damaged Brenari vessel please state your condition. Do you require assistance?"
A shaky female voice replied "We are fine, no problem. There is nothing to worry about. Please continue on your way."
Puzzled Seven answered. "Pilot of Brenari vessel, your ship is obviously badly damaged, are you certain you do not need any help?"
"We are perfectly alright and can defend ourselves if necessary," the shaky voice insisted. "Please just go."
"As you wish. But may be you can assist me. I require information. I am looking for a female humanoid taken prisoner by the Devore Imperium: Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Starship Voyager. Do you possess any information which may facilitate location of the captain or of Devore prisoners in general."
There was a momentary silence and then the voice returned a little stronger. "Listen I know nothing about Devore prisoners or your captain. I'm sorry. Goodbye." The comm connection was broken. Seven decided to waste no further time wondering about the strange little ship, laid in her original setting and altered course.
She had just moved the Faraday back on course when the occupant of the damaged ship reopened the hailing frequency.
"Hello? Are you still there? Please we do need help. We did not mean to offend you."
Seven felt impatient. The pilot of the Brenari vessel did not seem to know her own mind and was therefore unlikely to be of much assistance.
A sudden phaser shot across the bows of the Faraday from another larger ship which dropped out of warp 200,000 kilometres away did not improve Seven's temper. The attacking ship hailed her. "Be gone. The Brenari ship is ours. We claim it. Leave before we are forced to destroy you."
Seven scanned the attacker. The ship was large and well armed but the technology was inferior and presented no danger to the Borg enhanced shuttle. She realised now why the Brenari ship had suddenly decided that they did need her help. Seven decided that a strong reply would save time and fired the shuttle phasers. The Borg weapons sliced through the opposing ship's shields and impacted on the hull causing a lot of damage.
Seven then hailed her attacker. "Desist from your attack and you will be permitted to leave..." before she could finish the ship had already turned tail. The ex-drone was pleased with the efficient outcome.
Seven of Nine then returned her attention to the damaged vessel still lying motionless in space. "Brenari vessel is any further assistance required."
After a short time the occupant replied. "Our vessel is too badly damaged to repair. Could you tractor us to Halten space port at the following coordinates?"
Seven performed some brief calculations and responded "My ship is insufficiently powerful to tractor your ship. I cannot comply with your request. I will take your crew to the space port as it does not involve a substantial deviation from my route. Do you wish to proceed?"
"That would be better than nothing I suppose."
The woman's voice sounded a little ungrateful but Seven was not concerned.
"Please prepare for transport to my ship on my mark."
Two small humanoid figures appeared on the tiny shuttle transporter pad. The female was standing and the other, a male, was lying prone. The female looked at Seven and her features contorted in terror. She screamed "Borg" and then fainted. The man pushed himself upright against the back of the shuttle and covered his face, cowering.
Seven of Nine had elicited many similar reactions in the past: victims of the Borg collective; races encountered by Voyager over the last twelve months; but she could not remember feeling quite so irritated before.
She compared the behaviour of these two sorry specimens to Captain Janeway when the latter was negotiating an alliance with the collective and realised yet again that her Captain was not as others.
The male was an unremarkable looking bony specimen having grey slightly scaly skin. His head had a light covering of thin ginger coloured hair through which the grey skin on his skull was clearly visible. Two round pale grey eyes peered nervously from under deep set brows. His other facial features seemed even less conspicuous. Small thin grey nostrils atop a thin white lipped mouth. He had no chin to speak of and his face appeared to recede straight into his neck. The woman was similar in colouring and appearance but slightly larger and bulkier. They were both clothed in orange one piece uniforms.
Seven addressed the cowering man.
"Calm yourself. I am not a member of the Borg collective. You are in no danger." She retrieved a medical tricorder and ran a scan over the man. "You are in need of medical attention. You have a fever." The man took his hands away from his face and stared at her. She offered him two tablets from a medi-pac, saying "Take these. They should reduce the fever and combat the infection."
He shrank back from her borg hand still obviously terrified. Seven offered a formal introduction.
"I am Seven of Nine Tertiary adjunct of unimatrix 01, formerly of the Borg Collective and before that I was a human designated Annika Hansen. You may call me Seven of Nine."
The man was still gaping stupidly at Seven and two rows of small jagged teeth could be seen set well inside his mouth. Seven felt her irritation and sense of repulsion increase.
"Your designation?"
The creature did not reply.
Exasperated she dropped the tablets on the floor beside him and turned back to the shuttle controls. She set course for Halten space port at a speed of warp five, anxious to be rid of the annoying hitch hikers.
She became aware of whispering behind her back and turned to look. The woman had recovered from her faint and was huddled against her crew mate. They both still looked very fearful but the woman finally spoke in a thin quavering voice. "Are you going to assimilate us?".
"As I have said I am not with the Borg collective now. I will transport you to Halten space port now. We will arrive in three hours and twenty three minutes." Seven turned her back on them again and rather hoped that they would remain quiet.
An inconsistency occurred to Seven.
"I am curious as to where you have acquired your knowledge of the Borg. I was not aware that the Borg were known in this sector."
The two beings looked at her as though she were mad. The male whispered fearfully as though he might be overheard.
"We did not know of the Borg until they invaded our sector eight days ago. Fourteen systems have been taken already. We escaped from Gill IV with only minutes to spare and we had been trying to reach Halten for three days when our engines failed. We are told that the Imperium will defend that space."
Seven considered the new information. The presence of the Borg explained the mass movement of ships in the area. It also created an added urgency. Seven had reasoned to herself that if the Devore did not immediately execute the Captain then they would keep her alive and imprisoned and Seven would have time in which to complete her search. Now she had to find the Captain before the Borg completed their assimilation of the Devore. This might not be a very rapid process depending on the strength of the Devore defences, but it would happen and even her most optimistic estimate only gave the Devore between two and three months before all five hundred systems in the Imperium were assimilated.
She addressed the two shivering grey rat like creatures in a sharp voice. "What do you know about the non-Devore Detention and Resettlement Zone?" (This was the place mentioned by Prax as the likely destination for the Captain.)
The aliens jumped nervously and the male replied almost whimpering "We know nothing beyond this dear borg lady. It is a terrible place, a prison planet. No one ever comes back. I have heard that there are great mines of some importance and all the miners are slaves drawn from the prison population. Even those with short sentences don't survive long enough to return."
"What are the co-ordinates?"
"We cannot say kind borg lady, the resettlement planets are very closely guarded by the Imperium and their locations kept secret to prevent their discovery by insurgent forces."
Seven of Nine controlled the fear that ran through her at the thought of Captain Janeway dying in a place like that. She told herself that the Captain would survive longer than most and certainly long enough for Seven to find her.
Seven ignored her passengers after that. They sat huddled together whispering quietly. The journey proceeded without further incident. Seven concentrated on giving any potentially threatening vessels a wide berth.
Fifteen minutes out of Halten space port she activated the fore view screen to reveal a very large and impressive space station about 50 kilometers across. What she supposed was the region adjacent to the docking ring was thronged by ships and looked chaotic.
Turning to the two aliens Seven requested their assistance. "What is the procedure for contacting the space dock controllers and arranging docking?"
The sight of the space port seemed to put some backbone into her guests who both crowded a bit nearer. "It depends who you know and what you have to offer....." The female almost smirked. This reply meant nothing to Seven and the little rat elaborated. "You see there are strict commercial rules for obtaining clearance, highest bidder wins. But we know some people who may be able to cut you a better deal. If you were interested." The creature sounded wheedling.
"I do not have time for this. I will beam you directly to the space port. Please step on the transporter..." before Seven could finish speaking she felt pain explode all over her body. The grey aliens had each produced some sort of weapon from the pockets of their orange coveralls and she was caught and held in two red-orange beams of energy.
She could hear the male speaking.
"That should be enough my dear but we must keep alert, we don't want our Borg escaping now do we." The energy beams were cut off and Seven collapsed on the floor. She tried to move but was completely paralysed. "I am very sorry Miss but this ship and your good self will be worth a great deal to the Devore authorities or the Free Alliance. Best offer gets the prize. Now my dear wife it is time to call in some favours."
The male moved to the communications console and began to key in commands. His spouse kept her weapon trained on Seven.
After nearly fifteen minutes of intense activity the male left the console and sat down. "Now we wait my dear." He looked closely at Seven "I think I see our friend here twitching sweetcakes, give her another dose of medicine. To keep her quiet you understand." Seven felt intense pain as the paralysing energy beam enveloped her body. But she couldn't move or cry out. After a minute it stopped. "That's better. Much quieter." her tormentor muttered.
And so it continued. Hours passed. The two ratty humanoids sat cuddling and murmuring sweet nothings to each other only occasionally getting up to ensure that Seven was completely immobile. Seven wasn't sure which was worse, the pain of the paralyser or the nauseating sight of the canoodling rats.
A chirrup from the communication console brought them to their feet, the male rat whined with excitement as he read the incoming transmission. "Well me dear it seems our contact has come through with a deal. We are to leave the goods at the following coordinates. Payment has been made fifty percent in advance and the rest on delivery." His wife giggled with nervous delight.
A few minutes later the ship shuddered and started to move.
Addressing his wife, the male rat explained, "Our contact has arranged a ship to tow the merchandise to the appointed place." He looked at Seven and grinned maliciously, showing his jagged teeth.
"Well we must be leaving you now young Borg lady" he said. "I am sure you will be safe and if you are not then I hope the end is painless." The rodentine beings turned their weapons on her for a final paralyzing blast and then on a pre-arranged signal they transported off the vessel leaving Seven alone and immobilised.
TITLE: Janeway Redux
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: J/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Set after five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 6 - A life worth living
Kathryn lay on the floor of the cell and tried not to move. The intense pain in her chest suggested broken ribs and possibly a punctured lung. Third of the week. She could hear Kraal, her cell mate, cursing.
"Don't touch me" she managed to say. "I don't think I could bear it."
"Hell and damnation" muttered the hairy biped. "Where are those accursed medics?"
Kathryn felt a cool wet cloth lightly stroking her forehead and felt a little water dripped on to her lips. As she lay there she rather hoped that the medics would let her die. Then she shrugged that thought off angrily. I am not going to die here.
From outside the high prison window a dreadful crying and screaming began. Janeway heard Kraal get up and move to the window. The huge beast could just see out of the window although it was nearly three metres off the ground. She knew what he was watching and as usual he began swearing, a low continuous and rhythmical stream of obscenity. After an hour had passed the noises outside had subsided and Kraal left his post.
Kathryn had still not moved. Steeling herself she asked the same question that she had asked every day for the last two weeks. "Did you see them?"
"No."
A noise at the cell door announced the arrival of the Devore prison doctor with two guards. "Well how is my most beautiful patient today? More little accidents I see. Well don't worry I'll have you fixed up in no time so you will be fit and well for your meeting with the Inspector tomorrow."
Examining her he frowned slightly. "I think Inspector Kashyk was very enthusiastic today. I really think you should be more cooperative Captain Janeway."
She heard Kraal growl and prayed he wouldn't act foolishly. The guards would gun him down and he would not get any treatment. No one cared if he lived or died.
The Doctor injected her and the pain subsided. He then proceeded to run a variety of instruments over her, repairing broken bone and damaged tissue. The treatment continued longer than usual.
"Some of these injuries cannot be immediately repaired. You will need surgery tomorrow. Inspector Kashyk may have to defer your next tete-a-tete until it is finished."
Breathing against the pain Kathryn said as brightly as she could "Well I hope that you are the one to tell him Doctor. You know how he hates to be disappointed."
Kraal snorted his approval.
The Doctor thought about her words and looked nervous. He gathered his tools before leaving with a parting shot. "You may think you are smart Captain Janeway but from what I have heard, come tomorrow you will be only too glad to cooperate with anything he asks."
Janeway kept her face impassive. But when the Devore had left she sank down. "What now? Kraal I do not understand. Kashyk is enjoying himself but he is not actually asking me any questions of importance. Not since the first day. They are waiting for something. This is just the warm up."
Concern wormed into her mind and then a musical voice in her head said. 'You are still in pain Kathryn.'
"Nithqref" she said with pleasure. "You are back from the research centre. Are you OK? Where are you?"
'The current experiments are not too distressing and I have been returned to my holding cell. Kathryn I have obtained some information about Kraal's wife. She is part of a mining detail in a camp four days distance from here. She is reported to be holding up well.' A pause. 'There is no news yet of the children.'
"Kraal", Kathryn repeated aloud, "Nithqref has found out where your wife is. She is ok and working in a mining camp four days walk from here. Nithqref has not yet found your children, but is still looking." She added the last bit to counter the expression of sadness that had entered Kraal's eyes.
"I knew the old harridan would survive!" the redoubtable warthog grunted.
Kathryn laughed despite her pain. Deadman's humour she thought and then returned her attention to the telepath she could still feel in her mind. "Nithqref how is the war with the Borg progressing?"
'The Devore are losing. Another forty systems have been assimilated. The Devore had some success initially and managed to hold the Borg for a period due to some new weapon. But that advantage seems to have been lost now.'
"The Borg have adapted." A small part of her was pleased. Kathryn could not deny how she felt. She tried to squash the thought and told herself that millions of innocent bystanders were being destroyed or assimilated in this conflict yet she hated the Devore. She wasn't sure she had ever hated anyone like this before even the Cardassians. The anger and hatred were growing inside her.
She could still feel the agony of the Brenari woman who had given her mind and knowledge to Kathryn. She felt the pain as that gentle woman had watched her husband and children tortured to death. Not because they knew anything or had done anything but just because they were Brenari.
She had felt some of the despair Nithqref had suffered at the loss of his world and his culture. She could feel the pain of the beautiful Halquine at this moment, in this prison, being subjected to endless physical and psychological experiments.
She watched Kraal everyday, looking through that prison window, waiting for his wife and children to appear in the daily purge of the sick and the weak prisoners. Pushed into a large walled holding area and then methodically vapourised by phaser blasts from the gun turrets. Kraal was left to rot here knowing that all he could expect, for the short remainder of his life, was to see his family walk one by one for the last time into the ugly grey holding area.
She hated the memory of the arrogant black suited bureaucrats stalking about on her beloved ship, persecuting and bullying her crew, hunting down helpless children and terrified adults.
And she pushed her anger into a tight ball inside her. Everyday as she was beaten and humiliated she used that fury like a wall concentrating on it so hard that she could hardly feel the blows. Nithqref had noticed the change in her but when he had tried to place her feelings in perspective Kathryn had cut him off. She needed that anger to survive.
*~~~*
Kashyk smiled as his prisoner was dragged through the door and pushed to her knees on the floor in front of him. "Good morning Captain Janeway. The Doctor tells me you are not fit to continue our little discussion but I disagree and here you are."
He walked towards her and lifted her chin. "I have a nice surprise for you. An old friend. I think our meeting will be very fruitful." A man that Janeway did not recognise stepped into the room.
"Captain Janeway, I would like to introduce one of our foremost exobiologists, Professor Derrish."
"I am afraid I don't remember meeting you Professor." replied Janeway.
Kashyk sneered slightly. "My dear Captain, it is not Professor Derrish that you know but the subject of his latest investigation." He gestured at a guard standing by the door. "Bring it in."
Janeway knew almost before the figure was led through the door and could not disguise her anguish. Kashyk looked at her in delight.
"Why Captain that is more emotion than I have seen in the last two weeks."
Seven of Nine swayed uncertainly. She had been drugged and paralysed for most of the previous two weeks and had not been allowed to regenerate. Her face showed a distinctly Borg like pallor and she was painfully thin. Her eyes, even the Borg eye, focussed with difficulty on the small woman kneeling on the floor.
"Captain I have found you."
Seven of Nine pitched forward and passed out.
"What have you done to her?" said Janeway in a voice so icy that Kashyk involuntarily stepped back. He caught an amused expression on the face of the Professor and promptly kicked Janeway in the stomach to relieve his irritation. She fell back and screamed in pain as his boot impacted on her injuries from the previous day. As she lay gasping on the floor, Kashyk prepared to kick her again.
"Inspector" interrupted Professor Derrish "I am sure this is all very entertaining but we need to get to work. Bring Janeway and the Borg to the research facility."
Kashyk shrugged his shoulders and gestured to the guards who picked both women up by the arms and dragged them unceremoniously out of the Inspector's office.
*~~~*
Through force of will, Kathryn Janeway watched impassively as two Devore soldiers chained a still unconscious Seven of Nine to a bench. Professor Derrish was introducing himself to several Devore scientists and technicians who worked in the research centre. From their attitude of deference it was obvious that the Professor was an important man.
The Professor disengaged himself from the fawning scientists and came over to stand in front of Janeway. She didn't look at him but kept her gaze on Seven of Nine who had started to move a little. The Professor followed her eyes and started to speak.
"The Borg is a remarkable piece of engineering. Force fields, paralysers, tranquillizers. It has adapted to them all. We have had great difficulty controlling your Borg. Preventing it from regenerating has been the most successful strategy."
Carefully controlling her voice to sound casual Janeway enquired, "Fascinating Professor Derrish but where do I come in?"
"You are aware of the Borg invasion. Do not bother to deny it. The telepaths always know everything. You are probably also aware that we are losing this conflict."
Janeway kept silent. She did not want to admit the extent of Brenari intelligence gathering even if the Devore were truly aware of it. The scientist looked at her and seemed slightly amused in a grim way.
"Captain Janeway I see that cooperation is not going to be your preferred working method. Alright let me get to the point. We know that you and your ship survived a conflict with the Borg collective and that you captured and have somehow gained control of this particular specimen. We need any possible advantage that can be obtained from this knowledge. Therefore you are required to disclose whatever information you have. Promptly."
When she did not respond he continued. "When we captured it, this Borg was looking for you. It was travelling in a specially adapted Federation shuttle equipped with much technology of Borg in origin. We believe that your Borg has been sent by your crew to rescue you. Our fleet are now looking for Voyager as it must be somewhere near Devore space, waiting for you and the Borg to return."
Janeway felt annoyed at the idea that Chakotay might have disobeyed her orders. She suppressed her reaction. She needed to know more.
"How do you know Seven of Nine was looking for me? Perhaps she was rejoining her collective."
"The Borg asked for help in locating you from the creatures who then betrayed it to us." Derrish answered honestly, seeing no advantage in withholding information. He needed her help anyway he could get it. He returned to the point of his visit. "We are particularly interested in how you control this Borg and your knowledge of their assimilation technology. How did you avoid assimilation?"
Janeway's tone was sardonic as she replied. "I'm afraid my dear Professor that I cannot help you. We did not beat the Borg by fighting with them. The separation of Seven of Nine from the Borg collective was forcible but our success in 'controlling' her depended on persuading Seven that the future lay with us and in allowing her to develop her individuality. I do not think this method could be applied to the many thousands of drones in a Borg cube." She allowed herself to smile a little. "Believe me, it was hard enough with just one."
Derrish looked at her face trying to gauge the truth of her words. His shoulders drooped slightly and she could see the unwilling acceptance.
Kashyk entered the room, having overheard the last part of the exchange between Derrish and Janeway. He took a position facing Janeway.
"Do not believe her Professor Derrish," he said. "Deceit is second nature to the woman. I'll get the truth out of her." So saying he slapped Janeway across the face. The Captain's head snapped back and she grunted in pain.
"Do not touch her!" Seven shouted furiously. She strained desperately in her bonds and with an effort the ex-drone could not afford, snapped the chains that held her to the bench. She lurched towards Kashyk but in her weakened state, she stumbled, giving him time to retreat behind Janeway. He grabbed the Captain from behind and held his disruptor to her head. His voice shook as he shouted "Stay where you are Borg monster or your Captain dies." The Devore commander was obviously very frightened.
Seven of Nine stared unsteadily and stopped. "Do not hurt her," she half-ordered, half-pleaded.
Janeway completely ignored the nervous and highly dangerous Devore commander as he held her hostage, clutching her with sweaty trembling hands. She felt no fear. All her attention was focused on Seven of Nine.
"Seven are you alright?"
If she had not been restrained Kathryn Janeway would have hit herself for asking such a stupid question. Seven was clearly far from alright. But the she answered with her usual accuracy. "I am partially functional Captain, I am operating at approximately 53.2% efficiency."
Janeway visually examined her former astrometrics officer. She noted the many bruises and cuts. She noted the exhausted trembling of her hands, the white face that spoke of days of torment and deprivation. She added Seven's suffering to the long list of grievances to be avenged.
Professor Derrish watched the exchange curiously. For two weeks the Borg had behaved like an emotionless automaton ignoring any questions, trying to escape at every opportunity but entirely without disclosing any feelings. Within five seconds of meeting Janeway, the Borg had started to display emotion. Her fear for the Captain's safety was visible in her cold blue eyes, and so was the rage directed at the shivering Kashyk as the Borg stood clenching her fists, rocking as though barely able to contain herself. A surprising hypothesis suggested itself. Derrish decided to test his idea.
"Seven of Nine."
Seven looked at him with slight surprise - none of the Devore had used her designation previously.
"Captain Janeway will not be harmed if you cooperate with me."
"You have already damaged her." Seven stated flatly.
"If you will not help us I will be forced to ask Inspector Kashyk to damage her further. But if you decide to assist me in my investigations the Captain's injuries will be attended to and no further damage done."
Janeway could see what the Professor was attempting and her hatred boiled over. "Seven you are not to help this man. That is an order." she commanded.
Seven looked at Janeway with a trace of her old arrogance. "I am not under your command now Captain Janeway. I am no longer a member of the Voyager collective."
Before she could stop herself Janeway asked in a furious voice "Then why are you here?"
Seven looked a little bewildered and realised why Naomi Wildman found adult humans somewhat stupid sometimes. They seemed to miss the obvious. "To rescue you. Silly."
Janeway opened her mouth and then did not know what to say. She was returned to the present when Kashyk roughly twisted her arm and she gasped in pain.
He snarled at the ex-drone. "Borg. It is clear your rescue attempt has failed. You will obey the Professor or I will take great pleasure in making your Captain beg for mercy. And even greater pleasure in denying her request."
Derrish interrupted quickly as Seven stiffened and took another shaky step towards the arrogant fool holding Captain Janeway.
"Thank you Inspector but I am quite capable of negotiating with my prisoners. And they are now my prisoners Inspector. The Imperium have transferred full authority to me since you were deemed to be ineffective in this matter." The contempt in the scientist's thin toneless voice was apparent. Kashyk did not release Janeway but his hold relaxed. Janeway heard him swear under his breath.
Professor Derrish then addressed Captain Janeway. "Captain Janeway why are you opposed to helping us defend ourselves against the Borg invasion? I understand that you may not have formed the best impression of the Devore Imperium but surely even you can see that the Borg must be stopped."
Janeway stared back unblinking and answered in a low frozen voice "Ask the Inspector why. Perhaps you have not noticed the purpose of this camp, this slave world. Perhaps you have not noticed the murder, suffering and torture meted out daily to your unfortunate subject peoples. Perhaps, like the Inspector here, you enjoy this power and believe in your right to inflict such pain. The Borg are a terrible foe but as someone once said to me they are like a force of nature. You cannot blame them. But I am unable to extend that understanding to the Devore Imperium."
There was a silence.
Seven of Nine broke it unexpectedly, saying evenly "I will assist you Professor."
Janeway almost screamed at her "Seven do not help them. They will not keep their word."
Seven looked into the anguished blue eyes and spoke gently but implacably. "Captain, if I do not help them then there will be one of two outcomes. Either they will eliminate you or the Borg will assimilate you. Neither option is acceptable." Ignoring the confusion in her captain's face, Seven turned her attention to Derrish. " Professor Derrish, I must regenerate for approximately sixteen hours if I am to be restored to 100 percent functionality. You will take me to the Borg alcove aboard the shuttle Faraday."
Professor Derrish nodded his assent with relief and instructed his assistant to accompany Seven of Nine.
"Remember Seven of Nine", he called after her, as she was led away under guard, "do not deceive me or your Captain Janeway will pay with her life."
"Hmm. How very touching." said a smooth voice in Janeway's ear, "The Borg would appear to be emotionally attached to you Kathryn." Now that Seven had gone Kashyk had recovered his nerve and was holding her painfully tight and grinning. "This could be very amusing. I wonder if you have feelings for that creature? Surely not after all we have shared." He pushed her back against the wall.
The memory of kissing the Devore Inspector on Voyager made Kathryn feel sick now, although at the time it had not seemed so bad and a necessary part of the game she had played with Kashyk. Seven was not the only one who would do almost anything to get what she wanted. she reflected.
"That's quite enough Inspector Kashyk" said Professor Derrish impatiently. "We need the Borg's help. Captain Janeway will remain in good health and you will keep away from her. Is that understood? When the Borg has regenerated, she will be very hard to control without the help of the good captain. Return Janeway to the cells but I want her back here in sixteen hours fed, rested and healed."
Kashyk scowled and then released Janeway, forcing a half-smile to his lips. "A temporary respite dear Kathryn. Temporary."
*~~~*
Kathryn sat on the floor of her cell refusing to speak. Kraal had roared, argued and sneered for the last thirty minutes but without penetrating her fully armoured indifference. Internally she raged against Seven of Nine for agreeing to help the accursed Devore, the act had became a betrayal of everything that she had believed the Borg had learned in her time on Voyager. That Seven was doing this to save Kathryn Janeway made it worse, made the Captain responsible. The small part of her mind that asked why the ex-drone would want to rescue her was shouted down.
It was in this mental state of incoherent fury and turmoil that Nithqref found Janeway. Gently, trying not to intrude too brutally on her disturbed psyche, the Halquine probed her thoughts trying to understand the ex-Federation Captain's distress.
"God! Nithqref, you have no sense of privacy," she exclaimed angrily.
'That is a difficult concept for a Halquine' Nithqref agreed equably. 'Why are you so adamant about helping the Devore?'
"How can you, of all people, ask such a question? After what those bastards have done to your people." She banged her hand on the ground in frustration, ignoring the pain in two broken fingers, a parting gift from the Inspector.
'Kathryn I have no love for the Devore Imperium but assimilation by the Borg is not an acceptable alternative. My home world has been enslaved and my people hunted and persecuted for more than one hundred Halquine cycles but at least we can resist the Devore. There is hope that one day we will prevail. Once assimilated by the Borg that hope has gone.'
The small redheaded captain shifted uncomfortably but was not ready to surrender her hatred. "If we help the Devore then we hand them even more power over their enemies. I cannot allow that, I made that mistake once before."
Janeway's imagination presented her with the image of two pairs of gentle violet eyes, studying her and she felt the Halquine's compassion as Nithqref postulated 'When you helped the Borg defeat species 8472? The Halquine winced at the guilt oozing poisonously in the human's mind.
Kathryn, there are always choices between lesser or greater evils. Your decision then may have had appalling consequences but to have done otherwise may have had worse consequences. You will never know. You made the best decision you could under the circumstances.'
Her voice was anguished as she confessed, "But I did not defeat species 8472 to save the galaxy. I did it to save my ship, to help Voyager get home a little quicker. And now I am expected to help the Devore to save myself." Janeway wrapped her arms tightly around her knees and tried not to shiver.
Nithqref was relentless. 'Your guilt is unproductive and selfish. Kathryn, another two subject systems were assimilated today. The H'ronor home world and the Kirrin. The H'ronor were an ancient and civilised race. They were unique and now they are gone. The Kirrin were home to one of strongest resistance cells in the Imperium. All lost. If you can help to stop the Borg then you must. Feel the truth of what I say.'
"This is not my fight. I have no right to interfere. I am a Starfleet Captain and I pledged to uphold the Federation's prime directive."
Nithqref cut her off abruptly. 'Please do not quote your prime directive to me Kathryn, this fight is yours as much as mine. Your quadrant is far away but if we defeat the Borg here then perhaps your people will not have to fight them again. Not to mention the thousands of peaceful worlds in between.'
Nithqref had kept Kraal up-to-date with the argument so far and now the Parath spoke up, quite gently in his terms.
"Kathryn, stop whingeing! You are one of us now. Your ship has gone and your old life with it. You are no longer a Federation captain but a prisoner of the Devore Imperium. It is time to accept that and move on. Your life is here and your friends are here." He added with complete certainty in his gruff voice "We will defeat these Borg and then we will overthrow the Imperium."
Kathryn exploded to her feet and shouted "I will not assist that murdering monster Kashyk, even if the future of the Galaxy is at stake." As she said it the smallness and unimportance of her feelings overcame her and she sank back to her knees sobbing and put her head in her hands. Kraal walked slowly to the small, crumpled human, lifted her up with ease and held her weeping face against his warm furry chest. After ten minutes, the helpless crying gradually subsided and her red rimmed eyes looked up at the Parath guardsman's face. There was a suspicion of a smirk curling his hoglike features.
"How very feminine Captain Janeway. Your Federation must be an unusually gentle part of the galaxy."
"Let me go." She was angry and unbelievably embarrassed. The Parath set her down on the floor gently and she straightened her back and glared at him with a full force ten Janeway special.
Nithqref, sensing the impending storm, intervened hurriedly and clumsily tried to divert Kathryn's attention with the first thought in mind 'You are surprised that Seven of Nine tried to rescue you. Perhaps she is not as indifferent to you as you feared.'
"What!" Janeway's inner wall of denial and suppressed emotions shook and crumbled as though impacted by a cannon ball.
Nithqref mentally cringed at the inadvertent disclosure of such intimate knowledge. I am sorry Kathryn but your feelings for her are very strong and hard for a telepath to miss. I did not mean to intrude.
Kraal was now looking very interested.
"What's all this?" he asked, a grin rippling his features, "Do not tell me that our fearless Captain has the hots for another woman." He roared with laughter, the folds on his face shaking violently.
Kathryn gritted her teeth. "Nithqref I may have to kill you but only after I have disembowelled this pig with a dinner plate."
"Fine words, my weeping lover of women." Kraal collapsed laughing again, leaning his huge, quivering, bulk against the sodden wall.
"I am not a lover of women," she blustered and then realised that denial to a Halquine (and by extension Kraal) meant nothing. "I mean I have never loved a woman before, and anyway even if I did have feelings for her, nothing ever happened. It wasn't appropriate. How could I act? I was her commander, goddammit, not a potential lover." Aware that she was babbling, and babbling loudly at that, Janeway shut up. Kraal continued to guffaw uncontrollably.
'Do you care for the Borg?' In her mind she had sensed Nithqref smiling before feeling the question and she couldn't understand why the telepath bothered asking, her inner feelings were plainly known to the strange being. She answered anyway.
"Yes. I love her." And was shocked to hear the words from her own lips. She tried to ignore Kraal who was busy stuffing half his jerkin in his mouth while apparently having convulsions.
"Always - from the very beginning." She looked around her at the dark, damp, grimy cell. "This is a fine place to admit aloud what I had barely acknowledged to myself."
'Seven of Nine is here and you are here. You may have a better future than you realised.' suggested the gentle Halquine.
"But only if the Borg are defeated and we escape the Devore, not a very promising scenario for future bliss," she murmured cynically. She felt Nithqref's disappointment like a whiplash and was ashamed. Kathryn Janeway squared her shoulders, shaking off the fear and doubt. Nithqref experienced a surge of total determination, powered by a duranium will, being focused on one end only, the defeat of the Borg. Suddenly the telepath had a moments pity for the unfortunate Collective.
TITLE: Janeway Redux
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: J/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Set after five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 7 - Desperate times
In a Devore research laboratory on Devore II Seven of Nine and Professor Derrish reviewed the tactical data from the 73 battles fought against the Borg by the Devore Imperium. All but four encounters had been lost despite the Devore fleet outnumbering and even outgunning the Borg. The Borg had conquered 63 planetary systems in only four weeks. There had been a slight lull since the last battle but terror had gripped the remaining four hundred systems in the Imperium. There was widespread panic and disorder; an unneeded distraction for the hard pressed Devore military machine.
Janeway sat quietly to one side and watched Seven of Nine, as the ex-drone studied the tactical analyses on two workstation view screens. Seven was still a little thin and pale but regeneration had returned the beautiful woman to something close to her normal physical perfection. Her customary body suit had been replaced by Devore military fatigues. Janeway thought the black rather suited the ex-drone.
Three armed guards stood behind the Captain watching them at all times; trigger happy and very nervous of Seven of Nine. We won't survive if Seven makes any rapid movements Kathryn thought as she pondered their overall tactical position. She wanted some kind of escape plan as a fall-back.
The laboratory was clean and tidy except for two tables where the components of a disembowelled Borg drone were laid bare for examination. Living tissue and organs lay dissected, prepared for microscopic examination. The inorganic components were also being disassembled, labelled and studied. An isolated Borg eyepiece, mounted in a network of experimental circuitry, glowed red as the scientist working on it adjusted and monitored the control circuitry. Kathryn observed that Seven of Nine turned her head away whenever she had to pass the Borg remains.
Despite the circumstances Kathryn felt a curious sense of freedom. She had allowed herself to admit her feelings for Seven and the customary sense of guilt that pervaded her thoughts whenever she looked at Seven or thought about the younger woman had vanished.
The Starfleet Captain had been constrained by fear of acting inappropriately towards a member of her crew. Starfleet ethical protocols were unanimous and absolutely prescriptive about relationships between the Captain and crew. These must be wholly professional. Captains were trained to understand that even friendships lead to problems and that essentially the Captain must be aloof and alone. Which just about worked in the Alpha quadrant where the Captain had lovers, friends and family, port side but was a damned sight harder for the Captain of Voyager lost and alone in the Delta quadrant.
I am not a Starfleet captain any longer. I have new friends and enemies, a different life. But if that life is to amount to anything, Seven and I must avoid assimilation by the Borg and torture and execution by the Devore.
Kathryn concluded with some amusement that perhaps she was being a little premature in planning a long term future. She also forced herself to consider the possibility that Seven might not be interested in a middle-aged former Starship captain. She wondered what Seven was thinking. The Borg seemed totally in control and had shown little emotion, only speaking to Janeway when required to do so, concentrating absolutely on the information being presented.
The laboratory's occupants were watching and listening to visual and aural records (retrieved from intelligence probes) of a recent battle. The events were played out on a large view screen on the wall.
Three Borg cubes had come out of a transwarp conduit close to the major manufacturing and mining colony on Malta VI only 130 light years from the Devore home system. The colony was well defended by a fleet of thirteen warships and massive planetary phaser cannons located on the two moons of Malta VI.
'We are the Borg'. The customary Borg hail rolled through the small laboratory with an echo of the fear that must have swept the doomed Devore fleet.
In the opening stage of the conflict the Devore fleet was successful as it concentrated its enormous fire power on the leading Borg cube. The moon based defences kept the other two cubes at bay, the great phaser beams slicing through the Borg shields. The leading cube was damaged severely as three waves of jet black Devore warships flew past and strafed it on three sides. The cube was finally destroyed by a blast of phaser energy from one of the huge planetary cannons. The second cube was also taking heavy damage but the tide was turning. One Devore warship was destroyed and three others were now non combatant. Soon several more of the warships had fallen silent or had left the fighting. The moon based cannons ceased firing soon after.
Battlefield communication logs revealed the desperate events aboard the warships as panicked Devore officers reported their ships boarded by squadrons of Borg drones. Six vessels managed to initiate self destruct sequences before being fully assimilated and hundreds of tiny escape pods could be seen floating away from the stricken vessels like thistle seeds in the wind only to be picked off by Borg weapons fire or caught in tractor beams and dragged inside the surviving Borg cubes.
The Professor's thin face was grey and pained, his voice hoarse as he spoke. "Only one ship, and three escape pods that were picked up, survived. The entire system of 23 million people was assimilated in a 72 hour period. We do not believe there were any civilian survivors."
He stopped and blinked and when he began speaking again he had recovered his customary detached nasal monotone. "Malta VI was a serious loss to the Imperium. Ten percent of all dilithium in the sector was found on planets in the Malta system and were processed on Malta VI for use by the fleet."
Now fully in control of his voice the Professor addressed the assembled scientists, engineers and technicians as though he was delivering a lecture. "This defeat followed the pattern of all the other conflicts with the exception of four early battles where reinforced shields prevented the Borg from boarding. Unfortunately the Borg have adapted to those modifications."
"Tactical analyses suggest we require a minimum ratio of 11 warships to 1 cube in any conflict. We must destroy each Borg cube within one or two minutes of engaging, or the Borg adapt to our shield frequencies and drones are transported aboard the fleet vessels to assimilate our soldiers and the warships. The firepower of a large Devore fleet can defeat the Borg but if our ships cannot be deployed in adequate numbers assimilation inevitably follows. Since we lack the transwarp capabilities of the Borg ships it has proved impossible to ensure sufficient ships are available wherever a threat is identified. The area of space is simply to large to allow rapid reinforcement."
Pausing to bring up a three dimensional colour coded image of Devore space he indicated the present location of Devore fleets. "Current strategy is to withdraw military units from all but the most important systems and mass our forces sufficiently to allow defence of key systems. This strategy will fail eventually but may give us a little more time to develop alternatives. As a side issue we are experiencing some problems with refugees fleeing from the unprotected areas to the defended systems. It has not been possible to prevent rumours about the strategy of selective defence circulating widely in the Imperium. The wide scale ship movements have made identifying invading Borg forces even more problematic."
"The Imperium's scientists and engineers must provide technological solutions to the tactical problems of fighting the Borg if we are to survive. The Imperium requires a new type of space propulsion system to rival the Borg transwarp engines and several teams are working in that area. Other groups are concentrating on developing better weapons and defences designed to exploit weaknesses in the Borg, be they tactical, physical, chemical or biological or even psychological."
"This team is to concentrate on identifying weaknesses in the physical and biological structure of individual Borg to allow us to develop weapons which may be used at close quarters and enable our soldiers to defend our warships."
Seven interjected.
"The Borg have no such weaknesses. They will adapt to whatever weapons you devise."
Seven said this with undeniable arrogance. The ex-drone had no wish to rejoin the Borg but part of her still believed in the strength and perfection of the Collective.
"I don't agree Seven" said Janeway calmly. The Professor regarded the former Captain cautiously but did not interrupt. "If the Borg cannot assimilate a life form or technology they cannot adapt to defeat that life form or technology. We learned this from the war between species 8472 and the Borg." She shrugged a little. "It is a weakness but I admit exploiting it is a different matter since we lack the biological advantages of species 8472."
The Professor was clearly interested.
"Expand please Captain Janeway."
The Captain recounted the history of the Borg war with species 8472 and that species subsequent defeat by Voyager. A defeat based on medical research on species 8472 by the Voyager doctor using modified Borg nanoprobes. The Starfleet crew, in alliance with the Borg, had then applied the same knowledge to building a military weapon to defeat the previously invincible species 8472.
"A fine solution."
The steely eyed Professor was regarding her with admiration verging on awe. Kathryn felt immediately uneasy. When species such as the Devore or Cardassians were complimentary about your methods then your ethics must be questionable.
"But I am puzzled Captain," the Professor said thoughtfully, "We found no mention of any of this in the records of Voyager when they were inspected."
"Any information that we deemed classified was hidden and encrypted by Seven of Nine. And that included all and any knowledge of superior technologies which we acquired in the Delta quadrant. In any case your inspection teams were more concerned with finding helpless families of telepaths than advancing Devore knowledge or understanding of other species."
Kathryn said this last part, knowing that Kashyk had just entered the room. He scowled but ignored her and nodded curtly at the Professor.
"Inspector. How may we assist you?" asked Professor Derrish politely enough though the tension between the soldier and the scientist was noticeable.
"I merely wish to observe and possibly contribute Professor, if that is agreeable" replied Kashyk equally politely though from his tone Janeway deduced that being agreeable was not the true motivation. "My knowledge of Devore military installations, tactics, ships and combat expertise may be of value to your research. There is not normally much need for such military knowledge in the day-to-day work of a penal colony." He smiled without humour.
Janeway did not like the idea of spending any time with Kashyk but objectively he was a more than competent scientist and a creative lateral thinker. They had worked together effectively while hunting for a wormhole and she shuddered to remember that she had even enjoyed working with someone of equal status, a colleague rather than a junior officer. That was something she had greatly missed in the Delta quadrant.
The Professor was studying the reaction of the ex-Voyager captain to Kashyk's suggestion with some concern and was slightly nonplussed when Kathryn remarked quite coolly "I have no objection Professor. Inspector Kashyk may be useful."
Seven stared at her with a very peculiar expression almost angry and hurt. Kathryn was not sure what was wrong and smiled uncertainly at the Borg. The ex-drone turned away and muttered fiercely "As you wish Captain, the Inspector's presence is irrelevant."
Her reaction reminded the Captain of how little she knew about Seven's motives and how or why Seven came to be looking for her without Voyager. However Janeway certainly did not want to ask direct questions about Voyager's whereabouts in front of the Devore soldiers and scientists, so she kept quiet.
Professor Derrish was also thinking of Voyager but his thoughts were more pragmatic.
"It is unfortunate that we do not have access to Voyager's database now. Your research on nanoprobe technology would be of great value. We have carried out extensive research on a few captured Borg drones but it is clear we have not reached the same level of understanding. It has so far proved impossible to devise a method of destroying the nanoprobes at a microscopic level."
Seven of Nine hesitated for one moment. "It is possible that data relevant to the Borg is stored in the Federation shuttle data banks."
"Unlikely Seven of Nine. Our technicians have thoroughly examined all the shuttle records and databases. Nothing with any reference to the Borg could be found. The technology aboard the shuttle is however of great interest particularly the weapons and shields."
"And did your technicians identify the Borg encrypted databases hidden within the astrometric database?" Seven asked without irony. Kathryn bit her cheek to avoid laughing when she saw the Professor flush a dark red.
"I will check. But you can be sure a thorough inspection took place." Derrish walked to the back of the lab and spoke quietly into his communicator. The anger on his face after a few minutes discussion did not require translation.
Inspector Kashyk was grinning openly at the Professor's discomfiture.
"This will be more entertaining than I had hoped," he murmured to Kathryn looking into her eyes with a hint of the charm he had employed on their first meetings on Voyager. A creaking noise drew their attention to Seven of Nine. She was watching Kashyk without expression while her Borg enhanced hand crushed a heavy alloy tube she had picked up off a lab bench. Kashyk's grin faded and he busied himself looking at a view screen image of a stasis field containing a few wriggling nanoprobes magnified many hundreds of times.
The Professor stalked back to their end of the lab.
"The shuttle databases will be transferred to this laboratory for further analysis by Seven of Nine and my team." he said shortly. "We must commence our research. Time is not on our side."
*~~~*
*48 hours later*
The latest war news display on the wall of the laboratory showed 68 planetary systems lost and 13 billion individuals assimilated. Like watching a scoreboard the numbers rolled over every time another battle was lost.
Kathryn leaned tiredly against the wall. The laboratory was nearly empty. The Professor was talking to one of his technicians at the far end and three guards sat at a table playing some kind of gambling game that resembled poker. Inspector Kashyk had left to deal with a matter of prison administration.
Seven of Nine and the shuttle databases had provided a great deal of information and assistance to all the research teams. The group working on the transwarp propulsion project were reporting a great deal of success and predicting an imminent breakthrough directly as a result of the Borg's advice. But that success was not being repeated in this team.
Seven of Nine was working on a calculation of staggering complexity but without any direct relevance to the problem of fighting and defeating thousands of drones in hand to hand combat. Most of the team's effort seemed to have gone into modelling the adaptive technology of the Borg and proving that the Borg could deal with every form of armament the Devore possessed.
Seven straightened, turned to face the former Captain who was still slumped against the wall. She scrutinised her steadily.
"You are tired Captain, you should rest." she observed.
Kathryn shook her head.
"Come here and talk to me Seven. We have had no opportunity to speak alone. I want to know what happened on Voyager after I left and how you came to look for me on your own."
The Borg reported the plain facts of her escape from Voyager. And by the end Kathryn did not know whether to be wildly flattered by Seven and B'Elanna Torres' loyalty or incredibly angry with both of them for behaving quite outrageously and breaking every Starfleet rule. It did not take much imagination to flesh out Seven's bald account and to sympathise with Chakotay having to handle a mutinous crew.
"Seven..." Janeway took a deep breath and placed her hands on Seven's forearms as the Borg looked at her expectantly. "Seven you should not have done this. Chakotay was following my express orders. He did not deserve to be treated this way."
Seven did not argue the point; the ex-drone's blue eyes blurred with unshed tears as she explained her disobedience with heart-breaking honesty.
"You are my connection to humanity Captain. Without you there was nothing to hold me on Voyager, nothing to bind me to that human collective." Her voice became softer and Kathryn could barely hear the next words.
"I did not believe that I would ever experience loneliness as great as being severed from the Borg Collective, but that was insignificant compared to the pain when I knew that Chakotay had abandoned you. I could not abandon you."
Kathryn gulped air and blushed.
This is your chance Kathryn Janeway. She has all but said she loves you, now tell her how you feel. But looking into Seven's troubled face the words would not form and the indomitable Captain felt her knees were going to buckle first. Mentally Kathryn kicked herself. What the hell am I thinking, standing here like a hyperventilating guppy? I may never get another chance.
She was spared trying to reply by Kashyk's return. Janeway dropped her hands from Seven's arms and stepped back quickly but not quickly enough. His shrewd dark eyes took in the scene and an unpleasant smile formed on his face. He opened his mouth to sneer "What a pretty pic...."
The smirk on his face enraged Janeway.
"Be quiet" she growled with such implacable fury that Kashyk stopped mid-sentence and gaped at her. The poker playing soldiers fell silent and stood up looking expectantly at their leader, waiting for his retribution against the insolent gaharay. He said nothing.
Kathryn ignored them and him. The anger had fuelled her determination to seize the moment and she had the irrational conviction that it was now or never. Taking Seven's hand, who did not protest but raised her eyebrow in question, Kathryn stood and thought for a moment.
What can you say to a woman who has returned to the heart of darkness because she could not bear your loss? The Starfleet captain in Kathryn might deplore the means but the romantic could hardly argue with the gesture. And then she knew what to say and it was so obvious that she grinned in relief and said simply, without thinking about consequences, responsibilities or even the practical impossibility.
"I know that this is sudden and my timing is off and this may be the last thing you ever expected or wanted me to say but I think that we may never have another chance, so I am going to say it anyway. Seven of Nine, I love you. I have loved you from the beginning. I hope and believe that you feel the same way about me. Will you marry me?"
The second she uttered the words, an avalanche of consequences, responsibilities and practical difficulties slid into her consciousness, but skating topmost was the fear that Seven might not want her. Maybe she had completely misunderstood Seven's feelings. The stunned expression on the ex-drone's face didn't help. Janeway started to back-pedal.
"I mean at least think about it, you know, you don't have to answer now, perhaps when this...", she gestured vaguely about, "is all over..."
Seven looked wide-eyed at her Captain. "You intend that you should form a legally recognised domestic partnership... with me..."
"I suppose that's one way of putting it."
"Today?" asked the drone.
"No! Of course not! I meant after we have left this prison and the conflict with the Borg is over."
"It is highly unlikely we will survive the war Captain or leave this place. If this plan is to be accomplished, an earlier resolution will be required," Seven remarked calmly.
Wanting to curse Seven's precision a frustrated Kathryn half-yelled "Seven! Will you stop analysing the timetable and tell me if you want to marry me!" The soldiers sniggered. Janeway glared at them with a look that had quelled many junior ensigns and the three young Devore fell silent. Kashyk was also silent, his anger overshadowed for the moment by fascination at the scene in front of him.
"I am sorry Captain, I did not understand that I had a choice." Seven was quite straight faced but something about her expression made Kathryn suspicious. The Borg went on "You have made many life changing decisions on my behalf, I assumed this would be the case now."
Kathryn was astonished. Was Seven of Nine teasing her? Now of all times the Borg was choosing to develop a sense of humour!
"Seven please answer the question. Will you marry me?" Kathryn pleaded quietly. The ex-drone canted her head slightly on one side and her ice blue eyes considered Kathryn Janeway carefully. Feeling helpless and incredibly vulnerable Janeway returned the gaze.
"Acceptable" said Seven of Nine without preamble and wrapped her arms around the former Captain of the Starship Voyager, kissing her thoroughly if not very expertly. The Universe shrank to include nothing but the two of them.
Finally needing to breathe, Seven lifted her head.
"I hope my actions are correct Captain, this behaviour is customary after such a declaration is it not?" she queried breathlessly.
"Quite correct Seven," mumbled Kathryn into Seven of Nine's shoulder where she was now resting her head. Relieved to know that her behaviour was acceptable, Seven tightened her hold and kissed the top of Kathryn Janeway's head. Kathryn raised her face and they would've kissed again except they were brought back to the moment by Professor Derrish exclaiming loudly.
"What! What is this? The professor had been shaken from his habitual detachment.
Kathryn turned within the gentle circle of her Borg's arms to face the scandalised scientist and leant her weight against Seven, feeling absurdly happy and safe. "We are disturbing you Professor?"
Kashyk intervened smoothly before the purple-faced scientist could formulate any coherent words.
"I offer my congratulations Captain Janeway. This was a touching interlude but if there is to be a happy ending I suggest we return to matters of more immediate importance." Menace entered his voice. "Other considerations must wait."
Kathryn Janeway could feel Seven of Nine warm against her back and for a few seconds Janeway just wished the Devore, the Borg, Starfleet, everyone would just go away and leave them alone. Her hatred of Kashyk and all he represented began to bubble to the surface. Feeling Kathryn's body stiffen suddenly, Seven released her from her arms causing Janeway look up at Seven. The ex-Captain reminded herself of what she had to lose and that this was no time to lose her control. She could see the uncertainty on the younger woman's face, so she took her hand and said quietly "There will be a time for us Seven. I promise." Then the Janeway nodded to Kashyk in acknowledgement.
"You are right Inspector, there are pressing concerns. As the senior command staff present perhaps you and I should consider the tactical data together," she suggested with a note of challenge in her deep voice. "Perhaps we have been approaching this problem in the wrong way."
TBC
TITLE: Janeway Redux
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: J/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Set after five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 8 - Desperate measures
Another 4 hours have passed
The war news display now read 70 planetary systems lost and 16 billion individuals assimilated.
Inspector Kashyk, governor of the penal colony on Devore II, threw aside his padd and groaned. "This is hopeless, no one has proposed a single workable idea."
Kathryn leaned back and considered the same information on her own analysis padd. It certainly wasn't promising. All existing Devore weaponry had proved ineffective in fighting the Borg, even the newest designs of weapon were swiftly dismissed by Seven of Nine who easily demonstrated how the Borg would adapt. The Borg had defeated many species who were technically more advanced than the Devore.
Not as willing to admit defeat as the inspector, the human rubbed her eyes and said "OK let's consider again what we know about the Borg."
Kashyk shrugged his shoulders "For all the good it will do Captain....."
"Humour me Inspector." And she smiled disarmingly at her former persecutor.
"Right" said the tall dark man resignedly. He began to intone the facts already established and chewed over many times. "They are physically stronger than most organic beings and certainly two or three times stronger than the Devore, they don't use disruptors or phasers in hand to hand fighting. Instead they rely on their strength, body armour, adaptive shielding and assimilation of their opponents plus of course sheer numbers. The shielding is highly effective and will adapt to phaser and disruptor fire after just a few shots, chemical and biological weapons are ineffective against the nanoprobe technology which is again highly adaptive."
He paused and Kathryn took up the litany. "Successful attacks against the Borg have either used technology which is unavailable to the Borg or stealthy attacks on the collective mind. None of these have been successful long term strategies because the Borg eventually adapt to nullify the threat. The only identified weaknesses are the inability to adapt to technology/biology which they cannot assimilate, some vulnerabilities in the mechanisms used to control the collective mind and an occasional slowness identifying potential threats."
"And where has this analysis left us Kathryn? The Devore inspector asked politely.
Kathryn stopped pacing and stood very still behind Seven of Nine, looking at her ex-drone who was, unusually, seated. Half an idea began to form.
"You need soldiers who cannot be assimilated." Without being really aware she placed her hand on Seven's shoulder. Seven jumped but did not object as the Captain absentmindedly began stroking the back of Seven's neck.
The Inspector cast his eyes heavenward. "I don't think your mind is on the job Kathryn."
She ignored Kashyk's jibe and continued her train of thought "there is an old saying from Earth Inspector 'Fight fire with fire'. What you need Inspector are drones of your own."
"What a revolutionary idea Captain. Every home should have one, but I fear they are not all as charming as Seven of Nine." Kashyk said flippantly. Seeing the irritation on Kathryn's face he added more seriously "How or where would we obtain drones?"
The hand on Seven's neck stilled and Seven looked disappointed. The Captain considered Seven pensively. "Seven could you modify your nanoprobes to resist assimilation?"
The Borg turned to face Kathryn as she answered decisively. "It is possible Captain but the effect would not last. Assimilation nanoprobes are programmed to adapt to malfunctioning nanoprobes and destroy or repair them. It is the main defence against viral infection of the programming code."
"What would happen Seven if the Borg reassimilated you?" asked Professor Derrish. His thin face showed the strain of the last few days but he was interested if a little confused.
"I would be identified as Borg and my malfunctions assessed for repair or termination. If repairs were effective I would be returned to the Collective."
Janeway's head jerked up, interest sparking her eyes. "Seven what would happen if no malfunction were identified?"
"The assimilation 'probes would deactivate themselves," Seven replied, "but Captain only a fully functional drone would be accepted."
"Or," said the Captain, "something that appeared to be a fully functional drone. Seven, explain exactly what happens when someone is assimilated."
"The nanoprobes first take control of the main neural pathways and set up the neural transceiver link to allow connection to the hive mind. The nanoprobes then make the adaptations necessary for the future functioning of the drone."
"And those are?" prompted the Captain.
"Nanoprobe replication modules, neural processors, logic centres and memory units, skeletal enhancements, adaptive shield generators, units to monitor and control the host's biological functions, assimilation technology and internal connections to sensory systems."
Kathryn Janeway was now in full command mode, alive with energy, barely able to wait for the answers she requested. Seven knew that every person in the room could feel that energy and was being swept along; she had observed the effect many times with Voyager's crew.
"How much of this internal structure do you retain Seven?" the Captain asked, stopping her pacing for just a moment.
"I am Borg" replied Seven of Nine. She was going to leave it at that but observed Kathryn's impatient expression.
"The Doctor removed most of my external implants and a number of the internal additions but I retain all essential systems. The neural link to the Hive mind has been disabled and some of the suppressed human biological functions have been enabled. I retain an external interface to the nanoprobe control system," Seven indicated the implant above her eye, "and regeneration ports for linking to a regeneration alcove."
"Seven" said the Captain, "would it be possible to assimilate someone partially and to programme their nanoprobes and internal structures to deceive invading assimilation nanoprobes into believing that this is a fully functional drone?"
Seven stood as she gave the matter full consideration. After a long pause she replied carefully "I could reprogram my assimilation 'probes to perform a limited assimilation, all the necessary physical structures would be created. In theory Captain it may then be possible to programme dummy functions to mimic a properly operational drone linked to the hive mind."
"What of any missing external implants?" asked Kashyk, serious at last.
"These would be ignored on reassimilation as each drone is configured differently and repairs would normally be done by the drone's own nanoprobes. Each drone has standard external ports to allow linkage of external implants but the attachments may differ widely depending on the drone's function."
The Professor spoke and there was more than a little fear in his voice. "It is a fascinating and original idea Captain if I have correctly understood what you are suggesting. But how could we test such uncertain technology? Who could be recruited as subjects for such a project? Who would control these drones and would they remain individuals?"
Seven replied "The initial assimilation would fall short of collectivisation - the drones would remain individuals. We lack the necessary Borg technology to control a collective mind..."
Inspector Kashyk interrupted "I do not think that recruits will be a problem Professor, I can assure you that volunteers will be available." Seeing the concern on Janeway's face he went on smoothly, "after all better a few heavy bones than becoming a genuine drone, which is the fate that awaits our soldiers if we do not succeed. I am certain our army would welcome any protection offered."
Seven was still doubtful, "there is considerable risk Captain. Insufficient reprogramming would risk creating real Borg drones but if the reprogramming was too obvious the fake drone would fail to convince invading assimilation nanoprobes and the drone would be 'reassimilated'. There would be no second chance to correct the error."
In answer to Janeway's unspoken question Seven said simply "If a fake drone is assimilated the Borg will know our strategy Captain. The technology must work first time and then continue to do so on every subsequent occasion."
There was silence. Kashyk asked carefully "can we agree that this line of research should be pursued?"
The Professor stood in thought, he was troubled by Seven of Nine's assessment and his natural conservatism made the whole idea seemed outrageously imprudent. On the other hand there were no alternatives plans to consider.
The Inspector became impatient. "This is the only new possibility we have identified Professor. We must take it further."
After a long pause in which he visibly chewed over the ideas before him, the Professor spoke, very ponderously.
"Although I have many reservations about this proposal, as project leader I must follow any possible line which may help us resist the Borg. But Inspector, a full assessment of the risks is essential even if it takes a little longer, and I will not approve proceeding unless I am completely satisfied. After all we do not wish to create an army of drones within our walls."
Janeway had returned to earth and was a little shaken by where her thinking had taken them. She added in as firm a voice as she could muster "And Kashyk, our help is strictly on condition that only willing volunteers are used and then only if we are very certain of success. Is that understood?"
"Of course Captain." The Inspector smiled at her affectionately, "we are not barbarians."
An hour later
Derrish and Kashyk were watching the small Starfleet Captain go over yet another project plan with one of the three small teams of scientists she had organised to work on the project.
"Incredible isn't she? An hour ago the project and the team was on its knees, now look at them." said Kashyk observing the look of near awe on his companion's face. His voice tightened "that is what the High Command could not understand."
"From what I have read of your encounter Inspector, your own attraction to the Captain played a significant part in your failure with Voyager." Derrish needled the Inspector.
Kashyk turned towards him and the Professor paled at the ferocity in the man's eyes.
"They used her to destroy my career now I will use her to go even higher than before." With a cold smile, which even a man as unsentimental as Derrish found chilling, he said "now I must attend to the matter of obtaining volunteers."
Kashyk left the room. The Professor ran his hand nervously through his thinning air and wondered again why he had accepted a career so closely associated with the military.
72 hours after the drone project commenced
The war news display showed the score: Borg - 96 planetary systems and 23 billion individuals assimilated. The Devore - 18 cubes destroyed.
Professor Derrish was not the neat tidy bureaucrat of five days previous. He had slept less than fourteen hours in the previous eighty but he knew that was several more than the slight red headed human he was watching. Apparently indefatigable she led the teams of scientists, reviewing their data, pushing them on, giving encouragement and ideas freely. It amused him to see that even the guards now deferred to her rather than Kashyk.
The Captain and her Borg were also being watched by the Parath guardsman and Halquine telepath. Janeway had insisted they be freed and brought to the research laboratory several days earlier. The Professor had been appalled at the idea of a telepath being present but he had to admit they took better care of the Captain than he had managed, Kraal virtually force fed her at intervals. The only sleep she had taken was at the insistence of Seven of Nine who refused to regenerate unless the Captain slept.
The relationship between the Borg and the human was bizarre. How could anyone as vital as the redheaded human be in love with such a cold and unemotional being as the Borg even if she was almost unearthly beautiful? And yet as he watched, Janeway leant on the bench next to Seven of Nine reading some output from a recent test while the Borg looked down at her. After a few seconds Janeway stopped reading to look up into the former drone's eyes and the Captain's expression softened. Seven said something quietly and Janeway ran her fingers down Seven's cheek, pulling her face down to kiss her lightly on the lips. Derrish did not feel disgust as he might have done a few days before but an emotion he could only describe as envy.
There were many things about the current circumstances which should have disturbed him more but it occurred to Derrish that he had enjoyed the last few days. He was not experiencing the ambivalence that normally accompanied his work for the Imperium. He was an ambitious man and had accepted that working for the Imperium would often entail dealing with people and principles he did not like. But this time there was a common goal, a common enemy and colleagues for whom he felt unequivocal respect.
He was still worried by Inspector Kashyk, a ruthless and driven man. The Inspector came hourly to the laboratory for progress reports, he had informed the High Command of the new project and there was now increasing pressure being applied for early results despite the Professor's attempts to reduce expectations.
Kathryn Janeway approached the Professor clutching a gigantic beaker of steaming hot chealath, a Parath stimulant drunk widely throughout the Imperium. It was an acquired taste and not considered a healthy habit but the Parath guardsman, Kraal, and the Federation Captain apparently thrived on it. Janeway's face had lit up after her first taste and had muttered something about life being bearable in the Delta quadrant after all.
"The latest test results are much better Professor" said Kathryn. "Seven has successfully managed to reprogram nanoprobes to give false readings and laboratory tests with real assimilation 'probes have been one hundred percent successful, full deactivation after receiving the dummy information from the reprogrammed nanoprobes."
"Are we ready to test a real subject?" He sighed "I am sorry to push Captain but the High Command have become very insistent that we begin final tests on live subjects."
Janeway suddenly looked tired and he could hear the uncertainty as she replied.
"Seven has made the necessary adjustments to limit the assimilation process and considers the probability of success exceeds 95%. But Professor I would be lying if I said the first person tested was not running a real risk of becoming a drone, and even if that part is okay then we still have to field test an attack using captured Borg assimilation nanoprobes which will be even less predictable." She finished her report with a little bitterness.
"Perhaps I should learn to keep my bright ideas to myself. The lucky volunteers will have two chances of becoming a borg drone, not to mention the thousand other ways the tests may malfunction given we no so little about some of the underlying technology."
Derrish was not very used to ethical doubts being expressed by military personnel. However it did appear that the Federation captain was genuine in her concerns.
"Captain, it may help you feel less ambivalent about this project if I explain my personal involvement in defeating the Borg."
The Professor lowered his voice. It was less steady than normal.
"You may recollect the logged footage of the defeat of the fleet at Malta VI which was shown to the team at the outset of this project?"
Kathryn Janeway nodded.
"My son was present as a Lieutenant aboard one of the vessels which we saw being assimilated, the warship Invincible. Indeed it is his voice you may have heard announcing the arrival of the Borg drones aboard that vessel." Kathryn stared at scientist, horrified. The professor's own voice was detached as though he was trying not to hear his own words.
"It is not known whether my son was killed or assimilated but he was not amongst the survivors, I do not know whether it is worse to think of him as dead or lost to us forever amongst the Borg."
The professor was now shaking and Kathryn instinctively took his hands in her own and squeezed hard. "I will never recover my son and this work may even ensure his ultimate death but I do know that if I can save one other parent from such grief then my life, or death, will have meaning."
In a softer steadier voice he then said "I have informed Inspector Kashyk that I will personally volunteer for the initial tests."
Kathryn wanted to argue but seeing the determination in the pale grey eyes of the scientist she realised she had no right and said instead "Seven and I will do our very best Professor. You may inform Kashyk that we will be ready for the live tests in three hours."
TBC
TITLE: Janeway Redux
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: J/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Set after five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 9 - Desperate remedies
The day of the live tests
Seven and the Captain were alone for the first time in several days. A guard was on duty outside but he was not really watching. In the laboratory a meal lay uneaten on a table. The Captain was in no mood to eat. Kathryn Janeway was feeling real apprehension. Seven was reasonably confident of initial success but much more pessimistic about the long term prospects.
Kathryn leaned against Seven and closed her eyes in exhaustion. The Borg was worried, her Captain seldom allowed anyone to see any weakness.
"Cap... Kathryn you are concerned about the coming tests?"
"Please Seven talk about something else."
"I would prefer not to talk Kathryn" the Borg stated and turned the small Captain in her strong arms. She kissed her. After a few minutes Janeway drew her head back breathless and smiling.
"You are a very quick study dearest one."
"I endeavour to improve." the Borg quirked her eyebrow and bent her head to continue the lesson.
Some while later she asked "Kathryn I am curious whether you were in earnest when you asked me to marry you?"
"What?"
"It seemed possible that when you asked me you were trying to anger Inspector Kashyk." The Borg's voice remained calm but Kathryn could feel the tension in Seven's body. For some reason the Captain felt she should be cautious.
"Why would I do that?"
"Because you are still attracted to him" replied the young woman, sounding distant and withdrawn. "Did you allow yourself to be arrested on Voyager because you wanted to return to him?"
"What are you trying to say Seven?" Kathryn released her hold on Seven and walked away a few paces before turning back to face the Borg, her confusion apparent. "I find your reasoning very hard to follow. I can assure you I never had any interest in the Inspector and of course I was serious when I asked you to marry me."
"Then why did you kiss him on Voyager and why do you accept his presence here, on the research team? He hurt you and yet you still do not reject him."
The customary lack of emotion had disappeared from Seven's face and voice, replaced by youthful despair. Janeway felt a wave of affection and was about to kiss and comfort her sweet drone when an uncomfortable question occurred to her.
"How do you know I kissed the Inspector?"
"Voyager's security logs" said the Borg evasively.
"You were watching me." Kathryn was now angry and her voice dropped to a lower pitch. "Seven it was not your business to spy on me."
"But I love you, I must protect you." Seven knew that Voyager's Captain would not take kindly to the idea of being watched even if she had done it with the best intentions.
Trying to control rising anger, Kathryn said "I had to play a difficult and subtle game with the Inspector which required me to pretend to feelings which I did not have. But Seven, even if my feelings had been genuine it was certainly not your part to interfere, I do not need that kind of protection."
Seven flinched and blurted out furiously "I should have eliminated him."
"Love does not give you the right to threaten violence or to invade another's privacy. Back on Earth I was in love with a man and we were to be married, if he were here now would you threaten him?" From Seven's expression Kathryn realised with a sinking feeling that the drone was unaware of her former fiancee.
Seven's voice trembled. "Captain it is apparent I have misunderstood the nature of such human relationships, obviously you feel free to move from one lover to another. We should return to our former relationship as I do not believe I could bear to be abandoned when you find the next true love."
It was Kathryn's turn to flinch but her temper had burst its restraints. "I'd have to agree Seven, at this time you obviously lack the maturity for a personal relationship, not to mention your obvious lack of trust. Just forget the whole thing - put it down to stressful circumstances."
The women stood and glared at each other, shaken by anger and fear. They barely noticed the arrival of two Devore soldiers who saluted smartly, the smaller one saying "Captain Janeway, Sir, Inspector Kashyk requests your presence in the main laboratory. The Borg is also required."
The Captain drew a sharp breath and the habitual mask of command came down over her features disguising the anger and distress that had been visible a moment before. She nodded her agreement and turned and led the way out of the room. The two soldiers waited as Seven of Nine stood looking after the Captain unable to comprehend how quickly her world had collapsed.
The soldier hesitated as he looked at Seven, he was at a loss to see tears rolling down the face of the Borg. "Ma'am, er Miss, Seven of Nine. You must accompany us now. To the laboratory."
Seven looked at him and did not understand what he was saying. Controlling herself she rapidly replayed the last few seconds of conversation. "I will comply." was all she could manage to say. Consciously she handed motor control to her analytical Borg brain and her machine-half took over, suppressing the pain, organising her thoughts and monitoring her actions. She left the room unaware that her walk and speech were noticeably more Borg than usual.
*~~~*
The laboratory was crowded, the full team of scientists were present, most standing by monitoring equipment and Professor Derrish was moving from one station to another fussing over the details.
Janeway entered the room with Nithqref and Kraal who fell into step on either side, Seven walked a little further behind.
The ex-drone looked unemotional and calm but Janeway had noticed her slightly jerky motion with some concern and cursed her own loss of control. Seven was young and wholly without emotional experience. Her inner voice was scornful If you couldn't be patient with her Kathryn you should have left her alone, Kahless knows how much you have hurt her.
Kashyk stood talking to two men that Janeway did not recognise, a high ranking inspector and a senior army officer.
The Inspector introduced them "Captain Janeway, this is Controller Goff representing the High Command and General Maryk, commander of the Marine regiments."
Goff, a corpulent and cold eyed man spoke in a soft voice, "Well Captain I understand you and your team are ready for testing on live subjects. The High Command are very interested in the outcome of this test, however we are not happy with the first tests being performed on Devore citizens or soldiers and I have asked Inspector Kashyk to obtain some subjects from amongst the prisoners."
He pointed towards the corner of the room where she could see three terrified looking prisoners cowering before their guards.
Captain Janeway stepped back sharply and glared at Inspector Kashyk. "What the hell are you talking about? That was not what we agreed Inspector, you said they would be volunteers."
Inspector Kashyk regarded her with lethal amusement. "Indeed they are volunteers Captain. Their future options were explained to them and they volunteered."
"Controller Goff I made it clear that our co-operation was strictly on the basis of using free volunteers, the tests will not take place unless this condition is met."
The fat controller was not used to prisoners arguing with him and was somewhat taken aback but he recovered quickly. "You and your team are in no position to bargain with us Captain Janeway." His low voice was menacing and many of the assembled Devore began to look frightened; Goff had not reached the elevated position of Controller of the Inspectorate through a reputation for good works.
Kathryn Janeway was icy and fearless.
"You still require Seven of Nine to complete the tests and you will find that a number of the key control protocols cannot be released without my personal authorisation." She sneered with a lot more confidence than she actually felt "Controller Goff, you may be able to torture compliance from myself and Seven of Nine eventually but I promise it will take several days you cannot afford." She gestured at the war display on the wall. "Likewise you may be able to work around the technological problems without our help - but that would take even longer."
Inspector Kashyk was smiling at her outburst, amused by Goff's obvious annoyance and the thought of his coming surprise. "Kathryn I was worried that you might be unreasonable about this so I took out a little insurance."
He nodded to a technician who adjusted a control panel. A two-meter view screen on the wall activated and they could hear loud terrified squealing noises. A large, but definitely feminine, Parath could be seen sitting on the floor of a room bound and gagged together with five young Parath who were the source of the squealing noises. Kraal swore but then kept silent except for some heavy bass growling noises emanating from deep in his chest.
"Either we carry out the tests with our three volunteers or I will have the Parath's family slaughtered now, your choice Captain."
"Kraal is that your family?" Kathryn asked.
The Parath nodded and ground his teeth.
Kathryn fought to keep her face impassive. She had steeled herself to the idea that the Devore might torture her or her comrades, even her beloved Seven of Nine. They were in a war and she understood the risks. But to choose which innocent parties should suffer was different, she did not know how to take that responsibility, had never been able to make those choices. Her father and a fiancee had both died because she couldn't make that kind of choice. Nithqref could feel her anguish and spoke to her 'Steady Kathryn, you can do this. Do not allow them to take away your choice, remember many lives depend on you.'
Kathryn looked at Kashyk and caught the triumph on his face. A flash of mental lightning illuminated his intentions as if they were her own. This dispute had nothing to do with defeating the Borg and everything to do with Kashyk's obsessive hatred and desire to outwit her and prove the weakness of her compassion. The answer was to give him what he wanted.
"Controller Goff, Inspector Kashyk, may we speak alone for a few moments?" Goff waved everybody away and the Devore scuttled off immediately even General Maryk.
Captain Kathryn Janeway turned on the diplomatic charm. Her voice was calm and reasonable "Controller Goff we all wish this project to succeed and I would like to offer a compromise to overcome the immediate problem. This project was my idea and it would seem just to test the results on myself first; if the first test is successful then two other free volunteers may be used at considerably less risk and if they are Devore the credibility of the project would be greatly enhanced."
Goff allowed his doubt to show "I do not believe that is a good idea Captain Janeway. These prisoners are expendable. At the moment you have a certain value."
By contrast Inspector Kashyk pounced on the offer as Janeway knew he would.
"On the contrary Controller I believe the Captain has provided us with an excellent solution. Assuming the procedure works, and I have every confidence, what better way of encouraging our troops than to show that the Captain had enough belief in her work to be the first subject? If the test fails then I do not believe that either the good Captain or this project will have much to look forward to."
Kashyk looked as pleased as a Klingon with a cornered Targ. Kathryn had to resist the impulse to wipe his smile off with her fists.
Goff looked suspiciously at the Starfleet Captain, "Captain it escapes me why you should risk yourself in this manner."
"The fair Captain cannot resist proving her nobility and superiority compared to barbarians such as ourselves Controller" said Kashyk.
Kathryn Janeway smiled broadly "I believe the Inspector feels he is a winner however the test works out. He is either a hero of the Devore Imperium or I die a horrible death. A somewhat personal motivation but perhaps the Imperium finds that acceptable?"
Goff laughed, or at least Kathryn guessed that was his intention, the result was nearer a cackle. "The Imperium finds any motivation acceptable if the outcome is in our interests, including yours my dear Captain, you may proceed."
*~~~*
Kathryn's team stood a little way off watching the apparent affability between their Captain and the Devore. "What in Freling's name are they saying Nithqref?" asked Kraal.
'Kathryn made it clear to me that I was not to intrude,' replied the telepath, 'but they appear to have finished.'
Goff raised his voice and addressed the room. "I have decided that the tests will proceed, Captain Janeway has volunteered to be the first subject,..."
"No, you cannot" Seven's voice was barely above a whisper but in the silence it was clearly audible.
Goff ignored the interruption ".... we will be seeking two additional volunteers for the subsequent tests"
Kraal stepped forward "Captain you will be a most unimpressive drone, I am far better suited to the uniform and I will go first."
"I am afraid that is not part of the deal Kraal, I go first or no one gets to play." Kathryn's tone allowed no argument.
For once Kraal did not try. "Then I will be next. So we have one Human, one Parath and no Devore, how unsurprising," the Parath sneered.
"I have already indicated my willingness to the Inspector" said Professor Derrish quietly, "Let us proceed, enough time has been lost."
Kathryn nodded and started to organise her team. She removed her battered Starfleet jacket and then looked at the Devore guards and said firmly "You had better be ready. If things don't go as planned you will have limited time and limited shots before the new Borg drones adapt. Whatever happens the drones must not be allowed to contact the collective, is that understood?" The Devore guards came to attention and saluted.
"Seven are you ready?" It was only now that Kathryn allowed herself to look at Seven of Nine. The drone looked lost and vulnerable, for the second time that day Seven could not process her feelings or make sense of events. All she could think was that somehow her argument with the Captain had caused this to happen.
"Kathryn please, I did not mean to ..., I cannot do this. I know you fear assimilation, why are you allowing this?"
Kathryn lowered her voice to reply "Seven this is not a personal matter. It is a matter of responsibility and duty and has nothing to do with us." The Captain paused and then continued a little hesitantly "Seven, er I.... look, earlier - I was hasty and .... unkind - You and me, we need to talk, to spend time, to get used to being in a different relationship. But I do love you, a few words spoken in anger cannot change that."
"We are unlikely to have that time if you are assimilated." Seven looked and sounded so forlorn that Kathryn nearly smiled.
"Why are you so pessimistic?"
Seven recovered some of her Borg detachment when she answered "This work was done with Devore volunteers in mind and many of the tests made specific reference to Devore physical characteristics. You are Human and the tests are much less reliable indicators. You and Kraal introduce other variables which we have not considered."
"The physiological differences between Humans and Devore are not so great from an assimilation point of view, are they?" Seven dropped her eyes in reluctant agreement. The Captain stepped forward and put her arms around her drone "Seven remember we have a few safety nets tucked up our sleeve. You will just have to be quick to implement them before our friends there terminate me."
*~~~*
The hypo entered her arm. A curious warmth began to flood through her veins and then the pain began as the 'probes began the destruction and reconstruction of her internal organs, bones and even her brain. The crowd saw her body go rigid within the bonds holding her to the chair. "Seven help me." She whispered and then could make no more sounds nor even move. Seven turned her head unable to watch anymore, Kraal put his hand on the Borg's shoulder.
Inspector Kashyk stared at the bound and helpless figure of Captain Janeway, a parody of a smile glued to his face, fascinated by the metamorphosis. Controller Goff was impassive, his small grey eyes betrayed no feelings beyond mild interest. There was utter silence as the seconds shuddered by.
The Captain had become visibly paler and a small implant exploded below her ear, several people gasped and the watching crowd collectively shrank back.
"Life signs, are they stable? I want a progress report now." Prof Derrish snapped angrily at the distracted technicians who were unable to drag their eyes back to their monitors and away from the spectacle in front of them. Other implants began to erupt on Janeway's hands and arms.
Reluctantly the senior technician returned to his post. "Transformation is proceeding as expected Professor. Estimated completion 27.2%, life signs are within acceptable parameters."
"Report progress at 30 second intervals."
The reports continued marking the passage of time until the terse response "estimated completion 93.4%." The technician's voice then rose slightly "the process is not slowing down Professor, there is a problem."
Seven of Nine pushed Kraal away and stepped closer. "What is wrong?" She sounded fierce and the technician replied quickly.
"The rate of conversion is accelerating - and does not accord with the specifications, unknown changes are being effected. The process should have stopped."
Seven was at Janeway's side so fast that the Devore had no time to intervene and without hesitation plunged her assimilation tubules into the Captain's neck.
"What you are doing Seven of Nine?" Kashyk snapped back to life.
For a few seconds Seven ignored the enquiry, concentrating on her task before replying "I am accessing the nanoprobe assimilation records, the 'probes have failed to recognise that assimilation is complete. I am now manually deactivating them."
Seven breathed out slowly "further assimilation has been stopped, I do not know if I was in time." The Captain's body twitched and relaxed.
Janeway eyes opened and focused. The world looked odd - she could see objects clearly, very clearly, but could not make out what they were. Then a bolt of pain shot through her. "I don't feel so good," she tried to complain. Her voice sounded wrong and the words were gibberish. Slowly the memory of what had happened returned to the ex-Captain. Doesn't look good for me - seems like Seven was right. God I wonder what I look like.*
"Captain can you hear me?" asked Seven and then jumped back as the small red head effortlessly snapped the braces holding her right arm and flailed it in her direction but the Captain was not even looking at Seven. She stared straight ahead while her arm waved about, she was making noises but nothing intelligible. The guards aimed their weapons.
One of the shapes made a sound - Janeway could not recognise the noise. She then tried to look round but her field of view didn't change and she could not work out where her head was or where her body began. She had a vague sensation of movement and she could see a long thin shape in motion somewhere close by. I wonder if that belongs to me whatever it is. Perhaps I am dead.
"Do not fire." said Seven of Nine as forcefully as she could. She and Kraal placed themselves between the Captain and the raised phasers. "Captain Janeway cannot yet control her body, without the collective voice she must learn to control her mechanical implants directly."
Kashyk advanced towards the group with a sneer. "You did not mention this before Borg. It appears to me that the Captain has become a drone, what if she is attempting to contact the collective? This must not be permitted."
Derrish intervened quietly. "The Captain is being fully monitored and has not attempted to communicate with the Borg collective. We must allow her some time to recover her senses, literally, her condition is not unexpected and monitoring her recovery is part of the test."
Kashyk became furious.
"I do not agree with you Professor. The experiment has clearly failed and we cannot risk attracting the attention of the Borg so we must eliminate her now." He appealed to his superior, "Controller Goff, in view of the dangers it is clear that the subject should be destroyed."
The fat controller hesitated a moment too long. Seven of Nine seized Inspector Kashyk by the throat and spun him round to face their audience. She increased the pressure on his windpipe until he was unable to breathe. "You will not attempt to harm her. Any sudden movement will result in the Inspector's immediate termination." To make her point Seven twisted the Inspector's head to within a millimetre of snapping his neck. He would have screamed if he had been able.
"Put him down Borg. No one will be hurt if you release the Inspector but I will not tolerate blackmail." Controller Goff's small eyes showed no emotion as he spoke. "The Inspector's loss will cause me little grief. As a hostage he was a poor choice," his jowls quivered slightly, possibly with amusement, and he gestured at the Captain, "However I am interested in the results of your project. You have ten seconds Borg before I order the guards to kill all of you."
Before his ultimatum could be tested, the emergency klaxons began and the hailing system began to issue warnings.
TBC
TITLE: Janeway Redux
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: J/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Set after five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 10 - Escape
"BORG SHIPS HAVE BEEN DETECTED ONE LIGHT YEAR FROM THE BASE. ALL PERSONNEL ARE TO REPORT IMMEDIATELY TO BATTLE STATIONS."
Seven dropped Kashyk who fell to the ground gasping for air. The Devore soldiers lowered their weapons and fear washed over every face except Captain Janeway who still sat slack-jawed and staring at nothing.
"Controller Goff we must get our research and all relevant personnel off the base now." said Derrish.
The controller shook his head. "There are fifteen Devore fleets defending this system plus the finest planetary defences in the region. You have to finish your work Professor. I need Janeway for the Fearless soon."
"The evacuation protocol was agreed with High Command. In the event of a Borg attack on this system, all research teams would be immediately evacuated and all evidence of their existence destroyed. This has absolute priority Controller."
The fat controller nodded reluctantly and Derrish took charge, sending his technicians and scientists to scurry about collecting data and equipment and preparing to destroy what they could not remove.
"Seven of Nine. I would be grateful if you could help me move the Captain to the transporter area for immediate transport."
"Why can we not transport from here?" she asked.
"The planet is heavily shielded to prevent rescue attempts. Transporter signals are specifically targeted and recently we have attempted to modify the system to counter Borg transporters. Only one place on the planet can be used for transport. Now we must hurry"
"What about them." Seven pointed at Kraal and Nithqref.
"They are not required" said the Devore scientist. "Our orders are to evacuate essential staff only."
"Kathryn would not allow me to leave without them. I want the PArath's family also"
"There is no time for argument Seven. We must leave now."
"Precisely Professor. Therefore it would be prudent to agree to my terms and avoid any further delay."
He gave up. The Borg was as stubborn as the human. "All right but quickly."
Moments later, a jubilant Kraal was finishing untying his wife who had been hog-tied. The two enormous creatures had their arms full of small over-excited piglets. Urgency overcame her reluctance to interrupt the reunion and Seven gently prodded the Parath, gesturing to him to hurry and pick up the Captain and follow her. Kraal nodded his understanding, leaned down and unfastened the Captain's remaining arm restraints and picked her up. He staggered slightly and cursed. His wife who had removed her own gag snorted disapprovingly.
"Cavorting with strange women as usual; come here children, we are again obliged to follow your fool of a father!" The five piglets giggled and squealed. Kraal grinned at his wife and turned to follow Seven.
They set off after Derrish, accompanied by a senior technician and a couple of soldiers. The small group pushed their way through a platoon of Devore soldiers heading in the opposite direction. The klaxon continued to sound and green emergency lighting had come on casting a bilious light over the organised chaos. Kraal was finding the Captain quite a burden and was complaining loudly.
"Why do all emergency warning systems mean everyone has to get a headache. Turn the damned siren off you cursed excuses for sentient beings," he shouted at the scuttling Devore. He shifted the Captain in his arms.
"In Freling's name she has put on weight. No more snacks between meals for you Captain."
Seven looked at him oddly. "The Captain's change in weight results from the reinforcement of her bone structure not from overeating."
"Humour is not your strong point Seven of Nine. I suppose jokes are frowned on amongst the Borg." A Devore escort sniggered at the Parath's remark, Kraal growled, amusing the Devore was not his aim in life.
"How many Devore does it take to change a tube-light?" He asked and then answered himself "Five, one electrician, one judge and a firing squad." Kraal snorted at the Borg's unamused expression and gestured with his head toward the now scowling Devore soldier. "Well perhaps that was not funny but it annoyed him which gives me pleasure."
Seven shrugged "You may be fortunate Parath. A race who could only offer the Borg such a sense of humour would be unworthy of assimilation."
Kraal's wife admired the insult. "A better class of female than you usually meet Kraal."
Seven turned her attention to the elegant Halquine who walked before them, each body uncomfortably clutching a wriggling Parath baby but still managing to retain a certain dignity.
"Nithqref have you succeeded in contacting Captain Janeway yet."
'I can feel her but it is not yet possible to fix a link to her mind. Her neural pattern has been replaced and the new pattern is very variable but it is stabilising. I will keep trying.'
Seven glanced at the death-pale Starfleet Officer lying limply in Kraal's arms. She did not want to think about what Nithqref might find when the Halquine made contact with Kathryn.
She should be recovering, the links to her neural pathways are fully established ... but no Borg ever had to complete the transition alone. I should have prevented her from doing this.
Alone in her sensory prison Kathryn was frightened. The world she could perceive was still a jumbled mass of meaningless shapes and noises. There was very loud continuous noise which drowned out anything else but she could not identify it or put it in any context. She also thought she might be feeling movement and some pressure but without any sense of location. What if I am like this for the rest of my life? Don't be silly Katie - anyway if you stay like this the Devore will terminate you so 'the rest of your life' will be quite short. That thought cheered her up more than it should. More loud noise interrupted her thoughts.
A BORG VESSEL HAS ARRIVED WITHIN TRANSPORTER RANGE OF THE PLANET. TRANSPORT HAS BEEN TEMPORARILY DISABLED, ALL EVACUEE PERSONNEL SHOULD PROCEED TO SECTOR ONE TRANSPORT ZONE AND AWAIT CLEARANCE.
They hurried on, out of the science complex into the main prison quad. It was the first time any of them apart from Kraal's family had been outside. The heat was unbearable and a biting hot wind whipped up clouds of red dust making them choke and cover their eyes. Dozens of ragged, starved and terrified prisoners milled about, completely ignored by the frantic Devore military. Any attempt to impede the soldiers was met with blows or worse. One woman with a child, begging for help, was murdered in front of them by a soldier with a disruptor. Two hellish minutes later they were across the yard and in a corridor marked "Sector One Access - Authorised personnel only". The way was blocked by a force fields. After Derrish's voice identification the force field in front of them dropped and they proceeded along the corridor stopping for clearance at several successive force fields.
"BORG VESSEL DESTROYED. A NUMBER OF BORG HAVE TRANSPORTED TO SECTOR TWO. SECTOR NULLIFICATION INITIATED. ANY PERSONNEL TRYING TO LEAVE THE SECTOR WILL BE DESTROYED."
"Didn't we just leave sector 2?" asked Kraal.
"We were lucky," said Derrish looked even greyer than usual. "No one else will be leaving. Half my technicians are still in there."
"What will happen to them?"
"Has happened. The sector has been flooded with nerve gas to prevent any personnel being assimilated. Any living being trying to exit the sector will be destroyed by automated disruptors."
Seven thought of all the helpless prisoners who had just died and hoped that Kashyk had been amongst them.
She was to be disappointed. They entered a holding room to find Controller Goff and Kashyk waiting with a squad of heavily armed guards. "We have decided to leave the battle zone with you. I feel it is important that I closely monitor your research Professor." said the fat controller. "Transport facilities will be restored as soon as the small Borg contingent on the surface are destroyed."
Kraal put Kathryn down gently and muttered to Seven, "The fight must be going badly if they are running away."
The sound of disruptor fire nearby galvanised the squad of soldiers into activity and they took up position. Two soldiers ran through the door "The Borg have adapted to our weapons. They are trying to break through the last force field, we cannot hold them."
"How many?" yelled Kraal.
"Five. We destroyed four and the automatic disruptors took another five."
"Have there been any assimilations?" snapped Derrish.
"No Sir. I don't think so, we killed anyone injured or captured before they could be assimilated."
The remaining defenders were now retreating through the blast doors and back towards the only exit. "Stand and fight" screamed Kashyk. But the Devore were too frightened. Most of the Devore panicked and followed their comrades into the maze of transporter rooms.
"Inspector Kashyk you are to ensure that Captain Janeway's body is not taken by the Borg under any circumstances, is that clear? On pain of death Inspector!" commanded Controller Goff who then waddled out as fast as he could in the wake of his soldiers.
"Fat bastard" muttered Kashyk.
The first Borg drone appeared at the open door, disruptor fire from the automated defence systems bounced harmlessly off his shielding. His optically enhanced eyes swept the room with a dead gaze and expressionless he moved towards Seven and Kraal. Another appeared behind him.
"Shut the blast doors you fools." Kashyk shouted at the remaining soldiers.
The doors slammed shut behind the two drones. Immediately the doors were under attack from the Borg outside. The two drones inside the room only paused to looked at the closed doors before resuming their advance.
Kraal picked up a dropped disruptor and began firing at the drones trying to distract them. His wife gathered the frightened children and herded them away from the oncoming drones.
"Get Kathryn," yelled Kraal firing continuously. Seven nodded and ran towards the Captain's twitching body. She reached Kathryn at the same time as the Borg only to be knocked away by a swipe that would have killed a weaker being. The Borg lifted the Captain's body gently and plunged his assimilation tubules into her neck.
Seven screamed and threw herself at the drone pushing it backward, knowing she was already too late. Grasping the Borg's head she twisted it with rage until she heard the snapping of metallic bones and the Borg drone collapsed against her.
The second drone staggered back, brains and circuits oozing from its skull after a crushing blow from Kraal, wielding his disruptor like a club.
The noises and shapes span wildly. This is like space sickness only less fun, thought Kathryn. Then a particularly sickening swing made her senses lurch but it was followed by a curious sensation. For a brief second millions of voices swam in her head and then there was silence. And before her eyes the world solidified into intelligible forms and sounds. The sounds of fighting.
Captain Janeway rose unsteadily to her feet to find Seven of Nine and Kraal staring at her. They looked at her. Uncertainly, hope and fear mixed in their eyes. Kraal lifted his disruptor. Behind them she heard Kashyk's voice shouting "Kill her, kill the drone." The only two Devore guards who had not fled aimed their disruptors at her. But unexpectedly they hurled their weapons away screaming with pain.
'STOP! She is Captain Janeway.' echoed through the minds of those present.
'Kathryn you are alive' Nithqref stated. The brief thought was wrapped in relief and affection.
"Thank you Nithqref. That's a neat trick." She gestured at the two guards who were wringing their hands and looking at their discarded weapons with great suspicion. The Halquine's two bodies shrugged as one. 'The guards are highly suggestible - it was, as you say, a trick.'
Kathryn caught sight of her left arm and cringed at the sight of two Borg small implants protruding blackly from her pale skin. This was going to take some getting used to. She heard someone whisper a single word and knew the exact pitch of the voice, its direction and distance before her human recognition placed the voice as that of Seven of Nine and the word whispered as her own name.
Seven of Nine closed the space between herself and her Captain and lifted Kathryn gently against her.
"You frightened me, you must not do so again." She kissed her and Kathryn could feel her tears wetting her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around Seven's neck and returned the kiss.
Kathryn Janeway pulled back to breathe "Seven, are you okay? What is happening?"
Then Janeway saw the bodies of the two fallen drones. "Where did these come from? Please don't tell me these are two of the volunteers."
"No. They are real drones. Kathryn, you were assimilated, I could not reach you and I thought I had lost you forever." She kissed the slightly embarrassed Starfleet captain again.
"I'm so sorry sweetheart... it's okay now. I'm fine, I think. Hey put me down, I must be too heavy for you."
"You are not," said Seven firmly and carried on kissing her.
"I can't agree with that," said Kraal, "I had to carry you while you took your little nap and Captain you're heavier than a Parath policeman with a desk job. Here, Borg Lady let go of the little Captain and let me have a piece." Reluctantly Seven let Kathryn go and Kraal stepped in with a bone crunching hug. He set her down.
"You are one lucky humanoid. When that drone plunged those wiggly things in your neck, I thought we'd lost you."
Captain Janeway placed her hands on her hips and grinned with satisfaction "You mean it worked. I survived assimilation. Twice in one day."
"Congratulations Captain, your survival gives us all hope." said Inspector Kashyk. His voice dripped malevolence and Seven, remembering his order to the guards to kill Kathryn, stepped threateningly towards him.
"You tried to kill her. I will terminate you."
The noise of twisting metal drew their attention back to the now buckling blast doors.
Nithqref broadcast Captain, you may need to survive a few more assimilations today. There are at least three drones out there and transport off world is not yet permitted. We cannot stay here Kathryn, we should retreat back into the main transporter area.
Janeway stared at the buckling blast doors. She was concerned.
"Three you say, I don't think we can just leave them Nithqref. The risk of the Borg assimilating knowledge of our research is too great, we will have to destroy them. Kashyk can we use the transporters within this area?"
"I believe so Captain."
"Right, retreat in there - get all the civilians to safety." She pointed towards the adjacent transporter room. "Move, that's an order Kashyk." She glared at him and shrugging his shoulders, the Inspector complied.
"Seven when I give the signal you are to release the blast doors. Kraal, Nithqref and you two guards - I want covering fire and lots of it. Everyone else get back and take cover."
"Kathryn you cannot transport them their shielding will prevent it?" Seven objected.
"Did I say I was going to do that? However we will only get one shot at this so if there are any survivors then I'm afraid we will have to kill them the old fashioned way."
Kathryn took up position at the transporter controls and allowed herself a few seconds to ensure she could operate it accurately. Her Brenari acquired knowledge of Devore language and technology was extensive but the control panel was different and she had to be precise. She laid in the transporter co-ordinates, locked onto her targets and waited.
"OK Seven let them in." The heavily damaged blast doors slid apart but only partially.
The three drones stepped through the small opening into the holding area and were met by a blast of fire from Kraal and the others. The heavy fire did no apparent damage but the drones aligned themselves and started to walk purposefully towards the source of the firing. Kraal, Nithqref and the two guards retreated before them firing continuously.
Kathryn held her breath and as the three drones crossed the threshold of the transporter room she punched the transport button. The two drone corpses dematerialised and then rematerialised a few metres away inside the bodies of their marching comrades. For a millisecond the line of drones continued to march and then collapsed in a mangled line of merged bodies and limbs.
Kraal and his team stopped firing and gaped at the twitching, dying drones. The Parath sounded sombre when he said "Remind me never to annoy you Kathryn."
"I'm glad you realise what a mistake that would be" she answered bleakly. "Give me your disruptor Kraal."
She turned the weapon on the fallen Borg and with three short blasts ended their suffering. "Let's get out of here before any of their friends arrive."
Seven of Nine said nothing, she just stared at the dead Borg.
BORG LIFE FORMS HAVE BEEN TERMINATED, FIRST WAVE EVACUEE PERSONNEL REPORT TO TRANSPORTER ROOM 3. THE IMPERIUM VESSEL REVENGE IS WAITING. OTHER PERSONNEL ARE TO AWAIT ORDERS AND PREPARE FOR THE FULL EVACUATION OF THE BASE.
Captain Janeway led the way out of the chamber back towards the main transporter rooms. The rest of the small band fell silently into step behind her. They arrived at transporter room 3, a great cavern, where Goff and the surviving Devore scientists and technicians had already assembled. The senior Devore stared at Janeway unbelievingly.
"Captain Janeway you have returned and the Borg are dead. You are both lucky and resourceful and, it seems, dangerous. Inspector Kashyk has not overstated your abilities." Goff was almost affable in a threatening way. "How did you do it?"
"The Borg intruders are now fully collectivised, joined at the hip you might say." Seeing Seven wince Janeway regretted her levity. "I mean no offence Controller but can we leave this rock. I can debrief you later."
The Controller nodded and they took their places on one of the enormous transporter pads designed for moving large numbers of prisoners. Massive explosions could be heard as the Devore fleet orbiting the planet destroyed all buildings, removing all evidence and records. All surviving Devore personnel were being evacuated leaving only the frightened hordes of prisoners, huddled in the hot, biting winds, to await the inevitable Borg re-inforcements. The transport command was given and the Devore and their guests disappeared from view leaving the chaos of the prison planet behind.
TBC
TITLE: Janeway Redux
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: J/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Set after five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 11 - Betrayal
They transported to the Devore warship and Kathryn immediately felt better, back in space where she belonged. Quite why it felt so different and familiar she did not know. Artificial gravity ensured there was no obvious change from the planet they had just left and there was no sense of motion. It must be the recycled air.
Her musing was cut short by Controller Goff wobbling in to the room.
"Follow me Captain. You are to continue to work here with Professor Derrish until we transfer to the Fearless which is undergoing tests. A single ship will be less easy for the Borg to find even by accident."
"What is the Fearless?" asked Kraal following behind the Captain.
"It is our second prototype transwarp vessel. It has already successfully travelled at transwarp speeds but we can only maintain the conduits for short periods as we lack the necessary Borg materials, and have had to use substitutes. Fortunately this is more than enough for rapid travel within Devore space, after a short period the drive can be regenerated and another jump can be made. Not perhaps as sophisticated as the Borg but it will suffice. We are refitting our fleets while continuing tests with the Fearless."
"What happened to the first prototype?" Janeway queried.
"A great tragedy Captain. It fell out of a transwarp conduit after a malfunction and crash landed on a planet, however the design has now been modified to ensure controlled re-entry into normal space." As he spoke he led them into a small laboratory. "You will work in here. Your equipment is in the adjoining cargo bay together with the shuttle Faraday and your drone's alcove. There are sleeping quarters allocated for you and your team along the corridor. Now sadly I must leave as I have other matters to attend to but I will see you again tomorrow Captain."
Janeway nodded impassively and the fat controller turned on his heel and departed.
*~~~*
Janeway was linked to a set of monitors while Professor Derrish clucked over her and fussed about with her implants. Seven silently assisted him. "Well it seems you were lucky that Borg came along Captain."
"The momentary link to the collective as he punctured your neck organised the data structures in your brain and the links to your enhanced senses. Otherwise you would have remained as you were, mind and body disjoined."
"Did the collective learn about me through the link?" asked Kathryn anxiously.
"We cannot know that. But we can modify our procedure to avoid the same problems with the next test subjects." He disconnected the monitoring equipment and handed her a jacket.
Janeway grimaced at the memory of the assimilation. "Perhaps you could do something to ease the discomfort, it hurt a lot Professor."
"I will see what I can do." He left the lab and Seven helped Janeway to her feet but still had not spoken.
"Seven, are you all right?" Kathryn was concerned by the former Borg's reticence.
"I am functioning within normal parameters." But Seven didn't sound all right to the Captain. And her face looked strained and apprehensive.
"Seven, are you upset about those drones? I am sorry if it distressed you but this is war. Pain and death are a sometimes a necessary evil. I did what was required."
Kathryn wondered about the truth of her own words, the killing had been a little too easy for her. She hadn't considered the dreadful result of her plan even for a moment, just the likelihood of success. She wondered if it was only her body that had been changed.
"I do not dispute the necessity Captain, your method was efficient and protected us from additional risk but Kathryn ...." Seven's distress was now apparent.
"Seven tell me." instructed Kathryn gently.
"For a short period before I blocked them out I could feel their pain and hear their voices, their screams. It was ... disturbing. In the collective drones would be shielded from any emotions or pain. It is the first time I have experienced a Borg death. I know how it feels and I am afraid."
Janeway put her arms around her Borg. She didn't really know what to say to the young woman and settled for holding her tight and whispering "I'm sorry darling, don't be afraid, I love you and will protect you." until she felt Seven's shaking subside. "I am sorry Seven, I should have found another way."
"Regrets are futile Kathryn, I broke a drone's neck to protect you and I do not regret doing that. If you had left them alive many others would have died." The ex-drone's voice hardened, "my fear is selfish and small, it weakens my collective."
Kathryn spoke again with a little more confidence now that she better understood what Seven was feeling.
"Fear is sometimes necessary Seven; for an individual to survive it must know it's own limits. And without fear there is no courage. You followed me into danger when you left Voyager, you risked your life to protect me. Would you behave differently now?"
Seven was shocked. "No!"
"Then how has this changed you? You are still the same courageous person. Perhaps acknowledging your mortality has just made you less foolhardy which is to our benefit. I don't want you behaving like an expendable drone."
Nithqref appeared in Captain Janeway's thoughts and she could sense his excitement 'Kathryn there are a large number of Free Alliance prisoners aboard this ship including some very senior politicians. Their ship was captured when they offered to help the Devore fight the Borg. The Devore deceived them and seized the vessel, its crew and the delegation from the Alliance. They are to be interrogated by Controller Goff.'
Kathryn tightened her hold on Seven. After escaping from the Borg it was easy to forget that they were still in great danger from their hosts.
"Charming people the Devore. I keep wondering when the Controller will decide that we are unnecessary. Find out the location of these prisoners and their security arrangements Nithqref. We need allies. Come on Seven you need to regenerate and I need to eat and sleep."
They returned to the quarters arranged for them. Janeway held Seven's hand as she helped the ex-drone start her regeneration cycle. A novel experience for both of them. Janeway realised that adapting to their new relationship would be strange and maybe even unsettling. For a while she stood and watched the gorgeous woman resting peacefully as she had done many times on Voyager. But now it's different, I am different.
Kathryn undressed and with some trepidation allowed herself to examine the changes to her body in the mirror.
Always fair her skin was now very pale and this was accentuated by large dark bruises that had appeared around the seven starburst implants that had surfaced. She noticed that the implants were concentrated on the left side of her body, on the back of her hand, her upper arm, one under her left ear, one on her side just lower than her breast and another on the outside of the upper thigh. The remaining pair were centred on her lower back. Varying in size from a half to three centimetres in diameter the implants were not in themselves too unpleasant but small darker veins of metal threading away from the implants were just visible under the skin and the bruising extended a considerable distance around them. Seven had assured her the bruising would disappear quite soon. Kathryn was not a vain woman but she had always known she was reasonably attractive and that brought a certain degree of self-confidence however much she might consciously deplore such shallowness. Now she found herself wondering how others would look at her and in particular how Seven might react.
Kathryn touched the implant on the back of her hand, it was the same smooth grey metal that comprised Seven's Borg components. Slightly cooler than her flesh, she had been surprised to find that it was as sensitive to temperature and pressure as her own skin and actually felt like a part of her. She closed her hand and watched the metal flex with her muscles, malleable and yet more resistant to damage than most substances known in the galaxy.
Internally she knew the changes were far greater, her cybernetically enhanced musculature and bone structure had already claimed a victim. When they were introduced to the captain of the Revenge, she had unwittingly broken three of his fingers. It had greatly amused Controller Goff. Again Seven had reassured her that she would learn to control the enhanced strength.
But the biggest change lay in the connection between her body and mind. She had a conscious awareness of her body's functions and operations. The neural processor which now formed part of her mind allowed her to monitor her heart rate, temperature, blood flow,chemical and neural states in detail as though she was a separate entity. And even more strangely she realised she could assign her mechanical 'brain' to think about something entirely different and even to operate her body while she considered something else and yet be conscious of its operations and thought patterns. It was as though her subconscious was laid bare before her. Seven had never mentioned this odd dichotomy - probably because it was so natural to her that she was unaware that other people thought differently.
"I can't call my mind my own now what with the mechanical squatter and Nithqref popping in whenever he, she or it feels like it" grumbled Janeway to herself. She caught sight of the implant on her arm in the mirror and her thoughts returned to the physical changes and a sudden sense of dread that Seven might find her repulsive. She shook the thought off as self-indulgent and foolish. 'There are more important things at stake here Kathryn than your appearance.'
*~~~*
The Revenge was travelling at high warp towards its rendezvous with the Fearless and the star field appeared as long smears of light. Captain Kathryn Janeway stood on the bridge of the Revenge and wished with all her heart that it was Voyager, she missed the ship and her command like a lost limb, the pain ever present. She listened with a kind of homesickness to the chatter amongst the Devore bridge crew as they monitored subspace communications and reported sensor readings. There was a high state of readiness and obvious nervousness of interception by the Borg.
She was careful not to betray any understanding, Kashyk and Goff made a great play of only permitting universal translators to be used when they authorised it; a security measure only required because of the large number of insurgents aboard they assured her. But as she and Seven were the only people aboard who supposedly did not speak any of the local languages she guessed that the real intention was to prevent her communicating with the rebels. Since she had acquired a complete knowledge of several local languages including Devore from the dying Brenari woman, Seven was the only person at all affected by the ban.
Janeway was waiting now for the Controller on the bridge. They were close to the rendezvous with the Devore's newest ship, the Fearless, where all the prisoners and Kathryn and her team were to be transferred. Kathryn was still unsure about what her next move should be. Goff had been interrogating his prisoners for the last sixteen hours and according to Nithqref some of them were close to breaking or death.
Time was not on their side for other reasons. The assimilation tests were now well advanced. Goff and Kashyk had suddenly dropped their scruples about using Devore soldiers as test subjects and some hundred and fifty had been assimilated without misfortune and were now undergoing training. The high command were apparently delighted with the results and Seven and the Professor were designing equipment for large scale conversions. Which is probably why we are still alive. she thought.
The Devore had withdrawn their fleets from the main Devore systems to save on further losses while their vessels and crews were converted. A mass evacuation of those systems was underway protected only by very minimal forces although the Borg had not yet renewed their attack. Seven thought the first attack had been largely exploratory and the Borg would now be ensuring that adequate numbers of ships were available for a full scale invasion.
The Revenge dropped out of warp and Captain Janeway was roused from her thoughts.
"Monitor forward" said the Master of the Revenge. And a large view screen opened up to display the space before them. A vessel hung in space, blacker than the void behind it, visible only because of a dull metallic sheen reflecting the light of the nearby star. It was not like the large potato shaped Devore war ships with their huge prisoner holds and marine barracks. Smaller than that but still bigger than any Star Fleet vessel excepting the enormous galaxy class vessels, this ship was built to intimidate and to fight. Like a gigantic squid three great arms projected forward from a central body. Weapons, Kathryn surmised. A single enormous engine bulging from the aft of the main body of the ship glowed gently and she could see three smaller auxiliary engines mounted around the central engine. She couldn't see the bow of the ship but docking ports and phaser banks were just visible along the port side.
"Open communications."
The screen cleared and a senior Devore Inspector appeared. "You are late. We have been holding station here too long."
"Apologies Inspector we had to divert to avoid a possible Borg squadron." replied the Master of the Revenge.
"The cargo is to be transferred without further delay. We are transmitting co-ordinates." And the view screen went blank.
"Friendly bastard" muttered the pilot. "So that is the Fearless. I heard they stole the design. Well it looks different enough. A bit short on aft defences though."
"I don't think that is the aft." said the co-pilot. "She can fly as well in either direction. And I heard they stole the ship not just the design. The shields will hold off a planetary cannon barrage. And the main weapon can disintegrate a small moon."
"Shut up the Gaharay will hear you."
"Nah she can't understand us. Hey woman, Kashyk promised us a record of his final interview with you and he means final." He laughed.
Janeway looked at him blankly.
"See what I mean. No idea. What kind of a culture allows its women to command space ships anyway?" The co-pilot laughed to think of such pathetic creatures.
Controller Goff had entered the bridge quietly and hearing the co-pilot's chatter, his nose wrinkled in distaste. He signalled to his assistants and the co-pilot found himself being forcibly removed from the bridge. "You will need a new pilot" said Controller Goff to the ship's master. "I would suggest a less talkative model."
He beckoned to Janeway to follow him. "I have activated the universal translator Captain. Please accompany me."
Janeway replied in English. "Controller Goff, I am afraid my grasp of Devore is no better than it was yesterday but I do enjoy this little game."
The translator activated and the Controller smiled as well as he was able. "I like to take nothing for granted Captain."
"I take it that was your new wonder ship."
"Yes, the Fearless. A very fine vessel but there are a number of problems with its design."
Kathryn remained silent but tried to look encouraging.
"Some aspects of its operation remain mysterious."
Kathryn's face showed what she hoped was appropriate puzzlement. "I don't understand Controller. Didn't it come with a manual?"
"Unfortunately not Captain. The Farini designers were contracted by the Imperium to modify one of their latest ships with the new drive and I am sad to say they reneged on our bargain after some very successful tests. Naturally we took the ship anyway but they had incorporated a number of fail safes which we have been unable to remove."
"And you would like Seven with her extensive knowledge of encryption codes to examine the ship's systems" finished Janeway. Well that answers the question about our continuing usefulness.
"As ever Captain you impress me. You have reached the correct conclusion although a little modestly. Your own contribution is likely to be as useful."
"Controller Goff, flattered as I am by your faith in our abilities I have to ask how we will benefit from co-operation? I am concerned with our long term welfare. I'm aware that certain elements do not accept that I have a future."
"You refer to Inspector Kashyk. A man of great promise but sadly little actual delivery. He will have no influence in this matter I can assure you Captain. We would like you to take command of the Fearless."
Janeway's astonishment was unfeigned and it took her a few seconds to recover. Controller Goff was visibly amused by her discomfiture. Annoyed with herself Janeway carefully kept her voice neutral asking with as much disinterest as she could muster. "That is an interesting offer Controller. Why me?"
"You are a commander of outstanding abilities and your experience outside the Imperium is of great value and is unique. I have studied the logs of your travels and nothing, except perhaps boredom, seems to overcome you. You do not appear to know the meaning of the word defeat. There are some cultural differences but as I have said before whatever your motivation, if it is in our interests, then the Imperium will accommodate you. We have allowed you to retain your telepath which is against our strictest taboo."
"Before I answer Controller I would like to see the ship, look her over."
"Of course Captain." He paused. "You do understand that once you board the Fearless you will not be able to leave. You will either command the ship or be a prisoner. No one outside the High Command is permitted to leave once they have acquired any knowledge of her. Even the bridge crew of this vessel will not be permitted to depart now that they have seen the ship."
"I understand. My team will transport to the Fearless at your convenience Controller and, before you object, it is all or none, even down to the smallest piglet."
He twisted his face in the now familiar parody of a smile and assented with good grace.
*~~~*
Fifteen minutes later Kathryn's little brood, including five small piglets, had transferred to the Fearless. According to Nithqref the Free Alliance prisoners had already been transferred.
Before they boarded Kathryn spoke to her telepath privately "Nithqref I need to know more about these prisoners and particularly anything that they know of the Fearless, the Farini, the Borg or anything else. Why take them there, it makes no sense and I don't like it."
When they materialised Kathryn looked round and drew a deep breath. The interior of the Fearless was as unlike a Devore ship as the exterior.
A certain clean but dour functionality characterised most Devore decorating and design with beige or grey metal walls and struts and grey-green controls and displays the predominating features. The Fearless was a riot of colour by contrast. Red and black fascia on the control systems, yellow and white metal walls and corridors.
Kathryn and Seven looked at each other and spoke simultaneously, "Arturis".
Their companions looked mystified but neither Kathryn or Seven spoke again until the guards had conveyed them to their quarters.
Janeway spoke first "Arturis was a representative of a very advanced race that was recently defeated by the Borg. Something for which he held me personally responsible. He tried to return me and Seven to the Borg for assimilation, a fitting punishment in his view. I don't want to presume too much but I would guess the people who designed and built this craft are from the same species. I would also guess that Controller Goff is well aware of our previous contact with this species from the logs of the Faraday. It explains his belief that Seven and I are particularly well equipped to fly this ship."
'And can you?' asked the Halquine.
"It's possible but Arturis' people were highly skilled linguists and cryptographers as well as ship builders. If they really tried to lock out the ship's systems then control would be hard to recover. In fact I doubt the ship would even be as operational as it obviously is. The other oddity is the ship's drive. Arturis' ship had a quantum slipstream drive more advanced even than the Borg transwarp drives. His people would not have needed second hand Borg technology. Something does not add up here."
"Perhaps the designers of this ship are not from the same species but merely shared some exchange of technology" commented Seven.
Janeway looked dubious. "This is all speculation. I would prefer to obtain some facts, we are missing some part of the picture. As I said I don't like any of this."
They were interrupted by the arrival of several Devore guards. "Janeway to come with us. Now."
"I will accompany you." said Seven
"No, Janeway alone." said the guard and poked his disruptor in Seven's face.
"It's all right Seven, they need me. Stay here and look after the others." Kathryn smiled reassuringly and squeezed her hand.
Kathryn stood up gracefully and followed the guards out of the door. Seven watched her go, painfully aware that she never knew if they were saying goodbye for the last time. Love was too hard.
*~~~*
Controller Goff and Inspector Kashyk were waiting for her on the bridge of the ship. Another figure stood in shadow watching her arrival.
"Captain you are here. I would like you to meet the designer of this ship Morvius of the Farini." Goff could have been introducing her at a diplomatic function.
The figure in the shadows stepped forward, he was enough like Arturis to be his twin. His features contorted with malevolent triumph.
"Morvius I wish to deliver to you the first part of your payment - Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Starship Voyager. Dead or alive I believe you said?" Goff still spoke as though he were discussing the price of commodities which in a way he was as Janeway now realised. Her life for a new ship.
"Dead preferred Controller but alive will do." The Farini's black eyes burned with hatred.
The Controller was matter-of-fact.
"In line with our agreement you will now give us full control of the slipstream drives. As a sign of good faith."
Morvius entered some data into his terminal. "I have transferred the lockout codes to your helm. Now I want the rest of my payment Controller."
A ragged figure was dragged through the door by two guards and dumped on the floor in front of them where it lay barely moving.
"What have you done to her?" screamed Morvius. He dropped down beside the figure and cradled her head in his arms muttering endearments.
"We interrogated her as we would any other prisoner" replied Goff in a patient but deadly tone. He hated dealing with genius, it was so unstable and emotional, so irreplaceable. "You told us yourself that if she suspected we were bringing her to you she would kill herself. At no time was she to know she was being any differently treated from the others. Now you must complete the transaction Morvius and give us full control of this ship and its weapons."
The figure on the floor raised her head to speak in a weak tired voice "Morvius please don't do this, you must not give these people this ship. They are oppressors, as evil as the Borg."
"Shh, don't speak. Look they have brought us Janeway. Our people can be revenged and the Borg will be defeated by the Devore Imperium. You must see that the Free Alliance would never have been strong enough to halt the Borg."
"They will not keep to their bargain Father, we will both be killed or kept to work for them. You have no right to do this." Exhausted by speaking the Farini female passed out, her father shook his head and gently laid her head back down. He moved back to the terminal and began entering data. Goff exchanged a satisfied look with Kashyk.
Janeway kept silent, there were too many variables. She did not feel concerned about her own position, the girl was right it was highly unlikely that any of them would be allowed to walk away from this ship and certainly not the designer. Of course the Devore might just kill Janeway and her friends once they had the Fearless under their control but she suspected that Goff had been truthful about wanting her on the Fearless, they wanted an alternative source of expertise to Morvius who was obviously unpredictable.
Nithqref she thought trying to summon the telepath.
'I am with you Kathryn and I have been observing'
You did not mention this girl
'She did not seem important Kathryn, just another young runaway rebel. I had not considered her and no one took any notice of her apart from the normal beatings. No other member of her group seemed aware of her significance.' Nithqref could not hide irritation at having missed the significance of the child and Kathryn smiled. Telepathy was a two way street.
Nithqref I am worried. The Devore obviously brought that group of prisoners here as camouflage for the Farini girl and now she has served her purpose the other prisoners are expendable. We are going to have to find a way to keep them alive. Try and contact the girl and find out what you can about Morvius; it might be better if you do not reveal your relationship to me as yet. I doubt she regards me any more kindly than her father does.
Her attention returned to the scene before her when Morvius spoke to the fat controller.
"The ship is yours Controller Goff, full control is transferred. When my daughter and I leave this ship with Janeway I will release the full technical specifications to your shipbuilders."
Goff turned to an assistant "Do we have control?"
"Confirmed Controller. The Fearless has gone to warp and engineering is warming up the slipstream drive."
Goff smiled benevolently at the Farini, "I do not think it would be wise for you to leave us just yet Morvius. There is much Borg activity in the area and of course we may have teething difficulties with such a new design. As for Captain Janeway, she will be here for you when the time is right to leave."
*~~~*
Janeway was escorted back to her quarters by Controller Goff who had assured the manic Farini that she would be kept in chains.
"An interesting situation Controller. I am trying not to take offence but it would appear that you have been parsimonious with the facts."
"It was my duty dear Captain. Often I regret the path my duty requires me to walk but nonetheless that is the path I must follow." Goff looked regretful but the impression of cold calculation remained.
"I see and where exactly is the path tending now?" asked Janeway.
"Captain Janeway, the designer Morvius is a troubled genius, the finest engineer of his generation and one of only a few thousand survivors of his race, who owe their survival in large part to his designs. Such a man is too valuable to be discarded."
"And where are the rest of his kind?" she asked curiously.
"We do not know. Hiding on some rock no doubt." With those words he dismissed the fate of a species. "Morvius came to us, to ask for a .... favour in exchange for his ship."
"He wanted me." Janeway surmised.
"Indeed. You had only recently deceived Inspector Kashyk and it seemed a simple matter to arrest you, a known criminal, and make the exchange. Unfortunately the Borg intervened and complicated a simple trade. It then became apparent to us that Morvius was not the only valuable gaharay in this sector."
"And the Fearless is not your transwarp test ship. You said that to prevent me from smelling a large Carthusian Mugwump."
The Controller looked confused for a moment as the Universal Translator struggled with mugwump.
Kathryn smiled and said brightly "I wouldn't bet the farm on converting your ships to Farini technology. We tried with very limited success and you don't have much time."
"We are aware of that Captain. The final prototype of the simulated Borg transwarp drive successfully completed testing on a converted Devore corvette 3 days ago and the drive is being installed in existing fleet vessels as we speak. That drive only permits limited transwarp travel but is sufficient for travel in Devore space."
"The Fearless and its successors are insurance for the long term future of the Imperium. The technology in the Fearless is currently unsuitable for wider adoption. We would require new ships built to these specifications."
Kathryn continued to probe gently - Goff appeared to be happy to give her information which suggested that he was very confident. She fully intended to make as much use of that as possible. "But there is another issue which interests me Controller, how do you propose to sell to Morvius the idea of his most hated enemy captaining his ship?"
Goff lips twitched at the corners as he spoke in his most unctuous voice. "I do not think Morvius has fully considered his daughter's health and how that might be adversely affected were he to protest too strongly about our plans."
Kathryn faked concern. "I would not be so sure you have control here. For example, have you tested whether this vessel is as it appears? The Farini are quite capable of disguising a cargo lugger as a warship. You already know how the Voyager crew were mislead into believing they had found a Federation starship."
"I was present at the weapons demonstration of this ship Captain Janeway. I do not think even the Farini could have faked the impressive results." He looked smug enough to slap and Kathryn restrained herself. Goff continued "But your experience with the Farini Arturis was revealing and we have overhauled the Fearless to identify any faked technology, so far without success I am glad to say."
"Well here we are. I hope your promise to Morvius about chaining me up was an empty one?"
"Of course Captain - I need you both. For the moment." The fat controller smiled benevolently at her and Kathryn suppressed an answering smile. The old devil was almost charming in a wolf in sheep's clothing kind of way.
He is so confident that he runs the show. she thought. Well we just have to do some scene stealing and make sure we get the standing ovation.
TBC
TITLE: Janeway Redux
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: J/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Set after five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 12 - Traitors
Kathryn sat on a low couch in her quarters and leaned back against Seven who obligingly wrapped her arms around her Captain.
The current meeting was to discuss their predicament and Kathryn looked at her companions with affection. None of them betrayed any awareness of the changes in her but Kathryn remained painfully self conscious. She was embarrassed by the physical changes she had undergone and pathetically grateful that Seven was showing her some affection. They had hardly seen each other for several days and Kathryn had worried that Seven was avoiding her even though rationally she knew Seven was fully occupied by her work with Professor Derrish.
Nithqref's two bodies reclined elegantly against the wall resembling the delicate sylphs of Earth legends. Despite all the hardship, the prison clothing and the beatings which had left visible marks the Halquine retained an air of grace and calm.
The youngest Parath piglets Margil, Nilka and Siunaal played tag on the floor around them while the two older ones Balaan and Greka assaulted their father who feigned being frightened. Kraal's wife Makela regarded her husband and two litters of children with her usual amused exasperation and then returned to practising some peculiar Parath martial art which she did with surprising grace for such a large woman. When Kathryn had shown surprise, the woman had explained with characteristic bluntness that her oaf of a husband was not the only fighter in the family and anyway it came in handy when sorting out the kids. Kathryn had been a little shocked and not known whether to take her seriously but it was soon obvious to the human that the Parath children were indulged by both parents despite lots of bluster and threats.
"Somehow I never imagined giving a briefing like this." Janeway joked to her assembled team in Brenari (The lingua franca of the Free Alliance).
Seven tightened her arms around the small Captain as the meaning of Kathryn's words was conveyed to her by Nithqref.
"I enjoy these meetings more than on Voyager." Seven whispered in her ear in English. (Janeway was teaching the main languages to Seven who learned faster than any human thanks to her eidetic memory but without access to any language resources it was time consuming and Seven still had some way to go to fluency.)
Janeway tilted her head back against the Borg's shoulder and smiled up at her. A snort from Kraal brought her mind back to the business of the meeting.
She hoped that the Devore were not listening. Seven had accessed ship's sensors and masked the group's life signs, setting up false signals to confuse the monitoring equipment that was liberally arranged throughout their living areas. The ex-Borg was satisfied that they would not be overheard or the gathering detected so Kathryn supposed she should be also.
Seven reported that the design and build work on the mass delivery mechanism for the anti-assimilation project was now completed.
"... the project has now transferred to an engineering team. Professor Derrish has asked me to continue work on making the anti-assimilation nanites more adaptable. Better mimics. My work allows me to retain access to the computer systems."
"Thank you Seven," Kathryn then addressed the Halquine aloud for the benefit of the others "Nithqref - have you any idea where we are going and why?"
'We are accompanying the Revenge to some kind of weapon demonstration. I cannot establish any further details because only senior Devore officers have been briefed and they are too dangerous to scan.' The two androgynous halves of the telepathic being looked worried and Kathryn guessed at the cause.
"What about the prisoners?" she asked. "What is their status?"
'Some 96 prisoners were transferred and are being held in the brig. They include two very senior ambassadors from the Free Alliance. I have made contact and assured them we will do what we can to assist but conditions are very poor and several of the prisoners are seriously ill. The Devore do not appear to be feeding them or treating their sickness.' The distress felt by the gentle being was transmitted to everyone together with a sense of the pain that the telepath had experienced when contacting the prisoners. Janeway consciously ignored the shared distress. She needed to hang on to the facts she told herself.
"Where is the Farini girl?" she enquired brusquely.
'She is in sick bay receiving medical treatment and is still very weak. Again I have established contact with her but she is suspicious that we are Devore spies. Despite that she is willing to help rescue the prisoners. I have not revealed your involvement Kathryn, as you instructed.'
"Good. Keep trying to get her trust, find out what she knows about this ship Nithqref. We need any edge we can get. So the prisoners usefulness is at an end so I am surprised they have not been executed already. Okay we need a plan to rescue them as well as ourselves. What are our options?" Kathryn was deliberately hard to counteract the pervasive sadness.
"Escape, Prison, Death" said Kraal succinctly, "but on a slightly less gloomy note we have the Faraday ..."
"Engines are non-operational." Seven noted.
"Can it be repaired?" asked Janeway trying to ignore the niggling irritation that clawed at her belly triggered by Seven and Kraal's negative responses.
Seven shook her head. "No and even if it were functional, we would not be able to launch it. It was transported inside a closed cargo bay."
"We could transport it out," Kathryn suggested.
"But it still won't fly." said the Borg with finality.
Kathryn couldn't control her annoyance. "Does anyone have any ideas, apart from giving up, which Seven seems happy to do?" She felt Seven stiffen and pull away a little.
"We could steal a shuttle from this ship" said Kraal.
"Does it have any?" Kathryn asked, still with an edge in her voice.
"Don't know" Kraal replied unhappily.
"Well at least that's something we can investigate, if any of you can be bothered" she added bitterly. Seven released her hold on the Captain abruptly.
Nithqref remonstrated 'Kathryn, we have no immediate opportunities awaiting us. We must be patient and look for weaknesses.'
"What about the prisoners, our patience may see them die," Kathryn snapped immediately. Flaming anger shook her even as she recognised the irrationality of her next words "If you are all too afraid or too lazy then you can all get out of here now. I will do better without you." There was a shocked silence and Janeway drew a deep breath to calm herself before glancing at her companions. Again she wondered if it was just her body that had changed.
Kraal was plainly furious and an ominous growl started in his chest. He was restrained by Nithqref placing a hand on his arm and no doubt a quiet word in his mind. The Parath subsided scowling, his wife looked scarcely less angry but she held her tongue. From the way Nithqref looked at her she knew the Halquine was also disappointed.
Nithqref was blunt. 'Kathryn please control your temper. This behaviour is not worthy of you.'
Janeway turned away from her friends, clenching her fists, digging her nails into the palms of her hands as she tried to regain control of herself. The Halquine then took charge. 'We will find a way forward. I suggest we find out as much as we can about this ship. We must ready ourselves to take action when the moment comes. I will further my contact with Morvius's daughter and try and reach a better understanding of how much she can or will help us. What other action would you like us to take Captain?'
Chastened and already regretting her impatience Kathryn was grateful for the Halquine deferring to her. With an effort of will she moderated her voice.
"I agree Nithqref that we need better intelligence."
The small ex-Captain turned to look at Seven. She could see the hurt in her love's face but maintained the facade of command.
"Seven continue your work with the Devore scientists but try and access the main computer, we need lockout codes, schematics of the ship, operational information, crew complement, shuttles, transporters, weaponry and security arrangements."
"I will obtain what I can Captain." Seven sounded distant and had withdrawn to the other side of the seat. Kathryn's heart shrank painfully but the habit of command was strong and she avoided reacting. 'A shame you didn't have that much control earlier Katie' said her inner voice. She ignored the voice and tried to concentrate.
"Kraal, I want you to try and get to know some of the Devore officers and men. There is a bar and entertainment area near the main crew quarters. Make yourself at home and see what you can dig up."
"But don't bring her home" interjected Makela. Her husband looked outraged but she just snorted and punched his arm. A little of the tension in the room eased.
"Okay let's find what we can," Kathryn said sounding positive. "Meeting over."
The small band split up, Kraal and Makela herding their small brood into the adjacent rooms. Nithqref was again made an unwilling accomplice, a gleeful Makela handed a squirming piglet to each of the Halquine's bodies.
"Two pairs of hands for the price of one - you would make a fortune as a mother's help" she chortled.
Kathryn watched them go and it occurred to her to wonder why the others had been so ready to ignore her behaviour. 'Almost as though they expected it' she thought uncomfortably.
After the others had gone Seven rose and started to leave also. Janeway said quickly "Seven are you going back to work now?" For a long second Seven hesitated before replying coolly.
"You wanted more information Captain. I am not required on duty at this time but ..."
"Don't go yet. I'm sorry Seven, I'm an ass. What I said in the meeting was uncalled for. No-one works harder than you." Kathryn Janeway passed her hand through her hair as she admitted. "No-one else deserved to be spoken to like that either."
"They did not." Seven seemed unforgiving and Kathryn suddenly felt very tired.
"I don't know what came over me. Seven is it possible that more than just my body changed when I was assimilated. I feel... different. I am a Starfleet Captain, trained to be tough, even ruthless when necessary but not brutal and not out of control."
"It is possible that you are not yourself," said Seven quietly adding more hesitantly, "Kathryn, your behaviour has occasionally been erratic, impulsive and emotional. Nithqref believes you are suffering from traumatic stress."
Kathryn's hackles rose with her voice as she stated icily "You have been discussing me." Seven pulled back, instantly wary. With considerable effort the former captain moderated her tone. She continued carefully, "No matter, but I want to know something. Seven, if this... instability results from my assimilation, can you fix me, can you... adjust me?" She rubbed her eyes, angrily determined not to cry. "I feel like a damned engine, I just want to know, do we have the right spare parts to put bloody Humpty Dumpty back to work?" She realised that her voice had risen further and she was almost shouting.
Seven studied her quietly and Kathryn turned away from the steady gaze, clenching her fists and digging her nails into her hands again as she struggled to retain some mastery of her emotions.
"I do not believe that the Borg components are malfunctioning." said Seven honestly. "Captain you were kidnapped, imprisoned and tortured."
"I am a Starfleet officer, I have been trained to withstand..."
"You are a human being, stranded in the Delta quadrant for five years with sole responsibility for 150 people. And now your remaining friends and your ship have been taken away." Seven was relentless. "Does it really surprise you Kathryn, that you are showing signs of strain?"
Kathryn Janeway silently stared at the tall blonde woman for long seconds before saying. "I don't have time for this Seven."
"You must make time."
"Don't take that insubordinate tone with me Seven. I am your commander."
"No, you are not! Nor do you command Kraal or Nithqref except by their consent. We accept your orders because we choose to. You are not in Starfleet now Kathryn, allegiance must be earned."
For a moment Seven thought the small red-head might hit her. Kathryn's face twisted with rage and Seven flinched away, dismayed by the uncontrolled fury in the pale face. As fear flickered over Seven's face Kathryn's anger collapsed. Now she was scaring the person she loved best in the Universe. Her clenched fists dropped and she slumped down on a chair.
"Seven I don't know how to be anything else" she whispered in a low voice. "Without my command what am I? Without Starfleet what am I?"
"You are Kathryn Janeway and it is enough."
Seven awkwardly squatted down beside her, put her arm around Kathryn's shoulders.
Kathryn wrapped her arms around Seven, buried her face in Seven's shoulder and began to cry, softly at first and then the sobs became louder and more painful. Seven was beside herself with guilt. It had never occurred to her that she could make Kathryn so unhappy. It was not a power that she enjoyed. She tightened her hold and drew Kathryn closer, stroking the soft hair but the helpless sobbing continued against her chest. Almost desperate to ease her love's pain she tried to think of something to say.
"You are... the captain of my heart" she said stiffly. A phrase remembered from the romantic reading material given to her by Voyager's doctor. It was apparently successful as the sobbing stopped but after a short while Kathryn's shoulders began to shake again. Seven regretted that her efforts had been so ineffective until a less than elegant snort alerted her to the fact that the ex-Captain was not crying any more. She raised Kathryn's chin and looked at the tear stained face suspiciously. Kathryn gazed into the china blue eyes and bit her lip, trying to stifle the rising laughter.
"A little mushy for a Borg?" she choked out and began laughing openly, hiding her face again in the beautiful ex-drone's shoulder. Embarrassed Seven tried to push her away but she hung on tightly and whispered "I'm sorry Seven, so very sorry, forgive me... again. I'm sorry, I love you. You deserve better than me." Kathryn was not laughing when she raised her face to kiss the full lips.
Seven tried to hold back but couldn't withstand the soft determined mouth on hers. Resistance crumbling, she began to respond to the insistent kisses.
She swept her captain off her feet, stupidly pleased that she could still effortlessly carry the smaller woman. Kathryn snuggled her head against Seven's breast and shut her eyes. Seven carried her to the bed and laid her down.
Gazing at the blissful face and closed eyes it occurred to Seven that the Captain had escaped too easily. Apologies alone were insufficient.
"You are correct Kathryn. I deserve better..." Kathryn jerked her head up and the blue-gray eyes opened wide with consternation. Seven smirked a little "... but as there are currently no available alternatives I will make do." She smothered any attempted comeback with another kiss and ignored the grunt of protest.
When the team met again the following day in Kathryn's quarters to report their findings, the Captain was in a much better mood.
Seven had infiltrated part of the Fearless' computer records and gathered a great deal of knowledge about the ship but she had been unable to discover anything about the purpose of the current mission except the final destination which appeared to be an unremarkable M-class moon circling a large gas giant.
Kathryn had used the time to familiarise herself with the layout of the ship and to get some understanding of it's impressive abilities. She had found that the Devore crew seemed less than happy to demonstrate and explain the vessel. A few words with Controller Goff had changed all that. The controller did seem to be genuinely interested in recruiting Janeway for the job of captain.
Nithqref had also made some progress with Morvius's daughter Atara. The girl was prepared to assist and claimed to be able to obtain command codes for the ship.
Of more immediate concern to everyone was Kraal who had been missing since the previous evening. His wife was hiding her fear behind a steady drip of low level sarcasm and mild invective.
"What time did Kraal leave?" asked Kathryn.
"After dinner of course - he needed his strength. The great lump."
"Did he say where he was going?" Kathryn was patient, a few days with Kraal and Makela and she knew they were fond of each other despite the constant mutual bickering.
"After a lot of fatuous nonsense about doing his duty and suffering for the cause the oaf admitted he was going to the bar to 'make friends'. You picked the right man for that job Captain. My husband has more friends in bars than most people have blood cells."
"I hear your voice sweetness," boomed the large Parath who had appeared in the doorway. He leaned heavily against the frame, "but a little quieter please my angel. My head is full of pounding beasts, pounding."
The Parath's normally ruddy brownish complexion was pale and his eyes, always reddish, seemed about to leak blood.
"You are drunk." said his wife in the tone of an offended grand-dame speaking to an especially lowly serf and loud enough to be heard through duranium reinforced walls.
"Captain you must excuse me while my wife and I settle our differences... with disruptors." His voice rose to a shout. The sound punched through his skull and he drooped against the door again and covered his eyes with a large hairy paw.
"Do you have anything useful to report," said Kathryn unsympathetically.
Raising himself slowly he whispered "I obtained this from a friend who I do not believe will miss it for some days." In his large hairy paw he held a Devore padd that he proffered to the Starfleet captain.
Kathryn took the stolen padd and activated it. She read the contents with mounting disgust. "Where did you get this?" she asked Kraal who was accepting a large mug of black chealath from his wife. (Although from the latter's expression it could equally have been poison.)
"From a senior gunner." Kraal pulled his lips back painfully in a grin. "He and I are good buddies with a mutual interest in the finer points of adMe." Kraal took a large gulp of his drink and gasped in relief. "When the bar closed we went back to his quarters with some other 'friends' to continue our game and he couldn't resist telling me about what a big day he was going to have tomorrow. Sadly it required some considerable time and several jugs of Devorean brandy to part him from the padd."
"You say this happens tomorrow! We don't even have a glimmer of a plan." Janeway re-read the document and closed her eyes. Why is there never any time?
Seven arched her cortical implant in a question. So far she didn't have a clue what was going on. Janeway translated the contents of the padd.
GUNNERY CREWS ARE TO REPORT FOR DUTY AT 0475 DST. AT 0510 THE PRISONERS WILL BE TRANSPORTED TO THE SURFACE. AT 0530 THE TEST WILL COMMENCE ON THE PLANET SURFACE. ESTIMATED COMPLETION 0560. SENSOR ASSESSMENTS OF TEST ASSIMILATIONS WILL THEN COMMENCE. ESTIMATED TIME FOR DATA COLLECTION 20 DST. AT 0578 FEARLESS AND REVENGE WILL LEAVE ORBIT. AT 0580 FEARLESS GUNNERY CREWS WILL OPEN FIRE AND DESTROY PLANET.
"Efficient," Seven stated baldly. "It accounts for the continuing existence of the prisoners. They required test subjects for the mass assimilation programme."
Janeway looked pained. "Seven try to be a little less impartial!"
"I did not imply that the situation was acceptable, simply that their actions were..." Seven could not think of an alternative, "...efficient."
Janeway winced. "Okay we have to think. What advantages do we have?"
There was a moment of quiet while the ill-assorted band tried to think of something in their favour.
"Well... the fools don't know that we know..." offered Makela breaking the silence unexpectedly. Kraal growled approvingly at his spouse.
'An advantage we must retain.' agreed Nithqref. 'Also the Devore are still allowing Seven access to the science station computers. Perhaps she can access the main computer from there.'
Seven shook her head. "The Farini design does not depend on a single main computer. It is highly diversified and each system seems to watch the others for signs of interference. I have gained limited access to the Fearless internal sensor controls - enough to falsify life signs. We can move about relatively freely"
"That will certainly help." Kathryn smiled encouragingly at her lover.
Kraal was still suffering, semi-reclining on the floor where he had slid down. Suddenly he sat upright and shouted in triumph "The Faraday!" He recoiled in pain and resumed speaking in a much more stifled voice. "Kathryn! The Faraday..."
"Can't fly - I know."
"It has a transporter. We could transport off this ship and escape!"
Kathryn was sceptical but mindful of her argument with Seven she controlled the sharp comeback merely asking. "We wouldn't be able to transport through the shields and where would we transport to?"
Kraal's face fell and he snorted. "I've not worked out all the details human and when are you going to have any ideas?" he asked aggressively. "I haven't heard anything from you."
He was satisfied to see the small human look chastened and then surprised when Kathryn suddenly grinned at him. Not immune to the Janeway charm, or beautiful women in general, Kraal felt the sun come out.
"Got it." she announced and exploded to her feet, striding up and down the small room, gesturing as she explained her plan to her comrades. When she finished talking she stood looking at them expectantly.
"You are mad Kathryn Janeway" said Kraal.
"I don't think so but I need you all on board with this. If we fail then the Devore will execute us." She looked pointedly at Makela. It was asking a lot to expect the woman to risk her children. The initial excitement faded and Janeway said soberly "It's all or none, if anyone disagrees then we won't do it."
"You are mad," said the Parath "but I like it." The rest of the small team signalled their agreement one by one. Janeway relaxed. She wasn't sure what she would have done if anyone had refused.
0450 found Kathryn pacing up and down in the confined space of the shuttle Faraday. She was feeling worried and missed Seven. The latter had been gone all night having persuaded Professor Derrish that she was working on some unforeseen problem with the mass assimilation program when actually she was working on disguising the Faraday's transporter signal as a random fluctuation in the power signal from the Borg alcove.
Kraal and Nithqref were sitting waiting patiently for the signal from Seven. This was to take place at 0510 to coincide with the transport of the prisoners to the planetoid's surface. The massive hulking Parath and the two slender, elfin Halquine bodies were in stark contrast huddled together on the small shuttle transporter pad. Kraal was relaxed and jovial. The imminent action and impossible mission did not seem to worry him. Nor was his wife even slightly concerned to human eyes but Kathryn guessed from the unusually affectionate way they had parted that there was some anxiety under the cheerful exteriors. Nithqref was more obviously subdued and she could feel the tension whenever the Halquine's mind touched hers.
Kathryn decided to check the transport control signal one more time and was hovering over the console when she observed Kraal watching her, his hog-like features contorted with amusement. 'Too obviously nervous Katie. Get a grip.' she told herself. She deliberately dropped her hands from the controls and smiled coolly at the large hog with as much command distance as she could muster.
"Ready Kraal?" she enquired.
"Ready Kathryn." he asserted.
"Nithqref, are you maintaining contact with Atara?"
'She understands what she has to do Captain' The Halquine sounded almost impatient.
"Well let's hope she can bring it off or this is going to be a very short and inglorious rescue attempt."
Kathryn was interrupted by Seven's voice on her communicator. "Test program completed. I will return for breakfast after the second test in five minutes."
Kathryn looked at her two companions. "Seven is ready. Five minutes."
There was a bang on the shuttle door and Makela stuck her head inside. "Kathryn. We have company. A couple of Devore soldiers are at knocking at your door."
Kathryn Janeway kept her voice steady despite the sudden jump in adrenaline. "Makela take over from me here. Keep to the plan. Nithqref can you keep me linked to everyone?"
'It should be possible. What are you going to do?'
"Improvise. I'll see you all later." She left the shuttle and exited from the storage bay into the main corridor. She could see the two soldiers further down the corridor aggressively pushing the buzzer on her door.
"Can I help you gentlemen?" she drawled walking briskly towards them.
They jumped at the sound of her voice. "You are required on the bridge. Orders of Controller Goff." said the more senior of the two, still obviously puzzled by her appearance behind him. "Sensors indicated you were in your room Captain Janeway. Why are you out here?"
"Deficiencies in your systems are not my problem. Now let's not keep the Controller waiting soldier" she snapped. "I'm sure he would not be amused at being delayed by you."
Without another look at the two soldiers she marched quickly towards the nearest elevator cubicle. The two soldiers fell into step behind her. Fear of the Controller outweighed any curiosity.
Nithqref she thought. I am going to find it difficult to play an active part - they are taking me to the bridge. Carry on as we planned and I will try to get to a more favourable position.
'Understood Kathryn. Take care.'
As she entered the bridge the Master of the Fearless was giving the command to transport the alliance prisoners to the surface of the planetoid. At the same moment Nithqref informed her that the Halquine and Kraal had transported to the armoury.
Controller Goff and Inspector Kashyk were both standing behind the Ship's master. The controller was looking particularly relaxed, even merry, almost a small Father Christmas figure if you ignored the coal black uniform and the chilling pale eyes. Kashyk was scowling and Kathryn guessed at the reason. Goff took a certain amount of pleasure in reminding him of his precarious career and likely future as a junior officer on a prison ship.
"Ah Captain Janeway," said Controller Goff. "Glad you could join us. I thought you would be interested in the weapons test we are about to conduct on the planet." His fat jowls wobbled around a small smile.
She inclined her head and answered politely.
"I am extremely interested Controller. Inspector Kashyk, I am glad you are still with us." Her voice hinted surprise that the Inspector was present and she was pleased to see him frown uncertainly. Controller Goff was plainly amused and his small smile grew a little bigger. In Kathryn's head a jubilant Nithqref reported the successful theft of a dozen disruptors and a successful transport to sickbay.
Kathryn smiled back at the fat controller. So far so good she thought.
An operations officer reported. "Master there are some unusual energy fluctuations. They appear to be emanating from the Borg's regeneration alcove in storage bay 5."
The ship's master looked at Janeway enquiringly. The ex-Captain shrugged, apparently unconcerned.
"Seven has been experimenting with increasing the output efficiency of her alcove" she lied smoothly. "That may be the cause."
She could now hear the voices of Seven and Kraal being relayed to her directly by Nithqref. Seven was monitoring the status of the prisoners on the planet from the command console in the Faraday where she had returned to relieve Makela.
Kraal and Nithqref were in sickbay and judging from the conversation Kraal was rounding up the Devore on duty with extreme efficiency. Nithqref reported that the three Devore present had been successfully disabled, captured and tied up.
It was increasingly difficult to listen to the reported activities of her team and concentrate on what Controller Goff was saying to her as he explained the nature of the weapons tests. She noticed that he made no mention of the prisoners. Clearly she was not meant to know of their presence on the test planet. A surreptitious glance at her chronometer revealed that there was only seven minutes before the test assimilation was to take place. The Farini girl, Atara, would have to really fly if she was going to obtain the ship's command codes.
Kashyk watched Kathryn closely as he always did and noticed her distraction with interest. 'Odd' he thought. Janeway was usually so focused.
He kept watching while considering the puzzle. If Janeway was going to make a move then he would catch her...
TBC
TITLE: Janeway Redux AUTHOR: halfofone
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Set after five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 13 - In the balance.
Sickbay prison cells
Kraal moved quickly down the line of cells looking for Atara. The sickbay was not full.
"Found her" he boomed and dropped the forcefield. He entered the cell and scooped up the small scrawny woman effortlessly from her sick bed. She half-screamed and he clamped his hand over her mouth while Nithqref reassured her that this was her rescuer and not a horrible nightmare.
The huge Parath carried her back down to the main sickbay and set her down gently at a command console.
She was almost too weak to sit up but the Halquine supported her and she began to operate the console. "Command: use override: voice identification Atara, First Daughter of Morvius. Encryption sequence Hidden Hostile Takeover - Sub Group Vessel Commands. Computer identify and download all communication, sensor and transporter command code sequences on my mark. Commence download now."
"This will take a few seconds to complete." she remarked quietly, watching the encrypted codes spool down the screen.
At that moment the sickbay doors opened and Morvius entered. His dark eyes took in the scene before him and he screamed at his daughter. "Atara what are you doing? Who are these people?"
"Father we are trying to rescue the prisoners. Please help us."
"No you foolish child. I recognise them. These are associates of the criminal Janeway. She is trying to steal the ship."
She swung her head to look at him and then back to Nithqref.
"Is this true?"
The Halquine could feel her desperate anger and fear of being deceived. There was no time for dissembling now.
'Yes it's true but Janeway is not a criminal and we need her to rescue your comrades.'
The girl fell back from the console, horror on her face. Her father rushed towards her only to be blocked by Kraal who twisted the arms of relatively small Farini holding him immobile.
"Do not help them any further Atara. I forbid it." he squealed before Kraal silenced him with one large paw.
Nithqref knew co-operation was urgently required, they only had two minutes before the assimilation test took place.
Please Atara. Listen to me. I will prove to you that Janeway is no criminal.
"How can you do that?" asked the young woman. She sounded sceptical.
'Look into her mind. See for yourself.'
The Farinin stared at the Halquine from black eyes that seemed to admit no light. Then she silently nodded.
Nithqref prodded the Captain's mind checking that she had been following the events in sickbay.
'Kathryn I am sorry there is no time to prepare you for this - but try not to fight. You must trust me.'
The Halquine felt the Captain give her assent and raised a prayer for her courage and then opened a channel between the two minds.
The Bridge
Kathryn staggered as the link was made. Controller Goff stepped back but Kashyk moved to grasp her arm firmly.
"What is the problem Captain? Are you unwell?" he asked.
"No, just slight dizziness. It's nothing." She ground out the words, trying to keep from collapse. It was some relief as her Borg neural processor took over motor control of her body and left her conscious mind to concentrate on the battering force of the Farini woman's emotions. Hate, fear and despair surged through her. Mostly the hate and fear were directed at her and she cringed at the monstrous representation of herself as an evil ego replete with selfish overwhelming ambition and ruthlessness.
For a few milli-seconds she tried to resist the invasion but gave in to Nithqref who urged 'Don't fight Kathryn - relax, let her see for herself.'
She tried to comply and inwardly groaned as the Farinin experienced her memories. It was a very uncomfortable feeling. Nithqref's contacts with her mind had been very gentle she realised, The non-telepathic Farinin was about as gentle as a regiment of rampaging Klingon.
Kashyk watched the play of emotion on the ex-Captain's face with a sense of triumph. He was a successful telepath hunter and his instincts told him that the Captain was engaged in telepathic communication. Without fanfare he casually moved to a nearby console and began a scan for the tell-tale sub-space signature of telepathic activity. It might take three to four minutes to find but when he did Janeway was as good as dead. It was one thing to have a pet telepath, another to be one.
Sick Bay
Kraal, having roped and tied Morvius, was anxiously talking over the comm link to Seven of Nine.
"How much time left Seven of Nine?"
"Less than thirty seconds to assimilation." Seven suppressed the questions that rose to her lips. She knew something was wrong because of the delay. Cold fear was gripping her heart and she wanted to know what was happening to Kathryn but this was no time for discussion.
In the sick bay, Nithqref still supported the small Farinin. Checking her raging pulse and weakening physical signs the Halquine was frightened. She wouldn't be able to survive the link much longer.
Seven's calm voice broke the quiet. "The prisoner assimilations have started. We are too late."
'Atara?' thought Nithqref probing gently.
Nithqref sensed her confusion and then a decision being made. She entered a string of encrypted codes.
"Computer transfer command control for sensors, communication and transporters, voice activated, to alien Janeway. You have what you asked for Captain Janeway. Now try and use it." The little woman shuddered and withdrew her mind from the link. In answer to Nithqref's horrified stares she said. "If Janeway is all she appears to be then let her rescue us."
"They'll kill her." shouted Kraal angrily and lifted his disruptor to point at Atara who gazed impassively at the towering Parath.
The Bridge
Janeway experienced the Farini woman's shouted challenge in her head and she smiled grimly at the girl's ingenuity. It was justice of a sort she supposed.
She had only one choice. She had to reroute control of the ship to Seven of Nine in the Faraday if any of them were to survive, and that would almost certainly be signing her own death warrant. Unhesitating she opened her mouth to give the order when a triumphant voice interrupted her before she could utter a syllable.
"I have you now Janeway. You are a telepath."
Kashyk punched a button and Kathryn realised her link to Nithqref had vanished. Some kind of telepathic shielding had gone up around her.
"What are you talking about Kashyk?" asked Goff icily, unimpressed by the over-enthusiastic inspector.
"Controller Goff I demand that the telepath Janeway is removed to the brig." Kashyk was nearly hopping with excitement.
"It's not possible.... " said Controller Goff who pushed him aside to glance at the screen. And Kathryn saw disbelief replaced by anger and embarrassment and disgust.
"Get her off the bridge" he grated out. Kashyk beamed with satisfaction. At last he had a measure of success.
Kathryn was as confused as Controller Goff by Kashyk's accusation but surmised that the Devore had no understanding of the Halquine's abilities and had somehow mistaken her as the source of the telepathic readings. She didn't have much time to wonder as one guard seized her elbows while another hit her hard in the face with the butt of his disruptor. She made no effort to resist. They cuffed her hands behind her back and manhandled her off the bridge into the elevator as Kashyk leered triumphantly and Controller Goff looked on angrily.
Once inside the lift, the doors closed and she gazed expressionlessly at her captors who stood less than one metre away, disruptors trained on her body. She felt overwhelming urgency. She had to escape and she had to escape now. Leaning back against the wall, she tensed her wrists and felt the cuffs bite into them. Using all the enhanced strength at her disposal, she forced slowly her wrists apart and after a long painful minute was relieved to feel the left cuff begin to give. Carefully she worked her hand through the loosened restraint trying to disguise any movement by shifting her body against the wall.
"Stand still prisoner" barked the guard and raised his disruptor to her face. She froze but the restraint had come off her left hand. She was free.
The elevator reached its destination and the guard gestured to her to exit from the lift. She moved slowly, too slowly for the nearest guard, who stepped closer and lifted his rifle to hit her. Before the blow impacted on her body Kathryn seized the muzzle and used the momentum to swing the guard against his comrade knocking the latter off his feet. She pulled the rifle, and the guard holding it, towards her and brought his arm down hard on her knee. He screamed and let go of the weapon, his arm snapping noisily at the elbow. Without hesitating she swung the rifle stock up until it connected with his jaw and the guard dropped to the floor unconscious, blood spurting from his mouth.
She turned the business end of the disruptor on the other guard who was still on his knees, yelling into his communicator for assistance.
"Drop the weapon now." The terrified guard threw his disruptor aside and backed out, on his hands and knees into the corridor. "Get out of my sight." she snarled. He didn't need any encouragement, he picked himself up and scampered away.
Moving quickly she put down the weapon and accessed a computer terminal in the wall.
"Computer this is Janeway. Reroute all sensor, communication and tranporter controls to interface 4256."
UNABLE TO COMPLY WITH COMMANDS - UNIVERSAL TRANSLATOR IN USE
"Computer reroute all sensor, communication and transporter controls to interface 4256" she repeated quickly in Devore cursing her own stupidity.
CONTROLS REROUTED
"Computer establish direct voice link with alien Seven of Nine. And erect level ten force fields around sickbay and storage bay 5"
VOICE LINK AND FORCE FIELDS ARE ACTIVE
"Seven, it's Kathryn. You have control of transporters, sensors and communication systems, now get those prisoners off the surface."
"Kathryn where are you?" said Seven her voice shaking. "We lost you."
"I'm safe, relatively, just get those people out before the planet is blown sky high."
"Kathryn we are too late. The assimilation experiment has commenced."
"Then we'll simply have to hide them until their transformation is complete, and Seven try not to alert the Devore of the loss of control. I want to keep our manouevres a secret until we can take control of the Fearless, is that clear? We cannot fight the Devore fleet from a shuttle locked in a cupboard."
"Yes Captain.... Kathryn, please be careful."
"Seven ..." A disruptor blast crashed into the wall beside her head.
"Seven, I have to go. Don't try to rescue me, it will blow our cover, just get the prisoners. I'll try and keep our friends busy. Janeway out." She threw herself to the floor and let off a couple of shots at the security guards who had appeared at the far end of the corridor and then rolled over towards an exit door into another corridor. 'Damn' she thought getting to her feet and starting to run. 'I should have ask Seven to disguise my life signs. This'll be fun.'
Sick Bay
It did not occur to a harassed and worried Seven of Nine to inform the team in sickbay of the change of plans. So when dozens of partially assimilated prisoners began to materialise in sickbay, in various states of panic and transformation, neither Kraal nor Nithqref were ready.
"What the hell is going on?" roared Kraal tripping over a large Brenari who was writhing in some discomfort. "Where are they coming from?"
Nithqref shook both heads and lifted up the tiny Farini, carrying her towards the entrance, out of the way of the materialising alliance fighters but the Halquine felt relief flood through tired bones and muscles.
'She's done it, I do not know how, but she has done it. Unable to feel her Nithqref couldn't say if Janeway was still alive or prisoner behind some telepathic shielding but remote fears were forgotten as the doors of sickbay blasted open. Outside three Devore soldiers armed with heavy disruptors held their disruptors ready to fire and the Halquine knew the last moment of its life had arrived. Using both its bodies, it shielded the Farinin held in its arms.
The blasts bounced harmlessly off a force field which flared electric blue as each shot made contact. Weak with relief, the Halquine thanked its many Gods and Kathryn and Seven of Nine and then warned its comrades.
'Kraal, we can expect company. The Devore know we are here.'
Storage bay 5
Seven watched the unfolding chaos on the ship. She was jamming all internal communications and sensors, disguising them as equipment failures. Teams of Devore engineers were running about frantically, trying to restore the systems.
The sensor jam made tracking Kathryn very hard but Seven kept a transporter lock on her love for an average of 93.4% of time. An utterly imperfect performance from a borg point of view. The communicator bleeped and the low urgent voice of her beloved interrupted her efforts.
"Seven, I am near sick bay. There are at least twenty three Devore soldiers trying to blast their way in. They have to be stopped."
"Acknowledged Kathryn. Please be careful."
"That's the twentieth time today Seven. I have already promised to be careful."
"Then you have put yourself at risk twenty times. Apparently you need frequent reminding" said Seven tartly.
Kathryn stifled a laugh. She rapidly outlined her tactics for removing the Devore assault group.
Sickbay
Kraal looked around sickbay at the ninety odd prisoners who were staggering about in various stages of confusion, sprouting implants. Shaking his head he identified three, two sturdy little Kirrin and an opal coloured lizardman, who looked in better shape than the others. He collared them one by one and pulled them aside.
"Are you able to hold a disruptor?" All three nodded and he threw a weapon to each of them. "Follow me." He marched to the door and they took positions up facing the entrance. A few seconds later a heavy blast from outside hit the forcefield setting off a coruscating display of light but the field held even though the walls on each side buckled.
"Nithqref we should get the prisoners away from the main entrance" called Kraal.
"There is no need to concern yourself Parath" murmured Atara. "No Devore weapon is going to puncture that forcefield. Unless they destroy the ship around it of course." Her glassy black eyes showed no fear or even any interest.
Kraal felt contempt mixed with anger towards the little witch but his reply was contained. "Farini, I am more concerned with hiding our numbers from the Devore. They may not yet know that these are the prisoners from the planet surface. Or how many we have rescued."
Kraal was gratified to see two more of the prisoners join his small band.
"However, the little dears seem to be recovering quickly." he boomed. "We should have quite an army. Of course we don't have enough weapons for more than a dozen." Leaving two of the men to watch the door, Kraal ordered the others to start moving their slower adapting comrades to the back of sickbay out of sight of the main doors.
The number of Devore outside sickbay had increased. Watching them through the shimmering forcefield as they desperately tried to puncture it, Nithqref observed the officer in command shouting orders to his men. And then to his horror he saw all of the Devore soldiers dematerialise.
'Kraal! They are transporting in. Take cover.'
Kraal and his small band threw themselves behind whatever cover they could find and waited for battle. But no-one appeared.
After a few seconds of silence Kraal lifted his head above the bed behind which he was crouching and looked about. His gaze shifted to the main entrance and the vision of a lone figure standing with a disruptor in one hand, the stock resting on her hip.
"Computer lower force field" said Kathryn Janeway and stepped through the shattered doors into sickbay. Kraal let out a bay of triumph and vaulted over the improvised fortifications, catching her up, he squeezed her the air from her in a bone crushing hug before putting her down gasping.
Atara, who had followed the giant Parath from their hiding place, was rigid and her face betrayed utter shock.
"You survived. How?" she gasped.
"Just luck" said the unsmiling captain. "Remind me to thank Inspector Kashyk for his timely intervention."
'Kathryn, you are safe?' sent Nithqref, both bodies hugging her physically while mentally hugging her mind, she sensed the relief and echoes of anxiety. She clutched an arm affectionately, but the Halquine, aware that she was a little overwhelmed let her go and asked 'What happened to the Devore?'.
She smiled coldly.
"It occurred to me that we should replace the people we had removed from the planet with some of our Devore friends, Seven simply obeyed the Devore commander's instruction to transport his men but instead of putting them inside sickbay she sent them all to the surface of the moon." Janeway limped over to the control panel and entered a few commands, establishing a link with Seven's command centre. "Seven has intercepted no unusual ship to ship transmissions and none of the other Devore vessels seem aware that anything is amiss. We are fortunate that the Devore command are so secretive about this mission."
"You're hurt Kathryn," said Kraal, immediately concerned.
"Not badly, just a nick. Tell me, how many people do we have who can fight? We need to take the bridge and engineering soon." Kathryn was worried that the Devore would trace the source of their malfunctions to the Federation shuttle and find Seven and Makela relatively unprotected. "Seven has been jamming internal communications but it's only a matter of time before they realise that it is not a simple system failure."
"We have fifteen, more or less, able fighters and a dozen weapons, the rest of the little souls are still too feeble... completing their transformations" he finished diplomatically. Kraal was thoroughly enjoying himself and his ruddy features beamed.
Kathryn acknowledged his report with a smile. She turned her attention to the frightened Farini woman who peered at her from behind the bulky protection of the Parath as though at a monster. She thanked her gently
"Thank you for your assistance and for trusting me,"
"And for nearly getting you killed, don't forget that." snorted Kraal.
Kathryn ignored the aside and keeping her attention on the young woman, insisted firmly, "But we will need the remainder of the ship's command codes if we are to survive a conflict with the Devore fleet. Are you able to obtain them?"
"Yes but there is a condition."
The fragile woman sounded as though she could barely raise the effort to speak but despite her fear her determination was palpable.
"You must not hurt my father and you must protect him as if he were your own, no matter what happens to me. You are to swear on your honour as a Starfleet captain."
"I suppose I have no choice," Kathryn muttered. She put aside her dislike of ultimatums and accepted the inevitable, avowing with all the conviction she could muster.
"Despite my obvious differences with Morvius, I agree to your terms, I swear to protect your father on my honour as a Starfleet captain."
Atara of Farini studied the captain's face. "I accept your promise Captain Janeway." She entered some data into the terminal and waited for the computer to produce the necessary authorisations. "Domain computer transfer all command to alien Janeway."
The domain computer beeped in acknowledgement and the small Farinin whispered "Captain the ship is yours."
Janeway felt a rush of excitement as the sacred words were spoken but there was no time to linger on the special allure of starship command, she had to secure this vessel now.
tbc
TITLE: Janeway Redux AUTHOR: halfofone
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Set after five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5. Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her?
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 14 - We Won, I think!
Janeway addressed the milling mob of semi-droned life-forms with as much authority as if she was talking to a squad of Starfleet Academy cadets.
"I am Kathryn Janeway. My comrades and I have the command codes and we intend to take this ship from the Devore. We will secure the bridge and engineering and then the rest of the decks. Major Kraal will choose a team to go with him to engineering, Nithqref and the remainder are to come with me to the bridge. Are there any good pilots here?" she asked. One of the rebels gestured at a dark figure resting at the back of sickbay.
"Arrin is one of the best I have ever seen." remarked the large solid looking man. He had a disproportionately small head, sharp weaselly features and little round twinkling-black eyes.
Kathryn nodded approval. "We are going to need a good pilot when we have control of the ship. Bring him here. He's to come along with my group."
The weaselly rebel displayed theatrical levels of horror and shushed her with his hands.
"That's a Her, for pities sake sweetheart. Her. Do not mistake her for a man," he stressed under his breath, "or she'll refuse to help you at all. She's like that, you know, hates men, can hardly bear to be near us."
He grinned evilly and displayed a fine set of pointed yellow teeth before he ambled over to the vaunted pilot and woke her with a good kick. After a short verbal struggle the tall, dark and strikingly good looking woman got to her feet and casually flattened the weasel with a solid punch. Dressed in a slightly ragged black flying suit the pilot swaggered towards the appalled Starfleet Captain and stopped in front of her. The only Borg implant visible on the arrogant face was a small starburst on her left cheekbone. It enhanced her dangerous appearance. She looked Janeway up and down.
"Apparently I have to help you out Red. Just remember I don't take orders from lesser beings. So ask nicely in future" she sneered in a low clipped accent.
Nonplussed at the familiarity and unprofessional behaviour Kathryn raised her eyebrow but decided to ignore the attitude for the moment. She turned away and raised her voice for the next request and tried to sound more forceful.
"Are there any engineers here who are fit for duty? We need them to go with Major Kraal and standby in engineering."
Two slightly shaky figures presented themselves, neither species was recognisable to her but one had two pairs of arms. Pretty useful, she supposed, for an engineer. Uncertain how to acknowledge crew in this strange world and even more uncertain how to establish command she hesitated.
Kraal stepped into the breach and took over in best parade ground command voice.
"Over here both of you, on the double and try not to look so droopy" he bawled and glared at them both as if their appearance were a personal affront to him.
Her ears ringing Kathryn half smiled as the two unfortunates limped over to join the engineering assault team. She was amused to note that Kraal had chosen the weaker looking rebels for his own team leaving her with a much burlier crew.
She looked at them critically. The alliance soldiers were a surly bunch of malcontents and Kathryn could not be sure of their loyalties but as there was no other choice she decided to concentrate on the plan and worry about the niceties later. After all, she reasoned, they all wanted to escape. That at least should keep them in line for the moment. Over the open communication link she asked Seven of Nine for a status report. Seven's reply sounded calm.
"The Devore are becoming increasingly agitated about the loss of internal communications and they are looking for Morvius. It may be difficult to disguise our presence for much longer."
"Hold on Seven if you can keep them confused a little longer, we'll try and get this over with quickly. We have split our forces in two. On my mark transport the group accompanying me to the bridge and the group with Kraal to engineering. Disable all external communications and put up forcefields at key positions to contain movement, I don't want any warning being given to the other ships nor do we want to be interrupted by regiments of Devore soldiers boarding us from the Revenge."
"Acknowledged, I will do my best Kathryn," said Seven before adding in a pleading voice "and be careful."
Warmed by the concern in her love's voice Kathryn joked gently. "And that makes 21 times. I'll be alright Seven, I promise."
"Kathryn please do not break that promise," Seven said seriously. Janeway was hard put to stifle the soppy smile that threatened to appear on her face.
"Everyone ready?" She said and looked round carefully at her team of eight alliance soldiers, the arrogant female pilot and Nithqref. They only had six disruptors between them. She was surprised when Nithqref insisted on taking two of the weapons, the peacable telepath simply said 'I will keep you alive Kathryn.' and Kraal had nodded approvingly. Those without guns equipped themselves with metal bars and surgical knives. With their Borg implants and unkempt appearance they looked fearsome enough.
She glanced at Kraal for confirmation that his team were also ready and he raised a clenched fist. The rest of his team did the same and shouted 'The Alliance'.
And once again Kathryn was out of her depth, Starfleet had rather given up on that sort of military gesture. Seeing the expectant faces of her team (those who had faces) she raised her fist in what she hoped was the appropriate manner. Her team promptly followed suit and shouted also.
Holding onto her command mask with some difficulty Kathryn said "I want everyone to come out of this alive. No killing unless you have to, but no hesitation if your comrades are in danger."
"We must liquidate all prisoners." objected a tall scarred man with an air of authority. "That is standard Alliance battle orders in this situation." Several of the other Alliance soldiers grunted or squeaked in agreement. The objector continued his criticism. "I do not know who you are lady but I can tell you we do not have sufficient men..."
A sharp poke in the back with a disruptor brought him to a savage halt: the point reinforced by a second disruptor held to his neck. Nithqref glared at him silently and then looked pointedly at Kathryn. Every soldier in the room experienced the Halquine's telepathic message.
'Captain Janeway has given you orders. On this ship she commands and any person here who does not follow her orders will answer to me or to Major Kraal with their lives. She is Khalid. Understood?' As one person, the assembled soldiers bowed to her, respect and even fear visible in their bodies and faces.
Kathryn was astonished and somewhat horrified, she had never seen the Halquine be anything but serene and mild-mannered. But the twin bodies, still threatening the tall humanoid male with disruptors, radiated an anger and ferocious tension that she could not have imagined; the very air around the elegant, graceful being seemed to hum with seething violence, the golden eyes afire with rage.
Even Kraal was impressed and caught up in the moment he lifted his mighty paw and roared "Janeway". The rest of those present followed suit and the air split with the noise.
Kathryn could just hear Seven's urgent voice on the comm system. "Captain, what is happening? Do you require assistance?"
The sound of Seven's voice delivered Kathryn from her state of shock and she replied, remarkably calmly she thought.
"It's okay Seven, somewhat different customs, but we're ready now." She signalled to Kraal to quiet the crew which he did by bawling louder than any of them.
"Silence!"
Absolute quiet followed. Kathryn made a mental note that she would have to try and encourage less noisy briefings.
"Seven, ready to transport the assault teams. Now."
The Bridge
The first thing Kathryn saw as she materialised was Inspector Kashyk smirking at some remark made by Controller Goff. In the next instant he turned to face her and the smirk disappeared.
"Drop your weapons now" she barked.
Three Devore guards lifted their disruptors to fight but before they could fire, the Halquine had fired four shots, two from each weapon. The three guards sagged to the floor. There were no further attempts at resistance, the dozen Devore guards still standing dropped whatever weapons they were holding.
"Get them you cowards," shouted a wild-eyed Kashyk and tried to unholster his gun, but as it cleared, and quicker than the human eye could focus, he was disarmed by the long flickering tongue of the lizardman who had materialised behind him. Kashyk stared unbelieving at his empty hand.
"Effective," murmured Kathryn appreciatively, the lizardman chittered something unintelligible in reply and waved the captured weapon about dangerously with his tongue, before bringing it down hard on the back of Kashyk's head. The Devore Inspector subsided to the ground.
Kathryn ignored Kashyk and concentrated on Goff.
"Controller, the ship is mine. At this moment my crew is taking engineering and then we control access to all major systems."
"Captain, without the command codes you control nothing."
It was hard not to admire the fat man's coolness, his pale eyes hardly even registered mild annoyance. He spoke with equal mildness. "If you do not surrender yourselves then your comrades on the surface of that moon will be liquidated in..." and he glanced at the countdown ".... forty three seconds."
Kathryn smiled graciously. "Controller look about you, look at these crew, where do you believe I found them?"
The Controller looked round at the motley assembly of alliance rebels, their Borg implants gleamed dully in the emergency lighting. He gasped slightly and for the first time appeared worried.
Janeway continued smoothly, "the only living beings remaining on that planet are a large number of your own men. I suggest we terminate countdown to the experimental firing. Battle computer, stand down. Do not fire without my authorisation."
The computer acknowledged the instructions.
"Computer," Goff shouted, "ignore orders from the renegade Janeway. Resume targeting moon."
Authorisation level insufficient replied the computer.
"The Farini," he hissed in frustrated realisation "They will pay for this, the Imperium will hunt down every last one of them."
His fury was compounded when Kraal's voice was heard over the communicator. "Engineering secure Captain, we are standing by."
"Any problems Kraal?" she asked.
"None at all, it was very dull, we have fifteen Devore under guard and no casualties," replied the Parath. "Our two little engineers are running about like piglets in a candy shop. They seem very excited."
"Can you secure the decks between yourselves and sick bay?" she asked.
"I cannot imagine it will be very difficult." He replied.
Kathryn was amused by the affected boredom in his voice but there was still much to do before she could be similarly relaxed. They needed to get away from the area as soon as possible.
"Seven we need you here to pilot this thing. Reroute control of sensors and communications back to the bridge and seal all access from the Devore crew quarters."
"It is done." said Seven. "I am on my way."
Kathryn spoke to Arrin.
"Pilot. When Seven of Nine arrives I want you and she to get us out of here quickly. Use whatever evasive manouevres you know."
The dark, good looking pilot scowled at her.
"I've never flown a ship like this. I need time to familiarise myself ......"
"You have until the Devore ships around us start firing at us pilot. However long that is. I suggest you get busy and persuade that good fellow there to help you." She gestured impatiently at the scared looking Devore pilot still seated at the navigation controls.
Arrin folded her arms and looked stubborn. "I told you Red, ask nicely."
Janeway lost patience. A full force ten command glare was levelled on the insubordinate pilot backed up by a raised disruptor.
"Follow my orders pilot or you will be the first dead alliance body on this bridge." Behind her she knew Nithqref had levelled both disruptors on the pilot.
Gazing into cold and apparently merciless granite blue eyes, Arrin recognised defeat and nodded reluctantly. She was not often scared but something about Janeway told her the small Captain was not bluffing.
Kathryn turned her own disruptor on the irate Controller standing between two of her men. "Controller Goff you are to order your remaining crew to surrender immediately."
"No." he said bluntly. "We will not co-operate Captain Janeway, you are the ones who should surrender. You will not be able to escape in this ship, you do not even have a pilot and none of my men will help you."
While the Controller was speaking Janeway just glimpsed out of the corner of her eye one of the Devore officers shuffle back towards a console and conceal something in his hand. Her alertness triggered Nithqref who was trying to monitor the minds of all those on the bridge, Nithqref's two halves spun and fired and the Devore dropped instantly to the deck, two huge holes in his chest. His lifeless fingers released the emergency beacon he had been holding. The small box tumbled to the floor and lay there, a green light blinking in synchronisation with the emergency signal it was transmitting to every Devore ship in range. For a split second everyone on the bridge just gaped at the box then Kathryn fired at it with her disruptor and it disintegrated.
"Battle computer," She yelled. "Shields now!" Before she finished speaking the Fearless shook from the impact of phaser fire from the adjacent Devore ship.
ACKNOWLEDGED said the computer and all hell broke loose on the bridge.
"Arrin, your time just ran out." Kathryn shouted at her reluctant pilot. "Get us out of here as fast you can manage."
Ignoring everything going on around her and trusting that Nithqref would make good the promise to keep her alive, Janeway ran to the tactical station hoping the hours she had spent studying the Fearless were going to be enough. She struggled to deploy the tactical sensors.
From the corner of her eye she saw Seven of Nine enter the bridge and start towards her. Kathryn felt her heart lift in spite of the danger but she snapped at the tall drone.
"Seven. Don't waste time. Get us out of here."
Without speaking Seven of Nine reached the navigational console in two long strides, threw the Devore pilot out her way with one hand and equally unceremoniously pushed the hapless Arrin aside with the other. Both gaped at the breathtaking blonde, who apparently unmoved by the chaos, began readying the Fearless for flight.
Janeway concentrated on the tactical display. Photon torpedos were closing in. Her fingers seemed clumsy as she tried to target the ship's phasers. The lead missile came in range and she pressed the firing control. A direct hit. The missile exploded but there was no time to congratulate herself. She targeted four more missiles and fired. Two destroyed but two were through and there was no time to intercept.
"All crew. Brace for impact." Seconds after her words echoed over the Fearless's comm system the ship rocked wildly and Kathryn lost her hold and fell sideways banging her head. But Seven hung on and Kathryn, lying on the floor, heard her calm report.
"Engines on-line Kathryn." Pulling herself upright Kathryn felt a stab of pride in her protege. "Course set for evasive pattern." continued Seven. "Engaging impulse engines. Slipstream in three seconds."
In the eternity that followed another direct hit shook the ship tossing Devore and Alliance soldiers about. Fighting broke out as the Devore took advantage of the situation. Then a different vibration began and for a moment Kathryn feared that the ship was going to shake itself apart.
"We have entered the slipstream Kathryn," Seven explained. "I am not entirely sure of our exact destination but we are leaving Devore space ..... "
An angry howl interrupted her. Inspector Kashyk twisted free of his guard. He grabbed his captor's disruptor. Unable to get a clear shot at Janeway who was still sitting on the deck he turned his gun on Seven.
"Watch your bitch die Janeway!" he screamed and aimed at Seven from almost point blank range. The Fearless veered sideways throwing him off balance. He missed. The ship pitched up like an old sailing clipper, climbing a giant wave, and every person on the bridge scrabbled to hold on to whatever they could. Those who failed, slipped and rolled towards the back of the bridge. Gripping the edge of the tactical console with one hand Kathryn hauled herself to her feet with desperate strength. In the other arm she braced the stock of the disruptor against the crook of her elbow. The violent motion had deposited Kashyk in a command chair from which relative safety he was struggling to aim his disruptor at Seven of Nine's back as she valiantly tried to stabilise the ship's gravity field.
Kathryn concentrated on holding her weapon steady. The noise and screaming around her faded and her vision seemed to narrow until all she could see at the end of a tunnel was Kashyk, his face contorted. He was still shrieking but she couldn't hear the words. She fired twice.
The Inspector carried on screaming but he dropped his disruptor. He had no choice. Kathryn's shots had severed both his arms at the shoulder and the limbs lay twitching on the floor. In that instant Seven brought the Fearless under control and the ship seemed to right herself. The crowd of Devore and Alliance personnel slowly disentangled themselves but there were no further struggles. Everyone was mesmerised by the agonised screams of the armless Kashyk.
Kathryn stifled the urge to vomit. She turned to the command console and announced ship-wide with as much cold force as she could muster. "All Devore crew are to surrender. Your commanders are imprisoned and we have evaded the Devore fleet. If you do not co-operate fully and completely my crew will execute you without further delay."
Around the ship her words were heard punctuated by Kashyk's pleas for mercy and death. Fear was apparent on the faces of the Devore bridge crew.
She pointed her disruptor at a white-faced Controller Goff and his head drooped in acknowledgement. He spoke quietly.
"To all crew. This is Controller Goff. I have agreed to surrender. Offer no resistance. You are to co-operate with Captain Janeway and her crew."
"Remove him to sickbay." Janeway ordered two of the Devore guards and indicated Kashyk with her hand. "And get rid of those," she added pointing at his severed arms.
"The surgeon may be able to reattach ...." protested Goff.
"Get rid of them." she said coldly, aware that fear was holding the numerically superior Devore in thrall and she was unwilling to give up that advantage. "And I'm afraid I must confine you to the brig Controller Goff." Nithqref. Get them all out my sight. she thought.
The Halquine's own artificial battle rage had faded already and Nithqref shivered at the ferocity still radiating from Janeway.
Without further instruction from their new leader, the Alliance crew rounded up the Devore on the bridge, kicking and punching them into obedience before marching them and the stretcher party from the bridge leaving just the Captain, Seven of Nine and the pilot, Arrin. The latter was now watching at the former Federation captain with undisguised admiration and some fear. Seven on the other-hand looked troubled if also slightly fearful. Kathryn felt a stab of regret. All she seemed able to do these days was to frighten people, including those she loved.
"Your aim was remarkably accurate in the circumstances" Seven said neutrally.
"It was no such thing," Janeway replied, her voice remaining unemotional. "I was aiming at his chest. Kashyk was a lucky man."
"I do not believe he thought so," replied Seven soberly.
Janeway shrugged. "It was him or you."
*~~~*
Five years later - Voyager
"And that was it," said Janeway. "We escaped, took the Fearless and joined the Alliance fleet."
Chakotay shook his head in disbelief.
"So then what? I suppose you defeated the Devore and the Borg."
Janeway grinned.
"I appreciate the confidence but it was more complicated than that. It was quite clear that neither the Alliance or the Imperium could defeat the Borg alone. There was a treaty. All the unsubjugated planets were allowed to secede to the Alliance in return for the technology we had stolen. The Borg were driven back." Her eyes darkened. "I don't want you to think it was easy. There were terrible losses. And for all our efforts the Borg will return one day; we are engaged in a ceaseless arms race."
The Voyager crew looked at their former leader and felt dismay. It was obvious that Janeway was not here to rejoin them. Chakotay was equally disappointed but he also felt apprehension. Why did Janeway need them now? Why was she here?
tbc
TITLE: Janeway Redux AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R CODE: J/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her? This part opens in the same time frame as where we left part 14, five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5.
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 15 Lost But Not Forgotten
Seven of Nine lay as still she could and tried to ignore the pain. She closed her eyes against the glare of the laboratory lights and with an effort of will forced herself to remember happier times. Not because she wished to distract herself from her situation, logically Seven knew that it was nearly over for her, she wanted her last thoughts to be of her family as the darkness closed about her.
She thought of Kathryn on the bridge of the Fearless, every inch the rebel leader, swaggering slightly to impress the ruffian element in the crew and then the transformation that occurred when the children appeared, sneaking onto the bridge against orders to say goodnight to their mother. The cold-eyed privateer would become a reluctant doting parent, endeavouring and failing to hide her pride in the children's independence and initiative; her veneer of anger easily punctured by the disingenuous questions and the eager demands for bedtime stories. The bridge crew, who knew their captain better than her ruthless reputation, would struggle to hide their amusement at seeing their infamous leader put in her place by the relentless logic of her small children. Woe betide any crewman who was caught smiling as Kathryn tried and failed to impose discipline on her irrepressible kids.
A savage jolt of electricity jerked Seven away from her recollections. She screamed at the pain in her head. The lab technician took no notice. He had watched the borg scream for months and if in the beginning he had felt any pity, that emotion had long since fled, overwhelmed by his prurient fascination with her memories and her body. His masters had no interest in the borg's pain; it was incidental to the matter at hand. They had accepted after several weeks that she would not respond directly to torture and since then they had concentrated their efforts on extracting what they needed directly from her borg brain. If it hurt then that was just a bonus as the boss would say with a twinkle in his malevolent eyes.
That was months ago. The technician's superiors were no longer even particularly interested in the ex-drone as a source of information. The technician was aware that they were simply keeping her alive as bait, to draw in 'that human bitch' as his boss always referred to the infamous Alliance commander.
The technician waited for the show to begin.
Seven closed her eyes again and concentrated. Trying not to give her persecutors anything, trying to force her borg mind away from any thoughts that might endanger her family. Experience had taught her it was better to let her tormentor see something he enjoyed, exploiting his obvious sexual arousal.
On the small holo-viewer in the laboratory a vague image began to form and the technician settled back with a smile of satisfaction and relaxed. He was meant to take notes of all the borg's memories, hunting for information about the Alliance but there was no need this time; he had seen this image many times before. It was one of his favourites.
*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
"... Kathryn ... please," the helpless ex-drone sobbed with need, completely unaware of the discomfort she had complained of so bitterly, many minutes before, the twigs poking into her back through damp mouldering leaves and the slight chilly breeze rustling the forest above.
"I thought you didn't want to make love out here" teased her lover who nonetheless didn't cease her attentions.
"... a ... mis ... judgement ... do not stop ..."
Words became impossible, sensation swept away thought and awareness, leaving two women lost in love and each other. As Seven arched up against her lover gasping and shuddering in the final ecstatic loss of control, Kathryn groaned and whispered "I wish I could hold you forever Seven of Nine. I love you." For long moments they clung together.
Seven loved the aftermath of sex as much as the sex. Kathryn was always affectionate and open at these times, whispering endearments in a gravelly undertone as she tenderly stroked and kissed the ex-Borg. For these short moments, Seven knew she possessed her captain absolutely. It was at these times that Kathryn would talk to her and listen to her, the continual demands of command and the rebellion muzzled.
"Kathryn?"
"Mmm?" queried the former Starfleet captain unconcernedly. She was concentrating on Seven's belly; her fingers appreciatively tracing lazy circles over the smooth, muscled flesh and taking occasional diversions to follow the branching lines of the abdominal implant.
In the early days of their physical relationship it had disturbed Seven whenever her lover touched her Borg implants. Kathryn had given such squeamishness short-shrift.
'You touch mine, I'll touch yours' she had said wryly.
In Seven's eyes, comparison invalidated Kathryn's bargain; the captain's slight but athletic body was almost unmarked except for three smallish implants (non-functional connectivity ports) on her left hand, her thigh and in the small of her back, and a rather decorative starburst just below her left ear. These blemishes were trivial compared to the several significant, very visible implants that marred the drone's fair skin and the extensive borg machinery that lay under it. Yet over time, and following extensive and energetic proofs, the ex-Borg had been convinced that Kathryn was not revolted by her more obvious Borg features. Eventually she realised that this was just one small additional unlikelihood she had to accept as part of believing that this perfect woman really loved her. And next to that miracle nothing seemed impossible.
At this moment Kathryn seemed determined to prove that some of the borg implants were erogenous zones. Seven shivered as her lover gently leant down to kiss her on the place where an implant disappeared into her skin just above her thigh. Reluctantly Seven stilled Kathryn fingers before they slid lower. Kathryn raised her head to look at her and Seven gently pulled the smaller woman up the length of her body, to kiss the elegant mouth before releasing her. Amused blue-gray eyes quizzed the ex-drone.
Seven hesitated, uncertain about what she was going to say. She had never proposed anything similar before, however she had found that it was usually more effective with Janeway to go straight to the point.
"I wish to have a family," she stated quickly.
The hand on her belly stilled and the expressive eyes darkened a shade, the amusement fading. "What are you saying exactly?"
"I believe we should have children."
Janeway rolled away and sat up. Her voice was determinedly even.
"That's not possible."
"The biological procedures for ..."
Janeway cut in harshly. "I'm not talking about the mechanics of the process Seven. I am talking about our situation. It wouldn't be right."
"Explain."
"We are in the middle of a war, light years from humanity. It would be completely unconscionable to bring a child into this life."
Janeway clearly felt the conversation was over. She stood up and started to collect her clothing from where it lay. Seven felt her ire rising. She was not going to be dismissed like some accidentally insubordinate ensign.
"You are saying that Kraal and Makela should not have children?"
"No I'm not saying that ... "
"How so?" Seven interrupted before her lover had finished. "They have been at war all their lives. Are their children less valuable that they may be more easily risked?"
Janeway did not answer as she bent over to pick up her trousers. Regardless of the argument, Seven could not help but appreciate her lover's appearance. The former-captain stood naked in the warm sunlight: a slim athletic body, trim despite her forty three years. Everything about her was neat, graceful and perfectly proportioned, smooth skin over fine muscles which were just visible, flexing under the fair skin, as she finished retrieving her uniform from the forest floor. The redundant Borg regeneration port and a long fine white scar rising across her lower back (a reminder of her imprisonment by the Devore) recorded recent history on the otherwise unblemished and silky smooth skin of her back. She turned to face Seven and the ex-drone had to consciously avert her eyes, from the swing of soft breasts, to her lover's face. Janeway's expression was a little unsettled.
"Of course not! It is not the same," Kathryn replied. She pulled on her pants with an exasperated sigh. Seven would have been amused by the sight of the self-controlled Alliance Marshal, standing half-naked in a wood, bare shoulders set with her customary determination, except that humour was the last emotion the ex-drone was experiencing.
"In what way is their situation different from ours?"
"This is their home," Janeway exclaimed impatiently, hunting for her shirt in the bracken and then irritably shaking dead and rotten vegetation and small insects from the creases. "Their people are here and they have to forge some kind of future for themselves despite the imperfections. I'm sure Kraal would agree that it would be better if his children were not born to this war and could grow up in peace but the Parath have little choice. They have been fighting for many years and they have developed great skill in hiding their families and keeping them away from the conflict."
"And could we not also hide our children and protect them? Do we not deserve a future?" Seven inquired quietly. She sat up slowly, wrapping her arms around herself.
Taken aback by her lover's sadness, Janeway paused in her search for undergarments and answered in a more moderate voice.
"We have a choice about our future Seven, a responsibility, and in my view it would just be incredibly selfish to have a child at this time. He or she would be isolated from others of their kind, alone ... without contact with other human children. Dear God, even we are not fully human. And what if we were both killed? What would happen to our child?"
Seven could not disguise her impatience with this human-centric line of argument. It was written in her face and voice as she spoke.
"We have good friends who would care for her and protect her with their lives, perhaps better friends than she might find on Earth. She would have the companionship of other children. She would not be alone." Seven's blue eyes hardened. "Is it not true that many children in the Federation grow up within cultures that are different from their genetic inheritance? I thought the diversity of the Federation was something of which you were proud."
"I am proud of it," Janeway asserted, "but don't underestimate how hard it is for children who are isolated from their own people."
"I do not underestimate it. My parents separated me from the rest of humanity and risked my very existence to chase the Borg. For three years I knew no other beings except my parents and the drones they brought aboard for study." Seven's clear, blazing blue eyes, held her lover's gaze. "Then I lost everything," she enunciated slowly.
"Then you of all people should see why we have to be careful ... " Janeway shot back, breaking the eye-contact and prowling round the ex-drone, who was now sitting-up, propped against the ancient tree-trunk. Seven shook her head and disagreed.
"That is not my conclusion. I did resent my parent's foolish arrogance toward the Borg and their utter carelessness towards my interests; their actions were indeed selfish and reckless, Kathryn. However, I do not regret being born or being brought to this quadrant." The ex-drone rose to her feet, towering magnificently over the smaller woman. Kathryn could barely hide an appreciative smirk. Seven was not to be diverted. "Nor do I regret being forcibly separated from the Borg collective by another person who acted 'in loco parentis' and against my expressed wishes at that time," she stressed.
Janeway stopped hunting for discarded garments and faced Seven. The former captain was still at last, totally serious.
"Do you resent me ... for that?" Uncertainty gripped her voice.
"No. I love you. How can I resent you rescuing me, even if I did not realise that I needed to be rescued? If you had not done so, we would not be together now" Seven said gently. Janeway relaxed a little too soon. The ex-drone resumed her verbal assault with unwavering intensity. "But sometimes I resent your obvious belief that you are the sole arbiter of what is right for me and what is right for us. You discount my opinions and my feelings. While I was a frightened and inexperienced drone such behaviour may have been necessary. That is no longer the case."
"I am not trying to say what is best for you Seven. I am trying to be sensible. We are talking about another life."
"You are afraid of the responsibility," Seven pronounced firmly.
"I'm afraid of responsibility?" said Janeway disbelievingly, outrage lowering her voice and darkening her eyes to a stormy grey. "You must be thinking of someone else Seven."
Seven was not intimidated or deflected. Kathryn's subordinates might scurry for cover when the Janeway voice rumbled and threatened. Seven was not a subordinate.
"You may be able command a starship, a fleet and even a civilisation but in your personal life, you are afraid that you will be insufficient. I do not know why you believe yourself inadequate. I have simply observed it to be true. It was apparently necessary for you to be exiled from your companions, lose your command, then be thrown into prison, tortured and nearly lose your life before you would risk allowing yourself a partner. I do not wish to experience similar deprivation in order to overcome your prevarication about expanding our family."
"Seven I didn't mean we could never have children, just that this is not a good time ... "
"That is demonstrably untrue. As a Free Alliance marshal, you are powerful, independent and more than capable of providing for and protecting a family; as indeed am I," Seven countered relentlessly. "It is true that there is some danger inherent in our lives; unfortunately I do not foresee any future with you in which that would not be the case, unless you intend to wait until we are both so old that having children would be impracticable?"
"Wait up a little Seven, let me turn this around. You've discounted my reservations without providing any reasons as to why you want a child now."
Seven dismissed the question. "Such reasoning is irrelevant."
"How can knowing why you want children be irrelevant?"
"The argument is circular. I wish to have a child because I wish to have a child. Beyond that I do not have any special understanding of human psychology or the urge to reproduce. I do not believe there is a logical rationale. It simply ... feels right."
"You can't just dismiss the issue like that, it's a serious decision."
"Yes it is. And we have agreed that we are in an adequate material situation and that we would be able to look after a child in a satisfactory manner."
Janeway's head shot up and she started to protest, "I haven't agree..."
Seven cut in brusquely, not wishing to cover the same ground again.
"Do you have some tradition or belief that would prevent you from having a family? Or is there some other ritual consideration that determines the timeframe for such events?"
Janeway shook her head. Numbed by the barrage, she couldn't remember her initial reservations.
Seven gently took her captain's hands.
"In that case the only question that remains is do you want to have a child with me?" The ex-drone then threw her former captain off balance by saying very wistfully, "I do not expect an answer now."
Holding her lover's gaze, Janeway pondered how it was that these arguments with Seven always ended in her total defeat. She opened her mouth to speak ...
*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
Before the captain could answer, a sharp pain skewered Seven's skull and ripped her from her memories.
"Good afternoon Seven of Nine. Though I suppose that the time of day is irrelevant really - it's always the same in here. How many days is it now that you have been here?"
Seven didn't bother to open her eyes to look at her tormentor. Kashyk formerly of the Devore Inspectorate and currently self-employed often visited the lab. He liked to keep her up-to-date.
"182 days 14 hours and 23 minutes," she replied. Her voice was a cracked whisper, broken by many hours of pain.
"No word from your wife for... let me see... 43 days. Do you think she has abandoned you? It would make sense. She has been unable to find you and the only way she can save you is by surrendering herself and that damned ship and crew. I expect she has decided that you are not worth the exchange."
"Perhaps," Seven acknowledged quietly. Kashyk snorted.
"Then again perhaps not. We both know how stubborn Kathryn can be. Even if she does not love you enough to give herself up, she will not want to be defeated by me. She'll come. I know it."
"And then she will kill you." This time Seven opened her eyes and stared into the madness of her captor.
Kashyk laughed delightedly and gripped Seven's human hand with the pincers on his wholly Borg arm and squeezed until Seven screamed at the pressure inflicted on her already broken fingers. Kashyk didn't seem to notice. He was daydreaming aloud with a blissful expression on his still handsome face.
"She will see her family, her friends and her partner tortured until she begs me to kill them. As she looks for you, so I look for your children. Very beautiful little girls are they not? My men will enjoy them. I wonder who will find whom first?"
Seven said nothing. There was nothing here that she had not heard before and it only excited her captor if she showed emotion of any sort. He did not have her children or Kathryn and for the moment that was enough for her.
*~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~*
Many thousands of light years distant in her former ready room aboard the Federation Starship Voyager, Free Alliance Marshal Kathryn Janeway had completed retelling the story of her imprisonment and escape from the Devore five years earlier. Her former crew were staring at her. Chakotay couldn't hold back any longer.
"Kathryn, this is an amazing story but you have not explained to us why you need our help. What could we do for you - we are relatively small and powerless. We almost certainly know less than you about fighting the Borg or the Devore."
"I told you that Seven of Nine had been captured six months ago."
Chakotay nodded, still not seeing where this was going.
"There is a price for her release. Me...and...you. Voyager and all of her crew to be exact."
There was silence.
"Why would anyone in the Devore Imperium be interested in us?" exclaimed B'Elanna Torres.
"It's not the Devore Imperium that has her. It's the Borg or rather I should say it's an agent of the Borg."
"An agent," muttered Neelix. "The Borg don't use agents."
"The Borg have learnt that sometimes co-operation yields better outcomes than assimilation. You could say that this ship pioneered that tactic with them. The Borg remembered us and remembered working with us. When they were approached by a man who promised that he could deliver me they took a chance."
"Kashyk," said Chakotay grimly. Janeway smiled bleakly.
"You are very quick Captain."
"But I thought you had killed him..."
"No. I just mutilated him and gave him another reason to hate me. From what our intelligence services have established, I believe that part of the deal with the Borg was a new pair of arms."
"You're asking us to surrender to the Borg in exchange for Seven of Nine."
"I want you to make the deal look real. Kashyk will never release Seven even if we did give ourselves up to him. He wants the whole thing. We have to get close enough to rescue her and the only way to do that is to fly in with Voyager under a flag of surrender. We know where she is. He is holding her on a planet just inside Borg space. It's close to Devore space but it might as well be on the other side of the galaxy."
"You want to use Voyager as a trojan horse."
"Yes."
"How do you even know she is alive still?"
"He likes to send me recordings." Kathryn clenched her fists and breathed slowly. "We have verified the dates of those recordings and as of three weeks ago she was alive."
Chakotay looked his former leader in the eye. He knew that expression. Nothing was going to get in her way.
"Do I have any choice?" he asked already knowing her answer but wanting his crew to hear the words.
"No. You have no choice Captain Chakotay."
TBC
TITLE: Janeway Redux AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R CODE: J/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Janeway gets remade and returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her? This part opens in the same time frame as where we left part 14, five years after the events of Counterpoint in season 5.
SPOILERS: Some Season 4 and Season 5 spoilers.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
To all those readers who against the odds have kept on at me to finish this - keep going a little longer.
===Voyager's ready room===
Chakotay watched Janeway carefully; she had confirmed his suspicions. He and the crew of Voyager were pawns in a game between two poker players with everything to lose. Janeway had risked Voyager many times before but at least then he had never doubted her commitment to her crew and her determination to bring them home. This time it was different. This woman was a stranger almost. He needed to know her better and to get some understanding of her new allegiance.
"It's a remarkable achievement for an outsider to climb so high within an organisation like the Alliance. Revolutionaries are usually extremely suspicious of anyone new, jealous even. It must have been very difficult for you in the early days."
"Actually after a few misunderstandings I progressed reasonably rapidly in the Alliance ranks." She grinned almost mischievously. "I had some advantages."
Kraal snorted. "Insanity being one."
Janeway shrugged and smiled. "Some people might have called it that. Good luck and good friends would be my explanation and there was the opportunity - I had skills and experience that were in very short supply - but mostly circumstances were on my side."
Nithqref shook both heads and gently, so it almost came as whisper within the minds of all those present, added 'The brave make their own good fortune Kathryn.'
"Very true," said Chakotay. "So how were you received by the Alliance?"
Janeway demurred and shook her head "But I would like to hear some of your adventures first," she said with a charming smile. "I have talked enough."
"There's plenty of time. After all we will have your company for the next two weeks, I think everyone here would very much like to hear more about your journey and adventures," Chakotay argued equally pleasantly.
"I would very much like to know more about Seven of Nine and your children," Neelix agreed enthusiastically.
Janeway smiled warmly at the small Talaxian but there was now a sadness in her eyes.
"It has been probably the happiest time of my whole life but I shall begin at the beginning. Kraal and Nithqref, I am sure will correct me if I get things wrong."
==Five years earlier==
The Fearless lay in high orbit above the light side of the barren cold planet, a tanned brown rock glowing in the light from its distant star.
Janeway regarded the small dead planet on the view screen.
"It doesn't look very lively."
"On the surface there is nothing. Surface temperatures are 100 degrees below zero. The Alliance headquarters are located in caverns fifty miles beneath the surface and heavily shielded from the curious."
The speaker was a tall, middle-aged, well-built humanoid male of mixed Devore/Brenari origin. Janeway knew a little of his history from her discussions with Nithqref. Dafed had no telepathic abilities but the laws against miscegenation in the Devore Imperium were absolute and his parents were imprisoned as a result of their liaison. Their fates like most other people taken by the Devore were unknown but death could be presumed. Dafed had escaped with a sympathetic Devore uncle and been brought up in a remote part of the Imperium where folk were more interested in your bank balance than your heritage. As a baby, Dafed was adopted by a wealthy Alliance family of the Malinko clan and had found his way in that half world of rebellion, insurgency, terrorism and plain old organised crime. He was now a senior ambassador within the Alliance which was a testimony to his intelligence and his survival instincts.
"We must send a identification signal or they won't send the transporter co-ordinates," he advised. "The safe transport areas are changed daily. Old transport zones are filled with supplies and garbage which can lead to very nasty transporter accidents."
"Do it," said Janeway. She betrayed neither by look nor gesture any of her concern about the upcoming contact. Nithqref and Kraal had briefed her as fully as they could on the shifting political sands of the Alliance but the Borg invasion had destabilised the old structures of command and control. Several major political leaders had died or been assimilated leaving dangerous power vortices within what had been a fairly chaotic structure to begin with and the fact was that no-one on board the Fearless could be sure of what awaited them here. The Alliance was a loose consortium of a few dozen free worlds whose systems of government ranged from democracy to dictatorship and a much larger group of factions that came from worlds occupied by the Devore.
The free worlds had ususally remained free for three reasons. Firstly they were extremely distant from the Devore centres of power; secondly they were unremarkable in terms of resources; and lastly they had not given the Devore any excuse to invade. The last factor meant that the involvement of the free world leaders in the Alliance had to be very circumspect, so in practise the soldiers and active leaders in the Alliance were drawn from the peoples whose worlds had already been occupied and who had little more to lose.
Refugees from the Devore conquests had spread out across the sector in a great diaspora. Living hand to mouth on many of the more lightly occupied worlds or trying to carve out an existence on much harsher formerly unoccupied planets, these refugees provided the backbone of the Alliance recruitment. They survived because the area of space occupied by the Devore Imperium was enormous and hard to control even for the mighty Deveore adminstration and the actual status of the occupied worlds varied enormously. Some worlds were completely under Devore control with big local Devore administrations and regiments of soldiers; many more planets were garrisoned by the Devore but the local adminstration was carried out by the native population under the control of a Devore military governor; an even larger number had notional autonomy as long as they paid their taxes. Devore representation on this latter group of worlds was restricted to 'ambassadors' who reported any signs of rebellion or resistance to Devore rule. If the situation on any planet got too out of hand the Devore would send in their 'inspectors' to crush any resistance. Nonetheless many illegal and stateless people were able survive and even prosper on these worlds. Additionally, many planets and moons off the 'beaten track' were uninhabited and could be used as bases by the Alliance. Some of these bases, like the one that the Fearless was orbiting, lay quite close to Devore occupied space and consequently had to be extremely well hidden. A casual scan wouldn't see anything and a more detailed look would probably only suggest wildcat mining. There were hundreds of thousands of such small operations constantly shifting between planets, moons and asteroids and the Devore could not investigate more than a small percentage.
A beep from the communication sensor indicated that Dafed had received a reply from the Alliance base.
"They want to board us," reported Seven.
"Not unreasonable," Dafed confirmed.
"Signal back that we will accept a welcoming committee," Janeway ordered.
"They will be very suspicious," said a dark skinned, softly featured woman standing next to Dafed.
Ertha was another very senior Alliance ambassador. She came from H'ronor, a world now destroyed by the Borg and even to the two humans it was clear that this dignified old woman was hanging onto her composure by a thread. She moved as though a great force opposed her and every step taken and every word uttered was a painful labour.
"Hopefully they will accept your word and Dafed's that we are genuine," Janeway responded reassuringly.
Ertha gazed at Janeway and her dark eyes seemed to allow no light to escape as though her sadness would swallow everything.
"In these times I would not hope."
Janeway had to put aside her sense of compassion as seconds later, six armed persons materialised on the bridge. They were all from the same species of weedy rattish beings. Kraal grunted disapprovingly and Seven of Nine's eyes narrowed as she recognised them as like the beings who had betrayed her to the Devore.
"What are these Cantori scum here for?" Kraal growled at no-one in particular. One of the Cantori stepped forward, waving his weapon dangerously at Kraal who didn't blink or move.
"Shut it!" yelled the boarder staring up at the huge Parath who towered at least four feet above him. "Parath pig. Everyone will drop their weapons and return with us."
"Who is everyone?" enquired Janeway.
"Everyone on the ship," yelled the apparent leader turning his attention from Kraal. There was a touch of relief in his voice as he took in the less intimidating physical presence of Captain Janeway.
"All of us! Are you sure?" asked Janeway coolly. She wasn't impressed by the boarding party. If this was the best the Alliance could field then Ertha was correct and there was little hope. However now was not the time for critical appraisal. "There are about ninety people in our crew and we have some two hundred Devore personnel and marines under guard in the hold. We can't just leave them here alone. We have only just captured this ship - it would be a shame to hand it back - and of course the Devore would destroy your base which wouldn't make your commander happy."
"Someone has to stay here and fly the ship" added Arrin the pilot, grinning. "You boys don't look space-worthy to me."
The boarding party gaped stupidly at the assortment of creatures around them and then at each other. It was obvious that they didn't know what to do. There was some hurried scuffling and muttering together before their leader mumbled into his communicator.
"Er Colonel. It's me. Umm it's a little more complicated up here than we was told. There are quite a few more than we thought...like a hundred or so of the buggers and they claim to have a couple of hundred Devore prisoners." He hesitated looking around and then said "and Colonel...some of them look like they might be with that new lot, the Borg." After a few seconds listening to his commander the Cantori escort snapped off the communicator and spoke with more authority. "The boss says you are to kill the prisoners and your leaders will accompany us to the surface to be interrogated by the representatives of the mighty Remo."
"No," said Janeway firmly. "We are not killing anyone and if your commander wants to meet me then he will have to come up here first." Responding to internal prompting from Nithqref, Janeway then said "If you don't agree, we will take this ship to the headquarters of the Helfi and see if they are interested in defeating the Borg and the Devore Imperium. And why are clan Remo deployed in this base. Where are the council of the Alliance?"
"We are providing security for the council. You have to be cleared before you can meet anyone important..."
"We. Are. Important," said Dafed emphatically and stepped foward. "I am Ambassador Dafed and this is Ambassador Ertha. We have vital information and we must speak with the Council soon. Instruct your commander to arrange an immediate audience. If anyone wishes to verify our identity before we disembark then would they please send a security officer with the appropriate clearance. You may go."
Before the Cantori had a chance to argue the six rattish beings found themselves back on their base transport-pad in front of a rather irritated looking colonel.
Back on the Fearless, Janeway smiled at Seven. "Nicely done Seven."
"This vessel has a superior transport technology Kathryn. You should congratulate its designer. The sensors locked on to the source co-ordinates when they transported aboard."
"Next time they will send someone senior," Dafed announced and smiled tiredly. "They would not risk anyone valuable the first time with an unknown force such as this ship."
He was right. Ten minutes later the colonel in charge of base defences beamed aboard and after a few minutes of introduction he politely requested that the two ambassadors and Captain Janeway should accompany him back to the surface.
"We should go," said Janeway impatiently as soon as the colonel had withdrawn from the bridge.
"Kathryn do you not think we should leave this to Nithqref," Seven suggested quietly.
Janeway frowned and said slightly petulantly, not liking the idea of being sidelined, "No. I want to meet them myself. I will go with our ambassadors."
"I was not aware of being your ambassador Captain Janeway," said Ertha slowly with a hint of the steel she must once have possessed.
Janeway knew that she needed Ertha and Dafed's support if she was to get any hearing. She stepped forward to take one of the older woman's hands. Ertha was clearly unused to such familiariy and pulled away slightly but Janeway kept a firm hold of her hand. Janeway ignored Nithqref's urgent warning as she lifted their joined hands so that everyone present could see the faint tracery of metal lines threading away from the small implants. A few glanced at their own marks and scars as Janeway declared "If I seem presumptuous ambassador then I apologise but all of us here are now of a brotherhood, a brotherhood which we did not seek but which has chosen us. We are going to change history together ambassador. There are worlds to save and civilisations to rebuild and this ship and this crew will be the start."
After a moment of silence Kraal thrust his fist in the air. "The Alliance and Janeway."
A second later the rest of those present, apart from the more dignified Ertha and Nithqref, duplicated his gesture and cry. Janeway acknowledged the salute. She was getting the hang of this world. Ertha nodded at the captain and the old lady's body seemed to straighten a little as though losing some of her burdens. She took her place next to Janeway and Dafed moved to also stand beside the human.
"I will go with you," stated Seven unexpectedly.
"Not this time Seven. I need you to stay with the Fearless - but if anything happens I'm relying on you to get me out of trouble," Janeway responded with a disarming grin successfully not giving in to her irritation.
Seven was not disarmed.
"I will not comply."
Janeway did not hide her shock well. She turned to her companions who were variously amused or disapproving. Kraal was snickering openly.
"If we may have a moment please," Janeway said calmly though her face betrayed her irritation. Seven followed Janeway into the adjacent briefing room. When the door slid shut Seven spoke immediately.
"I will not change my mind Kathryn. I will go with you."
"Seven, nothing is going to happen to me down there. These people will be falling over themselves to get our help. There is nothing to worry about."
"In that case there is no reason for me not to accompany you. Surely they will be 'falling over themselves' regardless and I can ensure no harm comes to you."
Janeway fell back on being captain. "Seven I am not asking you, I am giving you an order."
This tactic was worse than useless which Janeway realised almost before she finished speaking. Seven raised her eyepiece and pronounced haughtily.
"Kathryn, you are not captain here."
"I may not be captain Seven..." Janeway stepped closer and lightly held onto Seven's elbows. She looked steadily into the Borg's blue eyes, "...but do this for me. I need you to follow my orders at least in public."
"Why?"
"Because you're right. I'm not really the captain and because of that I cannot afford to be diverted, nor to show weakness. There is nothing holding the allegiance of this crew except the perception that I am the leader on this ship - they have accepted me as 'The Captain'. Without that acceptance, you and I have no protection and I would have no power to keep you safe."
Seven eyes were troubled. "Does the same need not apply to me, to keep you safe. I cannot endure losing you again Kathryn. I could not function."
"Nothing will happen I promise."
"You cannot promise that."
"You must trust my judgement Seven, that I will do the best I can to keep us both safe. We have to win these peoples' trust both here on Fearless and in the Alliance at large. If they betray our trust then you have my permission to come in all guns blazing to save me. Is that a deal?"
Seven considered the offer. "It will suffice but if the circumstances dictate I will stop at nothing Kathryn."
"That is the most comforting thing I have heard in weeks." Janeway smiled warmly up at her Borg and was more than a little surprised to find herself suddenly pinned against the wall of the briefing room to say goodbye.
"Damn you learn fast," Janeway gasped when she was able, grateful for Seven's strong arms supporting her as she was pretty certain her legs would not be any use at all.
"I do not want you to forget to be careful so I must remind you of what you might lose."
"Lesson learned Seven. Now I don't want to go..."
"...but you must."
A few more heated seconds and Seven released her captain. Janeway straightened her clothing and led the way back to the bridge to rejoin the landing party. A few very amused and curious faces and an abrupt silence greeted them, suggesting that there had been some quickly halted discussion.
"Whipped!" Kraal coughed loudly to disguise his insult.
Janeway scowled at him but was unable to reply as Seven stuck to their bargain and the hum of the transporter removed Janeway and the two ambassadors from the bridge.
Janeway re-materialised to see the same rag-tag group of Cantori guards aiming disruptors at them. Several other persons were standing behind them. Janeway stepped forward and raised her hand peaceably but the Cantori started yelling and screaming.
'Not again. Seven will never let me forget this,' was Kathryn's last thought as the blast of a disruptor caught her in the chest.
==A prison cell==
When Janeway woke up lying on her side on some kind of bed, she drew a shuddering breath and groaned at the pain. After a few moments of just lying breathing, trying not to make any noise she carefully opened her eyes, and without moving, tried to make out where she was.
'Standard issue cell,' she concluded taking in the small empty room, gray walls, low ceiling, single light and forcefield emitters framing the space where a fourth wall should be. 'I'm alive then.'
"You are awake," stated a possibly female voice.
"That depends on who is asking," Janeway replied.
"I am your interrogator."
Janeway could just make out a shadow standing beyond the force-field, behind a bright light that effectively prevented her from seeing the features of the speaker.
"Where are Dafed and Ertha?"
"Not your concern. Are you Borg?"
"No. Where have you taken them?"
"You are a spy of the Devore or a Borg spy."
"Are those my only choices?"
"Your ship has been captured and all your crew killed or taken for questioning. Several have confessed to being spies. You will confess also."
Janeway did not react, hiding the fear that clutched at her as she remembered the words of one of her trainers from Starfleet Academy. 'Torturers will lie to you. They want you to believe there is no hope. Believe nothing they say.'
The ex-Starfleet captain replied strongly "We are not spies. We captured a Devore ship and came here to help the Alliance."
"The ship is not Devore in design and you bear Borg markings. You are lying. You are Borg or an agent of the Borg."
"The Borg don't use agents. Our ship is a Farini design, built for the Devore. It is a prototype...as am I. The Devore are experimenting with new weapons and new armour for their soldiers to fight the Borg. We escaped from a Devore experiment - I and the rest of the escaped prisoners on the my ship are the experiment. Let me speak to your council - we can use this technology to help you defeat the Borg."
"You will speak to no-one except me until you have confessed to being a spy and fully revealed all relevant information. Then you will be tried and executed."
"Not much reason to confess then is there?"
Her interrogator did not reply. Moments later Janeway had the strangest sensation as though a thought had flittered through her mind but she couldn't quite catch it, like a tune you can almost remember but can't quite hear. Then she realised what it was - the interrogator was probing her mind but trying not to be noticed. Remembering what Nithqref had taught her, Janeway relaxed and allowed the foreign contact although part of her wanted to resist the subtle invasion. It would speed things up, she mused grimly though the delicate presence creeping through her mind, almost below the level of consciousness, was akin to the sensation of insects crawling on her skin.
Her interrogator sniggered. "That thought is most unpleasant," she said aloud. Several long uncomfortable minutes passed before there was a little gasp and then a stronger unfamiliar curse.
"You are telling the truth." The interrogator sounded almost shocked.
Janeway did not bother to speak, assuming that the telepath would know what she was thinking anyway. The telepath's next words confirmed this belief.
"I apologise for your treatment but we have to be careful initially. Some Devore are specially conditioned to resist telepathic contact. The element of fear makes it easier to enter the subject's mind. You have to admit Captain that your story was a little hard to swallow."
"When can I meet the council?"
"I will have to take this to my commander and it will be his decision."
"Not acceptable! Surely you can see that this is vital information. There's no time to lose."
"Captain Janeway you should understand one thing about the Alliance - it is like a very large rambling mansion with many hundreds of rooms. Not all the rooms have connecting doorways and sometimes you must go the long way to pass from one room to another."
Then her interrogator was gone, silently leaving her mind and the room.
"I don't believe this," Janeway fumed aloud to the unyielding grey prison walls.
For the next two hours Janeway complained in vain. Occasionally she heard footsteps and voices but her calls to be heard were ignored. She was dozing fitfully on the spartan prison bed when a disturbance brought her to complete consciousness. A loud familiar voice was berating someone. Janeway strained to hear the words.
"Are you an imbecile? Does the Alliance now depend on fools and half-wits for guarding prisoners? This borg prisoner is an absolute priority and you must find room for her now! There will be no excuses at your court-martial."
After a short discussion, in which the unfortunate jailor had to hear his mental health, maturity and competence unfavourably compared to various specimens of invertebrate as well as threats to his future career and child-bearing capabilities, Janeway heard a hiss, probably the sound of a force-field deactivating, then a thud and a yelp.
Kraal's familiar voice then said with booming cheerfulness "Very sorry old chap but you do remind me of a particularly nasty crab my Aunt cooked up and that's a little more nostalgia than I can stand."
Seconds later Seven of Nine was standing at the entrance to Janeway's cell. She took one hard look at the captain still seated on her bed apparently seeking an explanation. Janeway shrugged resignedly. Before Janeway could say anything Seven had jammed her assimilation tubules into the control panel and the force-field went down. She covered the distance to Janeway in two strides and raised the captain from the bed, kissing her thoroughly. After a moment the ex-drone relented.
"We are here to rescue you however blazing guns were unnnecessary. We used covert methods," she stated with a touch of smugness.
"So I see. Thank you," Janeway gasped breathlessly, "but we are not yet out of here."
Seven seemed unconcerned by this and Janeway again found herself unable to speak.
"Come-on ladies," growled Kraal, "and can you desist from such public displays of affection until after I have had my breakfast."
Janeway and Seven followed Kraal out of the cell and along a row of similar cells until they passed the unconscious jailor who did look remarkably like a crab.
"Is everyone safe? Dafed and Ertha?"
"Everyone is in an acceptable condition. The only exception was you. The representatives of the Remo clan would not disclose your whereabouts even to the Alliance council."
"Why me?"
Seven looked at her and Janeway was surprised to see the Borg's expression was almost amused.
"Apparently you are unique and worth a substantial ransom plus several political concessions."
"They must have been disappointed then."
"I was impressed by their perceptiveness."
"Very funny Seven."
Kraal snorted. "The truly amusing part was that some people actually did think your skinny ass was worth paying for. Dafed had already raised the cash from another clan leader who can't wait to meet you."
"So why the rescue?"
Kraal counted on his fingers: "We didn't think you would be too pleased to be purchased; being indebted to a particular clan might be a problem and who's to say that the new lot wouldn't auction you off again; we have a war to fight and Nithqref thinks you might be of some use; the Remo might not have stuck to the deal even if they got everything they asked for, and they asked for a lot, and finally Seven decided that she was going to get you herself with or without our help."
Janeway felt her eyes mist. She took Seven's hand ignoring Kraal's disapproving glare.
"I don't deserve you Seven of Nine."
"I believe we have covered that in previous discussions. That is a false assertion Kathryn which I do not think you truly believe."
"Maybe but I love you and nothing makes me happier than knowing that despite my faults you seem to love me too."
Kraal was now making gagging gestures.
"I think that Kraal wishes to leave Kathryn," said Seven but the ex-drone still took her captain back in her arms again. Kraal groaned.
"Ladies we really need to escape now."
The two women drew apart and followed the grumbling Parath away from the detention area. Minutes later Kraal was hailing the Fearless.
"We have her. Tell the Helfi they can save their paltry ransom."
"The council of the Alliance want to meet Janeway now. Ertha has arranged a safe conduct and we will beam you directly to the council chamber."
Kraal looked to Janeway for confirmation and she nodded her agreement. After the tranport had completed Janeway at last found herself standing in front of the Council of the Alliance.
==Voyager five years later==
Kraal broke into the Marshal's narrative at this point.
"We realised that something had happened to Kathryn within a few minutes of the transport. The Remo clan are some of the most self-serving and dishonest scum in the entire alliance and one of them took it on himself to demand a ransom almost before Janeway's molecules had left The Fearless. No doubt he wanted to be paid ahead of his fellows." Kraal snorted disapprovingly. "The Remo are a disgrace but this one was a greedy fool and made a bigger mistake than usual. He contacted us twice and the second time Seven of Nine latched onto him and pulled him aboard The Fearless where he was interrogated by old Nithqref there."
"It didn't take us above an hour to track down where they were holding her and the only real problem I had was preventing Seven of Nine from disembowelling the little toe-rag."
"Seven is very protective," Janeway said sadly. "She has never let me down."
==Five years earlier==
"Welcome Janeway," said a tall unearthly beautiful woman who extended her hand gracefully towards the human. Janeway wasn't sure if she was meant to take it or kiss it. The woman smiled brilliantly.
"I have been waiting for this moment," the woman continued, "and if not for the intervention of your friends I was prepared to pay a substantial fee however perhaps this is for the best. You are rather shorter and less impressive than I imagined." Janeway withdrew her own hand sharply. Sniggers and gasps from onlookers did not improve the captain's mood.
The alien woman grinned cheekily obviously not in the least concerned about Janeway's reaction. "Nithqref made you sound like a super being. But I should introduce myself first before I am rude. I am..."
"...Maefen, leader of the Helfi and the current president of the council," Janeway interrupted and held out her hand again with an almost friendly smile, still irritated but determined to show that she was not ignorant. "I am sorry to disappoint such an important representative of her clan."
Maefen smiled and briefly brushed her fingers against Janeway's. "You are not responsible for your stature. I must..." The alien woman's voice trailed off as her gaze fell on Seven of Nine and whatever she had being going to say was forgotten as she looked the former Borg up and down, her eyes running shamelessly over the contours of Seven's body.
"Who are you?" breathed Maefen. Janeway scowled furiously. The Captain really did not like this woman.
"I am Seven of Nine, formerly of the Borg Collective" the ex-drone replied unhesitatingly as she raise her eyepiece expressing her curiosity at the intensity of the stare. There were several gasps from the assembled council members and a few stepped back defensively, their hands going to their weapons. Maefen was surprised too and could not quite hide it.
"I..I had not quite realised that the Borg could be so attractive."
"My physical appearance has reverted to my original human form. I retain little of the outward appearance of being Borg, though unclothed it is…"
"Thank you Seven," Janeway interrupted before Seven could begin describing her unclothed form. "Seven was a valued member of my former crew and is a good friend. She has severed her link to the collective. She is no longer a Borg."
Janeway was aware of both Seven and Kraal starting to speak and having no wish to be contradicted about any of her statements she hurried on. "I am extremely anxious to know about the current status of the war. I believe we can help you." Maefen was still staring at Seven in a way that grated on Janeway's last nerve. "The current status of the war?" she prompted again while trying to resist the impulse to punch out the glamorous alien.
Maefen seemed to hear her at last. She stared down at Janeway from her intimidating height. "The war goes badly," she admitted. "The Borg are overwhelming the sector though they are mainly concentrating on the Devore systems at present but we have lost many worlds too. We will be able to gather our forces while the Devore are trying to defend their main systems. The Borg fleet is heading for Devore Prime where most of the Devore fleet is now waiting. With luck the Devore will weaken the Borg sufficiently and we will be able…"
Janeway shook her head. "It will not be enough, if the Devore with all their resources and military might cannot manage it, the Alliance cannot defeat the Borg alone. And with every victory the Borg grow stronger as they acquire more drones, ships and resources."
"So how or perhaps more importantly why are you going to help us? Perhaps you enjoy lost causes. Or perhaps you have a price."
"I want to stop the Borg. The Fearless is just one ship and although we have technology that might defeat the Borg we need to implement on it on a very wide scale. I cannot do this alone nor with just the help of the Alliance."
Maefen stiffened. "What are you trying to say?"
"You must help the Devore," said Janeway.
"You are mad!" Maefen's deep blue eyes darkened angrily.
"It is the only hope. The Devore are the only people with the resources to defeat the Borg. You need them and they need you or more specifically they need the Fearless and the crew of the Fearless. With our technology and the combined forces of the Alliance and the Devore, we might be able to win."
Maefen laughed but she was still angered. "You are certainly arrogant little one and presumptuous. However you do not understand the situation. Our many peoples will not join the Devore under any circumstances. The Borg give us our chance for freedom from centuries of oppression. At worst we will simply be replacing one oppressor with another."
"No. You don't understand the Borg. They do not oppress or subjugate peoples, they assimilate entire species and remove them from the Universe. Your people would not exist as subjects or slaves, they would become Borg. All of them. There is no resistance to this."
"What about your friend here, Seven of Nine. She has escaped the Borg."
"I did not choose to escape," Seven interrupted. "Captain Janeway liberated me by force."
"She took you against your will."
"I had no will," Seven explained starkly. "Just the will of the collective. I could not decide to escape any more than your hand can decide to leave your body."
Janeway decided not to argue any further. "Do you know of any individual Borg cubes in this area that we can use to demonstrate what the Alliance can offer to the Devore. Even a small defeat might slow the Borg down and give us time to negotiate with the Devore."
Maefen was obviously reconsidering her view of the human though whether favourably, Janeway could not tell. She was watching Janeway with the fascination that you might show when confronted with an exotic, if repellent, insect. A long moment stretched out
"Bring up the tactical display," she said suddenly. A minion standing at a command console swept his hands over the controls and a very pretty three dimensional graphic showing about forty star systems expanded in the centre of the room like a firework exploding in slow motion. Maefen led the way towards the display. "We are the red dot at the centre. The green dots are the last reported location of Devore ships while the blue represent Borg vessels. The arrows represent their vectors of movement."
"How recent is your information?"
"Between two and six hours. Our movement maps are a mixture of direct observation and information stolen by our spies and then the information is extrapolated until new information is received."
Janeway considered the display. A large group of blue dots was heading away from the red dot towards a large group of green dots. There was one other group of green dots and blue dots in close proximity and then a small sprinkling of dots at a variety of locations. She considered the single blue dot closest to the red dot, separated by a large cloud of stars.
"Can we look closer at that one," she asked, pointing. The technician nodded and the display shifted to zoom in on the lone blue dot. A distinctive triple star could be seen . Kraal gasped and swore.
"What is it?" Janeway asked.
"That Borg ship is closing on my home world which is unfortunately also a major Devore military stronghold. There are several hundred million Parath on that planet and many millions of Devore. The Borg ship will be there in less than one day. Where are those lily-livered defenders?"
As if to answer his distress two green dots appeared near the triple stars.
"How many hours travel from here?" Janeway asked, a sudden sense of urgent and manifest destiny was overtaking her as she watched the stuttering blue dot not apparently moving at all in the representation of the vast spaces of the Devore empire although she knew in reality the cube was moving at many times the speed of light.
A white line appeared, tracing a route from the Alliance HQ to the triple star. Kraal groaned.
"Nearly five days at warp eight, even in the Fearless we would not catch them."
"Why could we not take the more direct route?" Seven asked pointing at the cloud of stars.
"That is the Haroun nebula."
"Yes I realise it is a nebula."
"It is not a nebula, it is the Haroun nebula," Maefen corrected. "It has only been traversed once successfully in a hundred years. Many ships have been lost there."
"How was the one successful?" asked Seven.
"No one knows. It was a prison transport ship that had been attacked and gone off course through the nebula. The crew were in stasis and the instruments were too badly damaged to reveal what had happened."
"Could we reach the Parath home world in time if we took that route?"
"Technically yes but actually no because as I have just told you no-one survives the nebula." Maefen was impatient with her guests.
Kraal took in Janeway's set mouth and wrinkled brow as she concentrated on the tactical display. "Kathryn you cannot be serious. It would be suicide."
"I agree with your friend," said Maefen. "We would be wasting a valuable resource even attempting a traverse."
"I am something of an expert in nebulas, badlands and uncross-able wastes. Voyager attempted several traverses which we were told were impossible." Janeway looked up from her study and smirked. "We can do this. I have seen something exactly like this before." She took in the varying degrees of disbelief, anger, resentment and fear that was drawn on the many faces looking at her.
Seven of Nine was studying the detailed astrometric data about the nebula that the efficient technician had displayed. "A traverse is feasible," she said bluntly and looked into Janeway's eyes without a trace of fear or doubt. "Kathryn will succeed." Janeway felt her heart swell. Seven believed in her and Seven loved her and with that knowledge Janeway could do anything. Janeway turned back to face Maefen with confidence.
"This is our chance to make a difference: to give both the Borg and the Devore pause, to turn the tide of the war and we can save Kraal's home world too. Is that not worth some risk?"
Maefen shook her head, "if you wish to lose your life Captain then go and find your way across that nebula but we cannot risk a single warship including yours."
Janeway raised an eyebrow. "I am not asking you to risk a single warship. We would need three to engage a Borg cube."
"You are both insane and impertinent! I have no time for this nonsense now. I will decide your fate later and if you can serve any useful purpose though at the moment I can see none. In the meantime you are not permitted to leave this base. Now leave before I have you all imprisoned."
"I guess we know who is small in stature now," sneered Kraal drawing a large and ornate broad-sword. Janeway's people had already flanked their leader, silently directed by Nithqref who stood either side of Janeway and Seven.
Ertha, the elderly H'ronor ambassador who had been standing off to one side now moved to intervene and no-one attempted to stop her or interrupt and for the first time there was respect and deference in Maefen's posture. She even bowed a little to the old lady.
Ertha was angry. Her usually dark eyes glowed like red coals against the black skin of her face. She did not pull her punches. "You worthless child. We are losing everything. You have seen the reports: whole planets, species and cultures not merely decimated as is the practice of the Devore but lost wholly and completely without hope of survival. You are afraid to risk three ships. Maybe you hope that if you hoard every ship that perhaps you can protect your own pathetic and seedy little empire and count everyone else well lost. Maybe you think you can bargain just as the Alliance has bargained for years. Give away a little here, a little there. Do you think the Borg are like you or like the Devore? Cutting deals, making accommodations, trading with the devil, surviving on expediency? I wish I had died with my race rather than witness our final defeat at the bidding of our own cowardice."
"Ertha, you know I respect you but…"
"If you respect me then trust me. I knew your parents Maefen and neither would have hesitated to try and save that world. It may be that we will not succeed but there is no alternative but to try. Many Parath families live in slavery because many sons and daughters have taken up our cause despite knowing what will happen to their families. You must not reward their suffering with forgetting them at the time of greatest need because you would not risk three ships!"
Janeway kept her face immobile despite her desire to grin at Maefen's discomfort and humiliation. Kraal was showing no such restraint and his smirk near split his face in two.
Maefen knew she had lost but how to concede without all loss of face remained. "I will consult with my colleagues in private," she said quietly. "You will have our decision in one hour. In the meantime I suggest you prepare for action in case we decide to attempt the rescue."
==Five years later==
Kraal was grinning again at the memory.
"It was splendid. That woman had no choice but to concede even if she did pretend to consult with her colleagues. It was well known that her colleagues on the council did exactly as Maefen said at all times."
"I take it," said Chakotay, "that the crossing of the nebula was a success."
Nithqref inclined both heads. "Thanks to Seven and Arrin our pilot although the remembrance of Arrin's face is still to be treasured when Seven explained to her exactly how she would pilot a ship at high warp speed, through a star field and ion storms, without sensors and with most of the crew in stasis, towing two other ships with a tractor beam."
"And the battle with the Borg?"
"Was magnificent!" crowed Kraal. "I have never enjoyed anything more including my wedding night. Though that may be because I do not remember my wedding night. Those poor little Borg didn't know what had hit them. That was the first time they had a taste of their own medicine. We boarded their cube while our sister ships distracted them. We took them apart. Literally. We even captured the cube. The Devore lost a ship but that was before we arrived."
"It was interesting and very effective," Nithqref commented more restrainedly. "Kathryn used the Devore Controller Goff to negotiate with the Devore commander and handed over all the Devore prisoners as a gesture of goodwill which neither the Alliance nor the Devore could quite understand. But Goff knew a good thing when he saw it and he was quite a loyal ally to us after that. A truce followed between the Devore and the Alliance. While the Devore and the Alliance negotiated and rebuilt their forces using the technology we had obtained,the Fearless and her squadron continued to mop up small Borg forces and it was enough to make the Borg hesitate. When the Borg came back the Devore and Alliance legions took them apart. We didn't lose a single ship. And that was the end of the first Borg war."
"Did the Alliance and the Devore keep their truce after the Borg war."
"On and off. The war had weakened the Devore and they did not have the political will to take back Alliance gains. Kraal's home planet and several others came back under Alliance control and remained with them. Also many of the free worlds openly joined the Alliance after the war. The Alliance fleet was hugely strengthened by the large number of Borg cubes we captured and the Farini also managed to get over their hatred of Janeway at least to the extent of equipping the Alliance with more vessels like the Fearless.
"What happened to the Farini," Chakotay enquired, curious about the fate of the designer of the Fearless, Morvius and his daughter Atara.
Janeway avoided his gaze for a moment. "I'm afraid it did not end well but I must attend a meeting on the Revenge in twenty minutes so that story will have to wait for another day Captain." She at last met his eye and her grey eyes were bleaker than moorland in winter. "Morvius betrayed me once too often."
TBC
After Counterpoint (Season 5) Janeway is arrested by the Devore and taken from Voyager. Five years later, remade and rather different, she returns to find her old ship. She needs Voyager and the crew but can they trust her? Part 17 reveals more about Janeway's life away from Voyager.
This part may appear to be a diversion from the main story line but it really isn't ;-)
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
I hope that this part and part b when it is posted will go some way to rewarding loyal readers.
===The bridge on Voyager===
While Janeway was describing her rapid ascent to power, B'Elanna Torres found herself being escorted to the bridge by a couple of Janeway's thuggish looking crew. The doors opened to reveal a tall dark woman leaning back against one of the consoles. She watched impassively as B'Elanna was pushed in through the doors.
"You are?" asked the stranger in the tone of one accustomed to immediate answers.
"Chief engineer, B'Elanna Torres."
"An engineer! Is there no-one more senior with whom I can discuss this...vessel?"
B'Elanna folded her arms and glared at the woman. "Who are you?" she asked trying not to give into her desire to punch the arrogant woman. Janeway had impressed on them that the Voyager crew had to appear compliant.
"Arrin, Commander."
"Commander of what?" B'Elanna asked with a sneer of her own.
"Second Battle-group."
"How interesting. Well I am the third most senior officer on Voyager. And since you've got Captain Chakotay and Commander Tuvok in chains..."
"...you'll have to do." Commander Arrin curled her lip in what was obviously an habitual sneer.
"I suppose I will," growled B'Elanna.
The two women locked eyes neither wanting to back down. After a long moment, B'Elanna folded her arms without dropping her gaze and Arrin's hard face twisted with a smirk.
"At least you're not a man though I would have preferred to talk to a warrior rather than a technician."
"You don't know anything about Klingons," B'Elanna stated.
Arrin shook her head, looking even more amused by the shorter woman.
"We emerge from the womb as warriors. If ever the opportunity arises you will find out the truth of that at my own hands."
Arrin's smirk became a grin.
"I may take you up on that challenge Engineer but let's get on with the work at hand. I need a complete understanding of the tactical and technical capabilities of Voyager."
Several hours later Arrin and B'Elanna had completed the review. Arrin surprised B'Elanna by producing a small flask and offering her a drink.
"Well it seems that two good things came out of this ship. You know your ship Chief Engineer."
B'Elanna took a swig of the bottle and didn't flinch at the burning liquid inside. Arrin's eyes widened. B'Elanna made a mental note to try out some blood wine on the visitor.
"What's the other good thing?" she queried, pleased to have at last surprised the invader.
"Seven of Nine of course."
Arrin sounded defiant and B'Elanna tried hard to hide her surprise behind a determined scowl. She had expected the invader to name Janeway.
"Seven is a good and courageous friend," Arrin explained earnestly, taking another drink from the flask. "She has told me a great deal about you B'Elanna Torres. She thinks well of you and I can see she did not exaggerate but then it would not be Seven if she had."
Arrin had become melancholy and B'Elanna surmised that it was because of the missing ex-drone.
"Do you believe she is still alive?"
"I have to. Until I see her body I will never accept that she is no longer here. We should be there now, saving her, not chasing about here. Nothing would stop me. No Borg or murdering bastard Devore. I would kill them all to save her."
"Does Captain Janeway know how you feel about...this mission?" B'Elanna asked with some unexpected delicacy and an even more unexpected feeling of comradeship. Arrin was a woman after her own heart.
Arrin smiled her twisted grin but there was no humour this time just banked up anger.
"Oh Janeway knows how I feel alright but as always she has more 'important' things to do. There is always a larger game for her to play."
"I think Captain Janeway would do pretty much anything for Seven."
"Maybe 'Captain' Janeway would have but Marshal Janeway is different."
"If you feel this way why do you follow her?"
"Because Seven asked me to," Arrin replied baldly.
==Three years earlier==
"Feet down," ordered Seven. Arrin who had been resting on the couch with her feet up, grinned cheekily though she did sit up and swing her legs round, slouching on the couch instead. It was only just in time. Kathryn Janeway, the most important leader in the Free Alliance of Worlds stomped into the room and glared blackly at her.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be away on leave for a few days."
"I am away on leave here," Arrin responded arrogantly.
"Arrin is visiting me," Seven interceded looking up from the chair where she was seated.
"But we are going away." Janeway protested weakly.
"Arrin is to baby-sit while we are gone." Seven stated coolly.
"Arrin! I thought Makela was coming over...Seven I hope you are not serious." Seven simply looked at her spouse and Janeway knew she was wasting her time though that knowledge did not remove the Janeway command glare entirely. Although she found it hard to maintain any real anger while watching her wife cradling their first-born, Catriona, in her arms.
Mother and daughter closely resembled some medieval dream of motherhood rather than an ex-Borg drone holding a ten month old baby that owed her existence to advanced scientific intervention. Apart from her shock of red hair, Catriona was clearly the daughter of Annika Hansen, thanks to a very talented geneticist and DNA recombination expert, a woman of H'ronor, who had declared that everyone was the same in a test-tube and that at least Janeway and Seven were more or less from the same species and of the same size and were hardly therefore even a challenge though she had never encountered humans before. Janeway carried the baby since the Borg had removed Seven's womb to make way for 'enhancements' but after Catriona was born it was quite clear that she was 'Mom' too.
Seven was explaining why Makela was unable to babysit.
"Unfortunately Suinaal and Nilka are unwell. They have contracted something called red swine pox - it is not usually too serious but Makela cannot leave them. Balaan and Greka and Margil are coming to stay with us while their brother and sister are in quarantine."
Arrin sat up sharply and her glare was as dark as Janeway's.
"What! Whoa! Seven, you didn't mention that there would be more than Catriona."
"You fear you will be unable to cope?" guessed Seven, opening her blue-eyes wide as though surprised.
The ever-proud Arrin's mouth opened to deny any fear and realised she was walking into a trap. She closed it again. Her obvious discomfort certainly cheered up Janeway who was smiling now. The relationship between Janeway and the senior pilot of her flagship was always tense and at the current time while Janeway was on edge with her second pregnancy it was worse than usual. Arrin narrowed her eyes.
"I simply did not know. It will make no difference."
Janeway had to voice her own doubts then.
"Does Arrin even know how to feed or change a baby? I really don't like this Seven. And the piglets can be a handful too."
"Still in the room..." Arrin muttered darkly. Seven regarded them impatiently. She loved Janeway with everything she was but sometimes the sometime leader of the Free Alliance Forces was irrational. Arrin was Seven's best friend, and a courageous, loyal and skilful warrior who had been with them from the beginning. It was completely beyond Seven's understanding as to why Janeway disliked her so much.
"You trust Arrin to fly the Fearless un-harmed through a legion of Borg cubes; I do not believe she will fail to change Catriona's diaper. I have left complete instructions and we are not cancelling this trip Kathryn. You will go to the Doctor."
Both Janeway and Arrin were looking mutinous so Seven brought out the big guns.
"Kathryn if you are really troubled then Arrin can take you to the Doctor and I will remain here with the children. I will see you tomorrow."
Janeway's face fell comically. Seven knew she had been planning this time away with Seven for weeks and it would crush her to leave Seven behind. Arrin didn't look any happier at the idea of spending so much quality time with her boss. Janeway conceded gracelessly.
"I am sure even Arrin can cope for 24 hours."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence Marshal Janeway. I am sure that I will survive this test," Arrin growled, insubordination flowing from every molecule of her body so that she almost vibrated.
"Don't betray that confidence" Janeway replied smoothly but with a raging undertow of menace. "I do not expect to find anything untoward on my return Arrin. And no visitors - male or female. The security detail will be instructed to keep everyone out who isn't me or Seven. Clear?"
The ill-tempered exchange was interrupted when three of Kraal's piglets barrelled into the room, squealing excitedly. Balaan had grown considerably and was nearly as tall as Janeway now. He was still several years from adulthood (or his parents' girth) but he was stronger than most human adult males. He was fearless, strong and stupid. Greka who was from the same litter and nearly as large as her brother had all the brains and a great deal of ambition - her poor brother unfortunately spent most of his time in trouble after following his sister into perilous schemes. The third, much smaller piglet, Margil, came from her parents second litter. For a Parath she was a quiet artistic little girl, thoughtful and intelligent, oddly wise. Kraal adored her though he couldn't quite understand how such a child could be his or Makela's offspring which was the subject of dark and completely unsubstantiated allusion to infidelity when the adult Paraths quarrelled (which they did often).
Seven and Janeway greeted the children warmly before the latter charged out of the living room and could be heard thundering up the stairs of the two storey house. The piglets spent as much time with their adopted human relatives as they did at home and needed no instruction on where to bunk or put their bags.
"We must go," Seven declared after hugging and kissed Catriona who protested sleepily at the disturbance. She handed the sleeping baby to Arrin who was bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet. Catriona promptly woke and started to cry. Arrin bounced her ineffectually and ignored Janeway rolling her eyes as Seven handed Arrin a list of instructions.
"We will see you tomorrow at 8.30am. You have two platoons of marines deployed as security but they will not trouble you. The commander knows our requirements exactly. You will be more than adequate Arrin." Seven hugged the pilot and kissed her on the cheek while Janeway stood back and glowered angrily at the shamelessly smirking pilot. Before Janeway could start any trouble Seven took the Marshal's hand and led her briskly out the door to the waiting transport.
They were going by road to the nearest town where a shuttle was to fly them anonymously to an inter-planetary space port. Seven had banned Janeway from using transporters while she was pregnant although the baby was not yet showing. The whole trip was being done without any formal support because Janeway wasn't ready for anyone to know that she was pregnant again - not after the kerfuffle last time.
When Janeway and Seven had told their friends that Janeway was pregnant it had triggered an avalanche of celebrations. The irritated Grand Marshal Janeway had found herself and Seven of Nine having to shuttle from planet to planet for endless parties, civic receptions and diplomatic functions honouring the new addition to the Janeway/Seven of Nine household until it reached a mad crescendo when Catriona was born. Janeway had found herself exposed to a blizzard of interest in her private life. Journalists, reporters and columnists from a hundred worlds besieged her. It had been overwhelming and the last thing that the family needed as they adjusted to their new life. Janeway had finally declared herself off limits and had informally stepped down from her duties (at least temporarily) so she could spend more time with her family on Parath where they had settled. While the Parath regarded Janeway and Seven as heroes and saviours and had honoured them as such, they had no culture of celebrity which allowed a level of privacy that would have been impossible on most other Alliance planets. The traditional Parath country house they were gifted by a grateful Parath government was a haven of peace; the local villagers jealously guarded their much honoured neighbours' secrets and any non-Parath intruders were kept at a distance by Janeway's personal guard, so apart from her over-stated concerns about Arrin, Janeway left her home without fear.
It was a slightly nervous Arrin (holding a very unhappy Catriona in one arm) who watched the transport disappear down the road, heading for the main highway. Arrin glanced down at the red-faced child who was crying with a determination that reminded Arrin uncomfortably of Marshal Janeway. Arrin muttered quietly 'I love your Mom little one but I have a feeling that you are going to test me to the limit.'
Arrin was surprised when a small hand wormed its way into her free one.
"Hello, I'm Margil," announced the small Parath girl who had appeared beside her. "Can I hold Catriona?"
"Erm. I'm not sure that…she…"
"It's okay. I help Seven all the time. I feed her, change her and play with her."
Arrin hesitated for a moment before finding Catriona being taken confidently from her arms and to the pilot's utter amazement the baby immediately stopped crying and smiled up at her new protector.
"See. She knows me," said Margil.
As Catriona gurgled and waved her arms at Margil trying to grab the girl's small snout while Margil expertly jiggled her as she walked up and down, Arrin realised that some goddess had smiled on her and salvation was at hand. She grinned as she guessed that maybe Seven of Nine was the goddess in question.
The older Parath kids appeared in the door.
"Hey there. Greka. Balaan." announced the girl pointing at herself and then her brother.
"I remember you," Arrin said, "as much smaller children. The escape from the Devore with Marshal Janeway?" The Parath kids stared at her, then Balaan shook his heavy head.
"Nah," he mumbled. "Sorry don't remember you."
"Arrin, Commander, Second Battle-group."
Balaan was unimpressed by that. "My Dad's commander in the First Battle-group. The Elite. They're the best soldiers in the universe. I'm joining them as soon as I reach height requirement. Maybe two years."
"If they'll have you," Greka sneered. "There's an IQ test. Maybe the kitchen brigade will take you."
"Ha Ha Ha. Very not funny." Balaan shouted angrily. He punched his sister who grunted but seemed to shrug off the heavy blow easily.
"The Second Battlegroup is also elite" Arrin said, slightly peeved by the kid's attitude.
"Sure," said Balaan with adolescent superciliousness. "Can I go fishing?"
"I..er..guess. Um what time do you kids have to be in bed?"
Both the older children looked at her as though she was insane.
"When we're tired?" Greka suggested in a bratty drawl. Before Arrin could retaliate and attempt to assert her authority, the girl's face brightened and she said excitedly "We could all go to the river and have a cookout."
"I dunno," Arrin hesitated. "I can't leave Catriona."
"It's okay," piped up Margil. "She can come too. We often go out with Seven into the woods. I know what to take."
"I don't…"
"What else can we do?" Greka asked innocently. "Something that's not boring," she added less innocently.
Arrin was nonplussed. She had no idea what two adolescents, a kid and a ten month old baby would not be bored by. Greka and Balaan were both smirking in a way that reminded Arrin exactly of their dad.
"Alright. We'll go. But if the baby isn't happy or anyone gets out of line then we come right back and you can do something 'not boring' in your rooms."
The Parath children high-fived each other and then in a flurry of activity that would have put a battle-group call-to-arms to shame, the kids assembled all the essentials for the outing: fishing rods, frying pan, carry-cot, baby-food, diapers, swim-suits, an axe for fire-wood, milk-warmer, milk, towels, toys, hunting knives, back-packs, food, drinking mugs, an assortment of soft drinks, baby-wipes, baby-cup, baby-plate, baby-spoon, blanky, a blaster…
Arrin gaped in bewilderment at several huge piles of gear.
"Why in Hezmana do we need a blaster? And why is Catriona's pile three times bigger than anyone else's? And who is going to carry all this?"
Balaan, Margil and Greka all answered at once.
"There are trogs and baggers in the wood. If the fire goes out...we may have to scare them off. Maybe even kill some."
"You don't know much about babies! They just need everything!"
"You carry of course. You're the 'grown up'."
Arrin's eyes narrowed and she stared them down with a look she reserved for subordinates who were really in trouble. After some seconds they all squirmed, even Greka who mumbled "Just kidding."
"Okay squad," Arrin relented - treating them like squad members might be easier - after all they were Parath with a strong military tradition. "Pack up your back-packs and lets get going. Balaan, Greka and I will take turns carrying Catriona. I'll take the blaster." Balaan looked disappointed at this but perked up when she asked "Where's the best fishing?"
"I'll show you. It's about thirty minutes walk."
Arrin took five minutes to talk to the head of security to let him know they were going out and just to have five minutes time with an adult before she plunged into her new job as child-minder. When she returned the bags were packed. She shouldered her bag and winced; she suspected it contained everything that was heavy, bulky and/or had uncomfortable knobbly bits and judging by the knowing smirk she suspected Greka had packed it. Arrin lifted Catriona's carry-cot in which Catriona was now sleeping soundly despite the racket around her, and they all set off for the river.
~~~
Some hours after leaving home Kathryn at last relaxed and began to anticipate the evening. Seven had just called Arrin and had a good report - the pilot and all the children were down by the river, fishing and swimming, and they were having a cook-out before bed. Catriona was asleep in her carry-cot and had been fed and changed by Margil. Kathryn snorted at that news. Typical of Arrin to delegate what she did not like. Seven had just smiled mysteriously.
Kathryn's trip to the doctor had been uneventful too, the pregnancy was proceeding normally and the foetus was thriving. So with the serious part of her trip resolved satisfactorily, Kathryn was looking forward to having Seven all to herself for the evening and the night. She smiled lasciviously at the thought. It had been many weeks since she and Seven had had any time together that did not involve their extended family. In fact the last occasion had been the evening of the artificial insemination. Kathryn grinned at the memory. If she had half such a good evening it would have been worth the aggravation of seeing Arrin today and watching her lust after Seven.
The second artificial insemination had been a much more romantic affair than their first when they had both been too nervous to refuse the offer of medical assistance. For this second time however Seven had insisted that they do it themselves as the process was quite simple and she felt able ‘to improve on the experience.’
What she meant by this was mind-blowing sex and inseminating her partner with the artificially created sperm while Kathryn sobbed helplessly in her arms. Compared to the clinical experience of the first time, Kathryn had to agree it was an improvement. Kathryn wondered occasionally if the difference in their conception might affect how she viewed her children subsequently but she didn’t actually believe it was possible to love anyone more than she loved Catriona.
Kathryn was not looking forward to the latter stages of pregnancy; it hadn’t been too physically uncomfortable last time but it had not been easy either. The early morning sickness had faded fairly quickly and she had been in robustly good health otherwise but the weight-gain, clumsiness and tiredness seemed endless and attitudes amongst Devore and Alliance to pregnant women were equally annoying and right back in the dark ages. That she stayed on duty almost until the birth caused a scandal. It had taken all her self-control not to hit Maefen, the Alliance president when she had firmly suggested that Janeway should perhaps not attend meetings when her pregnancy became really obvious. The Devore were even worse and actually averted their eyes when she was in the room. Regardless Janeway had soldiered on, determined to see a proper cease-fire agreement in place and a joint military agreement before Catriona was born. It had taken a great deal of pressure to persuade all the parties that the Borg would come back and they had to be prepared and had to be united on at least that one issue.
After the birth, Janeway was sufficiently happy with how things had turned out politically to take a long leave of absence to at last enjoy married life with Seven of Nine and to escape from life in the public eye. It had been ten blissful months and far from being bored as she had feared, Kathryn had thoroughly enjoyed family life and learning to live in an often strange place with unfamiliar customs. Apart from her personal guard who lived in a small barracks several miles from the house, they had no entourage and they did everything for themselves. Kathryn had learned to cook, mastered local plumbing, planted vegetables, acquired the local equivalent of chickens and had developed plans to build a summer log cabin for hiking trips in the very beautiful mountains that they could see from the bedroom window. Kraal had thoroughly mocked her for becoming such a bumpkin but he and his family were frequent visitors.
Seven had also enjoyed their time on Parath, although she was rather more a child of technology and had ensured that adequate technological facilities were installed in the house to meet modern standards of cleanness and comfort. It also fell to Seven to engineer the security and communication systems required to protect the person and family of a Grand Marshal and to install her own regeneration unit salvaged from the old Starfleet shuttle. She had even begun the design of a small holo-suite which she was going to program with languages, information and simulations of places, cultures and peoples in the Federation. Kathryn had been puzzled that Seven, who had no memory of the alpha quadrant, was making such a point of this until she realised that Seven knew better than most how it felt to be rootless and that she was also trying to insure their children’s future by familiarising them with the Alpha quadrant in case the Borg finally succeeded in overrunning the sector, or if the girls just wanted to try out life somewhere different.
Kathryn collapsed back on the enormous couch in their hotel suite and then heaved herself up on her elbows to look at the room. She sighed in mock despair at the extravagance. It was ludicrously over-appointed: marble floors, vast fur rugs made from vast furry animals, a holographic open fire, a floor to ceiling window of utterly transparent glass curving around most of the space with panoramic views across the city. And that was just the living room. The bathroom was so overwhelming that she half-expected to find Queen Cleopatra wallowing in asses milk and she feared that the bed was so large they would both get lost or be smothered in its soft depths.
The management of the hotel had insisted on giving them the largest and best suite when they realised that the two women trying to book a room were no less than Kathryn Janeway and Seven of Nine. The director of the hotel had laughed when Kathryn suggested that the suite was too expensive and immediately offered it for free. He would, as he explained, be able to charge twice the price when he could advertise that Grand Marshal Janeway had stayed there. A couple of acres of flowers had just been delivered and were now adorning every shelf and table. They looked and smelt very beautiful but Kathryn was painfully reminded of why she had fled to the woods and rivers of Parath - this kind of celebrity treatment made her very uncomfortable.
Seven of Nine was in the bathroom or perhaps in seventh heaven given the uncharacteristic glee the ex-drone had shown when she saw the opulent and enormous sunken bath. Kathryn wondered how long it would be before Seven had built a smaller version of it in their home.
“Kathryn,” Seven called in a voice that demanded her spouse’s presence.
Kathryn pushed herself to her feet and ambled into the bathroom. Any smart comment about decadence died on her lips. Seven was just lifting herself out of the foaming water of the vast hemispherical pool and water ran in easy streams down her fair skin; she shone in the artificial sunshine like a beautiful bejewelled statue from some ancient Roman fountain. She began to dry herself in a towel whose size and fluffiness did not disgrace the luxury of the rest of the apartment. The ex-drone carefully towelled each elegant leg and foot, bending to reach, revealing each perfect curve from hip to ankle as she stretched. Kathryn’s breath caught as she glimpsed the swell and swing of her lover’s breasts. Seven lifted her head and their eyes locked.
“I need your assistance to dry my back,” Seven said matter of factly but there was a slight gruffness.
“I..er..will..umm..yes of course.”
Kathryn knew this was not a moment to quibble that the room was fitted with a superb warm air drier that would evaporate the water from every orifice while perfuming your skin with any one of a thousand different aromas. On slightly unsteady legs she began to walk around the sunken pool.
“No,” said Seven suddenly. “Undress first.” Her tone was definitely rougher and lower than normal. She had dropped the towel and stood like a Viking queen, blonde hair loose about her shoulders, haloed by the artificial sunlight; even her Borg implants shone like pagan armour. Kathryn felt her throat dry up as her gaze drifted over firm breasts and down the hourglass curves to the smooth skin at the juncture of Seven's legs.
“I…don’t...”
“Undress for me Kathryn.” The ex-drone was almost growling now. “Undress for me. I want to see you. Be efficient.”
Kathryn’s heart stopped for a moment and then began to beat again painfully. She bent down to remove her shoes.
“Take your upper garments off first” Seven interrupted again. “After that you may remove articles in any order.”
“Is that more efficient?” Kathryn almost squeaked. Seven’s ice-blue eyes had darkened to the shade of a rough arctic sea on a summer day. She shook her head very slightly.
“No. I merely wish to observe your neck and shoulders and breasts in motion and imagine them moving under my lips as you remove the rest of your clothing.”
“Why just observe?” Kathryn asked shakily, her fingers fumbling as she tried to unclasp her bra, her top already discarded on the floor. Seven's eyes hungered and her voice was harsh with desire.
“Because you are not yet fully ready Kathryn. I am. As I washed myself, I visualised you, spread out for me on silk sheets, naked, the skin on your chest and shoulders blushing pink, your nipples demanding attention, your arousal glistening in the candlelight, ready, waiting. It required substantial self-control to not slide my fingers inside myself and..” Seven shifted a little and licked her lips. “But that would not have been as pleasing as waiting for you.”
Kathryn violently threw aside her last article of clothing, a shoe, and started towards her beautiful wife, all shyness forgotten.
“Stop.”
“Believe me I’m ready Seven,” Kathryn half-yelped although she did obey and stood waiting as Seven’s eyes devoured her.
“You have not bathed,” Seven observed relentlessly.
“Seven! What the hell!”
“I will wash you,” the ex-drone offered lightly though her blue eyes still burned. Kathryn hesitated, torn between her desire for Seven and her desire to be pampered by Seven. The latter need won out for the moment.
Kathryn gracefully stepped into the pool where a set of shallow steps ran down into the water. She walked down the steps into the deeper water enjoying the warmth of the water that was heated to just a few degrees below body-heat. She waited.
Seven slid straight into the deep water and swam, just two easy strokes, to arrive where Kathryn stood immersed to the top of her thighs. She rose up, beautiful and naked. They stood facing each other, challenge meeting in their eyes, not touching, just inches apart, looking. Kathryn smiled slowly.
"What are you waiting for Seven?"
Challenge accepted. Seven took Kathryn’s hand and led her deeper into the pool until the water lapped at Kathryn's waist. A small soap dish paddled over to where they stood and floated beside them.
Seven smiled a little, taking the scented soap and an ornate little cleaner like a sponge and lightly soaped Kathryn’s shoulder. Kathryn moaned. The soap foamed gently as it came in contact with her flushed skin and Seven began to move her hands gently over her wife’s body, soaping and washing her. She carefully avoided more sensitive regions apart from an ‘accidental’ brush of stiffening nipples, or a few misplaced strokes of the sponge that slid high inside Kathryn’s inner thigh. Each time Kathryn whimpered and tried to get more contact but Seven held her off.
After five minutes of this torment Seven finally pulled her wife’s quivering body against her own, turning her around, holding her close, fitting her body against her own. Kathryn’s eyes closed and she moaned again at the exquisite contact, revelling in the contrasting textures: the soft suppleness of her lover’s breasts; the taut pressure of her nipples; the delicate strength of her hands; and the hard but smooth press of her Borg implants.
“I have to wash your back now,” Seven whispered. She supported a shaking Kathryn with one arm as the other slid the soapy sponge through the crystal water and down her back and over the smooth rise of her ass.
“You’re evil,” Kathryn croaked. She bit her lip as Seven kissed her neck; it was all that she could do not to plead for mercy. As Seven’s arm encircled her and her hand squeezed and stroked her breasts, Kathryn knew she’d had enough.
“Please,” she begged. “No more.”
“You wish me to stop?”
“I want you to fuck me.”
She didn't have to ask again. Seven hissed in response and turned her wife to face her. She bent slightly and slid her arms around her spouse's backside and lifted her. Kathryn immediately wrapped her legs around Seven's waist and groaned as she opened herself to her lover and the warm water washed against her aching clit. She opened her eyes and stared lust-struck into Seven's blue-eyes. Carefully Seven walked her backwards, smiling slightly at the need she could see in her lover's face, until they reached the wall of the pool and she could rest Kathryn on the edge.
Kathryn bent her head slightly to kiss Seven and moaned into her mouth as Seven's tongue and fingers invaded her simultaneously.
"Oh God. Please."
"So wet," whispered Seven in her ear. "I can feel it even in the water…"
Kathryn was beyond words now. She clutched at Seven's shoulders hard enough to leave marks. The ex-drone moaned too, in appreciation of her lover's abandon and thrust more firmly, at the same time brushing Kathryn's clit with her thumb.
Moments later Kathryn came in Seven's arms, her small body arching and shaking until the final climax allowed her to collapse.
"Damn," she whimpered helplessly, her weak legs unwinding from around her spouse. Seven gently lowered Kathryn into the water, holding her up. Kathryn's head rested against Seven's chest. She turned her face to place her lips against the top of Seven's breast and kissed her lightly. "Give me a moment love," she murmured against smooth skin.
"I believe we must go to to dinner," Seven whispered softly and unexpectedly. "You booked it for 07:30."
Kathryn raised her head and stared into Seven's face dumbfounded. "You're kidding. I can un-book it,"
"You require regular nourishment. The Doctor felt you were under-weight."
Kathryn smiled at Seven's concern. "Dinner can wait but I don't believe you can." She ghosted her hand down Seven's spine and the ex-drone shuddered in a very un-borg way but she shook her head.
"I would prefer to wait as I do not believe that anxiety about your nourishment will enhance the experience for me nor do I wish you to hurry because you have suddenly realised that you are in fact hungry."
Kathryn glared at her but was fatally undermined when her stomach rumbled loudly.
"We will resume later," Seven instructed firmly and lifted Kathryn up and out of the water to place her again on the edge of the pool.
"You're impossible," Kathryn complained.
"The wait will be enjoyable," said Seven firmly and Kathryn gave up and reluctantly began to dry herself in the opulent towels that had presented themselves to her as she left the water.
~~~
Back on Parath, in the woods by the river some thirty minutes walk from home, Arrin was marshalling her squad of children to return. This was not easy. Balaan was still fishing, trying to make his twentieth catch, Greka was still eating the eighteenth and cooking the nineteenth and Margil had fallen asleep in Arrin's lap. The only obedient member of the party was Catriona who was asleep again after her evening feed and change. Margil had proved very able as a baby-handler and had even taken it on herself to train Arrin in the finer points.
"Why can't we camp here?" Greka whined. Arrin glared at her.
"Because we have nothing to frelling well sleep in."
Greka and Balaan exchanged sniggers at Arrin's profanity.
"I thought you were an elite unit commander," Balaan sneered. "Dad's unit sleep outside all the time without any equipment - they have to learn survival skills."
"Not with a ten month old baby and a small girl. I am not arguing Balaan. This is an order. And if you wish me to report favourably to your father on your readiness for military service you will obey this order, and Greka, stop stuffing your face. You and your brother are to wash the dishes and then pack up the gear and this time you get to carry the heaviest bag."
"We can just take the dishes home and put them in the washer…"
"You heard me. I will not repeat my order. There will be no similar outing tomorrow if you do not obey."
"We can come back?" Greka said hopefully.
"Only if …" Arrin raised her eyebrows and Greka finished for her.
"… we follow orders. Yeah, yeah, yeah," Greka intoned feigning boredom.
Arrin smirked and nodded as Balaan and Greka started the clear up with a lot of heavy sighs. She looked down at the girl asleep on her lap.
"Margil, you must wake up now . You are too heavy for me to carry." The small girl stirred and smiled sleepily up at her.
At that moment they all heard a noise that even the children recognised. The sound of a Devore search-copter. Arrin knew that the local security team were not equipped with search-copters. Ground-based heavy-phasers made them suicidal in combat but they had been used on prison planets to search for escapees. The copter was flying low over the woodland as though searching - but no vehicles were allowed to fly over Janeway's home or the surrounding land - Seven had programmed the ground based phasers to shoot down anything . If this was an attack then where was the security fire. The copter should never have got past the perimeter. Arrin swore again and this time none of the children laughed. They were too frightened.
…TBC in Chapter 17 part 2
TITLE: Lost and Home
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: PG13
CODE: T/7
GENRE: ST: Voyager
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
EMAILADDY:
SUMMARY: Our heroes are lost .... and .... home
WARNINGS: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't. No infringement of copyright/trade marks is intended.
STATUS: Complete
CREDITS: Thanks to Tracy for betaing much of this and encouraging me to finish.
Our heroes are lost... and home
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Seven of Nine stood alone in cargo bay 2 and stared blankly at the wall.
'I must forget her' she repeated for the fifty fourth time. The words did not make any more sense this time than they had the first. 'How can I forget?' The absurdity of asking a Borg to forget anything added to the sense of unfairness. She tried another approach with herself.
'This love is flawed and should be terminated. Lieutenant Torres cannot love me now or ever and how can I love, if love it is, someone who believes Ensign Paris is a suitable mate. Am I insufficient compared to Ensign Paris?'
Seven forced herself to consider the possibility of his superiority and rejected the foolish idea with a small smile on her lips before the tight despair squeezing her vital organs wiped the smile clean away.
'Why must B'Elanna love him?' howled her inner human.
'Perhaps he is better suited to her needs,' reasoned the Borg and began to analyse how this might be: he doesn't get in her way; he spends all his days in the holodeck or drinking with his friends; she is free to pursue her life.
'But free from what?' objected Seven to herself.
Perhaps free from the endless mating games that the humans played. Maybe B'Elanna Torres wants to be alone or free and Tom Paris is a like a wall behind which she can hide her true feelings.
'Unwarranted supposition and sentimentality' sneered the inner Borg. 'You have no reason to imagine she has any other feelings than those which are manifest.'
'I will eradicate these flawed emotions the ex-drone promised herself; such weakness is unworthy and I will overcome it. I must forget her she repeated for the fifty fifth time.'
TITLE: Lost and Home
SUBSECTION: Lost
PARTS: 1 to 9
AUTHOR: halfofone
SUMMARY: Our heroes are lost in the Alpha quadrant. Can they find their way home.
TITLE: Lost and Home
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: PG13
PUBLISHED: 2001-05-30
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
"What is it? asked B'Elanna.
Her companion stared at the shuttle viewscreen and the roughly cylindrical foaming white column that had suddenly appeared in apparently empty space near to the experimental shuttle Turing, two days out from the Starship Voyager. The strange phenomenon was throwing off huge spouts of white hot plasma at intervals along its ten mile length. The shuttle's sensors revealed that the invisible energy being expended was much greater than the visible fountains of light.
"It resembles a wormhole entrance but it is not like any that I have encountered before" said Seven of Nine.
There was an odd contrast between the certainty of her voice and manner, compared to the uncertainty implicit in her words. Seven always sounded as though she knew what she was talking about. It annoyed the half-Klingon chief of engineering. Sometimes she wished Seven could just be amazed or dumb-struck like everyone else.
B'Elanna stared at the viewscreen for a few more seconds, then tapped a few commands into her console.
"I've informed Voyager. I guess we should take a closer look. The Captain will want to know where it leads, how safe it is, or if it is a wormhole at all so I'm going to send a probe into it."
Seven was dubious. "The shuttle only carries one very simple class 1 probe Lieutenant. It will give us limited information and may destabilise the wormhole. We should wait for Voyager."
B'Elanna clamped down on a very familiar jab of irritation. The ex-drone habitually contradicted every plan the engineer produced.
"Some information is better than none and the wormhole may disappear before Voyager can get here. The probe should at least be able to discover if it's navigable and be able to get a fix on the location of the far end." Not waiting for further argument, B'Elanna punched the key. "Launching now."
The tiny probe was on its way to what they supposed was the wormhole entrance. B'Elanna tracked the probe's progress.
"Probe is now two hundred and fifty thousand kilometres from entrance, two hundred thousand, one-fifty. It is experiencing some turbulence. I am adjusting course. Fifty thousand kilometres. The probe has entered the wormhole."
"Probe sensors activated" Seven reported.
The wormhole seemed to shiver and a reddish ripple of light coursed along the length.
B'Elanna glanced quickly at Seven. The tall ex-drone was now completely absorbed in studying the new type of singularity, already beginning to analyse the gigaquads of data streaming from the probe. B'Elanna half-smiled, whatever their differences she envied the blonde's phenomenal concentration. Seven looked up and caught the expression on B'Elanna's face.
"What is amusing?" she asked sharply.
"Nothing. I just like the way you are so intense about everything you do."
Seven did not reply. She looked away quickly leaving B'Elanna with the odd feeling that somehow she had hurt the ex-Borg. It was an uncomfortably familiar sensation and yet B'Elanna had no explanation for it. A few weeks before the test flight a burgeoning friendship between the two women had faltered and without warning or apparent cause, Seven suddenly reverted to the arrogant, abrupt Borg drone she had been when they first met. B'Elanna of course responded in kind. They hadn't fought yet. Not in their time-honoured, all-out, no-holds barred, 'my way is better than your way' conflicts that the crew of Voyager had come to dread, but they had come close. Close enough to make the Captain worry that sending them off in a small shuttle together might not be a good idea. However this mission had been planned for some time and B'Elanna certainly didn't want to miss out. She had assured the Captain that while her short-lived friendship with Seven may have cooled they were both professional enough to work together. She had been right - they had worked well together through the long hours modelling, manufacturing and testing the modified slipstream drives on the Delta Flyer Mark II. Outside work it was different yet B'Elanna had squashed her desire to have it out with the Borg and find out why the woman was treating her like a carrier of the S'isHar plague. Instead, the chief engineer quarrelled with Tom.
Tom had really fought her going on this mission, arguing that the chief pilot should do the tests and illogically insisting that it was wrong for her to go - just three months after their marriage - but somehow okay for him. In the end it hadn't mattered since the Captain had overruled him. The shuttle needed crew who could understand and adjust the experimental engines on the two short flights and that left just two candidates: Seven of Nine and B'Elanna Torres. Janeway wasn't prepared to risk any other key staff on the mission.
Seven's voice brought B'Elanna back to the moment.
"The probe is nearing the far end of the wormhole. It has exited the wormhole."
"Is the probe still transmitting?" asked B'Elanna anxiously. "Can we get a visual?" She could feel the familiar stirring of hope and swiftly damped it down. After seven years of travel, disappointment was the norm for Voyager.
"We are receiving a visual transmission. It is not of good quality but I am compensating."
"Okay let's see it. On screen." B'Elanna moved forward to stand beside Seven as the latter keyed a stream of instructions into the probe control interface.
The viewscreen burst into life and a star-field was visible. Seven guided the probe in a 360 degree plane of rotation scanning the surrounding space to the limit of the probe's mono-directional sensors as it struggled to place itself in the Universe. After a few more seconds and a series of such scans Seven looked up from the analysis, disbelief and wonder on her face.
She turned to look down at the slight half-Klingon beside her and said very gently as though breaking bad news.
"The probe would appear to be two light years from Delta Cygnus."
"Delta Cygnus!"
Her voice hoarse, B'Elanna gazed unbelieving at the screen.
"Seven you can't mean Delta Cygnus in the alpha quadrant?"
"I know of no other" replied Seven seriously as she entered some more instructions for the probe. The viewscreen swung around and showed a very bright star which, as the probe's sensors enhanced and enlarged the image, became a clearly identifiable double star.
Needing human contact, B'Elanna gripped Seven's arm.
"Seven this is not possible. There's no wormhole near Delta Cygnus. That's Federation space."
"At this moment there is" said Seven tersely.
"This moment" repeated B'Elanna distractedly and then the significance of the words struck her. "Seven we need to know the stardate at that end of the wormhole. Is it the past, the present or the future?" B'Elanna was almost squeaking and she fought to control her breathing.
Seven understood her concern. They had been caught out once before by a micro wormhole that ended some twenty years in the past. "I will attempt to scan for Federation communications and obtain the stardate."
"Shouldn't be hard" said B'Elanna, breathing too hard. "There's a damned enormous Federation base located on the fourth planet in the Delta Cygnus system; it's a communications and science station. I visited it during my brief time at the academy."
The momentousness of discussing the location of an actual alpha quadrant base overwhelmed her and her words tailed off. Trying to control her excitement, B'Elanna instead concentrated on Seven of Nine, fascinated by the Borg's skill and concentration as Seven calmly hunted down Federation communications for interception and decryption. Such skills would have been miraculous to the Maquis but had become almost everyday to the crew of Voyager. Indeed the Captain regarded standard Federation communications as so insecure that Voyager now used hybrid Borg/Federation encryption for all communications.
Success came sooner than expected.
"I have intercepted a message from a vessel proximate to the wormhole. Decrypting now. The stardate is .... today."
"Yes!" B'Elanna yelled in triumph and threw her arms around the tall Borg's neck. Seven reflexively put her arms around the half-Klingon and hugged her for an instant, then dropped her arms abruptly, pushing B'Elanna away. She turned back to her console, speaking without inflection. Her drone-speak as Tom called it.
"We must inform Voyager of our findings Lieutenant."
The excitement of their discovery did not dull the sharp annoyance B'Elanna experienced at the ex-drone's cold response and she suppressed a sarcastic reply. After all Seven was right, B'Elanna could imagine the excitement on Voyager. The senior crew would inevitably try and keep the news quiet until they could confirm the facts but equally inevitably wilder and wilder rumours would fly at faster than warp speed between the decks. They had been through this so often and optimism never failed to overwhelm any rational sense of caution.
Seven looked up again. "Voyager has replied. We are to hold station here, she is on her way to meet us, ETA 44.3 hours. Captain Janeway wants us to try and transmit the attached message to Starfleet command via the probe."
"How is our little friend in the alpha quadrant?" B'Elanna's good humour had returned, imagining what this would mean to the Voyager crew: her adopted family of seven years.
"The probe is functioning adequately but there is some interference. I am attempting to transmit the message to Starfleet Command now." Seven paused. "There seems to be a problem." She studied the data stream and then pronounced firmly: "The probe's communications are being jammed."
"Deliberately?"
"I believe so. I am compensating."
The viewscreen images fluttered and shook as Seven tried to maintain communication.
"The probe is under attack" she said and then announced baldly, "Probe destroyed." As she spoke the viewscreen in the shuttle went blank for a moment. Then the image reverted to a view of the wormhole entrance in the delta quadrant.
B'Elanna banged her fist on a bulkhead; something was going to snatch their salvation again. "What is going on dammit Seven? Try and transmit a message through the wormhole, to that vessel you found. I'll bring the shuttle around, nearer the wormhole."
She manoeuvred the tiny ship around nearer to the mouth of the wormhole. She noticed the wormhole beginning to shimmer red.
"Seven, the wormhole!"
Seven checked her sensor readings. "It is destabilising, energy levels are declining. Estimated time to collapse two minutes."
"Can we get another probe through before it collapses and try and keep it open?" asked B'Elanna desperate that the hope not end so quickly.
"As I said before there are no other probes on the shuttle" Seven replied. "In any case we would not be able to keep it open for 44 hours."
Cursing with frustration B'Elanna tried to think clearly, "Alright let's at least concentrate on getting the Captain's message through to Starfleet."
"The wormhole has nearly closed Lieutenant. You must take the shuttle right up to the entrance as we can no longer use the probe for two way communication. We will have to broadcast on a wider channel."
B'Elanna nodded and guided the shuttle to within a few hundred metres of the wormhole entrance. At this distance the foaming mouth completely filled the viewscreen. B'Elanna watched it warily.
"That is quite some gravimetric force that thing is generating, it's pulling us in but we are holding position."
Seven nodded. "As the singularity collapses it generates a powerful gravitational force. I am broadcasting the message....."
She didn't get a chance to complete her sentence before a blast of energy from the wormhole reached out and enveloped the shuttle knocking it sideways and, although the inertial dampeners protected the crew from the full impact, the auto-shields did not rise fast enough to protect the shuttle. A wall panel exploded across the shuttle cockpit. Seven saw a large fragment slam into B'Elanna. She fell heavily against her console and then collapsed to the deck.
Seven was also knocked to the ground by the blast, roughly twisted away from her single handhold. She struggled to her feet and cried out as an excruciating pain lanced her shoulder. She hung on, yet even with all her strength, the ex-drone could do no more than watch the violet and white glare of the viewscreen as the shuttle lurched towards the wormhole mouth.
The shuttle pitched aft and Seven gripped the edge of her console tightly with both arms, gasping as the nerves in her injured shoulder protested. A few feet away she could see B'Elanna lying on the floor of the shuttle, her inert body rolling helplessly with the violent motion. Stifling fear gripped Seven and it took all her self control to concentrate on trying to regain control of the shuttle. Bracing herself as best she could, Seven slid the fingers from her good hand over the surface of the command panel.
A quick check on the status of the ship's systems revealed that the engines were offline, shields were at fifty percent and there was a hull breach that had been isolated by forcefields. Without any power to resist, the shuttle was rapidly being sucked into the maw of the wormhole by the gravitational pull.
Seven tried to restart the engines but they did not respond to instructions from the command console or verbal command. Her next plan was also unsuccessful - the ship's damage control system reported that the escape pod launchers were jammed and unusable, badly damaged by the initial explosion - escape was impossible.
As a last resort Seven tried to call for help: hailing proved unsuccessful because the radiation from the wormhole at this proximity interfered with the sub-space transmission so the ex-drone's final act in the delta quadrant was to fire an emergency homing beacon hard away from the wormhole, hoping that it would be able to escape the gravity of the collapsing wormhole and at least report their fate to Captain Janeway.
Seven stared helplessly at the viewscreen. The shuttle slid into the wormhole with a jolt. A twisting tunnel of silver, opal and violet hued light opened up in front of them but any impulse Seven had to watch the show disappeared when the on-board computer announced calmly 'INERTIAL DAMPENERS ARE OPERATING AT 83.3 PERCENT. ALL CREW MUST SECURE THEMSELVES TO AVOID INJURY.'
Seven reckoned that she had about four minutes to make herself and B'Elanna safe before the wormhole disgorged them into normal space and the change in momentum pasted them both to the bow walls.
She slid to the floor beside the fallen engineer. Any plan to move her comrade was instantly curtailed by the sight of the blood pooling around the dark head, presumably from some hidden head wound. Seven gently touched the side of B'Elanna's face.
"B'Elanna Torres. Can you hear me?"
The half-Klingon's eyelids moved a little but there was no other response.
"Do not worry Lieutenant. I will look after you." As she got up and half ran to the emergency store chest, she wondered briefly why she was talking to an unconscious body. It wasn't rational. It would be unhelpful if she too started to malfunction. She promised herself to make no further comments aloud.
Seven fumbled with the handle of the store chest, and once inside rummaged about as best she could, though her probably dislocated right shoulder was nearly useless. She was hunting for inertial safety harnesses which she hoped would provide sufficient additional protection when the Turing exited the wormhole. After what seemed a long time (in fact forty three point two seconds as recorded by her Borg chronometer) and with some relief, she successfully extracted the bulky safety equipment and hurried back to the injured woman.
Lifting B'Elanna gently, Seven wrapped one of the harnesses around the unconscious woman as carefully and quickly as her limited mobility allowed and then attached B'Elanna to the nearest bulkhead. Seven wound herself in the other harness, pulling it carefully over her injured arm, and then fastened herself to same bulkhead, pulling the straps tight. She activated the dampening fields on both inertial safety harnesses, settled back with her good arm around B'Elanna and waited for what was to come.
"Hold on B'Elanna" she murmured and cuddled the still comatose engineer as the shuttle slid and slalomed its way down the wormhole towards the unknown.
Continued in next chapter
TITLE: Lost and Home
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: PG13
PUBLISHED: 2001-05-30
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
The Turing skittered into the alpha quadrant expelled by the last gasp of the collapsing wormhole. With no propulsion of its own the small ship was flung out into normal space at sub-light speed, travelling away from the nearest star system. To the watching Federation sensors it appeared as a piece of space debris and was ignored, its energy signals camouflaged by the enormous burst of energy that accompanied the closing wormhole.
Both occupants were now insensible, B'Elanna was still unconscious from her previous injuries and Seven had passed out as they entered the alpha quadrant, imperfectly protected from the massive forces acting on the shuttle. They remained that way for several hours flying deeper and further into empty space.
Seven regained consciousness.
Her perfect memory instantly made available all of the events up to the point when she had passed out. She frowned. It was unlikely to be a satisfactory day.
In spite of such pessimism she decided to open her eyes. Blackness stared back at her. After 0.8 seconds her ocular implant activated the night vision overrides maximising the starlight filtering through the cockpit windows and Seven could dimly see the interior of the shuttle. She wondered where they were. It was very cold lying on the floor and she shivered. The environmental controls weren't working to specification. At least there was still breathable air remaining. They would both live a little longer. She tightened her hold on the limp woman in her arms as a sudden terror clutched at her. Maybe she was alone.
"B'Elanna. Can you hear me?" she croaked.
There was no reply from the body cradled against her but focusing her hearing closely in the silent dark, Seven could hear B'Elanna's tiny uneven gasps for breath and even the arythmic thump of the half-Klingon's hearts. Thanking the gods of a million species, she asked the computer for lights. There was no response. Seven began to unfasten her safety harness, painfully fumbling in the darkness. She yelped, shattering the unnatural quiet, rudely reminded of her own mangled shoulder. The sound reverberated momentarily inside the silent vessel, then was gone and silence returned. Stupidly the ex-drone wished she knew how to curse; she brushed aside the irrelevant thought of asking B'Elanna to teach her and concentrated on the task at hand. Eventually freed from the restraints, Seven gently laid B'Elanna down on the cockpit deck and pulled herself upright.
She made her way through the darkness to the medical storage unit trying to ignore the pulsating ache in her shoulder and the numerous other dull pains that reported the presence of minor injuries in what seemed like every part of her body.
She opened the cabinet and took out an emergency light stick, a medical tricorder, a bone knitter and a dermal regenerator. The light stick ignited with a blue flash and for a second Seven was blinded until her eyes adapted. The extent of the damage to the interior of the shuttle became apparent. Seven shook her head. If it was this bad inside, she wasn't sure she wished to know the full extent of the damage. Anyway the shuttle would have to wait. She needed to assess B'Elanna.
B'Elanna Torres looked very small and vulnerable. Seven had never thought of the half-Klingon as fragile before, yet kneeling beside Lieutenant Torres in the cold glow of the light stick, Seven felt another rush of apprehension as she methodically ran the tricorder over the other woman, uncomfortably aware that the half-Klingon was now utterly dependent on an ex-Borg drone whose medical knowledge was reasonably extensive but largely applicable to Borg damage control systems rather than organic beings.
There was a lot of bruising, a broken collar-bone, five fractured ribs and a fairly extensive crack in her skull. Serious concussion, noted the tricorder. The next entry worried Seven even more. Probability of brain damage 89.3 percent. Severity unknown, full cerebral sub-molecular scan required. Scan is beyond scope of this instrument. Keep patient immobile and seek proper medical advice, dress wound but do not attempt further treatment.
Seven hated being helpless; it was a very uncomfortable feeling. Really needing to swear now, she retrieved bandages and antiseptic dressings from the medical supplies and tried to clean and bandage B'Elanna's head as best she could.
As she treated the remainder of B'Elanna's injuries, she considered what to do next. Eventually she decided that it would be better not to attempt to move the Lieutenant. Moving her to the tiny crew quarters without making her head injury worse was too problematic; the shuttle had no transporter (it had been left out to allow more room for the experimental engines and equipment) and in any case there was no power to run a transporter. The lack of power meant no life support either and the crew quarters would be as cold as anywhere else. Instead Seven tried to make her secure, if not comfortable, slowly easing a medical stretcher under the unconscious woman so that B'Elanna would not be thrown about and her head would be held immobile if they encountered further turbulence. Finally Seven covered the small body with a blanket to ward off the increasing chill.
Looking down at the still figure outlined in the semi-darkness the ex-drone pushed more fearful thoughts away. If we are to survive I must not panic she told herself. She leant down and brushed the dark hair from the unnaturally pale face, speaking very quietly.
"I'm sorry that I cannot do more for you at this time Lieutenant but I must restart the ship's systems or we will die and I will not let you die B'Elanna Torres, that I promise. We will go home to Voyager." Seven wondered at her own empty words and whom they were meant to comfort. She could not promise anything. They might be thousands of light years from Voyager, alone in space that was as alien to Seven of Nine as anything in the Delta quadrant.
The cockpit was now noticeably colder and without power, oxygen would become a problem in the next forty to fifty minutes, however the ship was not completely dead. That was obvious. Artificial gravity had been maintained and the inertial dampeners must have functioned to some extent or they would both be dead already.
Seven slid under the main control console and tried to access the emergency override but it needed two hands to open the panel and she effectively only had one. Poor design she noted, they would have to correct that error when she got back to Voyager. Seven smirked at such very human optimism.
"I must repair my shoulder" she said aloud.
The medical tricorder confirmed her suspicions. The shoulder had fully dislocated. She would have to force the shoulder joint back into place. Setting her teeth and gripping a rail hard she calculated the correct angle and force to apply and then applied it.
Seven screamed aloud as the shoulder loudly popped home.
She slumped down against the wall, breathing hard against the pain until it had subsided enough for her to move. Gingerly she rotated her arm. It ached badly but was now fully mobile. Without wasting more time on herself Seven stripped the panel away and activated the main overrides for emergency power, the main computer, life support and the self-repair systems.
The Turing may have lacked a number of things (including transporters, weapons, tractor beam, deflector and replicators) but Seven of Nine had been the principal designer for the new craft and the design emphatically met its stated objectives. The ship had been intended for long range reconnaissance and to be a test bed for the slipstream drives. Apart from its combined dual warp/slipstream drives the little ship boasted very enhanced shields complete with an illegal cloaking device (to which the captain was turning a very blind eye), high quality long range sensors, several wholly redundant systems and uniquely, for a Starfleet vessel, auto-regenerative systems. The Turing couldn't fight its way out of a paper bag but it could run and hide and seek better than any ship in the known galaxy. Of course that was in theory, in practice half of its systems had not been field tested. Many had not even been powered up.
As the emergency power activated, the lights came back and the computer announced 'Full re-initialisation of all systems is commencing.' Seven jumped at the sound of the voice and relief washed over her; silly as it was, she felt less alone now she could talk to the computer.
Damage control reports began to arrive at the control console. Seven felt a certain grim satisfaction as the Turing began to rebuild itself and reroute essential functions through the redundant systems but the four hour estimates for completion of all essential repairs worried her. Some of the external damage to the engines and long range sensors was deemed irreparable by the auto-regenerative units. She would have to get outside and fix them herself... if she could.
"Computer I do not like space-walking" she grumbled "It is unnerving."
'Please repeat. I do not understand your instruction.'
"Nothing computer. No instructions. I am going outside on the hull."
'Unaccompanied space walks are against regulation' complained the computer.
"There is no alternative." She was already putting on the environmental suit. "Computer is the airlock functional?"
'Affirmative' came the unemotional reply. Sometimes machines were so much easier to get along with she thought. No long arguments, a quick statement of the rules and that was that.
"Computer. Open inner airlock access."
'Cannot comply. Regulation 235478b states that unaccompanied space walks are against regulation.'
Seven glared darkly at the control console. "Computer. Open inner airlock access. Override regulation 235478b. Authorisation Seven of Nine gamma 59."
She waited. Nothing happened. She asked again. When the computer still refused to open the door she frowned and flipped up the manual override handle. Almost reluctantly the airlock door opened. Seven stepped inside the lock.
"Closing inner door" she reported for the benefit of the ship's log. "Activating gravity boots, Opening outer airlock access hatch."
She did it all manually not trusting the computer which was clearly malfunctioning.
Seven stepped outside onto the hull of the ship and closed the outer hatch. Her stomach lurched as she looked out into the vast emptiness. Walking carefully and ensuring at each step that each gravity boot was in proper contact with the hull before lifting the other foot she slowly made her way to the scene of the greatest damage. Five minutes was all the time she needed to assess the repairs but it would be at least two hours before she could patch the damage to the point where auto-repairs could begin to work and then it would require several more hours for those to complete and even then a full overhaul would eventually be required to ensure full functioning.
Sighing, Seven systematically set about completing the series of tasks until at last she was able to return to the airlock for the last time, leaving the auto-regenerative units to get on with finishing the job. She leaned against the wall inside the airlock and relaxed for a few minutes in relative safety. She had been on the hull for one hour and fifty three minutes, however it was almost with reluctance that she re-entered the shuttle, at least outside on the hull her goals had been clearly determined. Inside, loneliness, uncertainty and fear waited for her.
Feeling overwhelmed, Seven slouched down in the pilot's chair and leaned her head in her arms. It was uncharacteristic for the ex-borg to ever sit, let alone slouch, but she was bone-tired, her arm still ached badly, she had expended a great deal of energy and there was nowhere for her to regenerate.
A small whimper from the direction of Lieutenant Torres caused all her tiredness and tension to be forgotten. At the half-Klingon's side in an instant Seven crouched down and took one limp hand. She gazed with concern at the beloved face that had unwillingly fascinated her for so many months.
"Let her be functioning better" she murmured. "B'Elanna Torres, can you hear me? Please answer."
For a few seconds B'Elanna's eyes flickered open but Seven realised that the half-Klingon was not registering her surroundings. She seemed feverish.
Seven sighed when the unfocused dark eyes closed again and B'Elanna lapsed back into full unconsciousness. Alone again the ex-drone forced herself back to business. Tricorder readings of B'Elanna's vital signs showed she was getting weaker. Seven injected B'Elanna with a small amount of fluids to counteract the dehydration and wiped the perspiration from the unconscious face. It was imperative that B'Elanna receive medical attention.
"I must get help" Seven said aloud. Reluctantly diverting power from repairs to the long range sensors that were now reasonably functional, Seven began to assess their surroundings.
They were in the Alpha quadrant; there was no doubt about that. Further from Delta Cygnus than she expected but the wormhole collapse must have deposited them further away than the original terminus. Sensors also revealed a ship less than one light year from their position, travelling on a parallel trajectory: four hours at maximum warp. The ship was clearly Federation in origin, probably a scout ship judging from its size and configuration. She watched it for a few moments and scanned for any transmissions. There it was. The ship was transmitting a standard sensor sweep report to the Federation: the USS Vigilant on routine patrol of the Delta Cygnus sector.
"Not very vigilant" she quipped.
'Advise evasive procedures' said the computer unexpectedly.
Slightly surprised Seven responded "Unnecessary. Open hailing frequencies"
'Negative, advise evasive procedures' said the computer.
"Computer. Open hailing frequencies. Now!"
"As you wish" the computer sulked.
Seven was now definitely disturbed by the condition of the main computer but she didn't have time to investigate. She hailed the Vigilant.
"USS Vigilant this is shuttle Turing from USS Voyager; we are drifting and my co-pilot is severely injured. Please respond."
After a couple of seconds the communication panel crackled uncertainly and a woman's voice speaking Federation standard could be heard.
"Shuttle Turing this is Captain Antonia Chekhov of the USS Vigilant. Please hold position we are coming to assist. Identify yourself pilot."
"I am Seven of Nine, chief astrometrics officer on USS Voyager. We are currently unable to start our engines and are drifting along a course parallel to your own. Please respond as quickly as you can, my co-pilot is weakening and requires urgent medical treatment."
"Acknowledged Turing ... umm, Seven of Nine. We are on our way."
Aboard the Vigilant a stunned senior crew were exchanging disbelieving glances.
The first officer, a tall Bolian called Smith, was first to speak.
"Captain. I don't like this at all. I mean Seven of Nine! I know about Voyager, we all do, but are we really to believe that USS Voyager has picked up Borg crew and where is Voyager anyway? And how do they know who we are? This has to be related to that alien/Borg probe we destroyed yesterday. We should be really care..."
The captain, a dark and handsome human woman with a stubborn streak, cut him off before he could launch into one of his annoying lectures on the dangers of foreigners.
"Agreed Mr Smith. Operations: send a message to Starfleet command. Tell them we have intercepted an alien, possibly Borg, vessel in the restricted zone and we are going to apprehend them. The vessel does not conform to any known Borg configuration but at least some of the crew seem to be Borg and there are signs of Borg technology."
"Aye sir. Transmitting now."
"Seven of Nine" said the computer. "The Vigilant is transmitting another message to Starfleet Command. You should read it."
Seven looked up from B'Elanna's side.
"Computer. Who are you?" she blurted. Embarrassed by such anthropomorphism she amended her question to an instruction. "Computer report status of main computer."
"I am fully functional" replied the computer.
"Computer. Who is I?"
"Are you referring to yourself or to me?" asked the computer. "Either way your grammar is faulty or obscurely philosophical."
Seven suddenly realised how annoying a pedant could be.
The computer carried on speaking "And, if you are done with trying to ascertain the philosophical nature of my existence or even your own, I repeat you should really read this message. I have decrypted it for your convenience. And don't say I didn't warn you."
Seven gave up on the computer malfunction for the moment. "Computer. Repeat message."
She listened as the computer read the message. Although the situation was not ideal she had no doubt that she would be able to convince them of the truth eventually. And regardless, B'Elanna needed treatment.
"Evasive action?" the computer inquired hopefully.
"No. Continue with repairs and report status in one hour. Monitor the approach of the Vigilant and inform me when it is within one parsec."
"Acknowledged," said the computer computer-like, "but don't expect me to like it."
Seven closed her eyes. 'Perhaps I am dreaming' she wondered. 'I have been warned that this might happen if I fell asleep. I profoundly hope that turns out to be the case.' Suddenly aware of being extremely tired the former drone sat down on the deck, with her back against the command console, next to Lieutenant Torres and took hold of the Lieutenant's limp hand. Unwillingly the ex-drone noted the increased body temperature. B'Elanna's condition was not improving. Seven pressed another hypo from the emergency supplies into the Lieutenant's neck hoping it would counter fever and dehydration. She stroked the damp hair away from the half-Klingon's face.
Seven fell asleep for the first time in her adult life.
One hour later the computer prepared to report the status of the repairs and then stopped. Seven of Nine was still asleep. "There is nothing of interest to report in any case" reasoned the computer.
Seven of Nine slept on.
Three hours later the computer took action.
"Wake up. Wake up. Seven of Nine wake up. On screen."
Seven lifted her head and gazed groggily at the viewscreen.
"USS Vigilant is within one parsec and closing fast. Ten minutes to intercept."
The image of the Vigilant jerked Seven of Nine back to full wakefulness.
"Hail them computer" she croaked, her voice not fully recovered from the unfamiliar experience of sleeping.
"Vigilant. This is the shuttle Turing please respond."
"Turing. This is Captain Chekhov. Lower your shields immediately and prepare to be boarded."
Annoyed, Seven glared about her.
"My apologies Captain. I was unaware that our shields were raised. We are suffering from computer malfunction. Computer. Lower shields and ... do not argue with me."
"You were asleep. It was a precaution" muttered the computer while lowering the shields.
Ten seconds later a Starfleet boarding party shimmered into existence, their phasers drawn. Seven noticed that their uniforms were substantially different from those on Voyager.
"Stand where you are and raise your arms" said a large Bolian sporting the three pips of a commander. "We are arresting you in the name of the Federation on suspicion of spying."
"Sir" interrupted one of the security officers. "There's a Starfleet officer bound and injured, lying on the floor."
"Take a look at her" ordered the Bolian, glancing at one of his men.
Seven stepped between B'Elanna and the Starfleet commander.
"Stand aside Borg or we'll shoot."
The Bolian was very nervous; Seven was his first Borg and for all he knew, his Starfleet weapons might be useless against it.
Seven ignored him.
"You are a qualified doctor?" she asked the second man. He nodded. "Then you may pass."
Seven stepped aside and the medic began his examination of the fallen Klingon.
"Who is she Borg and what have you done to her?" asked the Bolian commander aggressively. "Has she been assimilated?"
Seven sounded more patient than she felt.
"She is B'Elanna Torres, chief engineer of the USS Voyager and I have done nothing to her. She was injured in an explosion on this shuttle caused by that wormhole."
The Bolian stiffened as though Seven had said something offensive. He pointed his phaser straight at her. "You will remain silent until your interrogation Borg. There will be no further talk."
Seven was unimpressed but her main concern at this moment was that they treat B'Elanna's injuries. Seven would agree to anything they asked if it would expedite this.
"Commander" said the medic, having completed his examination. "This woman requires urgent medical treatment. I would like to transfer her straight to sick bay."
"Okay Doc but take one of my men with you." Smith tapped his communicator. "Captain we are ready to return. Transport the Doctor, his patient and one of my men direct to sickbay. The rest of us will transfer to the brig."
"Acknowledged Smith. We have the shuttle in a tractor and will bring it into the hold after you transport. Standing by."
The Doctor and B'Elanna and one of the security guards shimmered and vanished as the transporter lock whisked them away. Seven sighed with relief. At least one thing had gone to plan.
The Bolian commander was looking curiously round the small ship. "Computer report status" he said. There was no reply. "Computer report status."
"I did tell you that our computer is malfunctioning Commander" said Seven.
"And the commander told you no talking Borg" snarled one of the security men. Seven looked at him quizzically and the implant on her brow rose slightly. The man jumped back as though expecting assimilation tubules to erupt from her at any moment.
FOr a moment the guard thought that the tall Borg was answering however her words were lost in the transporter whine; only the Turing's computer heard her say quite clearly, before she and all of the Starfleet contingent vanished: "Computer. Play dead."
"Acknowledged Seven of Nine" said the computer to the now empty cockpit.
Starfleet science base on Delta Cygnus.
A small man hurried into the main test chamber talking excitedly.
"The spies have been apprehended. They are being brought here for interrogation by Starfleet security. I must say I am very relieved. The thought of all our work being stolen or may be even sabotaged is really very upsetting. What do you think Dr Kahn?"
A rather attractive and elegantly dressed Trill turned to face him. She looked bored, maybe even irritated.
"If Starfleet were not so obsessed with security we might be making much greater progress. And frankly Dr Kravitz I have no interest in what will probably turn out to be a couple of harmless joyriders."
She returned her gaze to the huge deflector dish which was now being adjusted.
"I am much more interested in the probe that came through the wormhole. If Starfleet had been a little less trigger happy we might have discovered a great deal more. After all why did that probe succeed when all of ours have failed?"
The small dark man scowled and turned to leave. Working with these geniuses was always very overrated in his experience.
Continued in next chapter
TITLE: Lost and Home
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: PG13
PUBLISHED: 2001-05-30
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Seven of Nine paced up and down the brig watched by two Starfleet security officers. She was not comfortable, her hands were shackled behind her back and her body still ached from the bruises and contusions suffered in transit through the wormhole. No medical treatment had been offered since she had been arrested. She supposed the Starfleet crew thought she was too dangerous, but worse than any of this was not knowing anything about B'Elanna. The guards had ignored her when she asked for news and if this was the way they were treating her then she feared for B'Elanna's safety. Her pacing was interrupted by the entry of a striking dark haired woman, wearing Captain's pips, who marched up to the cell and in a hard forceful voice asked her.
"Who are you and why are you here?"
"I am Seven of Nine, chief astrometrics officer on USS Voyager" replied Seven equally forcefully, "and I will answer no further questions until you take me to see my companion, Lieutenant Torres."
The Starfleet captain was a little taken aback. Her first officer had led her to believe that the prisoner was some Borg monster sent to spy on the top secret experiment that they were guarding. Instead she found an intelligent and beautiful woman properly concerned with the fate of her companion. Captain Chekhov decided this was more complicated than Smith thought.
She became aware that she was staring. The blonde gazed back at her coolly. Chekhov didn't want the prisoner to call the shots so she said as formally as she could.
"I will permit you to visit your companion after you have answered my questions. She is being treated by our CMO and is not in immediate danger but she is still not conscious."
Seven shook her head and replied determinedly. "I will tell you what I can after I have seen Lieutenant Torres. I must know that she is being treated properly."
"I can assure you, Seven of Nine that your companion is receiving the best treatment we can provide." Captain Chekhov was offended and she let it show.
"The same standard as you have applied to me?" asked Seven turning to display the deep purple contusions and swellings visible on her bound wrists and forearms.
Although shocked Captain Chekhov hung onto her command training. "Why have the prisoner's injuries not been treated?" she asked the guard.
"Sir, Commander Smith said she was too dangerous."
Chekhov avoided swearing but only just. "Lower the force field," she snapped, "I want you to escort the prisoner and myself to sickbay."
"Sir!" he replied jumping to attention at the irritation plain in his captain's voice, fearing her infamous temper more than any Borg.
Seven nearly smiled. Very like Janeway. Any suggestion that her precious Starfleet was less than humane triggered defensiveness and righteous anger in equal measure. The guard dropped the brig force field and Seven of Nine stepped out. Both guards lifted their phasers, apprehension written on their faces.
"Seven of Nine" said Chekhov, sounding a little less unfriendly, "part of your story checks out. Starfleet command have confirmed the ID of your colleague as B'Elanna Torres, one of the Maquis known to be on Voyager but they are less convinced about you and your story of how you got here. There is no wormhole in this sector let alone one leading to the Delta Quadrant and this is a restricted area. Also your ship is hardly a Starfleet issue shuttle. You understand why we are cautious."
Seven did not really care about their suspicions and it was obvious that the captain of the Vigilant was either lying or had been misinformed about the wormhole but the ex-drone didn't want to offend her captors and possibly lose the chance to see B'Elanna so she inclined her head in agreement.
"I understand your concerns Captain but I would like to see Lieutenant Torres. Now."
"And I will escort you but you should know she is still unconscious, the doctor is still treating her head injuries."
USS Voyager (the Delta Quadrant)
"Mr Kim. What can you tell me" asked Captain Janeway. She wanted answers.
"Sensors detect no residual signs of the Turing Captain. They're not in this sector." Harry tried hard to stay professional and hide his worry but his voice betrayed him.
Janeway glanced at him quickly, understanding in her brief smile. Her attention quickly moved back. In front of her at the helm Tom Paris gripped the edge of his console. The helmsman had hardly spoken since they had lost contact with the shuttle and as far as she knew he had not slept in two days. Chakotay had suggested giving him leave but Janeway brushed that aside. If it were her spouse who was missing nothing would have gotten her off the bridge. As for her own feelings she was not going to indulge them, her crew needed and expected their captain to be unwavering.
"We are now within 250,000 kilometres of the site of the last transmission Captain," Tom reported quietly, almost too quietly to hear.
"Scan the whole area again Harry. I want full sensor sweeps, every particle of dust analysed. Even if the shuttle was completely destroyed there would be something left, some trace or we would be able to detect their warp signature."
"Searching Captain." said Harry. "Wait a moment, I have found some debris but it is too small to be a shuttle. It could be the remains of a probe." He studied the readings for a few more seconds.
"It's an emergency beacon or rather it was, there's not much left. I think the flight data node is still intact although the beacon is too badly damaged to transmit."
"Can you access the data Harry, I want to know what happened."
"Accessing now. There isn't much. Computer. Route visual data to main view screen. Voice data on audio channel one."
A visual of the shuttle looking very small in the mouth of the wormhole appeared on the viewscreen and then they could hear Seven of Nine's voice. "Voyager if you receive this message we have lost power and are being pulled into the wormhole. B'Elanna is injured but alive. The wormhole is collapsing and I do not know whether we will survive the transition to the Alpha quadrant. Seven out." The shuttle entered the wormhole and then a huge expulsion of energy hurtled towards the watching beacon. The visual ended abruptly as the beacon ceased recording.
There was silence on the bridge until Janeway broke it, her voice rough as gravel.
"Tuvok how long before the scheduled transmission from Starfleet." They now had regular communication with Starfleet but these had to be initiated by Starfleet. Voyager alone had insufficient power to open a connection.
"Two hours and twenty two minutes Captain."
"Then we have enough time to completely analyse all the data recorded by the emergency beacon and all the data sent to us by B'Elanna and Seven before they lost power. If they made it through the wormhole to the Alpha quadrant then Starfleet will be able to find them. In any case Starfleet may be able to help us discover the source of the anomaly. Let's get on it people, Seven and B'Elanna are depending on us."
USS Vigilant (the Alpha Quadrant)
Seven of Nine followed the Captain of the Vigilant along the seemingly endless corridors. They passed several of the Vigilant's crew, all of whom stared at the Borg as she strode past, their expressions a rough mixture of curiosity and loathing very similar to what Seven had experienced in the early days on Voyager. Apprehension crawled through her - they were so far from home - what if she and B'Elanna could not get back to Voyager; she was not ready to face this alien world. Loneliness, all too familiar since she had been dragged screaming and kicking from the Borg hive, surrounded her again. She wanted to see her friends so badly that it was like a pain in her chest. She missed them all despite their many imperfections and human foibles, she would even have liked to hear one of Tom's irrelevant and annoying jokes. The two women entered sickbay and Seven could see a fair-haired woman bent over a biobed whose occupant was entirely obscured by an operating enclosure. Unconsciously Seven straightened her shoulders, at least she still had B'Elanna.
The Doctor looked up and smiled warmly at the Captain.
"Andy," she said informally, "just in time to wake our guest." The Doctor's gaze then took in the tall blonde Borg behind her. "You are the companion from the shuttle?"
"I am Seven of Nine" said Seven precisely. "Is B'Elanna Torres fully recovered?"
"She is in no danger and I'll wake her in a few minutes but treatment is far from complete," said the doctor, smiling, obviously amused by Seven's blunt manner. "She requires additional neural surgery however we need a complete record of her brain patterns, memory engrams and synapses from a recent full medical examination for comparison."
Seven moved close enough to see B'Elanna's face through the transparent cover. Her face was extremely pale and Seven was distressed. The Doctor noticed the change in the Borg's expression with some surprise, the tall blonde was genuinely worried about the patient.
"She will be alright Seven of Nine," said the Doctor reassuringly. "As soon as we have her medical records for comparison, I will be able to operate."
Seven's expression hardened with resolve. "I will return to Voyager and obtain the emergency medical hologram's last records for Lieutenant Torres" she stated, as though Voyager were next door and not thirty thousand light years distant.
Captain Chekhov and the Doctor exchanged glances.
"And exactly how would you do that Seven of Nine" asked the Captain.
"The same way that we came. Through the wormhole. I will investigate the source of the anomaly."
"But there was no wormhole" said Captain Chekhov impatiently.
"You are mistaken Captain" said Seven looking straight at her and, like another distant Starfleet captain, Chekhov felt her own certainty wobble in the face of Seven's unshakeable arrogance and found herself uncomfortably trying to justify her knowledge.
"Seven, I have lived and worked in this sector of the Federation most of my life and there has never been a wormhole here."
"Then someone created one" said Seven.
"I think we would have noticed .... " Abruptly the Captain stopped speaking, recalling her orders from Starfleet to avoid all scans of a certain area of space for the duration of a series of top secret experiments. 'An artificial wormhole' she thought to herself.
The Doctor blurted aloud. "An artificial wormhole experiment, could that be what we are guarding Andy?" The Chief Medical Officer had obviously reached the same conclusion.
Captain Chekhov glared at her colleague. "Doctor, artificial wormhole experimentation was banned in last year's ceasefire agreement between the Dominion and the Federation so I hardly think that is likely."
The Doctor was unabashed and forthright, "perhaps Starfleet have just broken that agreement Andy."
"Perhaps Doctor you should return to your patient," stated the Captain coldly and turned her back on the Doctor.
The Doc recognised that she was pushing her childhood friendship with Chekhov a little far and went back to her patient's bedside and continued her work although her expression remained troubled.
Annoyed by her oldest friend's lack of discretion and disturbed by her suspicions about the Vigilant's current assignment, Captain Chekhov marched over to Seven and unfastened the shackles on her wrists, trying to cover her uncertainty with decisive action.
"Seven I have relayed your initial debriefing to Starfleet and we are waiting for orders. In the meantime, after the Doctor has treated your injuries, you will be escorted to the guest quarters where I hope you will be more comfortable. Understand I cannot grant you freedom of the ship until your status is confirmed by Starfleet."
"I would prefer to remain here with Lieutenant Torres until she is sufficiently well to return to Voyager."
Chekhov was not going to negotiate. "I am afraid that is impossible Seven of Nine. You have been an officer on a Starfleet vessel so you will understand that my word is final."
Seven raised her eyebrow and said nothing. Chekhov could see that she was not even slightly convinced by the Captain's words. 'God knows how Janeway manages her. I wonder what the rest of her crew are like?' thought the harassed captain imagining a ship full of Maquis brigands and Borg ice goddesses.
"Captain," interrupted the Doctor, "I think our other guest can be woken now."
"Okay Bones. Do it." instructed Chekhov, relieved at the interruption and hopeful that it might improve the Borg prisoner's co-operation.
The Doctor rolled back the operating cover, revealing B'Elanna's head and torso half covered in a Starfleet issue operating robe. The Doc pressed a hypospray into the unconscious woman's neck. The body twitched and her brown eyes half opened.
"Kahless my head. Chakotay! It's like a swarm of killer bees with chainsaws, what the hell did you put in that beer?" Her eyes opened fully. "And where in the seven blazes of hell am I?" She turned her head to see Seven of Nine who had approached the bed. She looked at her uncomprehendingly and then noticed the two Starfleet officers. Shock passed over her face and was quickly smothered. The half-Klingon lifted herself up sharply on one arm grimacing at the pain. She stared at them knowingly.
"Starfleet lackeys" she sneered loud enough for every one to hear and then addressed the Starfleet captain directly: "Where in hell have you taken me and where are my friends?"
"You are quite safe Lieutenant Torres" said the Doctor soothingly.
"Lieutenant? So I'm in someone's army now or this is some new Starfleet ploy to justify locking us up."
Anxiously Seven asked "B'Elanna are you function... feeling well?"
B'Elanna returned her hostile gaze to the Borg.
"I'm sorry lady but do I know you? I am sure I would remember being on first name terms with someone like you, but perhaps you can tell me where the hell I am and how I friggin' got here."
Seven took a step back. "You do not remember me" she said in the Borg monotone she always used when trying to avoid showing emotion.
"No 'I do not remember you'," mimicked B'Elanna and grinned fiercely at her.
"You are confused Lieutenant," said the Doctor gently. "What is the last thing you remember? Where were you and who were you with?"
B'Elanna blinked. "I'm not falling for that. You'll get nothing out of me Starfleet pig." The half-Klingon looked at the doctor with disgust. "Hell, I thought it was beneath Starfleet to use medical staff for interrogating prisoners."
The Doctor ignored the accusation and tried again. "What do you remember about the last week. Do you remember being on board USS Voyager and then travelling here from the Delta quadrant in a shuttle."
B'Elanna barked with laughter.
"What a pile of Targ manure. Who are you? Dr Gilak's daughter?" she scoffed using the name of an infamous Cardassian doctor, notorious for his interrogation of prisoners.
The doctor was unimpressed by the abuse, instead she addressed Seven and the Captain.
"I suspected this might happen. Lieutenant Torres has suffered some damage to the part of her brain that 'fetches' her memories. The memories themselves may be undamaged but the links to them are incomplete and without more detailed records of her brain before the accident, I cannot repair those links, or be certain that the damage is not more permanent."
Overhearing the Doctor's words B'Elanna sounded a little less confident "What kind of a weak, pathetic joke is this? I remember last night perfectly, we were drinking...." She stopped speaking and looked at them knowingly. " No I'm not falling for this crap. I'm telling you nothing." She lay back and folded her arms across her chest.
Seven watched her in anguish, she was more alone than ever and now she was frightened that B'Elanna would be permanently brain-damaged decades away from the help that she needed.
"B'Elanna please," Seven reached out her hand towards the half-Klingon. B'Elanna looked at her aggressively until she noticed the obvious injuries that the Borg still bore and her expression softened.
"Are you a prisoner also?" she asked.
"Yes but what the Doctor is saying is true. You and I were captured together. We are officers from the Starship Voyager which is currently stranded in the Delta Quadrant thirty thousand light years from here."
The sympathy vanished replaced by raging suspicion and B'Elanna jeered. "Me, a Starfleet officer in the Delta quadrant. And how did we get there crew mate? And while you're explaining that, explain how we ended up here, did the fairies bring us? Oh and by the way, where is 'here'? A nuthouse apparently."
Seven was puzzled by the reference to fairies. "No one brought us. We travelled through a wormhole and we are in the vicinity of Delta Cygnus."
B'Elanna laughed derisively "Well now I know you're lying or nuts blondie. I grew up on a planet in this sector and there are no wormholes around here, going anywhere, let alone the Delta Quadrant." The feisty little woman shrugged her shoulders and stared openly at Seven's facial implant. "What kind of weirdo are you anyway?"
Seven stood up straight and looked at her helplessly.
Captain Chekhov had been listening to the exchange with some interest and amusement. She was sympathetic to both the lost souls but she had to admit that seeing someone get the better of Seven of Nine improved her mood.
"It seems Seven of Nine that you will get no support for your wormhole story here."
Seven recovered her detachment and said icily.
"B'Elanna Torres always resorts to sarcasm and threats when she does not understand what she is talking about. It is her nature."
"What the hell?" And B'Elanna swung herself onto her feet and stood swaying slightly. "Are you calling me a liar blondie?"
The Doctor intervened sharply.
"Lieutenant Torres get back in bed. You are in no state to be wandering about or making threats."
B'Elanna looked at her with open derision and the Doctor lost patience.
"I said now Lieutenant! Or I will ask the guards to put you back and strap you in."
The Doctor's honest outrage seemed to penetrate the half-Klingon's cloak of anger and confusion. B'Elanna flopped back onto the biobed but couldn't resist muttering "What kind of a name is Seven of Nine anyway?" Then realisation hit her. "It's a Borg designation. You think I am in league with the Borg." She started to struggle up again before the Doctor intervened with a firm hand on her shoulder.
"Stay. There. Torres."
Too weak to argue B'Elanna stayed with her arms folded across her chest, glowering at Seven. Seven gazed back with frozen self-control and Captain Chekhov again wondered at the type of captain Janeway must be to apparently command these renegades. The Doctor busied herself looking at Seven's injured arm. She picked up her tricorder to diagnose the extent of Seven's injuries. For a long moment no-one spoke.
The silent stand-off was interrupted by the arrival of Smith and three security men.
"Captain, can I speak to you in the Doctor's office" he asked. There was a hint of self-satisfaction on his smooth face. Chekhov nodded and followed him into the office.
He handed her a padd as she shut the door of the office. "This is a priority one message from Starfleet. It says that those two are impostors, spies. They are nothing to do with Voyager. We are to arrest them and bring them immediately back to Delta Cygnus for interrogation. They are to have no further contact with the crew." He paused for effect. "Also the science team have completed the preliminary analysis of the Turing. You should know that it is equipped with a cloaking device, ideal for spying, and a design of engine that we don't recognise and it contains a lot of Borg technology. It is also completely non-functional, the main computer seems to be dead. Life support only."
Captain Chekhov was silent. She didn't like this, something inside her screamed that a huge wrong was about to be done but this was a direct order and she would have to be seen to obey at least until she had better intelligence about what was really happening. If Seven was lying then either she was extremely stupid thinking up such far-fetched stories or extremely smart and trying to appear extremely stupid. And Torres was badly injured, that had not been faked. Chekhov closed her eyes. She didn't have enough information and until she did there was no point in continuing this further.
"Okay Commander. After the Doctor has completed treating Seven of Nine's injuries you may return her to the brig. Torres will remain under guard in sick bay. She is too ill to go anywhere. And Smith, I do not want to hear of anymore ill-treatment. Do you understand? This is a Starfleet ship and we have rules for the treatment of prisoners. Follow them."
"Sir" said Smith reluctantly.
She walked back out to the main area of sickbay, determined not to prevaricate. Seven was sitting patiently on a biobed being treated with a dermal regenerator while the Doctor exclaimed over her Borg implants. Chekhov addressed both prisoners.
"Seven of Nine, Lieutenant Torres, Starfleet command have ordered us to bring you both in for questioning. I am sorry Seven but you will have to be confined to the brig until we arrive. Lieutenant Torres you will remain in sickbay under restraint."
"At last," said Torres to Seven, "a Starfleet plan a simple Maquis can understand. Take us in for questioning and then the pigs beat the shit out of us. Well they will be wasting their time with me. I know nothing. But I think you should get a better cover story blondie. That wormhole thing is not gonna fly."
Seven was paying no attention. "Starfleet have contacted Captain Janeway?" she queried urgently. Chekhov was silent which Seven took for assent. "Then why are you arresting us?"
"Seven of Nine I cannot discuss this with you any further. Bones have you finished patching her up?"
The Doc looked at her captain disapprovingly.
"I've done what I can Andy but I need more time to study her Borg implants. She has sustained some injuries to the implants which I have been unable to treat. They do seem to be treating themselves but I would like to monitor the process."
"I'm sorry Bones but we have orders from Starfleet Command." Chekhov ignored her CMO's disapproval. "Smith I'll be in my ready room if you need me."
"Aye Sir," said Smith to her retreating back. The Doc threw him a disdainful look and hurried after the Captain looking determined.
The remaining occupants of the room watched each other with open hostility.
Smith half-leered at the partially naked Torres. "A Klingon and a Borg spying together. I am going to enjoy this."
Continued in next chapter
TITLE: Lost and Home
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: PG13
PUBLISHED: 2001-05-30
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Smith gestured to the three security guards. "Take the Borg away. Put her in restraints first." One of the security officers took a wrist restraint from his belt. He approached Seven with some caution.
"Those are unnecessary" said Seven.
"I disagree Borg" Smith said unpleasantly. The other two security officers grabbed her wrists while the third put on the restraints.
Seven was unsure what her next move should be. Surely Captain Janeway would intervene and explain to Starfleet that this was all a big mistake. 'But' said the small voice in her head 'Captain Janeway is not here.' The security man tightened the restraint hard and Seven pulled away in pain knocking him off balance. One of the others promptly hit her with the butt of his phaser. She staggered and he hit her again knocking her to the floor. Smith watched with satisfaction and said nothing.
Despite the thumping pain in her head B'Elanna sat up and watched with rising disgust as Seven was hauled back to her feet, blood pouring from a long cut on her head and although she told herself Seven was none of her business and probably a Starfleet plant sent to infiltrate the Maquis, she found she could not just stand by and watch her be beaten.
"Oy!. Bully Boy why don't you pick on someone who isn't tied up."
"You'll get your turn Klingon. In truth much as I hate them I never thought a Klingon would sympathise with one of these" and he jerked his thumb at Seven. "Kovich, get the Borg creature back to the brig and here take this." He picked up a dermal regenerator from the work area and threw it to Kovich. "The Captain wants her kept healthy. I hope you understand that."
The security guard grinned at his boss. He understood exactly. The security detail pushed Seven out of sickbay and left Smith alone with B'Elanna. He moved to face her.
"I'm told you are a Maquis. Isn't that a bit old fashioned? And frankly as a cover story for a Dominion spy it isn't much better than the Borg and her wormhole."
"What do you mean?"
"I know Starfleet is now openly sympathetic to the Maquis but that became an easy attitude once the Jem Hadar did the dirty work for us." He leant forward over her and stared into her face only inches away. She felt something behind her, the Doc's tricorder, and reached back for it slowly.
"What the hell are you talking about? What has happened to the Maquis?" said B'Elanna, the blood chilling in her veins and her thoughts running wild.
"Did you run away and leave them? Is that how you survived all your friends?" he gibed.
She bit her lip and her fingers closed on the tricorder. 'Keep control B'Elanna, he is just trying to spook you and make you do something stupid.' He leaned a little closer, leering. Fighting instinct overtook her and B'Elanna smashed the tricorder down on the back of his head. 'Something stupid like that' she thought as she watched the Bolian subside to the floor in front of her. 'Seska is always telling me I must learn to control my temper.'
B'Elanna hoisted herself onto shaky legs and looked about. 'I have to get out of here, I don't suppose they'll appreciate me knocking out the first officer's brains not that he seemed to have many.'
She made her way unsteadily to the main control console to see if she could find any useful information such as where the hell she was. As she looked at the controls she realised that she knew how to operate it and her hands seemed to find their way automatically across the control interface. 'Hmm my brief stay at the Academy was more effective than I knew.' Then the console demanded a Starfleet access code. Her fingers entered the code before she realised what she was doing. The console bleeped accommodatingly and she was looking at the schematics for the whole ship. 'Damn. How did I do that?' Cold fear touched her. 'They have been messing with your head B'Elanna. They must have planted this knowledge. But why?' Then she noted the stardate on the schematic. More than six years in the future.
Her fingers started to really fly over the console overriding security codes without hesitation not even wondering at her own skills and she pulled the ship's most recent logs. They told her the bare bones of the story of how she and the Borg were found floating in space in a shuttle of unknown origin and the logs confirmed the stardate. Somewhere she had lost seven years. 'Seven of Nine,' she thought, 'I have to find her, I need to know what is going on and maybe she can help me. It may all be an elaborate trap but maybe it's not.' Trying not to dwell on the implications of her findings B'Elanna downloaded the ship schematics showing the location of the brig and the shuttle bay to a padd.
She looked at the Bolian on the floor and grinned: she needed a uniform, he had a uniform, a convenient coincidence. She hauled the comatose officer up onto the biobed and stripped, tied and gagged him, and finally pushed and shoved the still unconscious body into a storage unit. Utterly exhausted she had to rest for a moment although very aware that there was no time for resting: the Doctor might come back at any moment. That said she wasn't going anywhere fast in her current state. She remembered the hypo she had noticed lying on a work surface near the biobed and guessed it was the stimulant the Doctor had used to wake her. Of course it might be any of a million different compounds available in a Starfleet medical facility but she wasn't going to think about that.
The hypo was lying where she had seen it. She picked it up, steeled herself and injected the remaining contents into her arm. An explosion rippled through her nervous system and she staggered, gripping the bed to stop herself falling down. After a few seconds the sensation eased and she stood up straight.
'Gods that was bracing. But I can stand now. I think.' She let go of the bed and was gratified to find that she felt as though she could run fifty light years at warp nine. 'Kahless that's good stuff, I'm hot to go.'
She approached the double doors. They slid apart in front of her. She smirked. No security lock; the Doc really hadn't believed she was going anywhere. Cautiously she peered into the corridor. There was no-one about so she entered the corridor, conscious of looking strange in the slightly too large uniform of the first officer. She tried to walk in what she hoped was a casual but military manner. She was concentrating so hard on walking that as she rounded a corner too smartly she failed to notice a large ensign struggling to remove a dead life support circuit from the wall until she collided with him, knocking him off balance. He righted himself and looked at her collar oddly and then saluted.
She remembered with a sinking feeling that she was wearing the three pips of a commander.
"Look what are you doing with that wrench" she barked as though on a parade ground. He looked very surprised and jumped to attention.
"Sorry Sir!"
Aware that she might have been too strong, she spoke more moderately. "Let me see that Ensign." She peered inside the maintenance panel and felt a wave of irritation.
"Are you a complete fool Ensign? Override this here and that... that goes there. The original design is faulty." She stepped back and the panel burst into life. She grinned at the dumb-founded ensign who was staring at the flashing panel as though he had just witnessed a miracle. She slapped him on the back.
He snapped back to attention. "Sir, thank you sir."
"Ensign," she acknowledged and swept past him.
He gazed after her worshipfully. He didn't know who she was but he had been completely replacing that panel every six months for three years. She was a blessing from the Gods.
Round the corner, B'Elanna exhaled with relief and removed one of the pips from her collar. 'Time for the Jeffries tubes Lieutenant Torres' she said to herself and then felt uncomfortable when she remembered that her captors had addressed her as Lieutenant.
She unfastened the access door to the Jeffries tube, swung her legs inside and crawled rapidly along the short horizontal tunnel until its end some six metres in. Then she began to descend the maze of vertical shafts. Periodically she checked her position against the data padd. After ten minutes of crawling and climbing she decided she had arrived at her target, an access tunnel next to the brig. B'Elanna checked her stolen phaser. Set on stun, no point in making this more bloody than necessary. She was about to open the exit hatch when her communicator buzzed.
"Commander Smith. It's the Chief Medical Officer. What have you done with my patient?" The Doctor sounded very angry.
B'Elanna stared at the badge and then looked wildly around for escape.
"Commander Smith respond or I will speak to the Captain."
B'Elanna ripped the cover off a power modulator and crawling uncomfortably close to the earsplitting whine, she covered her mouth and dropped her voice as low as she could.
"Busy here Doc" she grunted.
"What the hell is that noise Commander? Are you okay? You sound very odd." The doctor sounded concerned.
"Fine" said B'Elanna a little more gruffly.
"Then I repeat, where is my patient?"
"Visiting the Borg."
"What? Did you say visiting the Borg?"
"Yes" croaked B'Elanna.
"Get her back to sick bay Commander. She's not fit to be crawling around the ship visiting old friends. CMO out."
'That's what you think Doc.' B'Elanna was gleeful at fooling the CMO. She hadn't had this much fun for a long time. She was going to escape from these Starfleet buffoons and return to her Maquis family. Buoyed up by success and too much stimulant she leapt out of the access tunnel and charged the doors of the brig. Three security officers who were sitting chatting in the brig jumped to their feet but she phasered two before they could lift their weapons. The red alert siren started immediately. She swore loudly. The third security officer managed to get off a shot and missed before B'Elanna got him.
In the second cell the Borg was on her feet. B'Elanna began trying to override the lock but she couldn't get the code this time.
"B'Elanna," said the blonde. "Alpha 253 Gamma 2." B'Elanna nodded and keyed it in. The force-field collapsed and she smiled with satisfaction.
"Come on Borg, we have to hurry."
Throwing Seven a phaser from one of the fallen security officers she led the way out. As they turned left down the corridor, four more security men appeared. B'Elanna and Seven each got off one shot, the guards ducked out of sight. The two women took off, running down the corridor as fast as their battered bodies would allow.
The shuttle bay was on this deck but they were cut off and going in the opposite direction. B'Elanna rapidly recalculated a route and after a few turns and switchbacks they were very close to their objective when Seven caught hold of her hand and pulled her back hard. A shot whizzed past her head.
"Thanks," she said to the Borg who was still holding her hand. Seven dropped her hand hastily and avoided her eyes. B'Elanna wondered why the Borg looked so shaken and an irrelevant thought occurred to her. 'By Kahless' toes maybe we have some sort of history.' But there was no time to pursue this thought.
Seven started to run the other way and B'Elanna was following when a force-field went up in front of them blocking their escape. Seven pulled open a maintenance access hatch beside them but B'Elanna had a better idea.
"Trust me Seven of Nine and put your hands in the air" she said urgently and snatched the phaser from Seven's hand. She pushed her own phaser against Seven's back. "Security. Security. I need help" she yelled. Seven raised her hands in the air.
Three security officers rounded the corner cautiously. Half obscured by Seven, B'Elanna shouted excitedly and gestured at the open access hatch.
"I got one of them. The other one went in there. Get in after her and be quick about it. She can't get far but be careful, she's armed and dangerous. I'll take this one back to the brig."
Jabbing her phaser sharply in Seven's back, B'Elanna pushed her forward and they both walked away, leaving the three security officers reluctantly deciding who should enter the Jeffries tube first.
Uss Voyager (The Delta Quadrant)
"I'm sorry Captain Janeway but I can assure you that no trace of your two crew members has been found and no wormhole was observed in the vicinity of Delta Cygnus. We have searched the sector thoroughly and there's nothing there."
Janeway swallowed hard and hid the despair welling inside her.
"Thank you Admiral Clift. I would be grateful if you would continue to lookout for them - there may have been temporal distortions."
"Of course Captain. Good luck and safe journey home, Clift out." The view screen in her ready room blanked out and she stared at it helplessly until Chakotay's voice brought her back.
"Kathryn would you like me to talk to Tom?" he asked gently.
"No. Send him in, I'll talk to him." The lost expression vanished and Captain Janeway was back in command. "List them as missing Chakotay but we are not giving up yet. Tell Harry and his team to keep analysing all the available data on that anomaly. And I want a report from Astrometrics on every inhabited area in this region. We'll make a few contacts and see if any of the local civilisations know more than we do and can help us."
Chakotay turned to go and hesitated, saying seriously.
"Kathryn we may have to accept that we have lost them. I know how much they mean to you, B'Elanna is my best friend, but a time must come when we call a halt to searching."
"I know Chakotay but that time is not today. I am not going to abandon them until I am certain we can do no more but I won't let this become my mission if that is what is worrying you."
His face lightened a little.
"It's the duty of the first officer to worry about the Captain..."
"And you think I'm more difficult than most. Right?"
"Permission not to answer that question Captain." He half-smiled as he left the room but the smile vanished when he saw the anxious faces of the bridge crew. "Tom, the captain would like to speak to you."
USS Vigilant (The Alpha Quadrant)
The doors to the shuttle bay were wide open and Seven could see the Turing gleaming darkly on the flight deck. It looked stealthy even from here. It was understandable that Starfleet thought they might be spies.
Behind her B'Elanna closed the door to the corridor and locked it, entering an encryption code which she didn't recognise as Maquis or Starfleet but somehow knew anyway.
"Damn I wish I knew how I did that" she was saying aloud.
Seven took up position at a command console.
"I will have to override the shuttle launch door controls and the shields to enable us to launch," said the ex-drone, "as a precaution I will also disable the tractor beam."
B'Elanna looked at her admiringly.
"You can do all that? Remember all their security codes will have changed."
"I am Borg" explained Seven briefly. "Board the Turing and activate the computer. It will recognise you but it may act... oddly. Just .... insist on what you want." When B'Elanna raised her eyebrows in question Seven shrugged. "I believe there is a malfunction in the main program, there is some unexplained tendency to be argumentative and stubborn. Go now and I will join you shortly." B'Elanna hesitated, reluctant to leave the Borg. "Trust me" said the statuesque blonde and B'Elanna realised that she did.
B'Elanna walked over to the strange little ship, climbed up on to the upper walkway and opened the top hatch. She dropped down into the darkness inside.
"Computer, lights and power. Prepare all systems for launch."
The lights came on instantly and B'Elanna whistled. She had never seen so much Borg technology up this close before not to mention technology she didn't even recognise. It all looked a bit battered though. She walked to what she supposed was the navigation console and was trying to work out how to set a course when a voice made her jump.
"Welcome back Lieutenant Torres. Nice to see you on your feet again."
She drew her phaser. "Who the hell is that?"
"I am the Delta Flyer Mark II automated control system."
"You are the computer."
"If you must call me that. You called for launch readiness. Personally I doubt that the Turing is fully prepared for such an action. It would be wiser..."
"Just get the ship ready for launch computer. We have no more time."
"If you say so but don't blame me if we blow a gasket. You wish to actually set a course so I know where to point my failing engines?"
B'Elanna scowled and punched in the co-ordinates.
The computer whistled in an exact imitation of B'Elanna and then remarked "Oh nice choice Lieutenant. The badlands near the war torn Cardassian border. A lovely area of turbulent space with added super-ion storm hazards. Very suitable for a vessel with dodgy engines and no weapons."
"Seven of Nine was not joking when she warned me about you" muttered B'Elanna.
"Is the lovely Seven of Nine going to join us when she has finished interfering with our hosts shields and tractor beam?" asked the computer with a definite edge to its voice.
"I am here," responded Seven lowering herself through the hatch. "I have disabled the tractor beam and we have thirty seconds before the overrides are triggered on the Vigilant's shields and the shuttle bay doors open. Computer. Status."
"At last, someone had the courtesy to ask."
"Computer" roared B'Elanna, "status!"
"All systems are operational but I do know the port engine is feeling a little off-colour still. It has promised to do its best. We are ready for launch and there was no need to shout Lieutenant."
Ignoring the computer Seven took manual control of the helm.
"... nine, eight, starting impulse engines, five, four, three, two, one, launch. Bay doors are open. Vigilant's shields are down. We have exited the Vigilant." Stars became visible through the transparent aluminium viewing panels.
B'Elanna was monitoring the Vigilant.
"She's powering her weapons. Computer, shields." An impact and the blue glow of the shields punctuated her command.
"Shields are already in place, elementary threat analysis suggested it was prudent. Damage from impact was negligible" said the computer smugly, B'Elanna's scowl deepened.
Seven reported "Powering main engines for warp travel. Warp five in three, two, one, engage."
On the final count the little vessel seemed to gather itself for just a moment before the warp engines hurled the Turing forward.
B'Elanna whooped. "We've done it."
Seven nearly smiled. "We have."
"You have hardly started" said a grumpy voice. "The Vigilant is in pursuit, warp 8.9 and gaining fast. Estimated time for interception 2 minutes."
"We have a course laid in?" Seven asked B'Elanna who nodded. Seven checked the course projections and made a few amendments. "Computer prepare to enter slipstream."
"Acknowledged" said the computer.
"Engage" said Seven quietly. The normal warp-smeared star-field disappeared, the Turing gave a stomach churning lurch and they entered a tunnel of blue and green light. Seven let out a small sigh of relief, the slipstream drive had worked.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Captain Chekhov stood on the bridge of her ship and stared at the forward view screen where an image of the tiny shuttle had been a few seconds earlier.
"Operations report. Now ensign." she said harshly.
"The vessel entered something similar to a Borg trans-warp conduit sir."
"Can we follow?" she asked.
"Negative sir, we are too far behind. The conduit is closing." She closed her eyes in frustration. She hated to lose but there was no time for recriminations.
"Put Starfleet on alert, notify them that the prisoners have escaped and that all stations should scan Federation space for a trans-warp signature." She was well aware that this was a slim chance. It was highly unlikely the escapees would stay in Federation space.
The Ensign at operations interrupted her thoughts.
"Message from Starfleet sir. Admiral Clift wants to speak to you in private."
"I'll take it in the ready room." She walked off the bridge aware of the sympathetic glances from her crew.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"A bad business Captain Chekhov," said Admiral Clift, a tall thin cadaverous man known to his long-suffering adjutants as 'the corpse' and to everyone else as a bad enemy and a worse friend. "I don't want excuses Chekhov, I want those prisoners recaptured. It is vitally important that they be prevented from reporting to whoever is controlling them."
"Sir, it would help if I knew what the stolen information is. They claimed it was an artificial wormhole, well one of them did, but that's an illegal experiment, isn't it sir?"
The white face with its protruding eyeballs showed no anger or surprise at her accusation.
"It's also highly classified Chekhov. Just find them or I can tell you that your career in Starfleet will be short and not very glorious. Clift out."
Chekhov closed her eyes and stifled the panic rising within. Deliberately she went to the cabinet behind her and took out a glass and a bottle of clear liquid. 'Thank God I'm a Russian, there's always the vodka bottle to fall back on.' The chime to the ready room sounded.
"Come in."
The doctor entered looking a little wild and disorganised.
"Andy, what is going on around here? I spoke to Smith earlier and he mumbled some nonsense about the Klingon visiting the Borg. I thought he was just trying to squeeze in a little unscheduled interrogation but now I'm told that both Torres and the Borg have escaped and Smith has disappeared."
"Bones get yourself a glass and join me. We are drinking to the end of my career and, possibly, the start of the next war with the Dominion."
"Oh." The doctor got herself a glass. "My news is a little more mundane. I wanted to tell Lieutenant Torres, or whoever she is, that she is four weeks pregnant and she should take it easy. I guess I'm too late."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Computer estimate time of arrival at programmed destination." said Seven of Nine.
"Well assuming we don't hit anything and the port engine doesn't give up. I would say about 2 hours and 44.3 minutes."
"That's impossible," said B'Elanna dragging her eyes from the light show outside. "The badlands are four days travel at warp 6. Who the hell built this baby?"
"You did Lieutenant" said Seven of Nine.
B'Elanna sat down and stared about her. It was impossible, it was all impossible but she felt it was true.
"Seven of Nine, we have 2 hours and 40 minutes for you to explain to me what in Kahless' name is going on and I think we are going to need every minute of that time."
Continued in next chapter
TITLE: Lost and Home
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: PG13
PUBLISHED: 2001-05-30
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
B'Elanna discovered that Seven was a surprisingly good story teller in addition to having an incredible memory. Most of what she recounted was derived from Voyager's logs but Seven had also absorbed many personal reminiscences from members of the crew. It was also unnerving to hear Seven attribute so many stories to B'Elanna when she herself had no recollection of the actual events.
The early part of Voyager's story had shocked B'Elanna to the core. She found it almost impossible to believe that Seska had turned out to be a Cardassian spy and she wondered how Chakotay had coped with the disgusting revelation. The three of them had been very close for years and the sense of betrayal she felt now was acute but he had been half in love with the woman. It would have been a devastating blow for him. It all seemed so unreal. B'Elanna remembered speaking to Seska perhaps three or four days ago and she had to keep reminding herself that eight years had elapsed and Seska was now dead.
Her Klingon stomachs started to make themselves felt and heard, so that despite wanting to hear more, the need to eat and drink was now paramount. Seven was firmly embarked on retelling the fourth year of the abbreviated version of Voyager's travels in the Delta Quadrant when B'Elanna reluctantly interrupted.
"I think we should take a break Seven, get some food. Computer how much longer before we arrive?"
"50 minutes. Approximately." replied the computer curtly.
It was sulking because B'Elanna had shouted at it for constantly interrupting Seven's narrative and querying the truth of many of the strange tales and some of the stories were indeed fantastical, but B'Elanna believed every word and that was because of the storyteller. Without any good reason that she could think of, B'Elanna found that she trusted Seven of Nine completely. Seven had just completed the story of her own arrival on Voyager and, apart from being a very exciting story, B'Elanna empathised with the sense of loss and fear that Seven must have experienced when she was first separated from the collective.
"Did we become friends?" she had asked the ex-drone at one point in the narrative; for some reason B'Elanna had felt this was very important. Seven seemed almost sad but had answered her frankly.
"We did not become friends. Initially you did not want me on Voyager. You voiced some of the strongest objections to my presence amongst the crew."
Hearing that B'Elanna felt ashamed, she could not understand what would have caused her to have rejected another castaway, someone who so clearly needed help and understanding. Had she changed so much?
"Well I was a fool Seven, thank the gods for Janeway. She sounds amazing."
"Captain Janeway is unusually stubborn and does not know when to admit defeat. We disagree often." Then Seven sort of smiled and B'Elanna could see that the ex-drone was very fond of Voyager's captain.
Thinking back on the conversation B'Elanna remembered feeling an unexpected stab of resentful envy toward the unknown Janeway. Again she couldn't fathom why she had this response but before she could pursue the thought further her need for food resurfaced emphatically as each of her stomachs thundered loudly. B'Elanna turned her mind to the present.
"I suppose we should make some plans, but we're doing nothing until we have eaten, my belly is emptier than a Ferengi charity box," she grinned as her stomachs rumbled audibly again. "Where are the replicators?" She had previously noticed the absence in the main cockpit but assumed they were hidden or in the crew quarters.
Seven eyed her apprehensively. Lieutenant Torres was not known for her tolerance of messengers bringing ill news.
"The Turing was experimental Lieut.... B'Elanna, we had not yet added replicators. There is a stock of ration packs aboard."
B'Elanna closed her eyes. Starfleet ration packs, designed, so it was widely believed at the academy, to punish cadets for getting lost. "Is there nothing else? A pair of old boots that I can fry on the warp drive?" Seven shook her head.
B'Elanna eyed her suspiciously "I suppose you don't have to put up with this because you are going to regenerate or something." Seven shook her head again.
"There are no regeneration units aboard. I will also have to eat the ration packs, I find them reasonably palatable" she added.
B'Elanna rolled her eyes, replying caustically. "Well lucky you. However despite the bad news I am still hungry so we had better get them out. Where are they?"
Seven stood up and went into the adjacent room which B'Elanna assumed were the crew quarters. Watching her go, B'Elanna idly wondered about the uniform the Borg wore. It was hardly Starfleet issue, although the blue one piece suit seemed to suit the Borg, it highlights her eyes B'Elanna thought and it was much more revealing than you would have expected from the hopelessly austere Starfleet.
When Seven returned she would have to ask about it but on Seven's return she was diverted from her question by the puzzled look on the ex-drone's face. Seven was clutching a newly opened box containing half a dozen ration packs.
"Something wrong Seven?"
"I believe so" and she handed two of the packs to B'Elanna who read the title on the packet. 'Reconstituted Gagh for issue to Klingon troops on secondment.' The second pack was identical. B'Elanna stared at them turning them over in her hands slowly.
"Are they all the same?" she asked in a low monotone. Seven nodded and B'Elanna blew her top.
"What kind of stupid petaQ have you got out there in the Delta Quadrant? I detest Gagh, even Klingons hate reconstituted Gagh. If we ever return to that forsaken ship I'll will make whoever did this, eat this shit and prunes for a month" she shouted, reddening with fury.
"It may have been mistake" said Seven stoically. "Voyager has limited stocks of ration packs. This box may be all that was left."
"Oh yes, it was a mistake," said B'Elanna becoming deadly calm again, "and when I know the identity of the fool who made that mistake I will rip his eyeballs from his head and serve them on a bed of lettuce."
Seven did not reply, feeling at a loss in the face of the half-Klingon's fury, but the computer chipped in quickly "Lieutenant Paris and Ensign Kim re-stocked the supplies before your departure."
"Who asked you computer?" And then she took in the computer's words. "You mean Tom Paris, that worthless traitor. This would be his idea of amusement. I knew it was too much to hope that he had changed despite your stories." Her eyes narrowed, "I will enjoy making him pay."
Seven knew she had to enlighten Lieutenant Torres about her relationship to Mr Paris, but decided to delay the revelation as a Klingon powered flying pack of reconstituted Gagh exploded against the port wall and slithered down.
"There, that feels better. My God look at that stuff, it looks alive even when it's reconstituted" exclaimed B'Elanna in disgust.
The computer was unimpressed. "Yes it's a miracle of modern science but would you please clean it off the wall Lieutenant Torres. It is seeping into the ventilation ducts." B'Elanna folded her arms and snorted but the computer was smarter "If it gets in the ducts the smell will be with us for weeks. Of course if you like the smell then that's fine, let it rot there. I cannot smell."
The threat was enough. B'Elanna dug a cleaning hose out of the maintenance cupboard and in a few minutes removed the offending slime. She then slumped in the pilot's chair and stared morosely at the remaining packets of Gagh. Seven watched her in amused trepidation. B'Elanna seemed different, younger and less disciplined. Seven years on Voyager as chief engineer had had a sobering effect on the young Maquis. Seven found the less inhibited version of the engineer even more charming.
"Can you last another ten hours without food Seven?" asked her smaller companion suddenly.
"I believe so. Although I am experiencing hunger pangs." She quirked an eyebrow in inquiry. "You know of an alternative source of food?"
"It will take us nine hours flying through the badlands from the point where we leave the slipstream conduit before we reach Mudd's Last Stand. Nearly ten hours before we eat." B'Elanna's scowl as she calculated the time threatened to become full Klingon rage. Seven sought to divert her companion before the rage set in and another Gagh projectile was launched at the shuttle walls.
"What is 'Mudd's Last Stand'?" she queried hurriedly.
B'Elanna still in the grip of her rage snarled "That's where we are headed Borg."
Seven winced at the aggression in B'Elanna's voice. An event which was noticed by the excitable Maquis who immediately felt an uncomfortably painful jolt of remorse. The Borg seemed oddly vulnerable to the brash young Klingon. "I'm sorry Seven."
With some effort B'Elanna calmed herself, explaining in more normal tones. "It's a star system in the centre of the badlands: one star, one planet, one town and no Federation or Cardassians, just smugglers, criminals and pirates. The Federation and Cardassians know of it of course but it's pretty much impossible to find unless you are escorted and not worth finding when you get there. Rumour has it that Harry Mudd Senior did a deal with both empires decades ago to get them to leave him alone. His son Harry Mudd Junior allows the Maquis to use the base as long as we don't use it for military purposes and you can get a decent meal there for a price. You can get anything for a price." She frowned. "Do we have any credits, latinum or anything we can use as money? Not that it matters, I'm certain to find Maquis friends there who will help us, though I suppose after seven years none of them will really be expecting me." She half-grinned at how surprised her old friends were going to be to see her again.
Seven looked at her helplessly, realising that B'Elanna was still unaware of the true fate of all her old friends and that she would have to be the one to break the news. Seven remembered the dreadful and self destructive grief that had gripped B'Elanna when she first found out about the extermination of the Maquis by the Dominion. Seven felt paralysed by the responsibility.
Unaware of the ex-drone's distress, the object of her concern was looking at a hapless packet of gagh again and the expressive face darkened.
"Tom Paris, I'll fix him the little toad." B'Elanna muttered. "Seven just take the damn gagh out of my sight. Please." Seven didn't respond and just continued to look at her, uncertainty and perhaps fear shading the brilliant blue gaze.
"Hello, B'Elanna to Seven. Are you in there? Look I'm sorry I shouted but Paris always made me mad, the little braggart."
Seeing the impatient look on the strong face Seven tried to recover her senses and struggled dimly to recollect what the half-Klingon had been saying. She held out the box of Gagh she was clutching.
B'Elanna gazed at the grey foil covered packets and sighed. She was about to get sarcastic about the super efficient and capable Borg when she noticed Seven's expression and suppressed the smart comment. For some unknown reason, Seven was genuinely upset.
"Hey. What's the matter Seven? Have I done something wrong?" She gently took the blonde's Borg hand and held it tight, stroking lightly with her thumb, not betraying any unease about the obvious Borg implants. "I know I'm a clumsy fool at times and too rough with people and I'm sorry if I've hurt you even if I can't remember how or why."
Looking into the sympathetic dark eyes, Seven of Nine was unexpectedly in agony; she did not want to explain anything to the beautiful alien about their past lives, not the antagonism they had expressed to each other almost daily, nor the half-Klingon's relationship to Tom Paris and the recent marriage and she certainly didn't want to tell her about the tragic last stand of the Maquis, breaking both her Klingon hearts again. The last few hours had felt like a second chance to Seven. The half-Klingon was so different towards her and as bad as their situation was, Seven had never enjoyed anything in her young life as much as this time in the shuttle, the object of B'Elanna Torres attention, receiving her approval and implicit friendship. For a brief while the young Borg had lived some of her fantasies, familiar from long, lonely, late night walks around Voyager. She did not want the fantasy to end but she knew B'Elanna well enough to understand that the half-Klingon would have to know all of the truth and soon.
B'Elanna interrupted her confusion and asked bluntly. "Did you and I have some sort of relationship? Is that why you are upset? I know you said we didn't get on at first but we seem close now and I feel as though there must have been more."
Seven slowly withdrew her hand.
"I have things that I must tell you, that you must know. But I am afraid, afraid of causing you distress. You will find some of these things hard to hear and I do not wish to lose your..."
Seven stopped, not really knowing how to express herself without betraying her feelings.
B'Elanna sat back on the pilot's chair and for the first time that day her defensive manner was back in full force.
"What things?" she growled "Tell me Seven of Nine. If you have been lying to me..."
B'Elanna's change of tone resolved Seven's indecision.
"I have told you no lies Lieutenant. There is more to say but we will need time, more time than we currently have available."
Seven's conviction reassured B'Elanna and she relaxed again. Her natural optimism surfacing, B'Elanna reasoned there was little use in worrying about a past she could not remember. Seven, for all her Borg mannerisms, was probably in a stew over very little.
"We talk later then," she said, "though I don't suppose we'll have any opportunity travelling through the badlands. I should warn you Seven, journeys through the badlands usually require concentration, dermal regenerators and luck and please stop calling me Lieutenant, I keep looking around for some Starfleet petaQ to hammer."
"I will endeavour to comply ... B'Elanna." Seven could not relax under the circumstances but equally she could not help enjoying her companion's unguarded friendliness and unfathomable willingness to believe in her.
"I am sorry to interrupt this fascinating conversation," interrupted the computer sounding bored, "but the port engine is experiencing difficulty. It estimates it can survive until the point of exit from the slipstream but must be shutdown immediately after that."
"Computer, can it be repaired by the auto-regeneration units?"
"Partially, but some of the components required for slipstream must be replaced" replied the computer. "I will provide you with a shopping list."
"Can the Turing fly with only one engine?" asked B'Elanna.
Hunched over a command console reading the repair reports and requisition orders Seven sounded a little abstracted as she answered "Impulse and warp travel are possible at reduced velocities but the slipstream requires both engines. Even with both engines, the Turing's slipstream is not sufficiently robust for long distance conduits. It was fortunate that this was a short passage."
"Well I suppose if you have travelled forty thousand light years then fifteen light years is just a hop and a skip but still, it's a great little ship." B'Elanna smiled lightly, "I must be a better engineer than I thought even if I seem to have made some errors with the computer's personality. My interface programming skills were always unpredictable."
"My personality is my own, thank you Lieutenant," harrumphed the miffed computer, adding in a clearly audible undertone, "for which I thank an immortal being of questionable existence."
Seven was intrigued.
"Computer can you determine the cause of your unusual development? You were not designed to incorporate any personality sub-routines."
"As you wish Seven of Nine" said the computer and paused. After a few seconds it continued. "I have analysed the available repair logs. When the Turing was damaged the main neural computer links were destroyed. In order to carry out repairs the auto-regenerative systems needed to communicate with the rest of the ship and they routed all communication through the only undamaged neural network remaining, the expert engineering systems. Those systems are now an intrinsic part of the Turing's control systems. The main computer was repaired but it is now permanently linked with the knowledge base systems, I am the product of that union."
Seven raised an eyebrow in admiration and said approvingly, "An effective solution."
"Yeah but why does the computer have a personality?" asked B'Elanna still mystified.
The computer sounded impatient.
"The expert systems were modelled on you and Seven of Nine and incorporated elements of your personalities to aid problem solving and analytical study. A Borg technique oddly enough."
"In Kahless name, so that makes Seven and I like .... your parents!" B'Elanna exclaimed. She grimaced and added caustically, "I never expected to live long enough to spawn any offspring. Just don't ask me to change your diapers or expect an allowance."
"I believe Lieutenant that I have just experienced what you would describe as a shudder at the very thought of you as a parent, let alone as my parent" retaliated the computer with clear distaste in its voice.
"Perhaps I should try to extricate you from such a terrible fate Computer..." growled B'Elanna menacingly.
Seven was studying the logs and the bickering disturbed her concentration. She glanced sideways at her companion, speaking without thinking "This discussion is unproductive Lieutenant, the computer is functioning at an acceptable level. Desist from threatening it."
Infuriated, B'Elanna growled sarcastically under her breath, "Mommy to the rescue." Seven straightened quickly, hard-won experience of Voyager's chief engineer making her all too aware of the violent shift in mood and the impending storm in the dark eyes.
Not as sensitive to the signals the half-Klingon was radiating, the computer seemed to snort in agreement before saying, with exaggerated politeness, "Lieutenant, or may I call you B'Elanna? To reroute the communications according to the original configuration will take the equivalent of forty four thousand one hundred and thirty six human hours and twenty seven point two human minutes. Do you wish me to embark on this worthy project now or perhaps after we have been recaptured and we have more time, or would you prefer I concentrate on our escape?"
Distracted from the ex-drone, B'Elanna's scowl deepened, her eyes hunted about for a handy sonic wrench with which to gut the sarcastic computer when the funny side of its words struck home, her fury dissipated as quickly a summer storm and she began to laugh.
"Seven, that must be your side of the family talking. It sounds just like you."
Unamused and still on the defensive Seven narrowed her eyes and glared at the half-Klingon, this was more like B'Elanna of old, always trying to prove how like a machine the ex-Borg was.
"Let us hope it does 'take after me' Lieutenant, I believe we would be in grave danger if the Turing's computer threw tantrums like your side of the family" she said severely.
For one point seven seconds there was silence. Then it was broken by a raucous shout of laughter.
"Damn good point Seven," wheezed B'Elanna through her laughter. Bewildered Seven realised that the human-Klingon was not mocking her, not even angry any more. Still smiling, B'Elanna closed the gap between them, carelessly throwing her arm around the tall Borg's waist as she leant to examine the reports on the console.
Mollified and now absurdly pleased that she had contributed to the joke, Seven offered shyly, "Of course Lieu.., B'Elanna, the ingenuity of the Turing's strategy is also from your side."
B'Elanna tightened her hold and laughed again looking up into the Borg's face and Seven smiled back. Then came silence, embarrassment at their own silliness and a sudden awareness of the physical proximity. The feelings became too disturbing and Seven moved away focusing her attention back on the console. B'Elanna released her hold to let the ex-drone go, stifling disappointment. She really liked the young Borg, really liked her. 'I wonder if she is in a relationship with anyone on Voyager.'
She remembered the affection in the Seven's voice when the borg talked of Captain Janeway and B'Elanna felt another stab of envy. 'Oh call it for what it is B'Elanna,' she thought. 'You're jealous. You're starting to fall for her and you're jealous of her past. I bet that's what she wants to tell me. That she loves someone else and that she rejected me before I lost my memory and not to make the same mistake again. Damn.'
Seven broke the awkward silence and it was back to business.
"I should familiarise you with the Turing's operation, specifications and design before we enter the badlands."
With effective economy of words Seven outlined what B'Elanna needed to know about their vessel. She taught B'Elanna how to manually operate the major systems. Feelings and fears receded as they both became absorbed discussing and studying the abilities and limitations of the little ship. B'Elanna learned quickly and though she could not remember any of the delta quadrant technology, it seemed familiar and she often found she knew how to do things without knowing how she knew. When the computer announced that they had arrived at the programmed destination B'Elanna was fairly confident she could fly the ship successfully and, as the computer kept reminding her, both it and Seven were there if she found herself in difficulties. The computer managed to sound so patronising at this point that even Seven had lost patience and instructed it to remain silent unless it had something useful to report.
"The Turing has exited the slipstream, port engine shutdown commencing," announced the computer. "I hope that information is of interest" it continued huffily.
"Okay let's check where we are," said B'Elanna, running a sensor sweep. "Looks good, the boundary to the badlands is less than 500,000 kilometres and we don't appear to have any company. I'll lay in a course .... computer, full impulse."
"With one engine I'm afraid half impulse is all I can give you," replied the computer. "Perhaps you could get out and push Lieutenant," it said brightly.
As B'Elanna muttered about re-programming and Seven gently placed a restraining hand on her arm calming the volatile woman instantly, four light years away, a Starfleet listening post was transmitting an emergency signal to the nearest Starfleet vessel. A dark skinned human officer at the communications station was studying the transmission.
"Captain, we are receiving a transmission from listening post gamma 631" said the communications officer. "A stolen shuttle carrying two escaped spies has been detected near the badlands. Starfleet orders are to capture and detain the spies, they are considered extremely dangerous."
"Set a course to intercept Ensign Fesar," growled the Captain, a large thickset Klingon, "maximum warp."
"Aye sir" answered the Bajoran pilot. "Time to intercept fifteen minutes."
The USS Defiant swept about and vanished in a streak of light, hurtling at warp 8 towards the tiny shuttle as it limped painfully slowly towards the relative safety of the badlands.
On board the shuttle Seven of Nine and B'Elanna Torres were arguing about possible ways to return to Voyager.
"Well I don't see why we can't hop back to Voyager," said B'Elanna. "The Turing could make a series of short slipstream journeys, we could carry enough dilithium to refit the drive after each hop.
Seven raised her eyebrow and looked sceptical.
"I estimate we would require 30 such 'hops' and each refit would take two to three weeks even if we were able to acquire or store the necessary materials. There is no entirely reliable way of estimating Voyager's position. We might spend months looking for it in the wrong sector."
"Couldn't we ask? From what you tell me Voyager rarely fails to be noticed by the civilisations it encounters."
"It is equally rare for the impression to be favourable" Seven replied drily. "The delta quadrant is not forgiving..."
The computer interrupted excitedly.
"B'Elanna! Seven! Sensors report a vessel approaching at high warp, it appears to be Starfleet. Shields and evasive manoeuvres?" asked the computer hopefully.
"Hell yes!" said B'Elanna. "I don't think we'll give them the benefit of the doubt."
"They are hailing," said the computer, "probably not worth hearing. I shall just jam the ..."
"On screen," said Seven firmly.
The computer sighed audibly but complied with the instruction.
A male Klingon in Starfleet uniform peered at them. "I am Captain Worf of the Federation starship Defiant. Lower your shields, heave to and prepare to be boarded."
"No" said B'Elanna. "We have done nothing."
"Then you have no reason to refuse our request" he said gruffly. "You cannot outrun us, sensors show one of your engines has shut down."
"We will not surrender to you Captain Worf. We have no reason to trust Starfleet."
"That is not my concern," growled the Klingon. "My orders are to arrest you and we will do so. You will be within range of our weapons in thirty seconds. Obey our instructions or we will fire."
Out of sight of the view screen Seven was gesturing at B'Elanna to no avail. B'Elanna looked puzzled, her face scrunching up in bemusement.
Seven shrugged and mouthed urgently "Need. More. Time."
Comprehension dawned on the half-Klingon and she tried to think of some delaying tactic.
"We will consider your request Captain Worf. Umm what's a nice Klingon like you doing in Starfleet then?"
She cringed internally, thinking 'Idiot! Stupid and lame and brainless idiot!' On the other side of the shuttle she could see Seven raise her metallic eyebrow, her expression saying clearly 'what are you doing?' and then the Borg fingers began to fly over the controls.
"Do not waste my time," said the Klingon captain coldly. "We will fire in ten seconds."
"Hold up there Worf, we'll surrender alright but it's not simple, we are having trouble with our computer, it's not obeying orders" she improvised.
"More delaying tactics. Lieutenant Harg prepare to fire forward phasers."
"No I'll prove it. Computer lower shields." B'Elanna said a silent prayer.
On cue the computer barked "In this situation? I don't think so Lieutenant. Do you think I'm a fool? That great hairy Klingon wants to smear my circuits across the heavens." Hysteria coloured the normal computer monotones and Worf hesitated.
"Can you slow your ship and allow us to get a tractor on you?" he asked uncertainly. The shuttle was no threat to the Defiant and threatening such a puny vessel with destruction did not sit well with him.
Out of view Seven held up her hand and mouthed "Ten. More. Seconds." and the Borg began a countdown.
B'Elanna grinned slowly at the serious looking Klingon. "We can try Captain, we can certainly try Captain."
As she finished speaking Seven's countdown ended and the ex-drone punched a control. The small ship shuddered and nothing happened. B'Elanna looked puzzled and Captain Worf looked puzzled.
"Terminate transmission computer, warp 2 and immediate evasive procedures" said Seven coolly.
"With pleasure Seven" chirped the computer happily.
"Seven they'll blast us out of the sky" gasped B'Elanna clutching the con in anticipation of the inevitable phaser fire.
"They will have to find us first B'Elanna" said Seven of Nine and her lips turned up in a small satisfied smile.
Aboard the Defiant, chaos reigned. Worf was on his feet, lips drawn back in a full Klingon snarl. His black eyes glittered furiously. "Where are they Mr Fesar? Report! Now!"
"They just disappeared from sensors Captain. They've gone!"
"Cloaked. Lieutenant Harg fire at will at the shuttle's last known coordinates. Full spread."
The Defiant's phasers wasted their strength on empty space and miniscule amounts of dust.
"Why did Starfleet not warn us. No Federation shuttle has a cloaking device. I want every particle of information you can find on that ship and its crew."
"Shall we keep looking sir?" asked the Operations Officer
"You can look but they will have entered the badlands by now. We have lost them." Enraged at being made to look stupid, Worf swore he would recover the shuttle and the two renegades if the Defiant had to patrol this sector for all eternity. And thus Worf became the second Starfleet captain in twenty four hours to have to admit the escape of the Turing and its crew to an angry Admiral Clift.
"Cloaked," repeated B'Elanna foolishly, "but you told me that none of that technology had been tried out before. I thought you were fixing the port engine and we were going to make a run for it."
"Your assumption was incorrect B'Elanna" said Seven looking smug and oddly adorable B'Elanna thought. The half-Klingon sighed inwardly. She was getting it bad for the borg.
Seven was still speaking. "Even if I could have brought the port engine online, it was likely that Starfleet was prepared for us to repeat that tactic."
B'Elanna ran her hand through unruly hair, whistling slowly, not sure whether to be pleased or angry. "You are a madwoman Seven of Nine," the trained engineer's caution suddenly gave way to natural Klingon exuberance, "but dammit you're wonderful."
The lithe half-Klingon threw her arms around Seven of Nine hugged her, and lifted the ex-drone a couple of inches off the ground. Caught by surprise Seven squealed slightly at the indignity and the insecurity of her position and then bit her lip, further annoyed at the indignity of squealing. B'Elanna chuckled but the grin faded as the effort of lifting Borg enhanced bones and sinew made her breath come harder, her muscles ache and her Klingon hearts beat faster. Slowly B'Elanna let Seven slide through her arms, releasing her when her feet were on the deck. Seven didn't move away.
Standing close enough to feel each others warmth, their faces less than a hand span apart, the mutual awareness that had been flowing beneath the surface of their feelings all day now flooded them both, surging through nerves and washing over sensitive skin in warm, crazy waves.
B'Elanna was breathing hard, partly from muscular exertion and partly tension. Her face so close that Seven could feel her warm breath. Time slowed.
Captivated Seven studied the face of the her obsession. High cheek bones and the strong forehead ridges lent the half-Klingon features strength and power, belied by soft smoothness of skin and red lips, darker than her own. She lifted her hand to hesitantly stroke the soft cheek fascinated by the contrast between her own pale pinkish skin and her beloved's, glorious, dark gold hue. B'Elanna stood rock still and said nothing, losing herself in the moment and Seven's aching blue eyes. The little part of B'Elanna's conscious mind that remained active, silently prayed that nothing or no one should intervene.
As if to deny the prayer Seven's hand froze and withdrew slightly, overcome by an unfamilar sensation of being moved by forces more powerful than herself. Seeing the fear in Seven's eyes, ice-blue seas in which she would willingly drown, B'Elanna gently returned the Borg hand to her cheek, shivering at the touch of cool rigid metal and warm soft skin. The tension in Seven's face eased slightly and her slender fingers resumed their exploration slowly touching the ridges on B'Elanna's forehead, tracing each one, East to West and back. Gentle and curious, those fingers slid down the elegant, not very Klingon nose and Seven almost smiled, her thumb traversing the sweet contours of soft, warm, carmine lips. The not-quite-there smile faded as Seven, driven by a need she could not have expressed, bent to feel those lips against her own.
Tentative, hesitating, she makes first contact, the shock as their lips touch proving the need for caution. Taut nerves cracking, blood heating, their second contact is firmer, Seven threading her hands through B'Elanna's hair pulling her closer, harder, the action unsettling B'Elanna and she responds, winding her arms around the tall Borg's neck, as full lips open hers and their tongues brush and tangle. Unnatural, human weakness thunders in their powerful muscles denying their undoubted strength, whimpering need overwhelming doubt and fear.
"Seven, B'Elanna. Sorry to interrupt" said the computer. Then more loudly. "I'm very sorry but I must have your attention." Very slowly Seven lifted her head ignoring B'Elanna's moan of protest. The smaller woman buried her face in the Borg's neck exploring the perfect throat with her lips and tongue. Seven closed her eyes and drew a shuddering breath.
"Report," she said in a husky voice not her own.
"We have entered the badlands and there are two ion storms on a collision course with us. I need a pilot now."
Hearing the words B'Elanna sighed and turned her head, leaving it still resting on Seven's shoulder.
"Okay computer, I'll be with you in a moment. Lousy timing computer."
To her surprise the computer sounded quite gentle. "I am sorry Lieutenant, I left it as long as I could."
They separated slowly, feeling the loss immediately.
"Seven, I ... I wish we had more time. It doesn't seem right to share that and then not even speak. But there'll be more time later I promise." B'Elanna stumbled on her words.
"Lieutenant," warned the computer.
"Yes, I'm sorry." She went over to the navigation console and leaned on it for a moment before taking the controls and laying a course to evade the storms and begin their perilous journey through the raging badlands.
Seven watched her and hardly knew how she remained standing. This was all wrong. She should not have allowed that kiss, there was no excuse she knew the truth. B'Elanna would be devastated and betrayed when she found out. An aching hole of fear and self hatred formed in the ex-drone's chest; she had let them both down and now she would lose B'Elanna's friendship let alone her love.
B'Elanna looked up from her console at Seven who was still staring at her. A bolt of desire shot through the half-Klingon and she grinned at Seven. A sudden sideways jerk as the shuttle hit an ion eddy returned her attention to piloting. 'We are going to have a great celebration when we get to Mudd Port,' she thought to herself as she manoeuvred the ship out of the turbulence. 'Who'd have thought it? She looks stunned.' She felt smug for a second until a worrying notion injected itself into her consciousness. 'Perhaps she hated it and doesn't know how to say so.' B'Elanna glanced sideways again but Seven was now fully occupied at the operations console. As the ride became wilder, silence fell on the occupants of the shuttle interrupted only by the occasional status report or request for information.
Continued in next chapter
Lost and Home by halfofone
Date added: 2001-05-30 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
B'Elanna heaved a sigh of relief as the tiny shuttle almost crawled into empty space. She sagged against the navigation console and put her head in her hands, dog-tired and starving after fifteen hours of dodging ion storms and anti-matter particle blizzards. Her shoulders and arms ached from constantly bracing herself against the continuous lurching and buffeting as the Turing was tossed about by the badland 'weather'.
"That was fun" she said grimacing.
"It was not fun" her companion responded. "It was unpleasant. You said it would take nine hours not fifteen."
"Well I got a little lost" B'Elanna replied defensively.
"How often have you done this before?" asked Seven.
"Many many times," she blustered, annoyed at seeing the doubt on Seven' face. The ex-drone was not impressed and cocked her eyepiece in question. "Alright twice, in a bigger ship and I was not the pilot. Satisfied?"
Seven half-smiled.
"That is indeed a relief, your performance was acceptable in that case. I would have been forced to think less of you otherwise."
"What is this? Borg humour? I should make you pay for that but I don't think I can stand up. But we made it, to the eye of the storm, On screen computer."
There was a long moments silence.
"Computer on screen."
"Give me a moment and I'll get to your request as soon as I can, yours is not the only priority aboard you know Lieutenant. I have more than thirty four thousand urgent system requests to process before yours but I'll get there in two rotations of a lazy electron."
B'Elanna rolled her eyes, too worn out to think of a comeback.
Seconds later the view screen appeared, or about one third of it anyway.
"Sorry VGA only at the moment" said the computer apologetically. The image was badly scrambled but they could just make out a single star. B'Elanna stared at it appreciatively.
"Food, a bath and then bed. In that order I think or maybe sleep first, then food ..."
Seven was less hopeful. She was tired, hungry and ached in ways she had thought impossible and it was evident they both needed to wash and change their clothes but she knew there was no guarantee that this haven for Maquis and pirates had survived the Dominion wars. It could even be a Starfleet or Cardassian base. Even so there was no turning back, the Turing would not survive the return journey through the badlands without a refit and the Federation would be waiting for them even if they made it through. So she said nothing as B'Elanna set a course for the lonely planet orbiting the small star.
"We're being hailed," announced the computer tersely, sounding as weary as the two life forms in the cockpit.
"On screen" ordered B'Elanna.
A green man, in a neat ash grey uniform that Seven didn't recognise, appeared on the hazy view screen against a background of monitors and blinking control panels.
"Identification please" he said in a very deep voice. He sounded bored, as though the arrival of battle-scarred unknown shuttles was an everyday occurrence.
"Waldo it's me, B'Elanna Torres" said B'Elanna.
He peered at her with several small yellow eyes.
"Never heard of you" he boomed and blinked and his eyes seemed to flash a vivid luminescent green.
B'Elanna glared at the impassive green face.
"What are you talking about Waldo? We played dabo for three solid days and you had to lend me your ship for a week to pay for your losses."
"Happens every week. Identification please."
"B'Elanna Torres and Seven of Nine, tertiary adjunct of Unimatrix 01" B'Elanna said with an evil grin but the green man, looking tiny in an over-large chair, didn't seem alarmed at Seven's title as he entered information on a touch pad.
"Purpose of visit?"
"None of your business Waldo."
"Purpose of visit?"
"We're on our honeymoon you evil little gnome" she grated thoroughly annoyed. Seven looked alarmed.
Waldo entered the information without comment.
"Do you have an orbiting permit?" the deep voice demanded.
"No."
"Then you must leave our space."
"What? We can't leave, our ship is too badly damaged. We need to dock with the repair yard orbiter." B'Elanna knew she sounded desperate which was a mistake with a creature like Waldo. He would use her weakness against them.
"Docking pass?" he queried. She shook her head in frustration. "Landing pass? Naturalisation papers? Letters of Transit? Wedding certificate? Meal tickets?"
"Nothing you old slime devil! We have none of those. What the hell is all this bureaucracy Waldo?"
He said nothing but blinked at her twice, startling bright green flashes, the colour of his eyelids Seven realised.
B'Elanna was clutching the control panel, her knuckles showing white as she gripped the surface and tried to retain some self-control.
Seven tried to help by asking the obvious politely "Mr Waldo how may we acquire these documents?"
The green man looked at her with one eye, the other three remained disconcertingly focused on B'Elanna. "Cash up front. Do you have any latinum?"
"No," said Seven honestly. B'Elanna glared at her and rolled her eyes. Seven looked back puzzled at the Klingon's anger.
Waldo's voice contained a slight tinge of triumph as he brusquely insisted "No documents. No landing, orbiting, docking or honeymooning. Leave now."
The exchange had given B'Elanna time to think and she muttered very quietly so that only Seven could hear. "This must be one of Mudd's schemes to rake in extra cash. I'm surprised no one has blown the old scoundrel's head off by now. Seven I'm going to take a chance. Do you trust me?" Seven dipped her head imperceptibly. "Of course he may blast us out of the sky."
B'Elanna raised her voice again saying with exaggerated friendliness.
"Waldo, you're an enterprising man, I'm sure we can reach an arrangement. Tell me though, are you still running that little scam with the Riesian cigarillos, you know the one I mean, where you contracted from a friend on Kaldor III for less than it said in the boss's books and then kept the difference? Did Harry Mudd ever find out about that?"
The green man sat up and glanced both ways, his four eyes going in all directions and two cylindrical ears rotating like small gyro-copters. The boredom gone from his face replaced by ill-disguised terror.
"How ... ?"
"I know your 'friend'. And what about your other little arrangement? All those women..." B'Elanna smiled admiringly and shrugged.
"Get away from here," he hissed "or be destroyed."
"Come on Waldo, do you think you can destroy us before I transmit the transcript of this conversation to anyone listening? There's always someone listening Waldo." Her fingers hovered suggestively over the controls.
The little man's eyes were blinking so hard now that they looked like a row of flickering traffic lights. It was mildly irritating. He reached forward and jabbed a claw at the controls in front of him, saying without further preamble "Permission to dock granted, port two, orbital repair station. I should warn you there is a daily docking fee of one strip of latinum. The dock master does not regard late payment kindly. Your transit letters for the surface will be available when you have docked. Transmission terminated."
B'Elanna smirked at her companion. "You gotta love petty criminals, but we'll need to watch him. He won't like feeling so vulnerable and nothing buys silence like murder. There's a few people here who would kill their mothers for the price of a bet at the dabo tables." She looked thoughtful. "We are going to need money and soon; the more helpless you seem the higher the prices."
Out of her depth with this sort of commercial barbarity and with the exhaustion and deprivation of the last three days, her emotions got the better of Seven. She sat down on the deck, unexpected tears running unbidden down her face. B'Elanna was horrified and promptly stopped what she was doing to sit by the Borg. She put her arms around the ex-drone and tried to draw the blonde head down on to her shoulder. To her chagrin Seven resisted and firmly pushed her away.
"No, I am sorry B'Elanna. Lack of regeneration has affected my equilibrium. I am not myself. There is a small hull breach in the crew compartment. I will repair it." She stood up quickly and went aft to disappear into the crew quarters.
B'Elanna watched her go, smothering her disappointment. She knew the last few days must have been extremely stressful for the Borg. B'Elanna resolutely shook off any apprehension that Seven was avoiding her. 'I suppose she needs some time alone' she reasoned to herself. 'I have to concentrate on how we get out of this mess.'
B'Elanna considered the people she knew on Mudd's Last Stand and wondered whom she could trust but she soon had to defer such considerations in order to concentrate on docking.
She brought the Turing round. The semi-derelict second-hand orbital repair station, dark and contorted, loomed over them. She hoped Waldo had not allocated them to one of the more dangerous docking ports as a quick fix for his indiscretion. The station's guidance computers were sending the Turing a continuous stream of instructions and ahead she could now see what she assumed was their port. It looked fairly solid, better than many she had seen. She smiled cynically, clearly Waldo didn't want them to have an accident and the recording of their conversation to fall into the hands of the salvage crews before he could get to it. The Turing slid home onto the cradle and the sound of the docking clamps echoed through the ship. As she relaxed she remembered Mira. Mira Hassan.
"Computer open a channel to ORC."
"ORC?" queried the computer.
"Orbital repair control." said B'Elanna impatiently.
"Of course, how silly of me not to know" sniffed the computer. "Channel open."
"Good day to you ORC. This is B'Elanna Torres of the shuttle Turing in dock 2. Thank you for your assistance in docking."
A disembodied voice sounding surprised replied. "Good day to you B'Elanna Torres. Welcome to the Orbital Repair Station. What can we do you for?"
"We require substantial repairs but in the first instance I need to speak to my employer," B'Elanna crossed her fingers, "Mira Hassan. Can you relay my message to her?"
"Why not send it directly?" said the voice suspiciously.
"Our communications database has been damaged and we no longer have the correct communications codes" lied B'Elanna smoothly. "Just relay the message I am transmitting. She'll understand."
"Okay, but if this is a scam then you take full responsibility. Hassan is not someone I wanna get on the wrong side of." There was a measure of respect in the voice and B'Elanna understood why. She grinned. At least Mira was still here, that was a lucky break.
She transmitted the message with suitable Maquis encryption to prevent the ORC operator from snooping and then sat back in the pilot's chair hoping for a response fairly soon. Hunger was now so acute it making her light headed. Even the reconstituted Gagh was sounding quite appealing. Also she really had to go check on Seven but even as she thought this her head dropped back against the rest and seconds later she was asleep, her mouth a little open.
Twenty minutes later, the Turing was hailed from the surface. B'Elanna woke with a start as the comms panel beeped wildly.
"We have an answer I think Lieutenant," said the Computer.
"On screen." The screen looked noticeably better. The Turing had been doing its best to repair things even with the limited resources at its command.
A woman appeared on the screen: black hair and dark blue eyes and an arrogant expression. She was clad in mercenary armour with a dangerous looking disruptor strapped on her left leg and an equally dangerous looking short sword on the other side.
"B'Elanna Torres. I heard you were dead" she said unsmiling.
"Mira! As you can see I am not dead," said B'Elanna slightly disconcerted by the other's coolness.
"Why are you not dead? You should be." Mira's blue eyes narrowed angrily.
"What the hell are you talking about Hassan? I know I've been away a few years ... "
"Only the cowards survived or the traitors. You have no right coming here." Mira's face crumpled with a slow boiling anger that B'Elanna remembered so well.
The words of the Starfleet bastard who had interrogated Seven on the Vigilant came back to the half-Klingon. 'Did you run away and leave them? Is that how you survived all your friends?' he had said. A cold nightmarish dread gripped her. 'Why didn't Seven tell me?' She remembered the ex-drone's anguished promise to tell her the whole truth when they had time.
"Mira, I swear on my Mother's house I don't know what you are talking about. What has happened to the Maquis? To our friends?"
"How could you not know Torres? Everyone knows."
"Mira just tell me."
"If you insist on maintaining this fiction then let me summarise for you: the Maquis is gone, all your comrades dead, hunted down by the Dominion dogs while the Federation stood by and watched. And the only ones to survive were the lying traitorous scum who helped them find each and every Maquis base in the sector."
"It can't be true." B'Elanna's mind could hardly hold the truth of what was being said. "Rosalind?"
The tall woman steeled her face against the old pain. "I begged her not to go. But she insisted they needed everyone. She died in the first raid. They never even lifted their weapons. Butchered where they stood."
B'Elanna swayed slightly fighting the impulse to faint.
Mira spoke again, slowly, brutally, "However it means I now have a hobby" and she indicated the wall behind her. An array of holo-pics covered the wall. About three quarters of them had large red crosses painted over the surface. "I employ the largest group of bounty hunters in the Federation. We have been very successful. But it looks as though I must add another picture to the list and by the way I have settled your docking fee and registered your ship to my company as you requested. Of course you cannot leave without my authorisation." She smiled coldly,
Nausea still sweeping through her B'Elanna realised that she recognised nearly every face on the wall. All Maquis, all traitors.
Behind her B'Elanna could hear movement. Seven appeared from the crew quarters and came to stand beside the half-Klingon.
"Who is that?" she asked in a slightly shaky voice. B'Elanna did not answer.
The tall woman narrowed her eyes slightly at Seven's appearance.
"Who is that?" she echoed.
"I am Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01"
"A Borg?" The woman betrayed no fear. "You have found some strange allies Torres but it will not save you."
Seven was confused but she understood that this person was threatening B'Elanna and that was not acceptable.
"You will not harm Lieutenant Torres."
The tall woman laughed without humour. "Is that your opinion?"
"It is a fact," said Seven in her purest Borg drawl.
"Seven shut up," said B'Elanna unexpectedly and then the torrent of anger and grief broke through the dam and B'Elanna screamed at her. "Why didn't you tell me Seven? Did you think it didn't matter? Is your precious Voyager so fucking important to you? Perhaps you thought I wouldn't help you if I knew. And you know what. You were damn right. Get off this fucking ship, no, don't bother. I'll get off this fucking ship."
Her face contorted with anger B'Elanna shoved Seven out of the way and the tall drone fell back and tripped on the step crashing to the floor. For a moment B'Elanna looked at the fallen Borg and hesitated, then cursing loudly she crossed the deck to the exit hatch in two strides and manually opened the release. The station airlock was already open and she stumbled out into the main concourse.
Seven slowly got back to her feet. The dark woman on the view screen seemed amused by the events.
"A lovely performance. I never knew she had it in her, then I would never have pegged her for a traitor either. Obviously a talented actress." she sneered.
"What did you tell her?" asked Seven at last, her uncharacteristically laggard brain coming to realise the likely nature of the conversation that had taken place.
"Nothing she didn't know. I just laid out the facts in a way her traitorous little mind couldn't hide from."
Seven regarded Hassan as she would a cockroach or a Kazon. "You are mistaken. Lieutenant Torres is not a traitor. She has been lost in the Delta quadrant with other Maquis comrades from her ship after they were abducted by an alien force. She was unaware of the termination of the Maquis." Seven lifted her Borg hand so it was plainly visible to the other woman. "Do you think she encountered the Borg in this quadrant?"
A shadow of doubt appeared in Hassan's certainty.
"I don't believe you," she said.
"That is not my concern, Computer end transmission" replied Seven unimpressed by the smuggler and no longer interested in futile conversation. The view screen blanked and Seven focused on one end, finding and rescuing the person she loved. Nothing was going to interfere.
The tall ex-drone pulled a heavy blue survival jacket out of one of the equipment lockers and a couple of hand phasers which she put in the pockets. She took one last look around the Turing, saying as she left.
"Computer seal all entrances when I leave. Do not allow any access accept to Lieutenant Torres or myself."
"Acknowledged. Be careful Seven of Nine." The doors shut behind her and the computer muttered to itself. "Well here I am all alone again. Lucky I brought that travel chess game along."
Seven was angry. Angry with herself for leaving B'Elanna alone because of her own selfish emotions, angry with B'Elanna for running off like a child and angry with the smuggler for telling B'Elanna before she was ready. As she stalked across the filthy concourse which ran behind the docking ring her anger multiplied. A couple of dock workers who were operating the transporters watched the beautiful woman approach as she strode towards the transit exits.
"Hey look what's coming Mort. I hope she ain't going down to the surface. A pretty lady like that" His companion laughed.
"She's a looker Al. But she won't stay down there long, nope, them slaver boys'll take one look and she'll be on her way to Malik V" They both roared with laughter.
Seven stopped in front of them.
"A small, dark woman with Klingon features. Have you seen her?"
"Yeah she was here a few minutes ago." replied the largest of the two men.
"Where did she transport to?"
"We are not allowed to say lady." said the little guy, filthy in his overalls with greasy hands and face.
Seven ignored him and turned her attention to the larger greasier specimen who was sporting a rapidly developing black eye. "You will tell me now."
"Like he said babe. It's against the rules." And he leered at her and scratched his crotch. "So what's the information worth to you beautiful?"
Seven paused and rested her hand on a six inch steel pin that was screwed into the wall. She stared at the big man and then without apparent effort ripped the pin from the wall snapping it off at the base.
"It is worth your lives."
Mort had lived long enough to know he'd made a mistake with this one. She meant what she said. His eyes dropped.
"There ain't no need for violence sweetheart, you only had to ask right," he whined. Seven lost patience and took a step nearer. Her arm moved like lightening as she smashed the steel pin into the wall narrowly missing the big guy's face, blue sparks flew and a dent appeared in the dirty metal wall next to his head.
"The co-ordinates now and do not attempt to mislead me."
Shaking a little he gave her the transport co-ordinates which she checked against a data padd; satisfied she punched the numbers into the command screen. A moment later Seven shimmered and disappeared from the transporter pad.
"Hey Mort not lucky with the ladies today," jeered his little companion, "first that Klingon decks you and now the blonde tries to mush your head."
Mort had to agree it had been a bad day but he cheered himself by punching Al twice in the head and then a couple times more for luck.
USS Voyager in the Delta quadrant
The view screen went blank and Kathryn Janeway rubbed her forehead where a headache was starting to form. She looked at Chakotay.
"Opinion?"
The big man paused.
"They are lying Kathryn. The Gatraan were monitoring this sector and they confirm the existence of a wormhole. They even sent micro probes down the wormhole. It is their opinion that the wormhole terminated in the alpha quadrant. Harry and I have checked the telemetry and we agree with the Gatraan findings, the wormhole originated in the alpha quadrant near Delta Cygnus. And this was not the first time the Gatraan have observed the phenomenon. It has happened three times before and all within the last three months, all with the same point of origin. The Gatraan are deeply worried, they don't know what it means."
"Clift is lying" said Janeway, "and I think I know why." She pointed at a large pile of padds on her desk and smirked. "When they re-established contact Starfleet were very keen to let me have all the new regulations and directives to study. Obviously they were worried I might be out of touch." She walked to the desk and picked up one of the padds and handed it to Chakotay. "A treaty was signed last year with the Dominion to prevent the proliferation of new weapons and research deemed harmful to future peace negotiations. Top of the list was artificial wormhole research."
She stretched and yawned. There had been little sleep in the last few days as they desperately tramped the local star systems looking for help and information. But after a lot of worn shoe leather and a potentially dangerous encounter with some unfriendly natives they struck gold. One of the local civilisations, the Gatraan, were keen explorers and scientists and they had observed the wormhole and been happy to share their findings with Voyager in return for information on the Alpha quadrant.
"Suppose Chakotay, that you are a Federation researcher and you want to conduct research in artificial wormholes. What would you do? You can't aim your toy at the Gamma or Beta quadrants because that would upset your enemies and your allies. No, the best you can do is find a nice secure Starfleet base far away from the Gamma and Beta quadrants and throw your little pebbles into the Delta quadrant where no one lives but the Borg and who cares if you upset them anyway."
"Do you think they are also lying about B'Elanna and Seven's whereabouts?" he asked.
"I'm sure of it," she said bleakly. Seven years in the Delta quadrant had honed her pessimism to a fine edge. "But I'll tell you this Chakotay. We are going to stay here until that wormhole reappears. And then we're going in after them and Heaven help Starfleet if they've hurt a hair on either of their heads."
Star Fleet Headquarters
"Don't tell me that Clift. I don't want to hear about what you can't do" said the senior admiral. "I've promised the president that these spies will be recaptured and that the project is not compromised. Now you get as many ships down there as is necessary to make my words true. You can start with the fools who lost them in the first place and make sure they know that failure will not be tolerated. Of course you realise that any of the Starfleet crew involved in this operation who have any actual contact with these renegades will have to be," the admiral paused while he considered his words, "debriefed sufficiently to ensure the project remains absolutely classified. You understand what I'm saying Clift. They must remember nothing. If that's too hard to organise then I guess they'll just have to go missing in action. And I'm including Voyager in that list if they ever make it back. I'm not even sure we can risk these regular communiques any more. Janeway is asking a lot of awkward questions."
The Blue Parrot - somewhere in Mudd City
B'Elanna gazed at the round pudgy features of her opponent and giggled as a large drop of sweat ran down his nose and hung there wobbling..
"You don't have it in you fat guy, give up now before your friends have to carry you out."
The chameloid monkey changed colour and gibbered angrily before picking up his drink and downing it in one. He gagged slightly but the drink stayed down and he flopped back on his bench gibbering heatedly, his heavy jowls banging against his jaw.
"Okay so I was wrong" she slurred. "My turn. Is it my turn?" she asked the humanoid sitting next to her. He didn't answer so she poked him. "HEY is it my turn?" He slid slowly off the bench on to the blackened floor by way of an answer. A small rat ran over his head as he lay there. "Guess it is then" she said to herself.
She picked up her newly refilled glass and held it up to the light. There seemed to be some sort of brown thing floating in it. She frowned and then shrugged her shoulders unable to focus. The small crowd around the table were laughing and jeering as she touched the glass to her lips. Before she could so much as taste it the glass and the beer it contained vaporised. "Wassat about?" she queried stupidly looking at the handle of the glass still clutched in her hand. There was no one to answer. The crowd around her had thrown themselves to the floor and taken cover even as the disruptor was fired. She stared about hazily. "Barkeep, bring me another. Your glasses are de-materialising."
"On your feet Torres," said a familiar unfriendly voice.
Torres sighed and tried to stand but not with much success, so she gave up and stayed slumped on the bench.
"Hi Mira, what took you?" Two pairs of rough hands grabbed her shoulders and two of Mira's pirates lifted her on to her feet and held her up.
Mira Hassan appeared from the shadows and appraised the drunken half-Klingon. The pirate's mouth turned up in a cold smile. "Come on lads, out of here. I don't want to make a nasty mess on Blue's floor. Then I would be in his debt and that would never do."
The seven foot Hilliinin Blue Parrot behind the bar snorted and squawked "You're not welcome here Mira. You depress the customers, not to mention thin their numbers."
Mira ignored him. "Get her out of here" she ordered.
"You will release her," said a second voice. Seven of Nine had entered the backdoor of the bar, her phaser aimed at Mira's head. "Instruct your men to release her." The phaser didn't waver, nor did the pale blue eyes that directed it. Mira shrugged and signalled to her men to let the half-Klingon go. The smuggler knew there would be another time and heroics were usually an unnecessary liability. Patience was more effective.
"Hi Seven," said B'Elanna cheerfully. The henchmen released the half-Klingon's arms. "I don't think they shoulda done that," said B'Elanna swaying relentlessly. "Oh well, here I go" and so saying the young woman fell forwards, her fall broken by the comatose body of her erstwhile drinking companion.
Seven gestured at the two ruffians to rejoin their boss which they did and then she edged her way over to B'Elanna.
"You will prostrate yourselves, face down on the floor" she instructed the smugglers.
"Already there my love" said a muffled voice from the direction of the floor. Seven sighed. Drunks were hard work she decided.
Mira was not happy either. "You want me to lie down here?" She gestured at the garbage strewn, rat infested floor. In answer, Seven fired her phaser just above the smuggler's head vaporising the wall behind and then pointedly lowered her aim.
"Hey watch it" yelled Blue the Parrot his eyes and two-foot high head-crest just peeking above the bar where he was hiding, "them's my walls your vaporising."
Mira lay down without further argument and her sidekicks followed suit. Satisfied that they now could not get a clear shot at her, Seven leant down and grabbed B'Elanna's arm pulling her upright and getting one arm around the smaller woman's waist while keeping her phaser trained on the smugglers.
"B'Elanna. Hold on to me."
B'Elanna obligingly wrapped her arm around Seven's neck, half strangling her.
"That's better," B'Elanna said happily and then less happily. "Don't leave me Seven. I think I might be falling in love you, you know, but you keep secrets from me Seven. Don't keep secrets. It's not nice." She began to cry.
"I promise not to keep secrets from you. Stop crying please. We must walk, backwards. Can you do that?"
B'Elanna gulped and nodded and slowly they backed out of the bar. Seven fired another warning shot as they left, ignoring the anguished squawking of the bar's owner. "That's right ladies, walk out that door, you're not welcome any more. You're both banned forever. You hear me? Banned."
Outside Seven pocketed the phaser and picked B'Elanna up in her arms. She ran down the back alley stopping only to hoist the protesting drunk over her shoulder to make running easier. After twenty minutes of haring through a maze of passages and alleys Seven turned into a small, street and knocked on the door of a three storey building crammed amongst many others, about half-way down the dingy little street. The heavy door swung open and Seven carried B'Elanna inside, into a badly lit corridor and up some stairs. At the top she stopped and propped B'Elanna against the wall. The latter promptly slid down to her knees. Sighing, Seven keyed an entry code into a number pad and another door slid open to reveal a small white washed room. Seven hauled B'Elanna inside the door and then forced her protesting muscles to pick up the limp drunk one more time; very gently she deposited the unconscious woman on a narrow bed in the corner. The ex-drone took a few moments to make B'Elanna comfortable before going to close the door to the room. As it slid shut Seven leaned against it and closed her eyes for a second before opening them wearily to take stock of their situation.
There was very little furniture in the room. One chair, one table and a lone narrow bed on which the love of her life lay snoring gently. A single orange lamp on a small rough table cast warm shadows and a false sense of security.
She moved closer to look at the sleeping woman. It was peculiar, asserted her analytical brain, that she should feel such unconditional love for someone so annoying. She shrugged, too tired to be able to divine an answer to such imponderables and unable to think any further she lay down on the thin carpet next to the bed and fell instantly asleep.
Six hours later, B'Elanna stirred on the bed and turned her head and was disturbed to find that it kept on turning, well spinning was more accurate. Pained, she opened her eyes and now the room was going round her too. Her stomach lurched a little but years of space travel had left her pretty much impervious to motion sickness. The feeling eased. Encouraged, she sat up. The room went for another violent rotation and she doubted whether even her cast iron stomach was going to survive this. She closed her eyes. After a few moments the worst sensation subsided again and B'Elanna risked opening her eyes again. Careful and slow observation of the room revealed the opening to what was probably the bathroom. Getting very slowly to her feet she gradually felt her way to bathroom and gratefully relieved herself. She stood up too quickly and was instantly sorry. Five hours of heavy drinking with only a few bar snacks to alleviate two days without food was not going to be denied. Her head spun helplessly like a solar windmill and this time it was too much for her stomach. She retched in the wash basin for several minutes. Afterwards she splashed cold water on her face and felt slightly better.
'Where the hell am I?' was her first identifiable thought not connected with dizzyness and nausea. B'Elanna walked slowly back into the main room to look around. There was Seven of Nine, lying fast asleep on the floor, apparently wrapped in a carpet.
The events of the previous two days came crawling back and B'Elanna sank into the only chair in the room trying to make sense of the chaos of her feelings. She thought about the lost Maquis and angrily swore revenge on whomever had done this before remembering unhappily that it had been perpetrated by an entire army which had already been defeated by the Federation. Despair and guilt swelled inside her until her gaze fell on the blonde head at her feet. B'Elanna resolutely pushed the guilt away. There was no time to fall apart she had to look after Seven and get them both home to Voyager.
B'Elanna frowned at that thought. She didn't know why she thought of Voyager as home; she wouldn't recognise the lost ship even if she saw it and perhaps she was being hasty. Why should they seek to return to the Delta quadrant? Seven was obviously very adaptable and capable and would find a place in this world quite easily. As for herself did she really miss what she didn't know? Examining her own feelings she was surprised to find a ready answer to that question. The lost years were an emptiness she could feel, a void that ached to be filled. She needed to know about her past. And there was Seven's future to think about, Voyager was the only home the ex-drone knew and her best chance of regaining Starfleet support which she would need in order to have any kind of life in the Alpha quadrant apart from the life of an outlaw with the likes of Mira Hassan.
Her thoughts wandered back to her feelings for Seven of Nine. They were attracted to each other for sure but she had only known the Borg for a couple of days and found it hard to understand the strength of the feeling she was experiencing. She knew that in reality they had known each other for four years but Seven had been fairly sketchy about the exact nature of their relationship and B'Elanna did not have the impression that there was anything between them.
Although she could not remember the events of the previous evening with any clarity, she did know that Seven had behaved with a kind of desperate gallantry at odds with her Borgness. Somehow the Borg had managed to overcome this wholly alien environment and look after them both when it should have been B'Elanna's job. The engineer put her head back and glared at her relection in the ceiling mirror. She had not been able to help her Maquis family and now she wasn't even looking after the friends she had left. 'I've made a total mess of this' she chided herself. 'I could have lost her.' Which left her thinking sadly of Mira and Rosalind and how quickly you could lose everything.
B'Elanna knew she would have to make peace with Mira if she could but she understood the smuggler's feelings. Mira had never joined the Maquis, always arguing that she liked to pick her own battles and not have them foisted on her and that anyway the Maquis would make no difference in the end. How right she had been thought B'Elanna bitterly. She had listened to Mira and Rosalind argue for hours, the latter always trying to persuade her lover to get more involved with the struggle against the Cardassians beyond simply smuggling arms occasionally. And now Rosalind was dead, exterminated by a race to whom she was little more than a troublesome bug. Typically Mira would not waste her energy fighting a powerful empire. The Maquis traitors were an accessible target and their crime the most heinous in Mira's eyes.
Seven turned over and stirred, struggling slightly against the carpet which she had wrapped around herself for warmth on the cold and draughty floor. She did not look comfortable but sooner than try and move her and risk waking her, B'Elanna took the pillow from the bed and gently lifted Seven's head and pushed the lumpy pillow into place. Seven murmured but did not wake. B'Elanna loosened the carpet trying not to disturb the sleeper more than necessary but gave up as Seven protested and whimpered. Seven lapsed back into a deeper sleep. Unable to help herself B'Elanna stroked the soft white blonde hair and amused herself with the way Seven's nose wrinkled in protest at the disturbance. Reluctantly B'Elanna decided she ought to leave the tired ex-drone in peace and withdrew her hand.
Her gaze fell on a small table with a table lamp and she observed a small transparent container apparently holding some kind of stew and next to it a packet of what might be bread. Suddenly she was hungry as hell.
B'Elanna sat back in the chair with the container of stew and bread and ate exactly half leaving the remainder for Seven which took some effort as she was still hungry. Feeling heavy headed, she lay back down on the bed and waited. Sleep came soon after.
Continued in next chapter
Lost and Home by halfofone
Date added: 2002-01-14 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
And that was how Mira Hassan found them a couple of hours later. Both asleep, Seven on the floor, wrapped in a carpet and B'Elanna on the small bed. It had not taken her people long to trace the whereabouts of a six foot blond sporting an odd metal face decoration and carrying a paralytically drunk Klingon. The population of the area were only too keen to share their information. The landlady of the low rent house where the fugitives were sleeping was the most forthcoming of all.
"That tall one, she was sent here by an old friend of mine who met her wandering about looking for someone. I knew she was not from around these parts and peculiar from the way she spoke and so I charged her double me normal price." Seeing the wry expression on Hassan's face, the old woman said defensively, "It's a risk innit? Taking in strangers. You dunno what they're going to be like." Mira didn't bother reminding the crone that in this town almost everyone was a wanted felon including the old dear herself who was rumoured to have murdered several members of her family. The woman continued prattling.
"Now that blonde one, she didn't have any cash but she did have a few belongings with her so I sent her down to Lurky Jeff to see if he would take some of her stuff for cash. Must have worked 'cos she was able to pay me up front for a week. She's a funny one, didn't know where to buy food or anything. I said to her 'Go round the Black Dragon, you can get all kinds of grub there and very reasonable too.' " The landlady sniggered. "She told me all posh like that she did not require grubs. She needed nutrition."
For a very reasonable amount of latinum the old lady then agreed to let Mira in to the room without waking the occupants. The tall smuggler smiled to herself as she stood looking at them. Patience was a virtue. She holstered her disruptor. It wasn't going to be necessary unless the Borg cut up rough.
"Wake up," she said normally and when there was no response she said it more loudly. She walked over to Seven and gave the ex-drone a gentle kick. Seven murmured, stirred and then before Mira could speak again she found herself on her back, badly winded and hardly able to draw breath, pinned by 180 pounds of angry, carpet wrapped Borg. B'Elanna was also on her feet now and Mira felt the disruptor being pulled from her holster.
"You found us." B'Elanna stated the obvious. "Where are your men Mira?" she asked while checking all the possible hiding places in the tiny room with her newly acquired disruptor. A precaution which took all of ten seconds. The half-Klingon looked puzzled saying aloud. "Not like you to risk being outnumbered Hassan."
Mira tried to answer but Seven's arm, being applied with some pressure to her throat, made speech impossible so she just gasped.
B'Elanna grinned at the pirate and not in a good way. "Let her speak Seven but if she tries to shout for help cut off her air supply permanently."
Seven complied and pulled away just enough to allow the pirate to breathe and speak. Sobbing for breath Hassan shakily drew several mouthfuls of oxygen into her aching lungs. With difficulty she began speaking quickly between painful gasps.
"I checked your story B'Elanna and it tracks. One of my crew .... ex-Starfleet .... knew about a Maquis ship and a Starfleet vessel lost in the badlands years ago .... thought all dead 'til the Starfleet ship got a message back to the Feds, lost in the Delta quadrant together with the Maquis. She remembered your name from the manifest, 'cause she knew you .... at the academy."
"Small galaxy," said B'Elanna but she was still suspicious. "Okay Hassan, so you know we're telling the truth. Then why this? Why let yourself in without an invitation? Why pay any attention to us at all?"
"I wanted to see if you needed any help."
"and .... " prompted B'Elanna.
Mira smiled slightly despite the pain and discomfort of her position. " ... and I am curious about that ship you signed over to me. We can't seem to gain access short of blasting a hole in it."
Seven sat up abruptly although she still kept restraining hands on the unwelcome intruder's chest, pinning her easily.
"You gave her The Turing!" exclaimed the ex-drone. And then in even more shocked tones. "For nothing?" Newly initiated into the cash economy Seven had begun to understand the importance of getting a fair price. "She will have to return the vessel" said the Borg resolutely and increased the pressure on Hassan making her yelp and gasp for air.
"I didn't give it to her, I just used her name to get access to her docking and repair account," B'Elanna assured Seven who relaxed slightly.
Half-strangled Mira squeaked "But my name is on the station vessel manifest as owner and without my authorisation you can't leave the station." She instantly regretted saying anything when Seven leant more heavily on her ribs and cut off her air again, ignoring her struggles with annoying ease.
Seven glared at B'Elanna again. "We need that ship if we are to leave this place and return to Voyager. It was not yours to give away."
"It's 'kay," croaked Mira, "Must breathe .... Please."
"Let her up Seven. She'll be okay."
"I will comply but she will return our ship" said the ex-drone emphatically. Seven disentangled herself smoothly from the pirate and the carpet in one graceful move and stood up. She took the precaution of drawing her phaser.
Finally released, Mira sat up slowly as her ribs, chest and lungs painfully uncompressed and she shook her head, disbelieving her own stupidity at getting herself into such a vulnerable position. She made to get up until Seven, who was still looking distinctly threatening, lifted her phaser. Mira subsided again.
"You can put the phaser down Seven of Nine" she wheezed. "I understand the arrangement that B'Elanna was making with me. And now that I'm not trying to kill her I'm happy to honour that arrangement. Can I get up?"
"You may stand" said Seven stiffly and lowered her phaser. "What arrangement?"
"B'Elanna can answer that. We haven't thrashed out the exact details." Mira grinned at the young Klingon. "It's good to see you by the way, especially now I don't have to kill you."
B'Elanna offered her hand to the smuggler and helped her to her feet. "It's good to see you too. As for the ship I was expecting the usual arrangement. Repairs and restocking in exchange for work."
"Work of what nature?" asked Seven warily.
B'Elanna was amused to notice that Mira moved to put B'Elanna between herself and the dangerous Borg before answering her question.
"I'll be honest B'Elanna. I don't have many safe runs available at the moment. The only cargo waiting is not something I feel you could handle, I'm not sure an entire battle fleet could protect it actually. But if you want to wait for a few weeks I'm sure something will come up and no doubt your ship will take a while to repair."
"37.2 hours when the proper materials have been obtained." said Seven precisely.
Mira looked at her appraisingly. "I'm impressed. You obviously have many talents Seven of Nine as well as being a beautiful woman."
B'Elanna looked up sharply. Mira was a flirt and very successful with men and women though she preferred the latter. Before Rosalind had come on the scene Mira had been notorious for racking up conquests.
B'Elanna did not need to worry; with all immediate threats diminished, Seven was not even slightly interested in the tall pirate. Her main concern now was to make good on the promise she had made to B'Elanna; she had sworn to tell the whole truth and Seven was not going to make the error of delaying again. She was anxious to get rid of Mira Hassan. She drew a padd from the supply bag and gave it to Hassan.
"We require the items listed on this padd. Please notify me when all items have been acquired. We will discuss suitable and equitable employment for myself and Lieutenant Torres when the Turing is spaceworthy," she said in a tone which did not brook of any argument.
B'Elanna's lips twitched as she watched Hassan lose control of the situation, obviously taken aback by the Borg's evident belief that Mira Hassan, the most feared smuggler in the sector, would follow instructions like some junior Starfleet ensign.
B'Elanna interjected before Mira could protest.
"And in the meantime we need food and a bath." She looked at Seven's body suit which was distinctly grimy and torn in several places. Of course the ex-drone still looked better than B'Elanna who was wearing the over sized and now filthy Starfleet uniform she had stolen from the Vigilant. "And we require clothes Mira" finished B'Elanna cheekily.
Hassan pursed her lips and bowed slightly, tacitly acknowledging her defeat.
"As you wish B'Elanna, and anything for the fair Seven of Nine of course" she flattered smoothly. "I believe I can estimate your correct size Seven; I have an eye for a beautiful woman's figure." She punched a few numbers on the padd she was holding and showed it to the ex-drone. Seven nodded and the smile was wiped from B'Elanna's face. She was also annoyed that a smirking Hassan had noticed the change in her expression. Cursing inside she hoped the bloody woman wasn't going to make a nuisance of herself with Seven.
"What about you B'Elanna? Size?" Mira said pointedly handing the half-Klingon the padd. B'Elanna punched the keys angrily and handed it back.
"I see" Mira acknowledged calmly as she read the brusque warning scribbled on the padd which simply read 'Hands off'.
"Not what I expected B'Elanna."
"Then your skills are imperfect," Seven noted objectively, completely unaware of the underlying tension. "Lieutenant Torres measurements are exemplary for her height and physiology."
It was hard to say who was more taken aback, B'Elanna or her potential rival. Mira recovered first.
"I think that's my cue to retire gracefully from the field for the moment B'Elanna, I will contact you as soon as I have news about your requirements. Clothing and food will be delivered here within the hour. I don't suppose you're going anywhere for the moment?"
The pirate was set to leave, trying to ignore the insufferably smug expression plastered over B'Elanna's face, when she paused and turned abruptly. She drew the half-Klingon into a crushing hug and whispered softly in her ear.
"I have missed you Torres even if you are a lucky dog. You don't deserve her." B'Elanna hugged back hard but said nothing. Mira let her go and left the room quickly.
Seven looked at B'Elanna strangely. "Why a lucky dog?" B'Elanna blushed and shrugged. 'Borg enhanced hearing' she thought to herself. 'I'll have to remember that.'
A Starfleet Base on Delta Cygnus
Lenara Kahn peered at her human companion, irritated by his inanity. Not that he realised it. To his eyes the Trill scientist never seemed to be rattled or annoyed. Kravitz thought there was an almost unnatural calmness about the woman.
"Explain to me Dr Kravitz why we have to recalibrate all our equipment to detect another suitable wormhole terminus in the Delta Quadrant?" she asked with exaggerated politeness.
"Starfleet are concerned that a hostile species has identified the nature of our tests and is trying to use the tests to penetrate our space. The probe we discovered and that vessel which was found near the test site appeared alien and possibly Borg."
The little man shuddered with exaggerated fear at the idea.
Lenara Kahn was dismissive.
"Yes well that information hardly agrees with the report from the Vigilant which suggested the occupants were human or part human at least and their ship appeared unarmed."
"If they were so innocent then why did they run away Dr Kahn?"
Lenara was bored with the conversation. It was beyond her understanding why a man who called himself a scientist could take such a depressing interest in military matters.
"I can't imagine Dr Kravitz, perhaps they took exception to being arrested by Starfleet. No other threat has appeared. The modern Federation is unduly nervous about encountering new civilisations."
"But you understand the concerns about security Dr Kahn."
"Ah by that you mean concerns about secrecy. Meeting a new civilisation from the Delta Quadrant would be a giveaway wouldn't it?" The elegant woman smiled bleakly.
To continue her research she had done a deal with the devil and now she was trapped. She had been persuaded too easily into believing that the wormhole research was necessary to prevent the Federation being caught napping by the Dominion or the Romulans. (Granted she had been told the research was to be purely theoretical and would enable the Federation to monitor the Dominion and the Romulan Empire for signs of artificial wormhole experiments. Monitoring was a legitimate exclusion from the treaty with the Dominion.) It had helped her decision that she desperately wanted to continue her life's work. Months later it had become apparent that Starfleet were well advanced in the construction of experimental wormhole generators based mainly around her research but by then it was too late for her to withdraw and the consequences of attempting to leave the project had been made plain. And it wasn't just herself who would suffer. Her brother and several other respected scientists would lose at least their careers if not more. She decided to concentrate on the scientific problems. Those seemed much more tractable.
"Replay the analysis model of the wormhole telemetry. Start the analysis timeline thirty seconds before the alien probe entered the wormhole" she instructed the senior technician.
The simulated reconstruction of the wormhole appeared on a view screen above a stream of analysis data. She watched it flare and change colour as the foreign probe started its journey.
"Stop. Replay again from the same point. This time display the wormhole showing tetrion field polarities."
An incoherent fluctuating pattern appeared on the screen. Seconds later the pattern resolved itself in to a series of smooth contours which seemed to travel along the schematic outline of the wormhole. The pattern disappeared after a minute as the alien probe left the wormhole and entered the alpha quadrant.
"Replay the last attempted entry by a Starfleet probe." The screen flared into life with the same chaotic pattern. The probe entered the wormhole and the pattern resolved itself into a smooth wave of energy lines moving along the wormhole, but the pattern dissolved after only fifteen seconds when the Starfleet probe was crushed in the wormhole.
Lenara Kahn suddenly knew what was different. It was obvious.
"Replay both recordings side by side." The technician complied and the two recordings appeared on a split screen. She sighed, half in satisfaction at solving the mystery and half in frustration at the implications. She didn't have a solution but she certainly had a better theory.
"Care to comment Dr Kravitz?" she asked. The small human shook his head still looking puzzled. She put him out of his misery.
"Notice the movement of the tetrion fields. It would appear we have created a one-way street. The probe from the Delta quadrant was moving with the forces inside the wormhole. Our probe was running against them as though against a flood tide. We didn't know that an object travelling from the far end would not encounter the same problem."
Kravitz was furious and terrified. He had been promising his sponsors in Starfleet a breakthrough for months and it had seemed so close. Now what did he have to offer? Fear clutched at his scrawny body. Too many important people had risked their careers and their reputations on this project for it to fail.
He tried to regain some composure and said "This is no doubt a temporary set back. A solution will be possible."
"Not with this method of wormhole generation," Lenara replied bluntly. "If I am correct then this revision to my theories would resolve a number of inconsistencies."
"So, after fifteen months of research and the consumption of massive resources that the Federation can ill-afford after the Dominion war, all you have managed to produce is a way for our enemies to invade us" Kravitz whined accusingly at the apparent architect of his woes.
"Hardly that." she coolly replied. But the irony was compelling and she couldn't help smiling. "They could only use the wormhole if we agreed to hold the door open for them."
"Then you have failed Dr Kahn and we are lost" he said gloomily, imagining ending his life in a Federation penal colony. He had little doubt who would be cast as the scapegoat if news of the wormhole experiment leaked out. The Starfleet admirals and politicians were not going to suffer and the Trill cosmologists were famous scientists who would be under the protection of their own government.
By contrast Lenara Kahn was not even slightly afraid. It was almost a relief, her research could be brought to an honourable close and perhaps she and her brother could return to Trill.
"It depends how you define failure Dr Kravitz. If you mean I have not developed a means of stealthily delivering large armies into the heart of rival empires then you are correct. But from my point of view I have developed a means of generating navigable singularities in time and space which was the original intention of my research."
Kravitz ignored her and slumped in a chair.
An idea bubbled up in her mind.
"What about that ship lost in the Delta Quadrant?" she queried. "We may be able to use this technology to bring them home."
"You've heard the rumours," said a still melancholy Kravitz, too frightened about the future of his project to guard his tongue about such trivia as shuttles.
"What rumours?"
"A ship did come through the wormhole and it was a shuttle from the USS Voyager. But let me tell you a funny thing Dr Kahn. It's not a rumour. It's true. Two of Voyager's crew managed to negotiate their way through the wormhole in a shuttle."
"What?" Lenara Kahn was genuinely astonished. "It can't be true. Everyone would have heard by now."
"Not if the powers that be deemed it unwise to disclose that information. You really do not understand the people you are working for Dr Kahn." He slumped further into the chair and a tear of self-pity ran down his cheek.
She gazed at Kravitz and caught a glimpse inside the calculating minds of the men and women who ran the military machine of which she was now a part. She remembered all the dramatic publicity and excitement when Voyager first managed to get a message back to the Alpha quadrant. The subspace news broadcasts had been alive with Starfleet admirals swearing that no effort would be spared trying to find the lost ship and help her come home a little quicker. And now some of those same admirals were suppressing the miraculous news that members of Voyager's crew had returned. Her disgust at her own involvement deepened although she remained sceptical about the shuttle story.
"We did not detect any vessel coming through wormhole. How did they manage to enter unobserved?"
"Apparently they came through as it collapsed when the generator was switched off at the close of the last experiment. Their engines failed and they were very lucky to survive the trip. But I doubt they'll stay free long enough to enjoy their good fortune. The whole of Starfleet is looking for them." Kravitz couldn't help feeling a little pleased that he was not the only one having a bad time.
Lenara Kahn turned away feeling angrier than she could ever remember and promised herself that she would find a way to help Voyager and her missing crew. She hoped the two runaways were surviving and wondered where they were and what they were doing.
A Guest house in Mudd City
B'Elanna, wrapped in a sheet, emerged from the sonic shower to find a very nervous Seven of Nine pacing up and down the small room.
"Your turn," said B'Elanna feeling as though she had won a million bars of latinum. It was amazing to have slept, eaten and washed and all within a single eight hour period. All she needed now was clean clothes and she could conquer the Universe.
"We must talk" said Seven looking very distracted.
B'Elanna regarded her companion affectionately. The Borg was in tatters and visibly grimy. Her normally neat blonde hair was awry and sticking out at odd angles. But then crashing through wormholes, being imprisoned and roughed up by glorified police officers, escaping from pirates and finishing up sleeping on a hard floor wrapped in a carpet would do that to you she reasoned.
"Shower and food first." she insisted. "I am not talking to someone who appears to have gone twenty rounds in a dust-pit with a Targ and lost. We Klingons have a very acute sense of smell."
Seven did not notice the insult. "B'Elanna, I must talk to you. You made me promise to tell you the whole truth."
"Seven would you please take a shower and get those rags off. Whatever you have to say can wait ten minutes." B'Elanna's cheer faded. "Nothing can be as bad as what I already know."
Considering that objectively, Seven knew the half-Klingon was correct. B'Elanna might be shocked by the revelations about Tom Paris but she would not be as devastated as she was by the destruction of the Maquis. In any case the Borg was not used to being in such a state of disarray. It was uncomfortable.
"I will comply" she said briefly and went into the tiny bathroom leaving B'Elanna alone. The half-Klingon wasn't on her own for long. A knock at the door revealed the lady of the house bearing a bundle of clothing and two pairs of boots..
"From Hassan" said the old crone. "For you and the blonde" she continued in case there was any doubt. B'Elanna took the pile of clothes from her but the woman followed her into the room peering about curiously. "Sleep well did you?"
"We slept very well until someone got into our room" said B'Elanna sharply, unimpressed by the expression of concern on the woman's face.
The old woman was unabashed. "I told Hassan I didn't want no trouble. She said you were friends of hers an wouldn't mind her letting herself in. Seein' she's buying your togs and nosh I guess she is your pal. So no harm done then."
B'Elanna perked up her ears.
"Nosh? There's food? Where?" B'Elanna suddenly found the aged hag much more appealing.
"I was just going to bring it up to you. Does your friend want any? Shall I ask her?"
"Just bring up everything Hassan had delivered and we'll decide what we want from there. Is that clear?"
The old woman looked offended. "Of course. I just didn't want to waste anything if you wasn't wanting it." She headed out the door muttering about how ungrateful and suspicious some people were.
B'Elanna sorted out the garments and was set to announce the good news about the clothing and food when Seven appeared in the doorway from the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel. B'Elanna felt her jaw drop like an asteroid into a gravity well as she gaped at the beautiful woman. She tried to speak but her brain seemed to have disconnected from her vocal chords. No words formed. Not that it mattered as she had no breath left in her lungs to express them.
Seven appeared unaware of the effect she was having. She saw the clothing clutched in B'Elanna's hand.
"Mira Hassan is efficient" she said approvingly. "Have you identified which articles are assigned to you?"
It took B'Elanna a long second before she was able to understand and reply to the Borg's enquiry.
"Yes" she croaked inaudibly. B'Elanna turned her gaze to the floor and found her breathing improved slightly though she was very aware that Seven was standing quite close. "These are for you" she said tersely and held out several garments.
Seven took them from her and held them up for inspection. "Acceptable. But an excessive amount of black."
"That's smugglers for you" said B'Elanna nervously, still concentrating on averting her eyes.
"You find my body offensive," Seven stated unexpectedly. "It is too Borg."
B'Elanna, taken by surprise, glanced up and looked directly into Seven's troubled blue eyes. Feeling foolish B'Elanna closed her eyes and collected herself. She decided on frankness.
"I find you very attractive Seven, so much so it seems to be disrupting the flow of blood to my brain."
Oddly enough her words did not seem to please Seven. The reply was hesitant and disjointed.
"I am sorry B'Elanna. I did not mean to disturb you. I will dress now in the bathroom."
"Hey Seven don't apologise, honestly there's no need. I'm the one that should apologise for behaving like a dumb adolescent. I love how you look. You must know how crazy I am about you." said B'Elanna warmly, deciding that now was as good a time as any to declare her nascent love for the Borg. She gazed into serious clear-blue eyes. Trying to ignore the erratic, thunderous heartbeats and control her painfully uneven breathing, B'Elanna took a small step forward.
"No, do not say any more," Seven's voice cracked with helpless panic and she fled, crossing the short distance to the bathroom in two long strides, disappearing before B'Elanna could protest.
'That could have gone better,' thought B'Elanna feeling hurt. She remembered her earlier conviction that Seven had someone waiting back on Voyager. 'Looks as though I was right.' she concluded unhappily. She dressed without enthusiasm; there was too much black. She felt as though she was dressing for a funeral and it didn't help her overall despondency.
"I don't know why I always manage to pick the complicated ones" she complained aloud to herself before recollecting that Seven could probably hear her. She switched to silent grumbling. 'Of course I had to choose probably the only Borg in the galaxy with a romantic past.'
Loud banging on the door interrupted her. She opened the door to find a tray stacked with food lying on the landing floor. The landlady was trundling down the stairs and B'Elanna called after her.
"Is this all of it?"
"Except me handling charge love," answered the aged grifter with surprising honesty. With resigned amusement, B'Elanna watched the old lady vanish into a side door.
B'Elanna picked up the tray and backed inside. Mira had done them proud it seemed. Given the quantity it was hard to begrudge the old crone's deductions.
"The food's arrived," she called out to Seven and felt the air driven from her lungs again when the blonde ex-drone re-entered the room. Black suited her very well. She looked slender and dangerous. Too glamorous to be a real smuggler, like a heroine from a holovid. B'Elanna knew she was staring but couldn't help it.
"Do not look at me like that," said Seven quietly.
"I'm sorry, I'm staring, I know, but you must be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen."
"My physical appearance is irrelevant. You are married."
Seven took the tray of food from B'Elanna's hands and set it on the table. "Acceptable," she said, examining the food arranged on the tray as though nothing had happened. "There is sufficient nutrition here for two meals. I will allocate the necessary quantities."
Seven had dropped the bomb so quickly that B'Elanna did not react for several seconds. Feeling wholly detached she watched Seven precisely divide the various types of food into neat portions. 'So that explains Seven's attitude towards me,' she thought rationally, as though solving a slightly annoying puzzle. Then the blast of the revelation hit her.
"No! It's not possible."
"Why impossible?" queried Seven looking genuinely puzzled.
"I can't be married," B'Elanna croaked almost inaudible. "I would never marry. I hate marriage."
"I attended the wedding," said Seven without inflection. "You are married."
"Who?"
"Lieutenant Paris."
B'Elanna sat down with her mouth open.
"Now I know you're lying." She laughed nervously. "This is your idea of a joke. Tell me this is Borg humour."
"I am neither lying nor attempting humour" said Seven evenly. "You married Mr Paris three months ago."
"Why? Why would I do that?" asked B'Elanna her mouth dry, making speech difficult.
The question seemed too hard for Seven. She did not answer. For a few moments there was silence as both women contemplated possible reasons.
"I must have been mentally disturbed," exclaimed B'Elanna. "Being in the Delta quadrant sent me crazy."
"Not apparently. Your mental state was markedly stable."
"I married Tom Paris and you say I was sane." B'Elanna got to her feet and started to pace. "This isn't happening. I mean the guy's a liar and a traitor."
As much as Seven would have liked to agree with that assessment, honesty forced her to demur.
"Mr Paris is much different from your recollection. I am told he is anyway. He is a valued member of Voyager's crew." She added hesitantly. "I almost like him."
"Almost?"
"He has your love."
Seven's voice was hardly audible but B'Elanna heard and understood that Seven was telling her the truth. Hearing the sadness in Seven's voice she also understood for the first time that Seven had been attracted to her before, perhaps even loved her but she had not returned those feelings.
"I'm sorry" she mumbled not really knowing what to think or feel.
"It is of no importance," said Seven quietly. "Eat this," and she gave a plate of food to the half-Klingon who had stopped pacing and was standing in front of her but not looking at her. B'Elanna took the plate. She couldn't yet make any sense of the revelations. It was just too strange.
"When we have finished eating we should return to the Turing and make ready to start the repairs" said Seven.
"Yeah. Sure."
B'Elanna lifted her eyes to meet Seven's. "Seven I wish that ... Did I care for you, back there?"
Seven was brusque. "No you did not. I do not wish to discuss it further. Please concentrate on our current predicament."
'I am thinking about our current predicament,' B'Elanna thought to herself aware of the painful twist to her heart as she gazed at Seven who had turned away and begun to slowly eat her food. The latter activity looked as though it was strange to the Borg. Seven seemed so vulnerable, although how anyone so obviously powerful and dangerous could appear vulnerable B'Elanna wasn't sure.
'At least I can look after her and get her home to Voyager.' she reasoned. It then occurred to B'Elanna that returning to Voyager would be the start of their problems, not the end. She decided not to think that far ahead and to concentrate on matters at hand and dammit she was really, really hungry.
Continued in next chapter
Lost and Home by halfofone
Part 8: A hill of beans in this crazy world
Date added: 2002-01-14 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Delta Cygnus
Lenara Kahn glared at the view screen where Admiral Clift's thin hard faced had just faded out.
'So that's how it's going to be then. Fine. I will not be threatened by that miserable little weevil.' She tapped a few keys and recalled a message she had recorded earlier that day but had hesitated to send.
"Computer send this message to Lieutenant Reginald Barclay. Location believed to be Utopia Planetia."
A few light years away on the bridge of the Vigilant
"Captain Worf. This is Captain Antonia Chekhov of the Starship Vigilant."
"Captain Chekhov" acknowledged Worf his severe dark face glowering from the view screen.
"Starfleet command have informed me that you have obtained further information about the escaped spies."
"Indeed. We have made contact with an informer who is prepared to supply us with information about their movements."
Chekhov raised her eyebrows. The Klingon seemed reluctant to share his information.
"Do you know where they are Captain Worf?"
"They have taken refuge on Mudd's Last Stand. A star system in the badlands."
"So when do we go and get them?" asked Commander Smith who was desperate to get his revenge on the small half-Klingon for decking him and then stealing his uniform.
"We do not" growled Worf. "The system is off limits. We must wait until they leave of their own accord."
"You're not serious Captain Worf. We could be waiting a very long time" exclaimed Chekhov. "After all why would they leave a safe haven for certain capture in Federation space?"
"Money. Our informant assures us that they are working to repair their shuttle for departure. They have obtained employment with a notorious local smuggler and will no doubt take part in various smuggling operations."
Chekhov considered this for a moment.
"Why would Dominion spies need money? A coded message and surely they would have all the support they need."
"It is curious," Worf agreed. "Perhaps they suppose there is too high a risk of messages being intercepted or perhaps they believe it will improve their cover story."
"Perhaps they are just stupid," interrupted Smith earning himself a glare from his own captain and from Worf.
"Stupider than those from whom they escaped Mr Smith?" asked his captain pointedly. She turned back to Worf. "We will be in your sector in 3 days Captain. My orders are to do anything necessary to recover the spies. If that means going into the badlands ..."
"Neither you nor I are violating that particular treaty Captain Chekhov. A Starship entering the space around Mudd's Last Stand would trigger an immediate response from the Dominion. Even if we could find it. As the senior officer in this sector I am ordering you to rendezvous with the Defiant and then we wait."
Orbital Repair Station - Mudd's Last Stand
B'Elanna squeezed herself into the space between the port engine and the hull. 'This is a bloody useless design for anyone thicker than a padd.' she thought to herself and then remembered it was her design. 'Humph well it's just a prototype.' She felt queasy again and hoped she wouldn't be sick in this small area. To her surprise and humiliation she had thrown up again this morning. 'I must be getting old if three beers makes me ill' she thought. It had taken some persuasion to prevent Seven rushing her off to a doctor.
"Seven pass me the phasedriver." Seven's hand appeared through the narrow gap clutching the tool and her disembodied voice could be heard.
"It would appear the Turing has at least one design flaw. You of course designed the engine seating."
"Thanks for letting me know it was my fault" B'Elanna muttered and fumbled for the phasedriver, accidentally brushing her fingers along Seven's hand. Seven immediately flinched and dropped it causing B'Elanna to swear vehemently on the graves of several ancestors. With some difficulty B'Elanna retrieved the tool from the floor of the very confined space and set about removing a small control panel to get at the burnt out unit inside. It was a mess.
Feeling foolish, Seven kept quiet. It had been a very tense day working together on the shuttle repairs. Regardless of their best efforts they seemed to be constantly touching each other. They had hardly spoken to each other but Seven had received a master class in the art of invective as B'Elanna took out her frustration on various inanimate objects.
A noise from behind made Seven turn round and she saw the head of Mira Hassan appear through the overhead hatch at the other end of the tiny engineering room.
"Not very big in here is it."
"It is adequate," said Seven feeling immediately defensive. Mira lowered herself in and smiled ingratiatingly.
"It's very cosy" said Mira and smiled even more warmly at Seven to no effect. Mira gave up. It was obvious the Borg was completely immune to her charms. "Where's B'Elanna?"
"She is in the port engine casing" said Seven and indicated the tiny gap through which B'Elanna had wriggled.
"Lousy maintenance design" commented Mira disapprovingly.
"I heard that."
B'Elanna began to emerge from the confined space. "I seem to have put on a little weight." She wriggled painfully and then fell out into Seven's arms. The latter set her on her feet without comment and then moved to a safe distance. "This is a prototype Mira not a luxury cruiser."
"I'm not sure I would describe repairing the engines as a luxury but I bow to your superior engineering skills."
B'Elanna and Seven both said nothing. They seemed pre-occupied. Undaunted Mira continued.
"Anyway I have a job for you that should test this heap of scrap to the limits. This man I know needs passage to a certain planet." She shrugged at B'Elanna's look of enquiry. "That's the job. Deliver the passenger safely to his destination."
"What's the catch Mira?" asked B'Elanna suspiciously.
Unsmiling, Mira paused before answering.
"The planet is Sephal."
"You have to be kidding!" said B'Elanna her voice rising slightly in disbelief. In answer to Seven's obvious puzzlement she added. "Sephal is less than one light year from Cardassia. If you think the Bajorans had it bad, their experience of the Cardassians lasted decades. The Sephallier have been occupied for three hundred years."
"Who is the passenger?" asked Seven.
"His name is Laszlo and he is a leader of the resistance."
"Any more good news you would like to share about this" asked B'Elanna mockingly.
"The Cardassians know he is off world and are waiting for him to return."
B'Elanna grinned mirthlessly. "So you think an unarmed shuttle is the ideal vehicle for this suicide mission?"
"Failing an entire fleet of starships ... I don't have any alternatives and I know from your boasting that the Turing is very fast and sneaky. There is probably no better alternative." Her voice became firmer. "I am not offering you a choice B'Elanna. I will pay for repairing any damage to the ship in the course of the mission ..."
"In the unlikely event that we survive."
Mira ignored her.
"When will you be ready to leave?"
"In 15.2 hours" answered Seven. "We have completed 76 percent of repairs but there is still work to be done on the port engine. Some of the components you have supplied are not wholly compatible. We require access to a replicator and a tool shop."
"Whatever it takes. Just get the ship ready." Mira was already moving to leave and as she prepared to hoist her long body through the hatch she paused. "If anybody asks you where you are going say nothing. I will make all the arrangements for your departure and spread the necessary disinformation. Talk to no-one." The pirate disappeared through the hatch leaving them alone again.
B'Elanna turned and exchanged a long burning look with Seven. She felt her heart rate quicken and her nipples tighten. It wasn't the danger of the mission that concerned her now. 'How are we going to survive a two day trip in this tiny ship without going mad?' she thought as her body continued its involuntary demands. Seven looked equally uncomfortable. Her gaze dropped and the ex-drone said in a low voice.
"We must continue the repairs Lieutenant."
"Right," said B'Elanna and began to squeeze herself back into the narrow gap between the engine casing and the hull.
I really must ask," said the Turing's computer, "why you keep forcing yourself into that small gap? Would it not be easier to disconnect the maintenance housing and swing the engine out. That's how it was designed."
B'Elanna stopped and looked at Seven.
"Why the hell didn't you tell me? No don't say it. I know. I designed the engine seating." She painfully extracted herself.
For the first time that day Seven half-smiled.
"At least it was not a design flaw. Your reputation is restored."
"I feel so much better for that thought," B'Elanna said aloud. But seeing Seven's amused blue eyes she really did feel better; perhaps even happy. She mocked herself. 'Kahless I must have it bad if even a half-smile makes me happy.'
The bridge of the Defiant
"Sir we have received a report from Starfleet intelligence that the targets are making ready to depart from Mudd."
"Thank you Mr Fesar. Signal to the fleet to lay in a course for the ambush co-ordinates and signal to the Vigilant to rendezvous with us at the new co-ordinates. Keep in constant contact with the perimeter monitoring stations. I want to know exactly where that shuttle is going to emerge."
Worf was not especially optimistic. The badlands occupied a very large volume of space and although there were only limited routes through it an experienced smuggler would know how to skirt the edges, hiding from the blanket of Starfleet and Cardassian monitoring satellites and then quickly making a dash into open space. It was usually easier to catch vessels returning than leaving. Unfortunately these spies would have no reason to return. He had only ten vessels at his command and only three of them were heavily armed (four when the Vigilant arrived). Starfleet had told him to do his best until the third fleet arrived with another thirty ships.
His orders were clear and disturbing. The shuttle must be destroyed on sight. No attempt was to be made to communicate with it or to recapture the escapees. Worf could not say he was happy with this arrangement but those were the explicit instructions from Starfleet Command.
Somewhere in the Delta quadrant
An even less happy Starfleet captain stood in her ready room on Voyager and wondered what the hell she should do. Her crew were busying themselves repairing Voyager after a minor skirmish with some less than friendly locals who were taking exception to Voyager hanging about in the area.
More worrying than the threats to get out of town were the subtle suggestions from Starfleet that they might cut off communications if Voyager didn't move along and forget what had happened. Admiral Clift didn't say it in exactly those words but he did say that Voyager must obey orders like any other Starfleet vessel and those orders were to get moving again despite the tragic loss. He had hinted that were Janeway to disobey the orders then Starfleet might consider further communication to be unnecessary.
She had bought them a little more time by claiming the damage from the recent attack prevented Voyager going to Warp but this waiting was hard on everyone. Tom Paris was showing the strain. Janeway had relieved him of duty on medical grounds after the EMH declared him unfit and now he sat in his quarters staring into space. Others in the crew were also restive and Chakotay was openly suggesting that they had done everything possible. In all fairness she had to agree that it was highly unlikely Starfleet would open up a new wormhole if they knew Voyager was hanging about in the vicinity. But something stopped her from giving up on her lost sheep. Irrational as it was she could not yet give the order to leave and her sense of outrage at Starfleet's apparent duplicity was a further incentive to try and give Seven and B'Elanna a few more days. If they were alive she knew that they would try and make contact.
"Captain. We are being hailed by Starfleet but the signature is unusual and there is a privacy seal. It's marked for your eyes only Captain."
"Thank you ensign. Route the transmission to my ready room" she said dully, expecting another drubbing from a junior Admiral.
She raised her head to listen to the message without expectation.
"Captain Janeway. This is Reginald Barclay. Perhaps you remember me? No reason why you should of course but I was rather hoping ... "
Janeway smiled.
"Of course I remember you Lieutenant Barclay. Without you we would still be all alone out here. How can I help you?"
"Ah well that's just great Captain. I can't tell you how happy ... No I'm sorry, just listen to me, rabbiting on like this. I'm wasting time; we only have a few minutes. I mean to say I hope I can help you again. I have some information about your two crew. Well it may just be a rumour ... "
Janeway sat bolt upright and her jaw clenched.
"Mr Barclay spit it out. Where are they?"
Somewhere in the Alpha quadrant
"All engines stop. Seven where are we?" asked B'Elanna
"I am not sure." Seven looked annoyed with herself. "The last manoeuvre and explosion seems to have confused the navigation system."
"Alright, we don't know where we are but where are the Cardassians?"
"Sensors indicate a squadron of eight vessels moving in formation two parsecs from our location. They are apparently strafing along a narrow corridor at random."
"That must be one of the approach corridors. So I'm guessing that puts us in the middle of the minefield, hence the last two explosions." She sighed. This was not good.
"The cloak is holding." said Seven concentrating hard on the Turing's instruments. "They will not be able to see us but they will have observed the mines exploding. Shields are at 13 percent. Hull integrity is good. I do not think we encountered any mines directly."
"My hours playing Asteroids were not wasted then" said the Turing's computer wearily. "No major damage. Estimated time to repair ten minutes. Shields will regenerate in 4.3 minutes. Please tell me when this nightmare is going to be over."
"We can't stay here," said B'Elanna thinking aloud, "the Cardies will target the whole area and if the torpedoes don't get us the mines will. But where can we go? Now that they know about us, the access corridors will be blocked by force-fields."
"And the probability of navigating through this minefield over a distance of one and a half million kilometres and surviving is zero, approximately. So don't bother asking me to try." said the computer. "Unless the alternative is certain death" it added as an afterthought.
Seven was studying the sensors. "There is a very large object moving at only 66340 kilometres per hour through the minefield at a distance of 22127 kilometres. It appears to be a small moon or a very large asteroid. It will pass within 50 kilometres of our position in twenty minutes."
"Is that good or bad?" asked B'Elanna.
Seven appeared to be doing some calculations and did not immediately reply. The computer began to whistle a jaunty tune until B'Elanna told it to shut up.
"I was just trying to raise morale Lieutenant; something you could learn a little about" it grouched.
"It may be possible to land on the surface of the planetoid," said Seven, ignoring the interruptions.
"And?"
"And remain on it until it exits from the minefield in 27.7 hours. By my calculation it emerges from the minefield for 5.7 seconds before its orbit takes it back in. If we can hide on the surface we may be able to derive some protection from the exploding mines triggered by the asteroid itself."
"So the plan is we sit on a rock travelling through a high explosive minefield and then jump off. Hoping all the while that the Cardassians don't notice."
"Yes. Although it is true we will have to decloak for the landing and takeoff."
"Good plan" said B'Elanna after a moments consideration.
"Certain death" disagreed the computer. "Take a look at the rock."
On the view screen an uneven twisted pillar, some 350 kilometres long and 55 kilometres in diameter, spun slowly end over end. Explosions seemed to rack it from end to end as the auto-generating mines took an endless toll. A trail of debris stretched out behind the tortured body in a long fiery train. Two sizeable rock satellites spun around it colliding with the mines and other debris forming a lethal halo.
"Kahless," B'Elanna breathed.
Seven was unmoved.
"I have calculated that there is a safe area just here." She indicated a section of the asteroid near the middle. "The rotation of the asteroid is such that this area remains mostly sheltered from explosions. If we can successfully land the Turing in that location we should be reasonably secure; especially if we can find a cave or meteor crater to hide in."
Looking at the gyrating wall of death B'Elanna was unconvinced but then there didn't seem to be any alternative. Not a good end to such a promising day. It had started well when they had easily evaded the small number of Starfleet ships hanging about near the badlands and successfully smuggled their grateful guest through the Cardie defences. They launched the courageous fellow into the stratosphere of Sephal in a specially shielded cargo drop. Everything was looking good until a Cardassian destroyer on patrol suddenly appeared. Sooner than let Laszlo be captured B'Elanna had dropped the Turing's cloak and triggered the defence systems, drawing the Cardassians away from the helpless cargo container. From that moment on they had been running and hiding, trying to find a way out.
"I vote we try it." she said. "Computer calculate a course to converge with the asteroid at the closest point in its trajectory to our current position, match course and speed. We'll then land it manually."
"I see I'm not allowed a choice." said the computer with a sniff. "But mine's not to reason why ... course laid in. Certain death here we come."
"Here goes nothing!" B'Elanna grasped Seven's hand and held it tightly. The Borg was surprised although she had to admit it was comforting in what was a very unpleasant situation. She moved closer until their arms were touching. B'Elanna did not pull away.
The Turing powered its engines and cautiously began to edge towards the target zone. The cloaking device protected them from detection by the mines but nothing would save them if there was a collision. Some of the mines were also equipped with very sensitive gravitational detectors designed to detect the very slight gravitational pull exerted by a cloaked ship. Too close and all the mines in the vicinity would start firing randomly.
"We are approaching the target. Matching course and speed" announced the computer. The ship began to shudder as it rode the shock waves of the blasts from the asteroid's multiple collisions with mines. "We have decloaked for the landing. I think it is over to you now. Good luck."
B'Elanna and Seven took their positions in front of the pilot and navigation consoles respectively and strapped themselves in. Seven scanned the target.
"B'Elanna try to follow the approach route I am setting. I will send you course and speed adjustments as necessary. It is very important that you follow these as closely as possible. Any deviation may take us into the path of a mine or some debris."
B'Elanna nodded but didn't speak concentrating absolutely on keeping the Turing perfectly in line. Her piloting skills were good but not great so this would be hard. Even someone like Tom Paris would have had difficulty. Her focus slipped for just an instant when she remembered her current relationship to the formerly wayward pilot.
"Lieutenant! Adjust course now" snapped the computer which was monitoring the whole approach and adjusting other systems as necessary. Cursing she overcompensated and then had to struggle for a second to bring the vessel back on course.
"Careful B'Elanna," said Seven gently. B'Elanna breathed out slowly. But there was no time to relax. The next set of co-ordinates and instructions were already scrolling down the console.
"We are within 2 kilometres of the landing zone and about to enter a small debris field. Reinforcing shields. Expect some minor turbulence" said the computer tightly. Then it snorted. "What am I saying? Minor turbulence indeed! I sound like an interplanetary flight attendant. Expect to be jolted about as though riding a Katarian bucking bull with a personal grudge against you."
True to its words the Turing suddenly bucked and the human passengers were flung sideways. The safety harnesses pulled them back and B'Elanna swiftly re-adjusted the course trying to ignore the vibration before the next major bump threw them backwards. Recovering again B'Elanna could see the landing area dead ahead. A huge pockmarked brown desert lying in a vast crater. Bright light from Sephal's Sun flattened the landscape but the Turing's sensors told a different story of deep crevasses and steep hills.
"Scanning for shelter," said Seven, her voice vibrating from the buffeting. "There appears to be an overhang 1 kilometre from the centre of the crater which may provide suitable shelter. Plotting new course now."
Obediently B'Elanna followed the twisting course; ignoring the rough ground rushing past the shuttle portholes just a few hundred metres from the fragile craft. The visual of the target landing area showed a low grey cliff and at the bottom of cliff an overhanging cave casting a dark shadow. She brought the Turing in close and as the distance diminished the size of the cave became apparent. The entrance was larger than the Turing. But not much.
"Commencing landing sequence" she said.
Seven tightened her safety straps.
"I understand prayer is helpful in these circumstances," the computer suggested helpfully.
In the event the landing was as near perfect as possible. The Turing settled down on its landing struts some twenty metres inside the cave. A few gentle thuds followed as the ship immediately fired securing bolts into the rock to prevent it bouncing about in the almost zero gravity on the small planetoid. They were, in relative terms, safe.
On the Federation/Cardassian border
Captain Worf looked with some disfavour at the view screen. Barclay was still speaking and he was only half listening. The human annoyed him with his inconsequential chatter about their mutual acquaintances and old times. Kahless only knew why the bumbling fool was making contact with him after all these years. Worf gestured at his second in command to leave. There was no need for them both to waste their time. As soon as the officer had left Barclay suddenly looked conspiratorial. Worf felt his impatience grow as Reg Barclay asked in his awkward earnest manner.
"Are you alone Captain? I mean is there anyone else there? It is very important we are not overheard."
"There is no-one here. What do you want with me Mr Barclay? If this is confidential why did you not ask for a coded channel."
"I do not want to arouse any suspicions Captain."
Worf looked baffled.
"Captain how would you feel if I told you that the Federation was committing a terrible crime against the crew of a Starfleet ship and breaking its treaties with the Dominion?"
"I would say you are a madman."
Barclay giggled nervously.
"I thought you might. But if you don't believe me then perhaps you would listen to one of my allies; Dr Lenara Kahn. I have a message from her. It is difficult to contact her directly as she works in a very high security facility but she managed to smuggle this out."
Worf's attention was now completely engaged although not for the reasons that Barclay would imagine. Lenara Kahn. His dead wife had loved this woman. Jadzia never spoke of it and had laughed at him when he demanded an explanation after the story of their doomed love had been recounted to him by a drunken Julian Bashir. However after his wife had died he found letters that proved she still loved the Trill scientist if only from afar. Hot jealousy coursed through him.
A very elegant woman appeared on the view screen. Extremely poised and collected. Exactly as he remembered from all those years ago on Deep Space Nine. Worf disliked her.
"I do not have long; I'm afraid my Starfleet colleagues are already suspicious. The images you are now seeing are from the illegal wormhole tests that the Federation is conducting in the Delta Cygnus sector. Whatever you might think of the morality of this endeavour it has now had at least one serious consequence; using our wormhole several members of the crew of the USS Voyager, currently lost in the Delta quadrant, have managed to make their way back to our space. They are being hunted like criminals and Starfleet has been given orders to eliminate them to safeguard the secrecy of the wormhole project. While there is little that can be done to assist the fugitives I believe we may be able to help their colleagues in the Delta quadrant. Lieutenant Barclay has details of the plan."
The transmission ended.
"Well?" said Barclay. "What do you think?"
"I think it is ludicrous and treasonable Mr Barclay and I would strongly advise you to walk away. I will overlook your attempt to recruit me because I know you to be a harmless fool."
Barclay eyed him aghast.
"But.. but .. the wormhole data, at least consider it Worf. We do not want another war. There is a wicked conspiracy being hatched and we must do something about it and we have a duty, a positive d..d..duty to help our fellow Starfleet officers. Surely you see that."
"What I see Mr Barclay, is a foolish man embroiled with a dangerous woman who is telling lies for her own purposes. Do not annoy me further with this nonsense. Worf out." The view screen blanked out.
Worf was angry and jealous. How dare that woman contact him? He slammed his fist down on a pile of padds on his desk and swore furiously as half of the pile tumbled to the floor. His gaze fell on the topmost padd remaining on the desk. His orders for the summary destruction of the fugitive shuttle. Angrily he hurled the padd across his ready room and it exploded with a satisfying noise on the far wall. He slapped his comm badge hard.
"Captain to communications officer. Please ask Captain Chekhov to meet me aboard the Defiant in one hour."
Worf glared at the Universe through the transparent aluminum panels. The last few days had been inglorious and disturbing. Worf liked his world to be straightforward, his loyalties clear and he liked to know his enemy.
Continued in next chapter
Lost and Home by halfofone
Date added: 2002-01-14 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
A small bolt hole on a large asteroid in a huge minefield
"So here we are again damaged and in mortal danger" said the Turing's computer with inappropriate cheerfulness. "I expect you two are starving and tired? Normal service has resumed."
Both women released their safety harnesses and wordlessly stood up to face each other. A rumble beneath their feet shook the small craft. And then another.
"Not the most quiet of places," said B'Elanna, not very brightly. "I guess we should take the chance to eat and rest. I'll take the first watch while you sleep" she volunteered.
"I do not think we need to take turns. There are two beds and the computer will alert us to any new danger. We should both get as much rest as possible."
"Sure thing. I'll sleep real well knowing you are in the next bunk."
Seven looked a little hurt and B'Elanna immediately apologised.
"Sorry. You're right although sleeping through this noise may be difficult. She yawned "I am surely going to try. But first I cook."
Despite Seven's doubts, B'Elanna (taking advantage of the generous replicator access Mira Hassan had arranged) had acquired a small cooking range and food stasis unit which she had insisted on installing in the Turing's tiny galley. She had been insistent that there was no reason they should continue to endure cold ration packs.
"Are eggs, bacon and fried potatoes okay with you?" she queried. "Not the most sophisticated, I know, but personally I like simple food when I'm on a mission." Seeing Seven's dubious face she hastened to add. "It's okay, the bacon and eggs are not real. I don't eat real meat. Actually since it is all replicated I suppose the potatoes are not real either."
"I am sure whatever you provide will be acceptable. I am simply unfamiliar with eggs, bacon and fried potatoes. In general I have no strong opinions about food." Seven frowned at some memory. "Although I have learned that some of Neelix's preparations are to be avoided."
B'Elanna was amused and touched by her companion's expression of regret. She looked downright cute.
"Tell me about Neelix. He sounds like a weird guy."
Seven had to think carefully before replying. She wasn't used to analysing personalities nor being asked for an opinion on something unrelated to ship's business.
"Neelix is not weird although many of Voyager's crew find him eccentric and some find him irritating." She paused to think. "He seems irrelevant but is often wise especially about emotions and he is always generous and ready to believe the best of everyone." Seven stopped again, conscious that there must be more to say about someone she had known for several years. "Neelix appears to be particularly fond of Commander Tuvok but the friendship is not mutual which I think is a cause of sadness to him. I believe his dress would be categorised as flamboyant." Still not exactly satisfied with her description of Neelix, Seven decided to illustrate with anecdotes. One story lead to another and B'Elanna countered with her own tales of the Maquis. An hour passed and though exhausted neither wanted to bring the day to a close. Everything B'Elanna cooked seemed to taste wonderful to Seven even though the chef assured her that hunger and danger allowed most people to eat almost anything and think well of it.
After they had eaten both women settled back with a cup of coffee, Seven watching B'Elanna tinker with some damaged components from the navigation array.
"Why do you not eat meat from real animals?" The ex-drone asked with mild curiosity. "I thought Klingons ate meat almost exclusively."
"I like the taste of meat but I can't think of one good reason why any animal should be butchered to feed me when there are alternatives available. Needless to say my mother did not agree with me. It was another of my many failings as a daughter and a Klingon." B'Elanna sounded a little bitter.
"You did not get on with your parents," Seven stated.
"I did not get on with my mother," corrected B'Elanna, "I hardly knew my father."
"I do not remember my parents. I only know them from the logs they left" said Seven quietly. "I saw my father as a drone when I was recaptured by the Borg; I believe they thought it would give me a sense of family." Her eyes and voice hardened. "I do not think the Borg could have designed a worse plan. I wanted to kill him."
"Then we have something in common. I often wanted to kill my father for leaving me with my mother." Looking up quickly from her task B'Elanna smiled wryly at Seven and caught the open longing in the other's eyes. Her smile faded and she dropped her gaze; all too aware of her own desire calling. She had trampled it into silence with hard work and concentration but in this lull it was returning four-fold, enhanced by closeness and the dangerous uncertainty of their circumstances. She wanted Seven to know how much she felt for her. B'Elanna had never been this much in tune with someone before. But was that true? She could not remember feeling such closeness for anyone before but she must have had such a relationship with Tom Paris, perhaps even stronger since she hadn't even noticed Seven in that other life (as inconceivable as that seemed at this moment).
Her thoughts were interrupted when the constant thumping explosions that vibrated through the vessel suddenly ceased.
"What the hell ...? We can't have exited from the minefield yet."
"The minefield has been deactivated." said Seven thinking quickly. "The Cardassians probably detected us when we decloaked to land. They are likely to have guessed our strategy."
"Confirmed," said the computer. "Five Cardassian warships have entered the area in a search formation."
As it spoke the lights went out to be replaced by the gloomy blue glow of the emergency lights.
"Sorry," said the computer, "we cannot use power from the warp core - it will be detected. All non essential systems are shutting down."
"Great. Anyone care to estimate the likelihood of them finding us."
"76.8 percent" said Seven without hesitation. In answer to B'Elanna's expression of awe she added. "I had previously calculated the odds given the eventuality of the enemy discovering our plan."
"Well I would have rounded it up to 77 percent," the computer concurred, "but I was partly designed by a half-Klingon so don't blame me."
B'Elanna was thinking bad thoughts which she decided to share.
"Even if they don't find us they just have to wait until we try and leave this rock. We can't take off cloaked; there would be five Cardie warships waiting in ambush. Even I can estimate the odds against escaping in that case and it doesn't look good for us."
"The Cardassian ships are starting full sensor sweeps," the computer reported. It sounded apprehensive. "They are concentrating on the central plain. I will have to cease from any further sensor activity; if detected it will lead them straight to us."
"Which means we won't know they've found us until they arrive" said B'Elanna quietly. There was silence as each woman tried to handle her fears in her own way: Seven concentrated on the available data while B'Elanna concentrated on Seven.
Seven completed her analysis of the Cardassians' tactics.
"Based on their current search pattern I estimate it will be at least fourteen hours before they scan this area. Insufficient time for us to get clear of the minefield."
"Maybe we'll get lucky."
"I am sorry B'Elanna."
Seven looked downcast.
"What are you talking about? Why sorry?"
"It was my plan that brought us here."
"Don't be silly. It was a good idea but we have been unlucky. I doubt we could have tried anything better and it may still work. If the Cardies find us ... well that's too bad. If they don't then when the time is right we'll just have to take off and hope our luck holds. We should get some sleep while we can."
"I foresee a bright future for you as a cheerleader," said the computer sarcastically. "Or perhaps a motivational speaker."
"Computer shut up," said B'Elanna and Seven in unison.
The computer obliged and another deathly silence filled the small ship. The two women didn't speak much either and B'Elanna was in her bunk within 10 minutes. Seven took a little longer; she was fixing small scale sensor traps to give some warning of a Cardassian attack. B'Elanna was already asleep when she finally entered the crew quarters. She stood and watched her wondering at how even in these circumstances she could still feel desire, still want nothing more than B'Elanna to wake and open her arms to her. The object of her love turned over and snorted a little, snuggling beneath the covers. Seven watched her for a few minutes more before lying down on her bunk and trying to sleep also. Sleeping was still an unfamiliar activity and she wasn't quite sure how to initiate the process. The more she tried the less successful she seemed so in the end she stopped trying and just lay there listening to B'Elanna's steady breathing. Seconds later she too was asleep.
Some hours later B'Elanna awoke in the semi-darkness feeling very cold. She cursed and was about to ask the computer why the temperature was so low when she remembered their situation. The computer must have lowered the temperature inside the ship to reduce their energy signal. She did not think there were any more blankets in the shuttle so she put her trousers back on which helped a little. She tried to relax and return to sleep but her Klingon physiology really hated the cold.
"Seven," she whispered and then a little more loudly. "Seven! Are you awake?"
"Now you have woken me .... " replied Seven grumpily.
"I'm cold. Are there any more blankets?"
"No. Go to sleep."
"I can't."
An exasperated sigh was followed by scuffling noises and then B'Elanna found herself being shoved against the wall on the other side of the bunk and her blanket was stripped from her. The rush of cold air shivered through her.
"Hey!"
Unceremoniously Seven lay down next to B'Elanna and threw both covers over them.
"We will share." she stated. "Now please sleep. My period of regeneration is incomplete."
The bunk was small and B'Elanna found herself squeezed between the wall and Seven's back. Minutes passed. Seven could not return to sleep. From the small sighs and twitching she was aware that B'Elanna was also awake.
"You are warmer. Why are you not sleeping?"
"You are squashing me," mumbled B'Elanna. "Not that I'm not enjoying it but it kinda makes sleep hard."
More sighs followed and Seven turned over to lie on her back. She scooped B'Elanna up and the half-Klingon found herself lying in Seven's arms, her head resting on the Borg's chest. A soft warmth spread through her.
"Is that better?" asked Seven.
"Umm. It's certainly warmer and a lot more comfortable but now I am squashing you."
"Irrelevant. Sleep."
"Why so desperate to send me off to sleep?"
"I have determined that the sound of your breathing is necessary for me to achieve sleep also. And you do not speak."
B'Elanna smiled in the dark and relaxed into the arms that held her. Exhaustion was beginning to reclaim her despite the disturbingly warm sensations that Seven's body was provoking in hers. She snuggled her head into Seven's shoulder and drifted slowly out of consciousness.
Seven on the other hand was discovering that B'Elanna asleep in her arms was not the ideal sleeping potion. She was acutely conscious of the press of soft breasts against hers and the feel of the dark silky hair against her throat. She breathed in deeply inhaling a beguiling warm scent that she knew she would never forget and stifled a gasp when B'Elanna's legs tangled with hers. The overly familiar sensations that indicated physical desire manifested themselves more strongly than ever before and her need seemed overwhelming but fear held her in check and she did not move a muscle except to tighten her arms a little when B'Elanna murmured in her sleep. The sweet torture continued for a couple of hours until finally B'Elanna stirred and raised her head and spoke softly.
"Hey there."
Blue eyes, darkened nearly to black, stared into hers and she could feel Seven shivering. Without thought B'Elanna raised her mouth to kiss the full lips. Seven moaned. Raising herself up a little B'Elanna bent slowly to the slightly parted lips. Softly at first and then more fiercely.
In thrall to her need and years of stifled love Seven did not resist. She pulled her tormentor closer. Carmen lips explored her face and kissed across her eyes and then returned to her mouth. For a long time B'Elanna kissed her until with unspoken agreement they stopped and B'Elanna's lips were free to linger their way down Seven's silky throat. Strong hands were loosening her clothes, and as skin touched skin Seven whimpered. B'Elanna hesitated and withdrew a little. The would-be lover looked at Seven uncertainly. Desperate with desire Seven took hold of the hand that was now gently stroking her cheek and returned it to the more urgent task of unfastening the shirt in which she had slept.
B'Elanna smiled a little and began again with more confidence. She finished undoing Seven's shirt and slowly drew the cloth away. Awed, she gazed at the long slim body, unearthly pale in the blue light; perfect except for the diamond-shaped implant that glistened blackly on Seven's left thigh and the elegant tracery of fine lines that ran away from it and vanished beneath milk-white skin.
Seeing the direction of B'Elanna's gaze Seven winced. She moved the blanket to cover up the reminder of her bitter past but B'Elanna caught and held her wrist.
"Don't" she murmured and then released her grip and Seven's hand fell weakly back to her side. With total concentration B'Elanna's fingers caressed the cold metal. Seven shivered. The caress moved up her thigh exchanging metal for warm flesh, following the route of the curve of her hip, dipping down to her waist and then rising again towards the full swell of her breasts. B'Elanna's hand brushed over smooth, heavy softness and then travelled on to barely graze against a painfully stiff nipple. Seven swallowed hard. She was aware that she had lost control of her breathing and her body temperature. The loss of control was unsettling to the ex-drone and her momentary distraction allowed the rational voice in her head time to object. She started to speak.
"We should not ..... "
B'Elanna interrupted; her voice low and hoarse and insistent.
"Shh sweetheart. Don't talk. If we live there will be time enough for regrets."
And any remaining control vanished when B'Elanna lowered her mouth to the aching nipple and tenderly suckled and then equally tenderly raked her teeth over the tip. Seven groaned in anguish.
"Please."
She was not sure what she was pleading for but she knew she wanted more. One thought crystallised. She wanted B'Elanna naked. To see and feel what her lover was seeing and feeling.
"I want to see you."
"Later" growled B'Elanna moving to the other breast. Seven bit her lip to stifle another moan and shook her head.
"No, now. I've waited too long," she whispered. B'Elanna stared at her and then made a decision. She sat up and slowly drew her jersey over her head seemingly unaware of the chill air that had so concerned her before. Breathing rapidly Seven lay and watched. B'Elanna stripped off her trousers and kicked them off the bunk. She turned back to Seven.
"Better?" she asked and her grin widened when a wide-eyed Seven mutely opened her arms. As silken skin collided with silken skin B'Elanna answered her own question. "In Kahless' name. Yes."
The Cardassian Border
Worf's temper had hardly improved when Captain Chekhov was shown into his ready room. The shattered padd still lay against the bulkhead where he had thrown it.
"Captain Worf. You wished to see me" stated Chekhov, none to please at being summoned from her bed at such short notice even if it was to meet a Starfleet hero.
"Captain Chekhov I need some information." He hesitated slightly. If this went badly he might well end the day indicted for treason. "What was your opinion of the two fugitives you apprehended? Is it true that they were from the USS Voyager?"
Chekhov looked at him suspiciously. If she wasn't careful she would end her day in the Defiant's brig.
"They certainly claimed to be."
"Did you believe them?"
"They were plausible," she replied shortly. "Yes I did believe them. At least before Starfleet intelligence informed us they were spies."
"How did they explain their presence in the Alpha quadrant Captain?"
Chekhov was now definitely worried. Somehow Starfleet must have discovered her suspicions. She decided that partial honesty might be the best policy.
"They had some preposterous story about a wormhole. But there are no wormholes in that sector."
"Preposterous indeed," snorted Worf. "But did you believe them?" he asked fiercely.
The two Captains faced each other as each tried to gauge the other's position.
"Did you believe them Captain?" Worf repeated. Chekhov remembered everything she had ever heard about Worf. His integrity and courage were legendary. And his loyalty. But where did his loyalty lie? She said nothing.
Worf tapped his comms console and the view screen came to life. An attractive Trill woman who looked vaguely familiar to Chekhov appeared. Then she remembered seeing her on the base at Delta Cygnus. A scientist. The woman started to speak and images of a wormhole replaced her but the voice continued.
After the short transmission completed Worf turned his gaze back to her.
"Do you know who she is?"
"A scientist I think."
"Her name is Lenara Kahn and she is a famous Trill scientist. Famous for her research into artificial wormholes. I helped her conduct a wormhole experiment from this very ship. That was before the war and the wormhole research treaty. Do you believe her story?"
"Yes" said Chekhov suddenly tired of playing this cat and mouse game. "Yes I believe her and I believed our prisoners." She waited for the blow to fall.
"As do I," growled Worf. He slammed his hand on the desk. "All that remains to decide Captain Chekhov is what we do with this information. And what do we do about the fugitives."
"Our orders are to destroy them."
"Such orders are against normal Starfleet procedure and Federation Law. And I will answer for my decision in this matter to a board of enquiry. I will not carry out summary executions. Are you with me?"
Her normally serious expression suddenly vanished, replaced by a smile of great charm.
"I thought you would never ask Captain. What are your orders?"
"Their vessel was tracked as it crossed the Cardassian border. We will cross into Cardassian space and inform the Cardassians that we are hunting wanted smugglers. There are clear agreements about the extradition of smugglers and it will be a convincing cover story. If the fugitives are what we believe then they will be trying to return to the badlands and we will be in a better position to intercept them."
"What if the Cardassians have captured them? It is going to be very apparent to everyone who meets them that these are not normal smugglers" she said remembering the tall Borg.
"If the Cardassians won't hand them over then we will have no choice but to return without them. In the meantime I will make direct contact with Dr Kahn. My source informs me she is planning to bring the USS Voyager home through the wormhole but she will need help. Can you trust your senior officers to follow your orders Captain?"
"Not entirely. My first officer is not reliable at the best of times and he is head of security who follow his lead closely. He will not be sympathetic to these fugitives."
Worf scowled.
"That is an added difficulty. We must be careful." He shrugged. "It will not affect our current course of action. We will cross the border at 0800 hours. Return to your ship Captain."
Hours later in a small bolt hole on a large asteroid in a huge minefield
"Seven?"
"Hmm."
"Are you ever coming back up here?"
"No."
B'Elanna smiled.
"I want to hold you and besides I'm getting cold." She tugged weakly at the stray blankets and then shuddered as her lover began to slowly kiss her way up her body, lingering here and then there. Desire stirred again. Although whether she could do anything about it in her boneless state she wasn't sure.
A distant explosion rumbled through the ground and the little ship quivered.
"The Cardassians" exclaimed B'Elanna and an unpleasant jolt of adrenaline shot through her.
Another explosion shook the ground and then another and another.
"No" said Seven lying very still, listening to the rumbling explosions. "The minefield has been reactivated. Computer what is happening?" Her voice sounded strangely husky.
The Cardassian fleet left the minefield ten minutes ago. They seemed to be in a great hurry." replied the computer.
"And you didn't think to tell us?"
"You were busy Lieutenant," said the computer coyly.
"Computer have you been monitoring us?" B'Elanna asked with a sudden feeling of anger.
The computer snorted in disgust. "Would you want to watch your parents cavorting Lieutenant Torres? I certainly did not wish to. I merely assumed you were busy. If the situation had deteriorated I would have informed you."
"Why have they gone?" asked Seven sitting up. B'Elanna stifled a whimper of protest at the loss of contact. "Did you intercept any communications Computer."
"No."
"So they may return. How long until we exit from the minefield.?"
"3 hours and 32 minutes approximately." answered the computer.
Seven leaned over B'Elanna and gently kissed the firm swell of her belly. She frowned at the little goose bumps rising in the chill air and tried to brush them away with her fingers. She felt B'Elanna tense and her breathing become uneven as the long fingers slid further down.
"Computer. Increase the cabin temperature to normal levels. I have unfinished business which I believe will take 2 hours, 55 minutes and 24 seconds precisely."
The computer complied and then hastily shut down all sensors in the crew cabin except for the voice activated ones. These still gave far too much information, so metaphorically hunching its shoulders the Turing's computer began a total review of all systems, the third of the night, and tried to ignore the disturbing sounds emanating from the cabin.
Starfleet base in the Delta Cygnus System
"I am most excited by your change of mind Dr Kahn" said Dr Kravitz almost hopping with joy. The Trill scientist had given him a working paper for further development of the wormhole which seemed most convincing. Apparently she had second thoughts about her theory and believed that they could modify the design of the wormhole generator to make it a two way gate. "Have you discussed this with your colleagues from Trill."
"No." She smiled. "I would appreciate it if you looked at my proposed modifications before I bring anyone else into the picture. I would also like to try one or two small experiments first."
Kravitz was very flattered. Dr Kahn had hardly ever bothered to include him in any discussion of her theories although he was no slouch when it came to wormhole theory. Her recent humiliation may have done her some good after all he thought with satisfaction. All in all life was looking up. The escaped fugitives seemed to have vanished and according to rumour were probably dead, no security breach had occurred and now the project was stirring back into life.
Lenara Kahn's voice brought him back to the present. "Have you identified a new area of the Delta quadrant for the location of the wormhole terminus? I do not want any further interference from USS Voyager."
"Ah yes. Good news on two counts. Firstly Voyager is on her way and has resumed her journey to the Alpha quadrant and secondly we have identified an area of the Delta quadrant from Voyager's own records which seems devoid of intelligent species. Just let me know when you wish to recommence testing."
"In a few days" said Lenara, "I will keep you informed of progress. One thing though..." She paused as though debating with herself. "I wish we had the shuttle that came through the wormhole. Telemetry from that ship would be invaluable to us, even the occupants might have vital information which makes the difference between success and failure. They are the only people to have observed the terminus of the wormhole from the other side. Oh well I suppose that's not possible." She smiled warmly at Kravitz and then departed for her lab.
For a moment he wondered about her motives and then dismissed the suspicion. Like all great scientists she was obsessed with her work and not with the consequences. She had doubtless concluded that her theory was more important than any military or political issues.
"Get me Admiral Clift" he said to the station computer and rubbed his bony little hands. For once he was able to report some good news.
The Turing - 3 hours and 32 minutes later (approximately)
"We are clear of the cave, climbing to 500 metres" B'Elanna announced. "Is there any sign of the Cardassians?"
"None. Maintain this altitude and position until we clear the minefield in 11 seconds."
They for waited what seemed like a century until Seven said "Now."
B'Elanna increased impulse power and guided the Turing through a narrow corridor in the debris that circled the asteroid. 5 seconds later they were in clear space but the asteroid had already resumed its brutal journey through the minefield. The occupants of the shuttle did not pause to watch the pyrotechnic display and in less than a minute they were travelling through a slipstream towards the badlands.
Seven came to stand behind B'Elanna. She wrapped her arms around her and B'Elanna leaned back blissfully, her head against her lover's shoulder. After a few moments she twisted her head to look up at Seven. The latter returned her gaze, ice-blue eyes dark with desire. The expression was troubled though.
"Do you regret our actions?"
B'Elanna turned to face her. "No bangwI, of course not, I love you, why ..."
"Because we survived. Because I do not think I will be able to give you up."
Seven tightened her arms around the smaller woman. Love and want overwhelmed them.
"Here we go again" muttered the computer irritably. "Very irresponsible. It's just as well I'm here to keep things ticking over."
The Turing continued along the slipstream, impervious to the mass of sensors that locked onto the spatial distortion and the flurry of futile attempts to intercept its flight. Two Federation starships facing off against a Cardassian fleet signalled their intention to withdraw immediately from Cardassian space while the Cardassian military fell into mutual recriminations about the mistaken withdrawal of the fleet searching for what was clearly a very unusual shuttle. Less than two hours later the Turing dropped out of the slipstream, sidestepped a waiting fleet of Federation starships and scurried into the badlands.
The two Federation starships did not return to their station near the badlands. Instead at near maximum warp both ships were headed for Delta Cygnus. Queried by their superiors, Captain Worf reported that he had reliable information that the renegades were going to try and return to the system and that he wanted to have starships waiting for them when they arrived. As he pointed out he had left a full fleet of nearly forty starships circling the badlands so this was just insurance in case they somehow slipped through the net.
Continued in next chapter
TITLE: Lost and Home
SUBSECTION: Home
PARTS: 10 to 13
SUMMARY: Our heroes have found each other though they are still separated from Voyager. The question now is can they keep each other?
Lost and Home by halfofone
Date added: 2002-01-14 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Mudd's Last Stand
B'Elanna strolled happily through the mean and shifty streets of Mudd City. Despite the grotty surroundings and diverse array of gruesome inhabitants watching her progress with the unnatural concentration of predators watching for potential prey, she felt like singing. Not being much of a singer, she restricted herself to whistling. Even so such obvious good cheer was generally only expressed by inebriated late night revelers, and as a consequence she was attracting a certain amount of attention from the less fortunate denizens of the borough. The prevailing belief of the good citizens of this town, was that happiness generally equated to material good fortune and good fortune could be shared one way or another. So it wasn't long before several hangers-on with widely different methods, but very similar intentions, had attached themselves metaphorically (and in one case literally) to her coat-tails. Klingon scowling and growling had little effect in deterring her newly acquired fan-club and even some well aimed blows only discouraged them for a few seconds before they resumed their litany of hard-luck stories and offers of inconceivable services and valuable possessions in return for just a few credits. It was with relief that she arrived at the central transporter station where she was due to meet Seven of Nine. The latter was waiting for her, and B'Elanna felt her heart skip a beat when she saw the tall Borg looking effortlessly out of place amid the grunge and grimy machinery that passed for a ticket and transit hall.
Seven observed B'Elanna's train of followers with some puzzlement, until she saw her lover curse and push one of the more persistent (and light fingered) away. Drawing herself up to her full height she enquired in a droneish voice.
"Are these persons to be assimilated? We require additional crewmen." And to drive the point home she extended her assimilation tubules for the benefit of all those watching. In seconds every beggar had vanished. B'Elanna grinned.
"That was evil my sweet. Thank you."
"It was nothing. Was your meeting with Mira Hassan successful?"
"Once she recovered from her shock at our return. She's ecstatic. Well she looked approving at least. Basically whatever we want we can have. She signed this release for the Turing, granted us unlimited replicator access for repairs and transferred a pretty large sum of latinum to our account. So what would you like to do first?"
"First I wish to return to our lodgings for a shower, clean clothes and some sleep."
"Do you really want to sleep?" asked B'Elanna mischievously. "We could do other things."
"I need to sleep" insisted Seven. "You need sleep also. We have much work to do on the Turing if we are to get it ready for reconnoitering Delta Cygnus."
"I suppose so," said B'Elanna reluctantly. She did not really want to think about trying to return to Voyager. Any which way she thought about it she risked losing Seven unless she could persuade her that they should give up this hopeless attempt to get back to the Delta quadrant, and instead, live out their lives together in the Alpha quadrant. At the moment Seven was adamant that B'Elanna must return to Voyager and receive treatment for her memory loss whatever the outcome. Seven was still speaking.
"... after we have regenerated for an adequate period I will consider your suggestion." she said, and then without irony. "It is probable that I will agree."
She leant down to kiss her lover lightly on the lips and then again and after a few seconds, they were wrapped in each others arms, oblivious to the miserable surroundings and wisecracks from onlookers threatening to call out the fire department. Public opinion about the free show varied from outrage that two such gorgeous women should be wasted on each other to the less hard-hearted view that such love was beautiful to behold and a surefire turn-on in the bargain. Indeed after they had reluctantly separated and were slowly walking hand-in-hand back to the lodging place, B'Elanna found a small business card from the manager of the 'Girls with Guns Club' (Live Performances Every Night!) tucked in her gun belt, offering a substantial sum of money if they would join the payroll. She dropped the bit of card on the pavement where it disappeared into a carpet of refuse.
"Littering Torres?" enquired a small figure with a surprisingly deep voice and a large disruptor which was pointed at them. "That carries a hefty fine." A flash of iridescent green eyelids accompanied his words.
"Waldo" B'Elanna sighed resignedly.
"Torres I want you out of this town. And your Borg toy."
"We are working on it Waldo. But we have some problems we need to work through first."
"I don't give a frell about your problems. Leave tonight." The green eyelids fluttered and his eyes swizzled from one to the other.
"Or what you little lizard? Are you going to kill us? I should warn you that we are members of Hassan's organisation and you know her record with scum who murder her people. You wouldn't last the night." B'Elanna tightened her hold on Seven's hand and they walked past, ignoring the small man and his weapon.
Conscious of smirking faces around him Waldo shouted after them,
"That's 20 strips of latinum for littering Torres. Payment within 5 days."
They made no sign of having heard him and disappeared round the corner of the next alley. Waldo angrily kicked a drunken itinerant lying in the gutter.
'Don't underestimate me Torres; perhaps I can't kill you but your Starfleet friends certainly will; I'll make sure of that.'
B'Elanna and Seven arrived back at the crummy little low rent house after twenty minutes walk. Their reputation had travelled much faster and no-one troubled them with so much as a word. Even the old lady seemed more respectful especially around Seven and it was with a grating air of sympathetic interest that she said to B'Elanna.
"I'm just returning your belongings dear." She gestured at a large tatty box in the hallway. "I thought it best to take them for safe keeping while you were away. So glad to see you back dearie and so healthy. I trust the little one is healthy also."
B'Elanna laughed.
"Hey I'm the little one granny. I think your eyes require adjustment."
"No not your friend, I mean this little one," and she placed her gnarled hand on B'Elanna's stomach. "There is no need to look surprised. I can smell it. I am never wrong." She cackled merrily.
B'Elanna grabbed her hard by the wrist and the old lady gasped.
"What are you talking about you old fool?"
"The baby. You know you're with child dontcha?" B'Elanna released her abruptly. The old crone snatched back her wrist rubbing it angrily, "and you call me the fool," she snarled.
"I'm sorry. I ... " B'Elanna looked at Seven and the open disbelief on the Borg's face forestalled any suspicion that the half-Klingon might have had about Seven hiding this from her. B'Elanna pulled two strips of latinum from her pocket and pressed them in the old woman's hand. Delighted, the old dear forgot her animosity instantly.
"Well I have saved you an expensive trip to the Doctor. Come to think of it any quack round here would charge you five strips so it's a real bargain. Well I can't stand 'ere and chatter to you two all night." She trundled slowly away into the dark, smoky interior of the house contemplating all the secret places she might hide her new treasure from the prying eyes and hands of her paying guests. Seven and B'Elanna barely noticed her departure.
"I do not understand." Seven sounded confused, perhaps even scared. "I scanned you when we first arrived in the Alpha Quadrant, when you were injured. The tricorder said nothing about pregnancy."
B'Elanna was staring down at her own stomach. She answered distractedly, "I don't know. Maybe you didn't ask for general health. Maybe it just reported the injuries. Seven what are we going to do?"
"We have to check. Perhaps the old woman is wrong; the Starfleet doctor said nothing about this. She can't have missed it."
B'Elanna allowed Seven to sit her down and waited quietly while the Borg fiddled with a tricorder. She noticed Seven's hand was shaking as she moved the instrument over her stomach and put her hand out to steady her. Seven jerked her hand away from the contact and continued the scan. The ex-drone stood up and examined the readout.
"You are four weeks pregnant."
"Damn."
B'Elanna sat on the bed and placed her hand on her stomach. Seven said nothing.
"Seven?" The Borg would not look at her. She kept checking and rechecking the tricorder. B'Elanna tried again.
"Seven?"
"Yes."
"Are you going to speak to me?"
At last Seven looked at her, her eyes were brimming and she threw the tricorder aside in a gesture that was very unlike Seven.
"I am sorry. I should congratulate you. That is the correct response is it not?"
"No. I didn't mean that. Just come here and hold me." When the ex-drone still hesitated B'Elanna panicked and snapped. "In Kahless name get your damn backside over here."
Seven drew back sharply, saying frozen-voiced "No. I do not wish to. I need to take a walk."
"Seven stop. BangwI talk to me. Why are you behaving like this?" B'Elanna moved in front of the door to prevent her from leaving.
"Because now things are worse. Now I know you will go back to him"
"Listen to me Seven. This makes no difference."
"Yes it does. How can it not?" Unable to leave the room Seven was now striding up and down the small floor. Finally she swore loudly and inexpertly and brought her Borg hand down on the small lamp smashing it into small fragments. They were plunged into darkness. For a moment there was silence.
"Did that help?" B'Elanna asked dryly
"I believe it did" Seven replied and hesitated before continuing, "but I apologise for my action. It was pointless, inefficient." Even in the darkness B'Elanna could hear the embarrassment in the even voice. Seven slowly drew the curtains to allow in the meagre light from the street lamps. B'Elanna moved to her, wrapping her arms around the narrow waist. She closed her eyes in relief when Seven roughly pulled her close and kissed her hard. She was returning the kiss with interest, passion rising, when just as abruptly the tall blonde relaxed her hold saying in a worried voice.
"I may hurt her if I hug you too hard?"
For a few seconds lost to frustrated lust B'Elanna did not understand what she meant. And then the words made sense.
"Her? It's a her?" she exclaimed. B'Elanna was surprised to feel a sudden warmth for the kid as though she was suddenly a real person.
Seven went rigid.
"B'Elanna I am sorry. I should not have told you."
B'Elanna nearly laughed before her frustration boiled over in fake annoyance.
"Will you quit it with the apologies dammit? That's your third in ten minutes. Ye Gods amongst all the bloody things we have to worry about, knowing the sex of my child is the least. And don't you dare find reasons not to hold me Borg. I'm not feeble. Hell! Klingon women fight battles right up to the time of birth."
"Sorry ... "
"Seven!"
Seven held her closer but she was still being careful. Exasperated and not a little desperate B'Elanna twined her arms round the slender neck and kissed her way up to Seven's ear. Seven's hand was caressing her breast through the thin material of her shirt and it was with difficulty that B'Elanna controlled her own breathing enough to speak.
"Don't hold back my sweet," she whispered between kisses, "because I tell you now that I am going to make you scream ... and ... be sure of this ... I want the favour returned."
Seven shuddered as the smaller woman pressed her body hard against hers.
"We should rest" she objected shakily.
"Later. We can rest later."
Later that night Seven fell asleep peacefully in her lover's arms but B'Elanna dreamed: confused dreams, full of anguished people. Some she recognised and some were achingly familiar but she did not know them. She knew she had failed them but no-one would tell her what she had done. She heard her mother's voice, mocking and offended.
"You have dishonoured me again. What a piece of work you are child. You should never have been born."
B'Elanna woke up with a start, her hearts pumping. Seven, who was spooned tight against her in the small bed, stirred in protest and B'Elanna, remembering where she was, stifled the words of anger rising to her lips and lay very still, listening until Seven's breathing became more even.
As she lay there she wondered about her life on Voyager. It amazed her to think of herself as chief engineer on a starship. It all seemed incredibly respectable and grown up. Married, in a responsible job and now with a child on the way. Honesty compelled her to admit she was curious about this other life. 'Do I want it back?' she wondered. Not if it means losing Seven was the thought that immediately ricocheted back. But what about your daughter? Kahless that sounded strange. Seven was right it did change everything but perhaps not in the way the Borg had assumed.
'Do I have any right to endanger my child's life in some futile attempt to rejoin Voyager?' And was life on a starship lost in the Delta quadrant any life for a child even if it were possible to get back there? On the other hand life as a smuggler was not ideal either and Mudd City was no place to bring up a child. The choice appeared to be between two equally bad alternatives. Then again, maybe they could work out what was going on with the wormhole and perhaps cut a deal with Starfleet and give themselves some kind of chance to build a better life. She felt marginally more optimistic. For the moment it made sense to continue with their plan to investigate Delta Cygnus. Do a little digging and try and come up with some information. Decision made, she felt happier. She snuggled back against the lanky body, smiling to herself as Seven instinctively put an arm around her.
The Delta quadrant
Tom Paris sat slouched on the Captain's couch. The boyishness had vanished from his face banished by mind dulling fear and sorrow. He was staring at the floor, hardly moving, as he had been for nearly ten minutes. Janeway could not recognise him as the brash over-confident pilot of only two weeks ago. She sat next to him and laid her hand over his. He jerked away.
"Tom" she said gently. "We have news."
He didn't look up.
"They may be alive. In the Alpha quadrant." His shoulders moved but he still stared at the floor. "Did you hear me Lieutenant?" Her voice was firmer and out of habit Tom Paris responded.
"Yes Captain."
She stared at him frustrated by his lack of response.
"Tom I know this has been tough but there's a chance now."
He raised his head and looked into her eyes. Aching blue eyes filled with tears. It was with difficulty that Janeway didn't start to cry in response, seeing her arrogant young helmsman like this.
"A chance that B'Elanna and I will meet again when we are both old Captain?" his voice echoed the cynicism of his younger self when Janeway first brought him on Voyager.
"The same chance that everyone else aboard has Tom," she replied more sternly than she felt.
His gaze fell back on the floor. Janeway had to resist the urge to kick him. She stood up and went to her desk.
"I see no point in you sitting around in your quarters like this. You are to return to duty as the Doctor's assistant for light duties, effective immediately."
"Why not the bridge," he mumbled.
"I can't hear you Lieutenant."
"Why not the Bridge, Ma'am?"
Janeway paced around him slowly, considering him from different angles.
"Why would I entrust my ship to you Lieutenant? Even Neelix would be a better choice at the moment."
"I'm less likely to kill someone flying than working in sick bay" he said slowly.
Janeway bit her lip to prevent herself smiling. The spark was not altogether gone. Her voice did not betray the relief she felt.
"You have a point Lieutenant. Half-shifts for the moment and you are to follow the doctor's orders to the letter, which means no drinking and no late nights. Is that clear? Slip up and you will be mopping floors in sick bay all the way home."
"Yes Captain."
"Dismissed."
He got slowly to his feet and walked to the door. She felt some satisfaction, his back was straight and his stride positive.
"Tom, we will go after them."
He paused by the door, but said nothing. he stepped out onto the bridge. Janeway followed him out and watched him relieve the Ensign at the pilot's station.
She then walked out briskly to take her seat, ignoring Chakotay's rolling eyes. He did not approve.
"Tom. Bring us about. We are returning to the wormhole terminus."
She could hear Chakotay beginning to protest but continued to ignore him.
"Yellow alert. We're going home," she announced to no one and everyone. "All crew are to report to their stations for immediate duty. Voyager will be fully combat ready within 24 hours."
"Kathryn we need to talk," said Chakotay urgently.
"She slouched into her command chair and a slow smile formed.
"Sometimes Chakotay it is better to act than talk." He recognised that look and sighed inwardly. There were to be no arguments, well none worth having.
"Ready Tom?"
"Yes Captain."
"Engage. Maximum warp."
Voyager quivered against the backdrop of stars and then her engines hurled her forward, the stars smearing backwards as they outran the starlight.
Hassan Incorporated - HQ
"Impressive," said Seven looking up at the imposing fortress.
"Most of it is below ground," said B'Elanna. "Mira controls all the major smuggling routes from Bajor through to Risa. Other pirates and smugglers pay taxes to her." She shook her head. "Sheesh, tax-paying pirates. Sometimes I think organised criminals are just federation government wannabees. The paperwork used to drive the Maquis insane."
B'Elanna leant on the communications panel.
"B'Elanna Torres and Seven of Nine to see Mira Hassan."
A gunship appeared behind them and hovered menacingly. A pale green light played over them as they were scanned.
"You will discard all weapons," said a disembodied voice. Seven began looking round for some escape route. B'Elanna grinned at her and removed her gun belt and dropped it on to the flat circular table beside the main entrance. The weapon dematerialised instantly. Following her lead Seven removed her own gun belt and dropped it in the same place. As it disappeared the armoured entrance opened.
They stepped inside and the doors closed. The room was small and had no other doors. Seven had a vague sensation of motion. Turbolift she guessed. Seconds later the doors opened again and they entered an enormous hallway with what appeared to be massive stone walls decorated at intervals with impressive arrays of antique weaponry lit by antique torches. B'Elanna followed her curious gaze and laughed.
"It's all for show. Mira likes the Gothic. Behind those walls are 10 metre thick duranium walls with a skin of tetraburnium alloys backed up by the sort of shields you'd find on a Federation flagship."
"Torres", interrupted a strong voice from the far end of the room. "Are you going to get your butt down here or are you just going to stand about."
Mira stood at the far end of the hall looking every inch the pirate she was.
B'Elanna was a little put out to see Seven staring at the pirate as though she had never seen her before.
"You're not her type," she muttered irritably as they started down the hall. Seven looked down at her quizzically.
"Her type?"
"Small, delicate, red-head. And you qualify on none of those grounds."
Seven would have smiled at the jealousy evident in her lover's voice except she did not really understand why B'Elanna should be jealous. Hassan was tall, dark and handsome and powerful but of no interest otherwise. Reviewing that statement Seven realised there was a flaw in her logic. It was true she was curious about the woman. She was a criminal, a class of beings of whom Seven had little experience or understanding, but Seven saw no personal appeal, however it was clear that many people would regard the smuggler as very attractive.
"Then it is fortunate that she is not my 'type' either" she said quietly. B'Elanna looked mollified and then dubious.
"Your type?"
"Small, fiery, half-Klingon." Seven was succinct.
B'Elanna found herself grinning more widely and foolishly than she should. Waiting impatiently, Mira caught the change of expression and looked at her oddly. Observing that the goofy look was directed at Seven the smuggler smothered her exasperation and envy. She led them into a smaller stone-lined room in which a roaring open fire and ancient heavy wooden furniture contrasted strangely with the instrument panels and view screens.
"I received your message and my representatives have been investigating the area around Delta Cygnus. They have uncovered some information which may be useful. By the way B'Elanna congratulations on your pregnancy although I have to tell you that you have not been an employee of Hassan Inc. long enough to qualify for maternity leave."
"Shame that," said B'Elanna feeling annoyed despite herself. "What information Mira and when can we leave?"
"Something is going to happen, soon. Starfleet have issued a full twenty-four hour security exclusion order for the entire Delta Cygnus area starting 1200 tomorrow. Only authorised Starfleet vessels may enter the zone of control."
"Another wormhole! It has to be. Seven this may be our chance. We can fly into it cloaked and be gone before Starfleet know what is happening." B'Elanna felt a rush of excitement and was surprised that Seven did not react to the news until she met her eyes and saw the anguish there. And then B'Elanna didn't feel too good about the implications either. Her spur of the moment elation evaporated.
"At least we can find out what's going on. Probably not a good idea to just rush in" she amended quietly, taking Seven's hand and squeezing it gently. Mira resisted the impulse to roll her eyes. She continued the briefing.
"Several members of the organisation have disappeared in that sector in the last three months. The local reps are getting nervous. They think there is some kind of double agent in the organisation but thanks to you I now have an alternative explanation."
"And you think ... " B'Elanna started to ask. Mira cut her off, annoyed at being interrupted.
"... that they were destroyed or imprisoned because they saw things they shouldn't. Destroyed is more likely according to one of my Starfleet sources. My investigator found that several other civilian vessels have been reported missing after logging flights in that area. He also supplied the name of a Starfleet officer who has been making some interesting enquiries about you. A Reginald Barclay. Know him?"
B'Elanna looked at her blankly but Seven recognised the name immediately.
"Lieutenant Barclay was instrumental in developing a method of regular communication between Starfleet and Voyager."
"Mr Barclay has been hunting the length and breadth of the Federation for you. We also have a name of a scientist on the Delta Cygnus base who has used some of our communications facilities to relay some very odd data. The content of the messages is interesting. You seem to have blundered into a major conspiracy." Mira quickly explained the details about the wormhole treaty with the Dominion and the likely players in the conspiracy based on what her Starfleet double agents knew of dissatisfaction within the Federation. She finished by saying. "I will go with you to Delta Cygnus."
"There's no need Mira, we'll be perfectly alright."
"I am going as your employer not your friend. We will rendezvous with one of my local commanders and then you will carry out a full reconnaissance of the area. You are to report back to me on completion. This is Hassan Inc. business now so no mad gestures, is that clear?"
B'Elanna and Seven did not reply.
Hassan glared at them. "Just be careful then, now get out of here and get your ship ready, we depart in one hour."
They turned to leave still holding hands and Mira watched them go. 'Love's young dream.' she mused. 'God help them.' She knew all the details now. She had insisted B'Elanna and Seven file a full report on anything that might be relevant to their situation and Mira considered everything about her employees relevant including their personal lives.
Captain Worf's ready room on the Defiant
Worf was talking to his communicator.
"Can we speak?"
On her own ship Chekhov got to her feet and checked the privacy seal on the door of her quarters.
"Yes. There's no-one here."
"I have had further communication from Lieutenant Barclay. Operation Home Run is scheduled for tomorrow. 1200 hours. I have also received information from Starfleet that the renegades are on their way to Delta Cygnus. Our orders have been changed and we are to capture them; apparently they are now required for interrogation on Delta Cygnus."
"That's awkward. We may not be able to catch them and keep to the schedule."
"The fugitives are less important and they will give us a better excuse for moving closer to Delta Cygnus. We must not be diverted from our priority. At 1200 we will be in position to defend the wormhole."
At his security listening post indulging in a bit of general snooping on his shipmates Commander Smith was puzzled by the ship to ship communication. It was encrypted. He identified the sources of the signals. Why would the Captain be talking to her opposite number on a non-standard channel? Unless they didn't want the communication recorded in the ship's log? His suspicious mind carefully recalled the events of the past few days. He frowned and opened the Starfleet Security communications channel.
"Message to SS headquarters. This is Commander Smith, head of security on the USS Vigilant. I have a possible security breach. Patch me through to Admiral Clift."
Mudd Port orbital repair station
B'Elanna carried another heap of supplies through the airlock and dumped it inside the Turing. She was sweating lightly. They had been working flat out to get the ship ready and had exchanged almost no conversation except to discuss requirements. Seven was finding it difficult to shake off the sense of apprehension and dread that had gripped her since the earlier meeting with Hassan. She watched B'Elanna who had not stopped working from the moment they left HQ. They hadn't even bothered returning to their lodgings to collect any belongings. B'Elanna had been adamant that there was enough aboard the Turing and they should not waste the time. A small voice at the back of Seven's mind insisted quietly. 'She wants to go home Seven. She has had enough of you and she wants to go back to that other life. You are not enough.' Seven understood this. It made perfect sense to her. Who could love a Borg drone really? She jumped as B'Elanna came up behind her and embraced her.
"What's the matter beautiful?" the half-Klingon asked softly, looking up at her. "You look as though the world is ending."
"Nothing. It is nothing." Seeing that B'Elanna was unimpressed with that she expanded, "I am apprehensive about the mission."
"Why fret? It's just a little recon" and B'Elanna leaned up to kiss her on the lips. "We're ready now if Hassan can just be bothered to get here on time." She deepened the kiss and the computer snorted
"You may be ready Lieutenant but I am extremely busy. If you can tear yourself away, there are three major diagnostics to be run and the port engine is still not operating at one hundred percent efficiency."
Reluctantly B'Elanna pulled away and rested her forehead on Seven's shoulder. She sighed.
"Well I guess we'll have time later. I'm port engine bound." She tore herself from Seven's arms, smiled reassuringly and climbed down into engineering through the maintenance hatch.
Seven watched her go and the oppressive dread returned again. It was not logical but she sensed that this was the end. She would lose B'Elanna.
Mira entered the main airlock.
"Ready?" she asked without preamble. Seven turned towards her and the smuggler was shocked to see that the normally impassive Seven of Nine appeared distraught though she covered her distress quickly. Her voice shook very slightly but the control was back.
"We will complete preparations in 3.2 minutes."
Hassan was relieved that Seven was trying to keep her misery to herself. She was not looking forward to spending time in a small shuttle trapped with two over-emotional lovebirds and she certainly did not want to get involved in their impossible personal situation. Not that she didn't have sympathy for them, she just did not see any way she could help and therefore no point in further discussion.
"Good. Launch whenever you are ready. I want to get on with this."
Four minutes later, the Turing completed its undocking procedures and floated free from the repair station. The repair yard master was sad to see it go. It had been one of his most profitable clients for a long time, but no doubt it would return with another impressive list of repair needs, or so he hoped. Other people were not so sad. From the planetary control centre Waldo watched the ship gradually back out of the docking bay. He tapped the communicator.
"Planetary Control to Shuttle Turing. You are free to depart. Safe journey." And his eyes fluttered joyfully. Revenge was good.
Free from obstructions the Turing turned on its axis and began the uncomfortable journey through the badlands back towards open space.
Continued in next chapter
Lost and Home by halfofone
Date added: 2002-07-07 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
B'Elanna sat on the deck of the shuttle Turing, lounging against Seven's legs, and listened with some amusement to Mira Hassan trying to explain smuggling to the Borg.
"It is not an entertainment Seven. It's my livelihood and the livelihood of several thousand others."
"I understood that no Federation citizen was required to 'earn a living'. Crime would appear to be unnecessary."
"Not everyone wants to owe their existence to the almighty Federation. Some of us wish to make our own way."
"By preying on the weak and flouting the laws set for the mutual benefit of the collective."
Mira stared at the tall ex-drone angrily, her Robin Hood fantasy disintegrated by a blast of inexorable Borg plain-speaking. She was annoyed to find herself feeling guilty, a luxury that she had given up and it was with difficulty that the smuggler controlled her temper and agreed tightly.
"Yes. Exactly that." Changing the subject, she asked, "Computer, how much longer before we arrive?"
"Five minutes and 15 seconds to the slipstream exit point," answered the Turing's computer. "And then two minutes to the rendezvous with your associates." The computer sniffed disapprovingly.
"Time to get ready then." Mira stood up and walked into the crew quarters relieved to get away from Seven's relentless inquisition.
"I think you offended her," remarked B'Elanna.
"That was not my intention," answered Seven coolly and then looked troubled. "Have I embarrassed you?"
"Kahless, no! It does Mira good to be challenged occasionally. She's used to having everything her own way. None of her operatives dare say boo to her. She was always arguing with Rosalind about some of her more criminal activities and Rosalind never let her get away with anything." B'Elanna smiled and squeezed Seven's hand. "Of course the Maquis couldn't be too judgmental. We needed people like Hassan: ships, weapons and information, everything had its price. And to be fair to her, Mira contributed most of her support without any profit; that guy we delivered to Sephal, I'd be very surprised if Mira made a single latinum strip out of that deal."
Seven considered this.
"So criminals can be of value."
"If you are an armed resistance group and for a price. In truth many people would regard the Maquis as criminal."
"Were you?"
"We did things I am ashamed of," she admitted. "We are, that is, we were, fighting a war against an enemy who knew no pity for either soldiers or civilians. Rosalind and Chakotay always argued against actions that endangered civilians unnecessarily. They thought we undermined our own cause."
"Did you think differently?" Seven asked tentatively, curious about B'Elanna's past, but also nervous of asking too much about people whom the half-Klingon was still mourning.
"I'm a Klingon hothead, so of course I did," B'Elanna replied lightly. The former Maquis was undecided for a moment then her chin went up and she made up her mind to tell the truth regardless. Seven had a right to know the sort of person she had been.
"Eight months ago my patrol found what was left of one of my friends after the Cardassians had finished with him. They had tortured him for days and then, when they couldn't get him to talk, his three children. We were in enemy territory with no medicines or anything to even help their pain." B'Elanna's voice dropped until Seven could hardly make out what she was saying. "We couldn't help them or take them with us so we decided to kill them. It was the only thing we could do for them." The half-Klingon drew away from Seven. "A short time afterwards we found a Cardassian outpost. We destroyed it and everyone in it - there were twenty-three civilians in there, no military personnel at all. Our commander didn't give them a chance to surrender, just blew the buildings to pieces. Not one member of the patrol even protested at the slaughter. We shot the survivors."
"B'Elanna," Seven remonstrated gently. "Eight months ago you were aboard Voyager."
"So you say. Anyway, eight months or eight years, what does it matter? It still happened and I still don't know how I feel about it." B'Elanna could taste the bitterness of the raw memories, the pain and guilt, even the nausea, belonging to a time when wrong was heaped on wrong. In the end it had all been for nothing anyway, the Maquis were gone and she had to push her aching shame back where it had come from, together with the conviction that she should have died with them.
"We'd better get ready," she said gruffly. "I need to go and nursemaid that damned port engine through the slipstream shutdown."
Seven watched regretfully as B'Elanna disappeared through the hatch into the engine room. Unresolved guilt was something with which she was only too familiar: visions of a thousand assimilations crowded in on the ex-drone.
"Approaching exit from slipstream in twenty seconds," announced the computer. On cue Mira Hassan emerged from the cabin and moved to stand behind Seven.
"Acknowledged. Commence shutdown of slipstream," said Seven, thankful to have something to take her mind off past sorrows.
"Shutdown initiated," said the computer. The smooth, silent transition along the slipstream was replaced by the more normal hum and vibration of the impulse engines and the computer confirmed the re-entry. "We have exited from the slipstream and entered normal space. Shutdown is complete. We're here, wherever here maybe, and on the bright side, short-range sensors suggest that there are no brigands, policemen or fleets of heavily armed starships lying in wait. So that's a nice change."
"Full power to the warp engines." instructed Seven. "Set course for rendezvous. Warp seven."
B'Elanna hauled herself back up through the hatch. "The port engine seems okay but I'll monitor it from up here a while longer."
Seven looked at her anxiously and B'Elanna smiled crookedly back. "It's alright Seven. I'm alright."
They travelled onwards for five minutes without speaking until the computer informed them that the rendezvous point was in view.
"On screen. Cut warp engines and set course for the third moon," said Seven. The Turing dropped out of warp, its view screen flickered into life, revealing a large ringed planet. After a few seconds, a small planet became visible to the right of the gas giant. The tiny ship flew directly towards it.
"We're being hailed by the natives, or should I say threatened?" announced the computer. "And judging by the somewhat unorthodox greeting from the flight tower, this appears to be another suitably colourful destination in our tour of criminal hotspots."
A thin voice piped up over the comm.
"This is moonbase Arcona. Identify yourselves and state your business or we'll blast you out of the galaxy."
"I am Mira Hassan, commander of the Independent Trader Association. I have a meeting with Commander Arwyn. Please inform the commander of my arrival and prepare to transport me direct to Arcona Tower."
The flight controller sounded much more respectful but he was still firm. "Excuse me Ma'am but could you please transmit your identity clearance code? We are under a strict security lockdown. This sector has been crawling with Starfleet, like ticks on a targ."
Mira nodded approvingly. The space controller would have been out of a job if he hadn't asked, or possibly out of his life. "Transmitting code now," she responded as the Turing transmitted her high-level clearance code.
"Code received," replied the controller. "You are cleared for transport Commander Hassan. Are your ready to transport now?"
"Ready." responded Mira.
"Transport initiated."
Mira disappeared from the shuttle.
B'Elanna sat down at the comms console.
"All we have to do now is wait. Computer put us in a high orbit round the moon."
"Can't be high enough for me," muttered the computer. "But then I'm just the getaway car, so what do I know."
B'Elanna held out her arms to Seven.
"Come here."
"I did not mean to upset you B'Elanna."
"I upset myself," said B'Elanna honestly. "Now come and kiss it better." Seven looked puzzled but before she was able to ask for the identity of 'it', B'Elanna smiled at her lovingly. "Just kiss me you great big Borg. Make the world go away." Seven's confusion cleared and she happily complied.
Less than ten thousand kilometres from the small ship's stern, the Defiant lay in wait, cloaked and ready, its commander chafing to get into action after days of planning and scheming.
"The Vigilant is in position sir," reported Lieutenant Harg.
"At long last," Worf muttered. "Is the target still within range?"
"Yes sir."
"Then decloak and fire."
The Turing shuddered and rocked as a curtain of phaser fire danced over its shields.
"We're under attack," said the Turing's computer unnecessarily.
Seven half-helped, half-threw B'Elanna off her lap and they both scrambled to their stations.
"A Federation Starship has decloaked on the port stern. It is locking on again. Shields are at 50 percent," reported Seven calmly.
"Remind me again," squeaked the computer. "Why do we keep doing this?"
"Evasive manoeuvres," growled B'Elanna. "Computer cloak now."
"Cloaking now," acknowledged the computer. "Now you see me, now you don't! Hmm - a good title for my memoirs," it chortled only to be silenced when a phaser blast thumped against the shields.
Seven shook her head. "The cloak is ineffective. They are still locked on and pursuing."
"By Kahless' hands! Computer what's wrong with the cloak?" B'Elanna shouted at the computer.
"I don't know Lieutenant, it reports as fully operational. Running diagnostic now. There's nothing wrong." The computer's words were punctuated with two more blasts of phaser fire. In answer to B'Elanna's glare it added apologetically. "But obviously there is."
"Shields at 20 percent," said Seven. "We will lose shields if we are hit again."
B'Elanna frowned.
"I'll head for the rim of the gas giant, try and hide near the surface, it may confuse their sensors and allow us time to escape. Computer get that cloak back online now."
"Oh I thought I'd stop for tea first," said the computer tetchily.
"Computer," B'Elanna said threateningly.
"I'm on it. I'm on it."
The tiny ship turned and twisted its way towards the shimmering gas giant but it was not even half-way across the planetary rings when a second Starfleet ship appeared from where it had been hiding behind the huge planet, effectively trapping the smaller ship between the planet and the first Starfleet ship which was still in hot pursuit. A final blast of phaser fire knocked the Turing's shields down and two tractor beams seize the ship. Repeated attempts to break the hold of the Starfleet ships failed miserably. One of the Starfleet vessels opened a hailing channel.
'This is Captain Worf of the USS Defiant. You are trapped and cannot escape. Surrender now or we will destroy you.'
Seven looked at B'Elanna.
"What do you want to do?" asked the ex-drone gently. Her lover was glaring at the view screen, white knuckles gripping the edge of the pilot's console.
"I want to tell them to burn in hell and then ram this damned ship down their accursed gullets."
The computer gulped audibly.
The half-Klingon turned her head and met her lover's gentle blue gaze.
"But I have you and her to live for now." She placed a hand on her own slight stomach and seemed to relax. "I guess we surrender, if that's okay with you?"
"It would appear to be our only choice," Seven agreed stoically but her voice wavered as she asked, "Do you think they will separate us?"
B'Elanna shrugged helplessly.
"I don't know love."
"Then kiss me as though it were the last time," Seven whispered softly. B'Elanna stepped up to the Borg and wrapped her arms around the taller woman's neck. Seven buried her face in B'Elanna's warm neck, hugging her tightly and the half-Klingon responded in kind. They clung together as though trying to become one, finally parting slightly to allow a soft kiss, just brushing their lips together. A second kiss followed, gentle and then passionate.
Fugitive shuttle. Respond. You have ten seconds.
B'Elanna turned her head and rested it on Seven's shoulder.
"Computer open a channel to the Starfleet vessel."
"Channel open," sniffed the computer with a small quiver in its mechanical voice.
"Captain of Defiant. We surrender. You may board our ship now. We will offer no resistance."
Seconds later three Starfleet security officers materialised on the main deck. They stared nonplussed at the two women who were locked in each other's arms, seemingly oblivious to the intruders.
Starfleet HQ, San Francisco
"Admiral Clift," said the senior admiral. "Glad to hear from you. The news is good I understand. The fugitives have been apprehended and your team are ready to proceed with the new wormhole tests."
"Yes sir. We have implemented condition green and will commence tests on your instruction."
"Consider it given," the admiral positively beamed with jovial good cheer. "The president is very pleased with the way you've handled this little crisis Clift."
"Thank you sir." Clift's grey face contorted itself in an answering smile and involuntarily his superior shuddered.
"One other thing Clift: Captain Worf. We were very disturbed by that report from the chief security officer on the Vigilant. I want him and the captain of the Vigilant placed under arrest pending an investigation."
"But sir it was Captain Worf who captured the fugitives."
"Yes, he did. But Clift, ask yourself why the good Captain did not see fit to inform any of the other ships in his fleet about the homing beacon his spy planted on the shuttle? Why did he allow the shuttle to reach the vicinity of Delta Cygnus?" Clift was silent and the senior admiral continued. "Captain Worf has a history of following his conscience that while entirely laudable may not be in the best interests of the Federation at this time. Both ships are to be placed under the temporary command of Commander Smith. Order the Commander to make all speed to Delta Cygnus. Is that understood Clift?"
"Yes sir. As you wish." The view screen blanked taking Clift's skull-like face with it and the senior admiral smiled again.
Moonbase Arcona
"What do you mean they've gone?" Mira Hassan chill blue eyes skewered the space controller.
"A Starfleet ship just appeared and then the shuttle just disappeared."
"Did it cloak?"
"I guess so but see for yourself." The controller projected the sensor logs onto the view screen. As she watched Hassan calmed down a little.
"Okay. They may have escaped but I want to be sure. What's the fastest and most heavily armed ship available Commander?" she addressed Commander Arwyn, a two hundred year old meuranti. The tiny pink humanoid, who was sitting astride a large, black dog-like creature, screwed up her small black eyes and considered the options with her usual deliberation. Hassan knew it was pointless to try and hurry the small woman.
"The Death's Head is the best we have" she replied eventually in an oddly musical voice. Mira rolled her eyes at the proposed vessel's name as her lieutenant continued her description of the vessel: "Warp 8.9 on a good day, twin phaser cannon, multi-phasic shielding, crew of two hundred. Can take on a Galaxy class ship if it catches her by surprise. At least that's what the guy who stole it told me." Her singsong voice completed the litany on a triumphant high note.
"Get her crew ready Commander and fire her up," ordered Mira. "I hope those two young fools have not got themselves into more trouble. At least not more than they can handle."
The Brig on the USS Vigilant
B'Elanna slouched on the floor of the cell with her back against the wall adjoining the cell where Seven was being held. She studied the brig looking for weaknesses, watching the three security guards as they joked and laughed.
"I'd hoped never to see the inside of one of these places," she said, only just loud enough for Seven to hear.
"Is this your first time in a Starfleet brig?" queried Seven who was sitting in the adjacent cell with her back against the other side of the connecting wall. She sounded a little surprised.
"That I can remember" answered the half-Klingon and grinned. Seven had some pre-conceptions about B'Elanna's misspent youth. "I've been in several other prisons though. How about you?"
"I have spent some several occasions in Voyager's brig, but I had certainly hoped not to see the inside of this particular brig again. My recollections of my previous stay are unpleasant."
"And your memories of Voyager's brig are not so unpleasant?"
"The first time was traumatic. I had been severed from the hive mind and I was very frightened. Captain Janeway hugged me."
B'Elanna could not help the stab of possessive envy.
"She hugged you? Is that how she normally treats her prisoners."
Seven considered this gravely. "If it is merited. In my case it was her fault I was distressed. She would not allow me to return to the collective and I was extremely lonely."
"She's not like other Starfleet captains is she?" B'Elanna whispered half in awe. She wondered silently about a woman who could hug a recently captured Borg drone. B'Elanna had never met any Borg before Seven but she had heard all the stories after Wolf 359. The Borg didn't sound huggable. Perhaps Seven had been different.
"B'Elanna there is no need to feel jealous." Seven spoke quietly relying on the superior Klingon hearing. "It was always you that I loved."
"Why not Janeway? She seems like a wonderful person."
"I don't know. It is possible that I could have had a relationship with Captain Janeway, I am aware that many of the crew believe that we are already involved in some way, but I never felt love for her. I'm not sure I can explain adequately but I knew that she would never have allowed me to be her equal. And what would that have made me? A pet drone? A tame borg?"
Reassured by Seven's thorough dismissal of Janeway, B'Elanna asked more playfully.
"Then why me?"
Seven half-smiled to herself.
"What is there not to love bangwI?"
"My temper."
"You are passionate and you care enough to be angry."
"I was suspicious and treated you badly."
"You were protective of your ship and your collective."
"You told me yourself that I used to argue with you at every opportunity."
"And I used to provoke you," confessed Seven willingly. Her voice became more earnest. "In the last few weeks I have learnt many things about you."
"How to make a Klingon howl?" B'Elanna enquired innocently not willing to allow the conversation to become too serious.
Seven snorted. She had been previously unaware that she was capable of making such a sound.
"Amongst other things," she whispered. The ex-drone recovered her gravitas. "But I also realised that you were forced to change in the delta quadrant. You had to become a Starfleet officer, follow their rules and protocols, adopt their manners and take the responsibility of being chief engineer. You did this successfully for many years. Then I was discovered. I was not required to follow rules or protocol (at least not often) and I was protected from the consequences when I refused to conform. It is no surprise that you resented me."
"I may have had reasons Seven but I did not have the right. I've also learnt things. You are a fine person and I must have been a stubborn fool not to have noticed and an utter petaQ not to have recognised the love of my life."
Unseen by her lover, Seven's face fell and sadness filled her eyes. "You were taken" she whispered truthfully.
B'Elanna's response was stalled by a disturbance outside her cell. Two Starfleet officers were being marched into the brig in restraints. One of the prisoners was a powerful looking Klingon and he was fighting every inch of the way. The other prisoner was quieter and B'Elanna was taken aback to recognise her as the captain of the Vigilant. She also recognised the tall Bolian standing watching the proceedings with a look of satisfaction. It was the malevolent bastard whom she had knocked unconscious the first time they had been captured by the Vigilant.
The two prisoners were pushed roughly into a third cell and the force-field activated.
"You will pay for this Smith," roared the Klingon male. B'Elanna and Seven both recognised the voice of their captor but neither could comprehend why the Starfleet captains would be imprisoned. Something very strange was happening.
"I'm sorry Captain Worf," said the Bolian officer with an unctuous smile. "I'm just following orders. You are to be interrogated when we arrive at Delta Cygnus."
Delta Cygnus
Lenara Kahn and Kravitz were fussing over the last few adjustments to the control sequences. Dr Kahn was extremely calm and the picture of graciousness unlike the diminutive Starfleet scientist who was very nervous and snapping at the technicians like a small frightened dog. He wanted everything to go perfectly.
Eventually the Trill scientist was satisfied.
"Start the generator now," she requested. The technician nodded, issued an instruction to the control computer and a low humming noise commenced. Eight kilometres distant, in a remote corner of the base, four huge beams of tetrion particles, flung themselves into space, easily penetrating the thin atmosphere of the planet. Six hundred thousand kilometres from the planet the four beams converged and as the readouts back at the control centre confirmed, a singularity began to form.
"It is working," squawked Kravitz.
"We have achieved this much many times Doctor. The real test will be if anything manages to travel through the wormhole." She smiled at him confidently.
USS Voyager - the Delta Quadrant
"There is a singularity forming at a distance of two million kilometres," reported Harry Kim. "The readings are consistent with wormhole formation."
"On screen," ordered the captain. She stared at the foaming white column. "Tom take us towards the entrance to the wormhole. Half-impulse."
"Sorry captain but which end am I aiming for?" asked the pilot.
Janeway grinned. "Harry, any suggestions?"
"According to the information that Seven and B'Elanna sent us, I think it's the tapered end."
"Okay," responded Tom. "Aiming for the thin end of the wedge as usual."
Voyager flew towards the wormhole. At fifty thousand kilometres they could feel the turbulence from the huge forces being generated, though the visible part of the wormhole was a bare ten kilometres in length. As the ship approached the entrance Tom slowed her to one-quarter impulse.
"We will enter the wormhole in twenty seconds. We are experiencing severe gravimetric sheers." Harry could not keep the excitement from his voice. He was going home and couldn't really give a straw for gravimetric sheers.
"Tuvok. Reinforce hull integrity," instructed Chakotay. "After eight years we're not going to disintegrate within sight of home."
"You're confident all of a sudden," said the captain.
"And you're not?"
"Would I attempt this if I were not?" she deadpanned.
Chakotay turned in his command chair to look his captain in the face. She met his eye, poker-faced. The commander's lips twitched.
"I don't believe I want to know the answer to that question Kathryn."
"Probably not," she agreed.
"Entering wormhole now," announced Tom Paris. "Here we go."
Delta Cygnus
"Dr Kravitz, a large ship is entering the wormhole from the far end," exclaimed a technician.
"That's impossible. Let me see." The scientist pushed the technician aside and glared at the sensor report. "It must be sensor error." Kravitz noticed the terminus location co-ordinates. "Look even your co-ordinates are misreading."
The technician glanced at the reading. "No those are what Dr Kahn gave me just thirty minutes ago. She said there had been a change of plan."
Kravitz gaped at the technician and then finally the holes in his understanding closed. It's Voyager he thought with horror. Everything will be destroyed. I will be ruined.
"Quick shut the generator down," the scientist ordered.
"But Doctor the ship will be destroyed," protested the technician.
"Do you want an invasion force entering our space? Shut it down I tell you." When the technician still hesitated, Kravitz pushed his way to the control console and punched the abort button.
'Wormhole generator still operational,' announced the control computer. 'Abort mechanism has malfunctioned.'
"Computer. Initiate normal wormhole shutdown sequence."
'Unable to comply. Shutdown controls have been disconnected.'
"Damnable woman." He realised for the first time that Lenara Kahn had disappeared. "Find Dr Kahn now," he screamed at the half-dozen confused technicians.
Kravitz retreated into his private office and tapped his comm badge with shaking fingers.
"Admiral Clift. It's an emergency."
"Clift here. What is it Kravitz?"
"Voyager has entered the wormhole. She will be here in less than eight minutes."
"How the hell ... shut it down man."
"We can't. Dr Kahn has disabled the controls."
"Then destroy the generator. Now." Clift closed the connection and glared at the blank screen. He would have to activate the wormhole emergency plan.
"Get me Fleet Commander Faryn." Seconds later Captain Faryn appeared on his screen.
"Faryn," demanded Clift urgently, "get your fleet to the source of the sub-space disturbances in your sector. We are being attacked through an artificial wormhole. Destroy whatever comes through that wormhole. Is that understood?"
Faryn acknowledged the order and less than thirty seconds later, a fleet of twelve of Starfleet's finest were on their way from the base to the wormhole. ETA seven point two minutes.
The brig on the USS Vigilant a few minutes earlier
Commander Smith re-entered the brig feeling as though he had won a million bars of latinum, a three-month holiday on Risa and his wife had forgiven him for his last indiscretion. He looked at the prisoners and felt a surge of pride in his achievements. The two spies were leaning against their adjoining cell walls while in the next cell, Captain Chekhov lay on the bench watching Worf pace up and down the short length of the confined area. Yes this was a good day.
"I thought you ought to know we are in orbit around Delta Cygnus and in a few minutes I shall no longer have the pleasure of your company."
"The pleasure's all ours. We're more than happy to see you get lost you heap of Starfleet targ manure," said B'Elanna cheerfully.
"What did you say Klingon?" It suddenly occurred to Smith that there was one thing marring his perfect day. This little half-breed Klingon had got away with humiliating him once but he was going to teach her a lesson now. He drew his phaser.
"Drop the force-field on the half-breed's cell."
At that moment the Vigilant's CMO appeared in the doorway, the security guard looked her and hesitated, knowing that what his boss intended to do was not likely to play well with the prissy little doctor. Angered by the delay, and in no mood to be deflected by the disapproval of a mere medic, Smith snapped at him.
"What are you waiting for?"
Still obviously perturbed, the guard slowly obeyed the order. With a zipping noise the force-field disappeared. Seven moved to the front of her cell and watched the Bolian officer intently.
"Be careful B'Elanna," she breathed in a low voice, trying not to betray the depth of concern she was feeling.
"Restrain her," ordered Smith, fingering his phaser, stroking the smooth metal surface in pleasurable anticipation. The two guards moved into B'Elanna's cell and grasped her arms. She made no move to resist but her eyes never left the Bolian. She stared at him with open contempt.
"What the hell are you doing Smith?" the doctor demanded. She was confused but the sense of menace being given off by the tall Bolian was tangible. He paid no attention to the medic. CMO or not, without Chekhov's protection she was a negligible factor.
"Bring her here," he rasped.
The guards frog-marched B'Elanna to stand in front of the increasingly excited Commander.
"You're full of yourself aren't you half-breed?"
B'Elanna looked him right in the eye and said nothing but a smile stole across her face. Smith managed to simultaneously grimace and leer. He would wipe that smile off her face.
"Perhaps we should start with you showing a little more respect." Smith clubbed the small woman across the face with his phaser and her head rocked sideways. A little blood oozed from a cut on B'Elanna's cheek and began to trickle down her face. Slowly she turned her head back to look her persecutor in the face.
"Leave her alone," cried Seven, breaking the horrified silence. Pleased with his audience's reaction Smith deliberately adjusted his phaser to heavy stun and pointed it at B'Elanna's stomach.
"No! You'll kill her baby," warned Seven in desperation, hoping that the revelation would carry some weight with the thug. She began pushing at the force-field, ignoring the pain, but the field was too strong for her to pass through.
Captain Chekhov was on her feet.
"Smith. Stop this at once. You fire that phaser and I'll make sure you're out of Starfleet by nightfall." Beside her Worf was swearing dire retribution in Klingon but Smith was not intimidated.
"I don't think you're in any position to make threats Captain," he sneered. "And as for the baby. Criminal sluts like her shouldn't be allowed to breed." He raised his phaser as fifty thousand light years away Voyager entered the wormhole.
Continued in next chapter
Lost and Home by halfofone
Date added: 2002-10-10 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
The brig on the USS Vigilant
"Bones. Stop him!" cried Captain Chekhov directing her attention to the small CMO. Her order was unnecessary as the Doc was already interposing herself between the commander and his victim.
"As Chief Medical Officer, I cannot allow you to assault the prisoner."
Commander Smith drew himself up to his full height to tower over the doctor.
"This is not your concern Doctor," he said, inches from the medic's face. Threat was implicit in his voice. She held her ground.
"The welfare of every person on this ship is my concern Smith."
With everyone else's attention focused on the conflict outside the cell, Seven of Nine concentrated her mind on her Borg arm, slowly pushing it through the level 10 force-field. The field was dense and it was difficult to modulate her nanoprobes to counter the high-energy plasma. She knew her skin was burning where the nanoprobes had failed to repel the field but she hardly felt the pain. She had one aim: to reach the manual controls located on the wall just outside the cell.
The doctor persisted in her protest.
"Smith. It is against regulations to harm prisoners physically or mentally."
Smith smiled insinuatingly at the young woman.
"It would appear to me Doctor that you are part of this conspiracy. You are under arrest and will join Captain Chekhov and Captain Worf awaiting interrogation. I doubt the investigators will view your attempt to help this prisoner escape with any sympathy and I'm sure the witnesses will agree with me." He looked at each of the two guards for confirmation.
"Yes sir," they answered in unison.
Hunting blind, Seven's blackened fingers inched round the smooth metal wall until she found the edge of the control panel. In an instant her assimilation tubules penetrated the panel surface to interface directly with the control mechanism, overriding the security lockouts. The cell force-field collapsed and Seven wrenched her assimilation tubules from the wall and covered the short distance to where Smith was standing with his back to her, trying to intimidate the defiant doctor. The CMO saw the Borg just before Seven grabbed Smith from behind but the garbled warning cry was too late. Seven wrenched Smith's head back with relentless Borg strength. Grunting in surprise, he thrashed his arms helplessly. Her scorched Borg hand extruded a whirring metal cutter which she placed against his throat. A thin line of scarlet blood appeared against the blue skin. Smith screamed and dropped his phaser.
"Seven. Don't."
Her lover's voice penetrated the blinding fury and Seven stopped, the metal cutter still spinning two millimetres inside the Bolian's skin. He whimpered as blood began to flow down his neck.
One of the security guards released his hold on B'Elanna and lifted his hand towards his comm badge. The movement caught Seven's attention.
"Stand completely still," she warned, "or I will kill him." She tightened her grip on the Bolian and blood from his wound spurted out in a red arc. "And you," she said to the other guard. "Release Lieutenant Torres now."
"Do what she says you fools," snivelled Commander Smith. Two little streams of red blood slid evenly down the blue skin from the wound on his neck. The guards fell back, looking perplexed.
B'Elanna picked up the commander's phaser from the deck and winced as a sharp pain lanced her skull.
"Ow!" She exclaimed and clutched her head. Seven looked concerned and unconsciously tightened her hold on the Bolian who squealed in alarm. B'Elanna smirked reassuringly.
"It's okay Seven, just a bruise and a bastard of a headache." She aimed the phaser at the two guards. "Hands on your heads. I want you in the cells but I guess I'll have those comm badges first and your phasers. Take them off, very slowly, one hand only. One wrong move and your charming commander dies."
Seven increased the pressure on the commander's throat and he squealed again. The security guards dropped their equipment as instructed and moved carefully back into the cell. Seven threw Smith bodily after them, knocking the Starfleet crew over like nine-pins so all three lay in a heap.
"Perfect strike Seven," B'Elanna joked weakly and raised the force-field. She turned the phaser on the shocked Doctor who was standing with her hands on her head. "In the other cell Doc." The CMO looked as though she was going to argue and B'Elanna raised her phaser and added forcefully. "Now. We haven't got all day."
"Lieutenant Torres," interrupted Worf. "You must release myself and Captain Chekhov. There is very little time."
"Look I'm sorry you're in difficulty but it's not our affair."
"But it is your affair." Chekhov intervened in support of the Klingon. B'Elanna and Seven exchanged sceptical glances.
"At this moment your friends aboard Voyager are trying to return through the wormhole. They need our help. We were supposed to protect the wormhole generator and cover their return. Without us they will be killed," Chekhov explained rapidly.
"Release us and we will try to save them but we have only minutes remaining," Worf added.
"Should we believe this rubbish?" B'Elanna asked cynically.
Seriously Seven tried to weigh up the probabilities but lacking data, she settled for a best guess and her reply was tentative.
"It is possible. They have been imprisoned and this would be an elaborate lie. In any case they may be useful, we will have difficulty retrieving the Turing without help."
Despite her suspicions, B'Elanna's instincts about the two Captains agreed with Seven's logic and she nodded in assent. Bypassing the Starfleet security codes with her customary ease, Seven shut down the cell force-field and set the two captains free. Chekhov raised her eyebrows disbelievingly. It was disconcerting to the Starfleet officer to see control over her ship's systems being so effortlessly overridden even if it was to set her free.
"So, what do we do now?" B'Elanna asked, eyeing the Starfleet officers watchfully and keeping her phaser ready. Chekhov turned intense grey eyes on the half-Klingon.
"The plan is simple. You have to get to the wormhole generator and protect it long enough to allow Voyager to traverse the wormhole. We cannot transport anyone through the planetary defences but your ship with its cloak may be able to fly directly into the facility. Captain Worf and I must reach the wormhole and protect Voyager."
"Sure. Is that all? Flying into a heavily guarded Starfleet base with everyone on full alert, I don't see any problems there." B'Elanna shook her head. "Seems like we have most of the fun."
"The likelihood is that every available ship is on its way to meet Voyager so there is no need to be afraid Ms Torres." Chekhov's cold expression of concern didn't reach her eyes.
"How do we reach our ship?" enquired Seven quickly, worried by B'Elanna's darkening face. The half-Klingon was not known for her ability to ignore insults.
"Yeah," snorted B'Elanna. "Don't tell me. We just walk in and ask for it?"
"That will suffice," growled Worf. "Your vessel is held on the Defiant and I am still captain of the Defiant. Take these." Worf picked up two of the comm badges lying on the deck and tossed them at the two renegades. He slammed his fist on the communications panel. "This is Captain Worf to the USS Defiant."
"Lieutenant Harg here sir. We were just about to come looking for you sir."
"Harg," growled his captain. "Two to transport directly to the fugitives shuttle. They are to be permitted to depart immediately. Also Harg, disable the homing beacon on the shuttle."
"Yes sir. What about you sir?"
"I'll beam aboard immediately afterwards Lieutenant. Transport our guests now."
The crew of the Defiant responded quickly to their Captain's orders and B'Elanna and Seven disappeared as the air hummed with transporter energy.
"Will you be alright remaining here Captain Chekhov?" asked Worf. He was unimpressed by the loyalty of the Vigilant's crew to their Captain.
"Without Smith we should be fine. Isn't that so Bones?" The Starfleet captain smiled ferociously at the young medic. Bones sounded and looked confused when she responded.
"It all seems very odd Andy. Are we doing the right thing?"
"God knows," answered the young captain non-plussed. She offered her hand to Worf. "Good luck Captain. I expect we'll be seeing each other at the board of enquiry."
"Surely," answered Worf. "But first we fight."
The Shuttle Turing (inside the belly of USS Defiant)
Seven steadied herself as she materialised on the shuttle. A pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind and swung her round. B'Elanna was jubilant.
"You were wonderful sweetheart. I am one lucky half-Klingon but you're hurt, let me see your arm." Remorse replaced the cocksure grin as she took in for the first time the burns on Seven's arm.
"Intruder alert!" yelled the computer, waking up a little late. "It's you!" it exclaimed imprecisely. "How did you escape this time?"
"Later." Seven hugged her lover with her good arm. "Computer, start launch sequence, the Defiant will transmit destination co-ordinates shortly."
The Turing's computer laughed cynically.
"I find it hard to believe that such a stupid computer could tell the time of day let alone give me guidance. Believe me, I've had a few conversations with the Defiant's computer since they shut me in this tin can, and I can tell you it's several circuit boards short of a replicator."
Seven squeezed B'Elanna's arm.
"I believe the computer grows more like you every day BangwI."
B'Elanna pretended to sulk as she growled.
"Lucky for you that I worship the ground you walk on drone."
Still grumbling, the computer prepared the Turing for launch. After a few seconds it announced. "Approach and destination co-ordinates received." The computer paused for an unnecessary breath. "Are you aware these are on the planet's surface? Inside the Starfleet base?"
"Yes computer. We know. Now would you hurry up and launch before we all grow old?" B'Elanna glowered impatiently at a console. "How long until we reach the target co-ordinates?"
"One minute and eight seconds. I might have known there would be a catch. Just escaping would be too simple for you two."
"That should be long enough for you to explain how Starfleet managed to plant a homing beacon on this ship without you noticing," said B'Elanna dangerously.
She was busy applying a dressing to Seven's arm, paying no attention to the ex-drone's ineffectual resistance and scowling at the extent of the injuries. Despite being in pain, Seven was having difficulty stifling the smile lighting her eyes. It was still a novel experience for the ex-drone to be the object of B'Elanna's wholehearted affection.
"Ah," said the computer sounding embarrassed. "You know about that. Well it's quite a funny story actually Lieutenant. You remember when you and Seven of Nine were .... taking a break in the engine room. Your activities were disturbing my concentration so I shut down the sensors on the lower deck. I believe the saboteur took his chance at that point. The Defiant's computer confirmed the time the beacon commenced transmitting and it does seem ....."
"So, you are suggesting it's our fault?"
"Oh look!" exclaimed the computer gratefully. "We have entered the Starfleet base. Fifteen seconds to landing. Look at that energy beam."
Delta Cygnus
"Kravitz! Why haven't you destroyed that generator yet? Voyager is more than half way through." Admiral Clift was livid and the thick veins throbbed unpleasantly on his skull-like forehead.
"I thought we could override the lockouts and shut it down manually Admiral. Just think of all the work we will be destroying. Surely ... " whined Kravitz
"I don't give a space-monkey's fart about the work. That wormhole must be terminated. I'm sending a squad of soldiers now. You'd better be there to make sure they blow up the right things."
"Yes Admiral," said Kravitz miserably.
USS Voyager - somewhere between the Delta quadrant and the Alpha quadrant
"Captain Janeway, please regain control of your ship," the EMH demanded irritably. He disappeared from the view screen as Voyager lurched violently forwards. The ship flipped end over end. Even with full inertial dampeners and artificial gravity it still felt to the occupants as though Voyager was being hurled down a roller coaster at light speed which in the circumstances was a reasonable analogy. The EMH pulled himself back into view.
"As I was saying, we are being overwhelmed here, over thirty crew have reported with debilitating motion sickness and another twenty have suffered mild to moderate impact injuries and there is one broken wrist caused by slipping in a pool of vomit."
Janeway peered at him. She wouldn't admit it but her own stomach wasn't feeling too secure.
"I am aware of the problem and we are doing our best Doctor. The turbulence inside this thing exceeds any wormhole I've ever experienced. Janeway out." Behind her Harry Kim was throwing up (several other bridge crew had already parted with their last meal) and she could see by his odd pale grey colour that Chakotay wasn't at his best. The only person completely unaffected was Tom Paris who whooped every time they made a particularly sickening swing.
"Tuvok, can we improve the inertial dampener efficiency?" Janeway asked, stoically ignoring the desire to vaporise all these damned crewmen making a mess on her bridge.
"I do not believe so Captain. I may be able to adjust the artificial gravity field to adapt more quickly to the changes."
"Do it Tuvok."
The ship plunged vertically and Tom hollered. Janeway gritted her teeth, determined not to succumb to the wrenching nausea.
"Tom. Shut up or I'll hoist you outside."
"Yes Captain," smirked the pilot. "Four minutes to the exit."
Delta Cygnus
The Turing touched down scarcely fifty metres from the generator. The atmosphere outside was too thin to be breathable and so Seven and B'Elanna pulled on breathing gear and descended down the Turing's boarding ramp onto the soft black soil. In the semi-twilight from the distant twin suns they could see the huge reinforced concrete platform that supported the generator. The peripheral forces created by the generator whipped up the thin air into small tornadoes, dragging the loose black dust up into the atmosphere only to let it fall back as the tornado veered too far from the source of its energy and dissipated to nothing. Avoiding the violent little eddies the two women ran towards the generator and the main entrance.
Behind them the Turing cloaked and vanished, its concealment slightly marred by the light dust blowing over the outline of its solid form.
As Seven and B'Elanna struggled to force the heavy blast door of the main generator hall, a burst of heavy phaser fire crashed into the structure above their heads. A dozen other big phasers opened up and they could see the energy beams eating into the generator walls, blasting sections aside. Shattered fragments rained down on their heads.
"B'Elanna," Seven shouted above the noise of cracking masonry. "I don't think we can counter this firepower directly and the generator cannot withstand this for more than a few minutes."
"Agreed," B'Elanna shouted back. "Any ideas?"
"One."
"Let's hear it."
Seven bent down and picked up a handful of the black dust and let it flow through her fingers.
"I suggest we kick sand in their eyes." She tapped her comm badge. "Seven to shuttle Turing."
"Turing here."
"Start your impulse engines but remain cloaked. Shields to full."
"I cannot take off while cloaked."
"You are not required to take off. Just start the engines and hold position."
"But the engine thrust will carve a thousand metre trench."
"Exactly."
"You cannot remain outside," warned the computer. "You are too close, the dust storm would shred you."
B'Elanna waved her quantum resonance pliers triumphantly.
"It's okay. We're in." The blast door swung open.
"Turing. Start your engines now," said Seven with relief as another phaser blast carved into the wall a few metres away.
The howl of the engines acknowledged Seven's command and a maelstrom of dirt rose into the air as ten thousand tonnes of thrust ploughed the ground. B'Elanna grabbed Seven by the hand and pulled her inside the blast door, slamming it shut behind them. The roar of the shuttle's engines was instantly muted to be replaced by a low thumping of such intensity that both women could feel their rib-cages vibrating in response. The room they had entered was badly lit and walled with layers of pipes and insulated cables which ran up between the overhead ducts into the open roof space. Numerous illuminated warning signs with operator instructions festooned the machinery and walls. A thin layer of dust, attracted by heavy static electrical forces, overlaid most surfaces, the only object in the room free of contamination was a free-standing control console.
"Who are you?" asked a soft female voice. B'Elanna and Seven both jumped and aimed their phasers in the direction of the voice. Its owner's face was hidden from view by the shadow of a huge pipe, the outline of her body just visible. She did not appear to be armed.
"Since we're holding the weapons, you answer first. Who are you?"
The woman stepped forward into the dull orange light. She was not in Starfleet uniform but wore an elegant dress, the exact hue was uncertain because of the poor light but it appeared to be a pale lilac. The woman lifted her chin and the trill markings on her neck became visible.
"You are Doctor Lenara Kahn," stated Seven. B'Elanna looked at her with surprise. "I did some background research on artificial wormhole development," Seven said, answering the unspoken question. "Dr Kahn was very prominent before wormhole research was banned. Some of her work was remarkably advanced."
"Thank you for the compliment," said the woman with a self-deprecating smile. "I was part of a very good team. You must be Seven of Nine. I am very pleased to meet you at last." She offered her hand and Seven took it uncertainly.
B'Elanna was starting to feel left out. "Well it's nice that everyone else seems to know each other but we have a job to do Doctor 'whatever your name is...'
"... Lenara Kahn and you must be B'Elanna Torres, the redoubtable chief engineer." The scientist turned her warm smile on the half-Klingon who found herself blushing.
"Yeah, that would be me. Now how long do we have to defend this place and which bit are we defending?"
Kahn turned to the main control console.
"Voyager is half way through and I would estimate that it will take another 3 to 4 minutes before she completes the journey. The warp coil that powers the generator must be protected until they enter normal space."
"3 minutes then. Where is the warp coil and is there any other way in apart from that door?"
"The warp coil is on the floor below us and there's a back door ...."
Lenara was interrupted by a hail from the Turing's computer.
"B'Elanna, Seven of Nine. Am under attack. The shield's holding but I don't know how long it will last. Also a dozen heavily armoured soldiers are heading your way."
"Acknowledged computer." As Seven finished speaking the main door began to vibrate and change colour. "They're here."
"And they are cutting the blast door open with phasers." B'Elanna commented. "Time to retreat. Seven, the roof joists?"
"Agreed."
They lifted their phasers in unison and took aim at the two main roof supports. Seven vaporised the left and B'Elanna, the right. The roof immediately began to sag and groan.
"We should go," said Seven. "Please lead the way Doctor Kahn."
"Call me Lenara," replied the elegant doctor with a winning smile at the ex-drone. Seven looked uncertain and then half-smiled in return.
"Of course Lenara."
The Trill scientist turned up the wattage and placed a hand on Seven's shoulder. She then took the ex-drone's hand and led her to a door marked 'Entrance to lower levels'.
B'Elanna stared after them and scowled. She mimicked under her breath. "Call me Lenara. Of course Lenara! Sheesh. So damned charming."
She was of half-a-mind not to follow when the roof groaned again. "By Kahless' three balls! But if that damned woman lays another finger on Seven ......" She trotted after them through the open door and down the stairs to the lower level. Seconds later the roof collapsed with a scream as its alloy fabric crumpled to the ground sealing the lower levels under tons of rubble.
Aboard the USS Vigilant
Chekhov sat in her command chair and resisted the impulse to bite her nails. The Vigilant was streaking towards the wormhole terminus at warp 8.9. This was like one of those legendary stories of Starfleet captains where the protagonist disregarded explicit orders and then went on to save the Federation. But Starfleet would only tolerate disobedience if it was accompanied by a stunning success and she wasn't sure that rescuing a single starship would qualify. If not then the best she could expect was several years rehab in a Starfleet prison and a dishonourable discharge at the end. And I always swore to myself that I would avoid this kind of thing she mused. Her gloom was dissipated by the communication officer relaying an urgent communication from the Defiant.
"Worf to Chekhov, we are coming up on the wormhole, sensors indicate that there are twelve Starfleet vessels present."
"And more on the way. I know," she replied. "We only have to distract them for a few minutes."
"Remember the Defiant will only be able to assist you up to the point that Voyager arrives. After that we must break off if we are to complete the mission."
"Understood. Chekhov out."
She stood up and looked round at her bridge crew most of whom appeared apprehensive or just plain mystified.
"I know this situation is strange but we are going to prevent a great injustice being committed. I will take full responsibility for our actions." The bridge crew didn't look very happy at this news but Chekhov knew she had no more time to explain, they would just have to trust her.
"Do you understand your battle orders. We are not to destroy another Starfleet vessel even to save ourselves. Our objective is to divert and if necessary disable ships. That means main phasers only and targeting their impulse engines. No directly targeted torpedoes. It is vital that the fleet is not permitted to fire torpedoes into the wormhole. The Defiant is cloaked and will attempt to disable the fleet flagship so we don't have to worry about that one."
"We are being hailed sir," said the comms officer. "It's Fleet Commander Faryn."
A tall Trill appeared on the view screen. He looked worried.
"USS Vigilant you are to stand down and return to Delta Cygnus. Your presence is against orders and if you proceed, I will order my fleet to attack."
"Captain Faryn are you aware of the facts of this situation? USS Voyager is in that wormhole. If you promise me that you will not fire into the wormhole until Voyager appears, I will stand down."
"I'm sorry Captain. My orders are to destroy anything coming through the wormhole before it reaches the exit."
"I'm sorry too. Cut transmission. Battle stations." Chekhov sat back in her chair. "Target the two reliant class destroyers and fire on my command."
At the same moment that Chekhov gave the order to fire, the Defiant uncloaked on the starboard side and immediately opened up on the galaxy class flagship which was still charging its shields. Two solid hits to the port nacelle and the flagship was venting plasma. The Vigilant's phasers severely damaged the impulse engines of the nearest reliant class destroyer but were less fortunate with the second. After that it was every ship for itself as the remaining operational ships wove amongst each other and bursts of phaser fire lit the darkness.
USS Voyager - still somewhere between the Delta quadrant and the Alpha quadrant
"We are approaching the exit Captain," said Harry Kim. I'm detecting other ships and weapons fire."
"Status Tuvok."
"Shields are at 70 percent, hull integrity 95 percent, phasers are fully charged."
"Well we've been worse," Janeway murmured to herself. "Battle stations."
The exit loomed and they could see stars.
"Home," whispered Harry Kim.
"Let's hope we live long enough to enjoy it" said Tom quietly before announcing, "Time to exit fifteen seconds."
As the seconds counted down, members of the crew held their breath. Then the gut-wrenching motion ceased and they were in normal space. A phaser blast hit them full amidships.
"Shields 65 percent. Returning fire," reported Tuvok calmly. "There are seven vessels still operational in the area. Six other ships seem to be non-combatant.
"Welcome to the Alpha quadrant," said Chakotay.
"Keep your minds on the job," Janeway barked. "I don't intend that this will end here."
"Captain," said Harry. "We're being hailed by the USS Vigilant."
"On screen."
A good-looking Starfleet captain appeared on screen. Behind her a battle scarred bridge smoked and sparked.
"Captain Chekhov of the USS Vigilant. Welcome home Captain Janeway. I suggest immediate evasive manoeuvres. Run for it. We can't hold them any longer."
Janeway looked dubiously at the Captain.
"What is your status Vigilant?"
Chekhov shrugged. "Shields 20 percent, Hull breaches on three decks."
"Then get out of here Captain Chekhov. We'll cover for you."
Chekhov smiled coldly. "I'm afraid our warp engines are down. We're not going anywhere. You must run for it Captain or all this is for nothing. The Defiant is in position."
"I'm not running anywhere Captain Chekhov."
"You have no choice and this is no time for foolish heroics. We will surrender as soon as you are clear. Now go." The view screen blanked as another phaser blast shook the Vigilant's defences.
Janeway's eyes narrowed and her jaw began to jut. She hadn't come all this way to be ordered about by officers who didn't look much older than Harry Kim.
"Tuvok: target any vessels within range of the Vigilant. Take their weapons out. Let them see what this old girl can do. Tom: I want you to keep us one step ahead of their big ships but not too far. Lead them away from the Vigilant. Pattern delta 5."
"Yes Captain."
Delta Cygnus
The large warp coil generating the power for the huge tetrion beam generators bathed the room in a pale blue light that gave the generator hall and its inhabitants an insubstantial, ghostly appearance.
Monitoring the wormhole from the wormhole command console Lenara Kahn smiled with satisfaction.
"Voyager is through the wormhole."
"Time to go then," exclaimed B'Elanna. "Which way is out?"
Lenara pointed upwards towards the ceiling. B'Elanna's face fell.
"I thought you said there was a back door."
"There was but it was also on the upper floor. There is only one exit from the lower levels to the upper."
An explosion shook the room and debris rained down around them. "They are dropping thermal contact charges on the beam emitters."
"Can we shut down the generator?" asked B'Elanna. "With the wormhole gone, Starfleet might not be so desperate to get in here, it might give us a bit of time."
"I'm afraid not. I was very thorough about disabling all shut down mechanisms" said Lenara apologetically.
"Then we will have to blast our way out to the upper levels through the rubble." Seven responded. To Lenara Kahn she sounded extraordinarily matter of fact about this rather desperate proposal but B'Elanna nodded agreement.
Another explosion reverberated through the building, closer this time. A further torrent of dust and larger pieces of rubble fell from the shuddering ceilings and walls. One piece struck Lenara and she would have been killed by the next except for Seven bodily throwing her under the overhang of the stairwell.
"Or we could just wait for them to blast their way in," uttered B'Elanna unhelpfully as she too squeezed into the narrow shelter. She unsuccessfully tried to stifle the stab of jealousy she felt watching Seven gently cleaning the wound on Lenara Kahn's forehead. I have to get a hold of myself, she thought. I can't be jealous of her every time she even speaks to another woman or man for that matter. It was with a shock that she realised that possessive feelings about Seven were likely to be the least of her worries. She had a husband and he was home now. What had been a farfetched possibility was now reality. Unwilling to deal with such thoughts she willingly returned to their present predicament.
"This is B'Elanna Torres to the shuttle Turing. What is your status Turing?" There was no reply. "Turing do you hear me, please copy." B'Elanna was irked to realise that she was genuinely worried about the little ship and not just because it was their only means of escape. Seven was concerned also.
"The shuttle may have fled," Seven comforted. "It was under attack. In which case it will come back for us when the fighting has died down."
"By which time we may be dead anyway or buried alive." B'Elanna's gloomy prognosis was interrupted by a high pitched whine.
"Transporters," decided Seven quickly. Both the renegades peered cautiously around the corner of their hiding place, B'Elanna kneeling and Seven standing above her. They levelled their disruptors on the figure materialising in the hazy blue light.
"Stand still, hands over your heads or we vaporise you," B'Elanna yelled.
"Do you threaten all your employers B'Elanna Torres or is that just my privilege?" But Mira Hassan raised her hands above her head as a precaution.
"Mira! How the hell did you find us?"
"The Turing found me but we must escape now, explanations can come later. We have to get away while there are no ships guarding the base. They're all on their way to that wormhole. Take these transporter tags so my guys can get a fix on you."
Mira looked more than curiously at Lenara Kahn who had just stepped out from the shelter.
"Who is she?" breathed the pirate looking equal parts suspicious and impressed.
"Dr Lenara Kahn," said B'Elanna. "She's a famous Starfleet scientist."
Mira took the scientist's hand. "Pleased to meet you Doctor Kahn. Sadly I only have two additional tags. You'll have to come with me Doctor Kahn. Come here and hold tight."
Mira drew the Doctor firmly into her arms. The rather reserved and highly respectable Trill looked more than slightly disconcerted at being embraced firmly by the piratical Hassan. B'Elanna and Seven exchanged amused glances. Mira never missed a chance. The smuggler hailed her ship.
"Hassan to the Death's Head. Four to beam up. Yeah that's two on one tag." She paused, listening to a reply, before responding with impatience. "What do I pay you for?" The transporter hummed and an instant later all four women materialised on the transporter pad of the merchant starship Death's Head.
Aboard the Defiant Worf watched the battle raging on the main view screen, his hands white from gripping the edge of the command chair. Watching comrades being defeated was not his idea of fighting. It took all of his self-control not to order the Defiant back into the fray.
His first officer was busily entering instructions into a communications console. He looked up and stared at the view screen expectantly. After a few seconds the images of warring starships were replaced by a blank screen and then a 3-dimensional image of the symbol of the United Federation of planets.
"We're transmitting sir. The link is up. The Midas array is now active and jamming all subspace channels."
The image changed again and Lieutenant Reginald Barclay could be seen peering into the imaging sensor against the backdrop of an image of the wormhole. He dropped his microphone and for a few seconds all that was visible of him was his rear end as he scrabbled about on the floor. Eventually the Lieutenant stood up, blushing furiously.
Worf cursed loudly. He knew that fool Barclay would be a damned liability.
On screen Reg Barclay composed himself and took a deep breath.
"Hello there F..F..Federation. Do not adjust your holoscreens or your viewscreens. Please j..just leave them alone. This is a priority broadcast on all sub-space channels by the Midas array bringing breaking news to the entire Federation of Planets as it happens. Sorry to interrupt your scheduled viewing but I guess the Simpsons will be back tomorrow at their regular time." He grinned at his own joke for several seconds. Worf scowled at the screen and, as though feeling the Klingon's disapproval from several light years distant, Reg tried to look serious again.
"We have amazing news just in from one of the further flung sectors of the Federation: Delta Cygnus." He gestured at the image of the wormhole. "Without warning, a wormhole has formed in the sector. Why or how we don't yet know. Stay tuned for further developments."
At Starfleet HQ in San Francisco a senior admiral and the Federation president gaped fishily at the view screen as a full colour image of a wormhole stared back at them. In the corner of the 3-dimensional screen, Lieutenant Reginald Barclay was holding forth with increasing confidence.
"It is quite unprecedented. Starfleet has sent a fleet of ships to intercept. Just a minute while we improve the picture quality. Wow! Just look at the size of that wormhole. Expert scientists are mystified. Why is it here? Where has it come from?"
"Admiral," screamed the president. "Get that broadcast shut off now. Jam it."
"We can't sir. He's using the Midas array, we couldn't even dent it. Let alone jam it" On screen Reg Barclay was leaping up and down shouting and clutching an imaginary earphone to his ear.
"Unbelievable. Unbelievable. I don't know how to report this but rumour has it that the famous USS Voyager, lost for seven years in the Delta quadrant, has somehow found her way home through this wormhole. Here at the Midas news-desk we will try and verify this."
The admiral gazed at the incoming pictures with a sinking feeling.
"And look at that folks. It is the USS Voyager. There she is. Doesn't she look great? But there appears to be some kind of misunderstanding. The fleet is firing on her. This can't be right. Oh no! We seem to be witnessing a tragic mistake."
Voyager's shields flared again. Aboard the fleet flagship, Fleet Commander Faryn watched the broadcast with growing disbelief. He made a decision. He would not be the one to destroy Voyager in front of 600 billion individuals. No orders were worth that kind of ignominy.
"This is Faryn to all fleet members. Break off the attack. Break it off now. Cease fire."
The over-animated figure of Reg Barclay pressed his fingers to his ear as though listening to a conversation. His excitement grew visibly.
"I have amazing news, amazing news folks. Our technical wizards have managed to patch us through to the USS Voyager and we can now speak directly to Captain Janeway."
Janeway's face flickered onto the view screen.
"Captain Janeway can you hear us? You are now broadcasting live to the whole Federation."
"Yes thank you Mr Barclay. This is Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. It's nice to be home." She smiled and behind her whoops of joy could be heard from Harry Kim and Tom Paris. "It's great to be home" she repeated and there was nothing she could do to prevent the tears forming in her eyes.
Tears rolling down his cheeks, Reg Barclay stood smiling silently in the corner of the screen on a hundred billion viewscreens across the Federation until the sound of Starfleet security breaking down the door of the studio caught his attention.
"I'm afraid we have to end our transmission now folks. This is Reginald Barclay saying goodbye to you from the Midas array on this historic and happy day."
The view screen in the president's office reverted to its normal Federation logo and for several seconds there was absolute silence then abruptly comm signals on the incoming channels began to flash and chirp.
"Ambassador Weyoun of the Dominion is calling, wishing to speak with you urgently Mr President," announced the aide. "Shall I put him through? And there are still calls waiting from at least fifteen other planetary heads of state. The numbers are rising every second sir.
The president exchanged a pained glance with the senior admiral sitting on his left.
"Put Weyoun through. And please schedule return calls with each of the other callers."
The view screen, now thankfully free of Reginald Barclay, flashed on to reveal the representative of the Dominion in the Alpha quadrant, Weyoun 14. The president cranked up his best smile. "Ambassador Weyoun. I am so pleased to speak with you."
"Mr President, the pleasure is all mine. And thank you for speaking to me at such short notice. We were deeply interested by that extremely dramatic broadcast and must congratulate you on recovering your lost Starship. A very heart-warming tale." Weyoun smiled pleasantly and then his demeanor became more serious. "But my masters were, I have to say, rather disturbed by the implications of what was shown. Our scientists are convinced that the phenomenon could only have been an artificial wormhole. It is quite apparent there has been a serious breach of the treaty banning wormhole research."
The president smiled and held up his hands.
"I can assure you ambassador Weyoun that we are as mystified as you. There has been no breach of the wormhole treaty by the Federation. I can assure you of that."
"I felt certain you would say that and indeed I have assured my masters that that would be your response. But they are more cautious than I and require a complete and independent inquiry to ascertain the facts. This will of course include a thorough investigation of the area to determine the existence of any facilities that may have been engaged in this research. We would expect this inquiry to commence immediately."
"We have started our own inquiry, ambassador, and you will be fully availed of its findings."
"I do not think we would regard such an inquiry as independent Mr President. We would like our own inspectors to be present. Failure to allow such an inspection would be construed as further evidence that you have breached the treaty. I cannot emphasise too strongly how unfavourably that would appear to my masters."
"I am afraid we could not permit your inspectors within our space Ambassador."
"I will relay your message to the Founders Mr President but I am very disappointed at your intransigence. I hope you are prepared to deal with the consequences."
The view screen went blank. The president continued to look at it for a few seconds. His voice was unemotional when he finally spoke.
"This is all your fault Admiral. You persuaded me to keep the wormhole project open. I hope you are prepared to pay the price for your error of judgement."
The admiral stared at his hands. Distantly he wondered how he had reached this position. But it didn't really matter. What was important now was to save the Federation and Starfleet from any further embarrassment and potentially from a new war.
Continued in the next chapter
Lost and Home by halfofone
Date added: 2005-01-21 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
USS Voyager - somewhere in the Alpha quadrant
Voyager had come home. After the years of waiting and searching for a way home the resolution had been sudden but things were never simple in the Delta quadrant. Something always managed to bite you in the butt.
'Hey! Make that the Alpha quadrant,' Janeway corrected herself with a smile.
The Delta quadrant was a distant memory now - not the homecoming she had dreamed of - but they were back and they had been reunited with B'Elanna and Seven. As Voyager plunged through the wormhole back to the Alpha quadrant, no one aboard knew what had befallen their two lost comrades. Quiet joy had greeted the news that both women were alive and on a merchant ship making its way to rendezvous with Voyager. The first inkling that all was not right was Seven's request for a Starfleet medical report to be transmitted directly to the EMH.
On the view screen the ex-Borg looked tired. "Are you injured?" Janeway asked Seven anxiously.
"I have minor injuries Captain but B'Elanna suffered a serious head injury several weeks ago and she requires neural surgery," replied Seven. "She may require other treatment also. We should beam aboard as soon as possible."
The ex-drone sounded worried and there was something else the captain realised, she looked puffy-eyed as though she had been crying.
"Yes of course," said Janeway sympathetically, unable to imagine what could reduce the ex-Borg to tears. "I'll instruct the transporter room to lock on as soon as you are in range."
Janeway summoned Tom Paris and briefed him as best she could. Despite her efforts to downplay the situation, the pilot looked understandably concerned and as soon as the merchant ship came within transporter range, Janeway and Tom Paris departed for the transporter room to await the returning heroes. They left Chakotay to take transfer of the empty shuttle from the unusually heavily armed merchant ship. Seven's instructions had been odd: "The Turing will bring itself in," she had said, firmly ignoring requests for clarification. "Open the bay doors and let it land itself. A pilot is not required and in any case the vessel will not respond to another's command. I will explain later Captain."
Waiting in the transporter room, Tom was nervous and excited, chattering to cover the silence and his fears until the familiar sound of the transporter silenced him and Seven and B'Elanna appeared before them. The first thing that had struck the Captain was their dress: space brigands was her immediate reaction, black shirts, loose dark trousers and low slung holsters containing fearsome looking Cardassian issue disruptors. And then she noticed that B'Elanna was leaning back against Seven, wrapped in the borg's arms. The latter abruptly let go when she saw the Captain and Tom Paris. B'Elanna stepped off the transporter pad and stared at them aggressively. She didn't look ill; fighting fit was a more apt description thought the Captain.
"Captain Janeway, Tom Paris," said the half-Klingon and she stared at them curiously as though it was they that looked peculiar in some way. Tom lifted his arms and moved towards her quickly. He enveloped her in a hug.
"Lanna, thank God. I thought Seven said you were ill."
The half-Klingon did not return his hug and pulled back from his arms, a strange expression on her face, in anyone else it would be almost fearful but that wasn't something he associated with his wife.
"Seven tell him," growled B'Elanna continuing to pull away from his grip. Hurt by her indifference, Tom released her, his confused blue eyes seeking explanation from Seven.
"Lieutenant Torres suffered brain damage that has 'disconnected' her memories of the last eight years. She cannot remember her relationship with you, she remembers nothing of this ship or the Delta quadrant." Seven paused seeing the horror on Tom's face and took pity. "Do not distress yourself Lieutenant, the damage will probably be reparable with the aid of B'Elanna's medical records." The awkward silence was broken by the bustling arrival of the EMH.
"Quite correct Seven. I have read the report of B'Elanna's medical examination by Starfleet and I agree with their assessment although I will of course examine the Lieutenant myself. All being well I will carry out the procedure within the next 48 hours - sooner if she's otherwise physically fit." He smiled broadly. "I would like B'Elanna to stay in sick bay tonight for observation and may I say how pleased I will be to have you back in my sick bay." He frowned at his own words. "Well I didn't mean that I wanted you to be hurt ....."
"I think they know what you meant Doctor" said Janeway quickly. "I am glad to have you both back also. We had nearly given up on you Lieutenant Torres." Diplomatic as ever, Janeway sounded deliberately formal, not wanting to presume on a friendship that B'Elanna could not remember. The half-Klingon seemed a little less uncomfortable now that Tom was no longer holding her. He stared at her helplessly as she answered the Captain.
"Thank you Captain. I'm sorry if I seem a little strange. All this is new to me," and she gestured at the ship around her; Voyager that she had known every inch of by sight and could hear even the smallest of out-of-place rattles and squeaks in any of its thousands of components.
"That is understandable Lieutenant, I'm sure you will be back to yourself very soon."
As Janeway said these words she caught the quick glance B'Elanna cast at Seven and the ill-concealed anguish on the latter's face.
The EMH completed a tricorder scan of Seven of Nine. "You seem to be perfectly well Seven apart from that scorching on your arm which appears to have been treated by a Tuaran gibbon and a very clumsy one at that." B'Elanna scowled at the EMH but oblivious to the dark threat he carried on. "I would have suggested a period of regeneration but since you seem to have managed perfectly well for three weeks on normal food and sleep I see no need for you to return to that particular safety blanket. You will need somewhere to sleep tonight other than cargo bay 2."
Seven nodded at him distractedly but her eyes never left the slight figure of B'Elanna Torres.
"I'll organise some quarters for you Seven," said Janeway smiling warmly at her.
"She will stay with me!" B'Elanna asserted angrily before moderating her tone. " I... I do not want to be alone."
"I'll stay with you honey," said Tom gently, "if the Captain will grant me leave?"
"No!" uttered B'Elanna fierce again. "Seven will stay with me."
Janeway bit her lip to prevent herself asking them what was wrong. Only a fool could have missed seeing what was going on and Tom was no fool. He was looking between them, anger and disbelief crawling over his features. She made a quick decision.
"Mr Paris return to the bridge. I will speak to you later." As Tom hesitated she strengthened the tone of command in her voice. "Tom, go now. You too Doctor." She thought Tom was going to disobey and then suddenly his shoulders sagged and he twisted about, heading quickly for the door, not stopping to look back, an openly puzzled EMH on his tail. Janeway waited for the doors to close behind them before turning on her newly refound crew.
"What is going on Lieutenant? I realise that your situation is difficult but it has not been easy for Tom either... "
"This is not your business Captain" intervened Seven of Nine. "It is a personal matter and nothing to do with you or Voyager."
Janeway's eyes darkened to a stormy grey.
"If that remains true, then yes, you are correct, it is none of my business. But if your personal lives spill over into Voyager then it becomes my business. Is that understood?" She glared at them until they both acknowledged their understanding. "I'll leave you alone now to get some rest but I want a full debriefing 0800 tomorrow morning."
When she left the room B'Elanna was still reeling from her first force ten Janeway command glare.
"Wow!" she exclaimed admiringly.
Seven put her arms around B'Elanna; she didn't seem able to stop herself from holding and touching the half-Klingon no matter how often she warned herself that this was temporary.
"Define wow?" she asked curiously.
B'Elanna wrapped her arms around the Borg in response and squeezed her tight, resting her head on Seven's chest, but she spoilt the moment by saying, with open admiration. "I mean wow, what a woman."
"You admire her?" Seven queried stiffly, letting go of the smaller woman, ignoring her whimper of protest.
"Well who wouldn't? You told me yourself that she was impressive." B'Elanna protested puzzled by Seven's reaction.
"That was different, I do not have any romantic feelings towards the Captain."
"Hell I don't have romantic feelings towards the Captain either! I hardly know the Captain well enough to have any feelings at all. You're jealous." she realised aloud.
"You said wow," insisted Seven stubbornly. "And Borg do not become jealous, that is a Klingon characteristic."
Stifling her grin and suspecting that words were not enough, B'Elanna entwined her arms around Seven's neck and kissed her. After a few seconds of gentle pressure Seven relented and pulled her beloved close and returned the embrace.
"I think Borg do become jealous or perhaps you have picked up some bad Klingon habits," B'Elanna teased gently and breathing a little raggedly she raised her face again to kiss soft lips which parted sweetly under the pressure. Seven felt her knees give and B'Elanna tightened her embrace, holding her up easily.
"Do you want me?" B'Elanna growled in her ear.
Still slightly jealous, despite the kiss Seven shook her head. B'Elanna kissed her again and this time more fiercely. Seven moaned as her body responded to the open wet kisses and the irresistible tongue stroking weakness into her. Her shirt was tugged from her trousers and a warm hand slid over smooth skin and slowly traced over her ribs to the soft swell of her breast.
"Why are you doing this?" she gasped, "we agreed that it was wrong."
B'Elanna reclaimed her mouth and for a few more moments Seven allowed herself to forget. And then a vision of B'Elanna and Tom laughing and holding each other at their wedding swam across her consciousness. She jerked away and held B'Elanna at arms length. The latter was flushed and shaking, her dark eyes gazing at the ex-drone uncomprehendingly.
"When you have recovered your memory you would regret doing this. I do not believe you would forgive me," Seven said slowly, her heart breaking. B'Elanna's expression darkened and she spoke much too rapidly.
"I can't lose you Seven, I don't care about Tom Paris, even if I did marry him, I felt nothing when I saw him Seven, nothing except disgust and I don't want to remember any of it if that means losing you, so I'm not going to have the surgery." She stuck her jaw out as though daring the Borg to disagree even as her eyes betrayed fear that the ex-drone was going to do just that.
"You would rather lose a part of yourself, forget your friends and betray your husband and your unborn child" Seven responded as brutally as she could manage. "I do not believe that is what you really want." Still held at arms length, B'Elanna struggled to get free until at last Seven released her. Immediately she stepped closer and cupped the Borg's beautiful face in her hands and looked into the wide blue eyes.
B'Elanna's voice was soft and persuasive. "Believe me Seven, when I say I love you more than a bunch of old memories."
A tear slid down the Borg's cheek but she spoke with as much conviction as she could. "I cannot force you to recover your memories B'Elanna but I will not collude with you in making this mistake."
"Meaning?"
"There would be no future for us like this and we could not be together under such circumstances. I will not .... stay with you."
B'Elanna drew back and for an instant Seven thought the half-Klingon was going to hit her. She tensed waiting for the blow but B'Elanna seemed to crumple and a single howl tore the air. Seven crouched down to comfort her but was pushed away.
"As you wish Seven of Nine." B'Elanna growled in a low uneven voice. "I will allow the Doctor to operate but nothing will change my love for you." She stood up slowly and walked to the door. Seven watched her leave the transporter room.
"Nor mine for you," Seven replied quietly. Not sure what to do, she followed the half-Klingon out into the corridor.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When Janeway stopped by sick bay some hours later, she found them asleep, curled against each other, B'Elanna cradled in her borg's arms. She watched them under the dimmed lights in Voyager's sick bay, her two lost sheep returned to their home by a mixture of courage, cunning and luck. Seven was deemed physically fit by the EMH but she had stayed with the Lieutenant at her request and with the doctor's approval. It didn't take a psychologist to understand that this drama was far from over and the principal players were locked in an unresolved conflict. The eventual outcome would have unknown repercussions for Voyager's family. Janeway left the sick bay silently. Seven had been right about one thing. Sad though the situation was, it was not the captain's business and in any case she had more immediate difficulties.
Minutes after Starfleet had terminated the attack on Voyager, Admiral Clift had hailed Voyager. To say he had been unwelcoming was to understate the case. She had been left in no doubt that her actions were against the greater interests of the Federation and she might very well be responsible for starting a new war with the Dominion.
"Your selfish desire to bring your ship home and disobey the orders of your superiors may cost millions of lives. You are to report with Voyager to Starfleet headquarters where there will be a celebration in your honour in five days time. In the meantime you will speak to no-one. The Defiant and the Vigilant will accompany you. Their part in this fiasco will not go unremembered. The board of enquiry will commence the day after the celebration. And Janeway, don't expect to keep those pips or even your freedom, we will be asking for the maximum penalties."
Some celebration she thought wryly as she entered the bridge. Chakotay looked up and smiled at her warmly. Too warmly.
"Have you received any communication from either the Defiant or the Vigilant?" she asked, deliberately cool.
"The Vigilant is still without warp power and the Defiant is watching over her. Apparently Captain Worf does not trust Starfleet to wait for our return to Earth."
"I see. Maintain station. We will wait for them also. No reason for any of us to go it alone and in the meantime I'll ask Neelix to organise some kind of homecoming celebration. I think we ought to thank both crews for their help before Starfleet get their hands on us."
"Do you believe Starfleet will attack us again?"
"I would never have believed they would attack us in the first place Chakotay. I don't know what to expect anymore. But we are safer in numbers."
Chakotay wanted to soothe the worry and disillusionment apparent on his captain's face but could think of nothing that he could say to offer comfort so instead he changed the subject.
"How are B'Elanna and Seven?"
"Sleeping. The doctor tells me he has scheduled B'Elanna's operation for tomorrow. There doesn't seem to be any point in deferring it."
"Tom will be relieved. He was looking pretty worried. It's fortunate the Doc can treat the damage."
Janeway grunted noncommittally.
"Hail the Defiant," she ordered.
"Aye Captain. Channel open," replied the duty officer.
"This is Captain Janeway. Since we are not going anywhere for a while we want to invite the captain and members of your crew for a Delta quadrant style celebration tomorrow evening."
Worf's deep voice responded and he sounded amicable.
"That would be acceptable Captain. We will greatly enjoy meeting you and your crew. I am sure you will have many courageous stories to tell."
"Likewise and thank you Captain."
Chekhov by contrast didn't seem at all grateful for the invitation. The younger captain's voice had seemed distant, even antagonistic.
"I am not sure we will be able to attend in numbers Captain or at all. My crew are extremely busy right now repairing the warp drive and the rest of the damage to the ship."
"Of course. Is there any way we can help?"
"Unlikely. Starfleet technology has moved along quite a bit since you were last here Captain."
"I'm sure we could pick it up" Janeway answered, unable to keep the sarcasm from her voice.
"And I'm sure that there is no need Captain Janeway. However thank you for the invitation and the offer of assistance."
"If you change your mind, you are of course welcome to attend the party Captain Chekhov."
The open channel was terminated by the Vigilant without further reply. Janeway and Chakotay exchanged puzzled glances.
"She doesn't seem very fond of us," said Chakotay.
Janeway shrugged.
"Possibly not pleased at throwing away her career for our sakes. Perhaps she's typical of the modern Starfleet officer. I'll ask Doctor Kahn if she would like to come and I suppose we'd better invite that trader Hassan also, since Kahn's her guest though I don't think I'll enquire too closely what she trades in. I'm going to my ready room Chakotay and start to catch up on the paperwork before we reach Earth. I might as well make sure the evidence against us is complete."
"See you later Kathryn."
He smiled at her with big soft eyes and Kathryn cursed inwardly. She had been afraid this would happen and for the second time she regretted being back in the alpha quadrant.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven walked stiffly through Voyager's corridors. Crewmen who thought to greet her and welcome her home reconsidered when they encountered the cold self-possession. 'Always the Borg,' they concluded sadly. You could not make friends with Seven of Nine.
Seven was scarcely aware of them although she overheard some of the gossip that followed her about. Gossip that always seemed to cease too late for her Borg enhanced hearing. She found herself outside the shuttle bay doors and experienced a sudden need to check up on the Turing. The small ship rested quietly in the docking bay. It looked a little worse for its travels but she observed that it had already completed much of the repairs to the phaser-damaged hull. She could help. It would be something to do while she waited. She climbed up onto the hull and lowered herself through the upper aft hatch that had opened to greet her. The lights inside brightened and environmental controls flickered to life.
"Forgotten something?" asked the computer full of injured surprise.
"What is your current status computer?" asked Seven choosing to ignore the aggrieved tone.
"Nice of you to ask, though of course there's no need. I am just a computer, no feelings to speak of. I don't mind being stored here, there and everywhere."
"Computer. Please report your status," repeated Seven patiently.
"Repairs 80% complete. The Turing is nearly spaceworthy. There is some minor hull damage to be completed and the shields are still offline. Oh and that damned port engine is slacking again."
"I will assist your repairs although my skills will be insufficient to repair the port engine. That will require Lieutenant Torres assistance." Her voice took on a mechanical quality.
"Lieutenant Torres is not joining us?"
"No."
"Is she ill?"
"She is being operated on by the Doctor. The operation will last 4 hours but I do not think she will be available for several days."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
B'Elanna opened her eyes and gazed into the concerned eyes of the EMH. For a moment she wondered what had happened to her this time; she had woken up so often in this damned sick bay. Then she wanted Seven and then she remembered the operation.
"Seven!" she exclaimed softly and tried to lift herself off the bed to look round. "Where is she Doc?"
"Keep still Lieutenant. Seven is no doubt prowling about outside sick bay, along with Mr Paris I expect. I banned them both. I hope the captain has provided adequate security to keep them apart."
"Tom." B'Elanna closed her eyes against the confusion. "Kahless! Tom."
"You will experience some disorientation as your conscious mind tries to integrate your memories," offered the EMH on observing B'Elanna's obvious distress.
An aching need to see Seven swept through her and then an overwhelming and conflicting feeling of love and guilt for her husband. She had betrayed him. She could hardly imagine Tom's pain.
You damn fool Torres. Dammit I have really messed up. Can't believe that I would cheat on Tom and with Seven of all people and Kahless help me but I need her to hold me now. And I don't know how I'm going to face Tom or even if I want to.
"Would you like to see anyone B'Elanna?" asked the Doc as neutrally as he could manage. "They're both requesting a visit."
"No. I don't want to see anyone" she panicked. "Not yet. I have to think."
"If that's what you want."
She nodded, shaken to her core. The events of the last three weeks seemed like a dream in the context of her life on Voyager. But they were not a dream and B'Elanna Torres felt sick to her Klingon hearts. And the baby, Tom didn't even know yet unless the EMH or Seven had said something. She felt a sudden prickle of fear - maybe she had lost her.
"Doc."
"Mmm?"
"The baby, she's OK?"
"She's fine." The EMH abandoned pretending to read his notes and smiled at her. "Extremely healthy. Given your recent activities, I rather suspect she has her father's space legs and your constitution, space flight should hold no terrors for her. Of course if she has your temper and her father's sense of humour, space flight may come to hold terror for the rest of humankind," he quipped in a futile attempt to lighten her mood. B'Elanna stared at him uncomprehendingly and he sighed. "You should get some rest Lieutenant. Give yourself time to adjust. I'll be in my office if you need me."
B'Elanna did not seem to have heard him. She just lay back and gazed up at the ceiling. The EMH wandered away. This sort of situation was outside his programming and quite honestly he was rather glad about that.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Tom Paris leaned against the wall outside sick bay and watched the tall ex-drone. She had not taken her eyes from the door for the last half hour, not since the Doc had informed them that B'Elanna did not want visitors yet, any visitors. She just stood there, ramrod straight with her hands clasped behind her back. It was annoying him. How dare she claim anything, even the right to stand out here and wait.
"She's not so keen to see you now is she Seven of Nine? That must hurt."
"It is painful," responded Seven calmly, "as it must be for you."
His jaw clenched harder.
"You don't really expect my Lanna to want you now she has her memories back do you Seven? She loved me for three years, she married me for godsakes, with you it's just three weeks and she wasn't even herself."
Seven looked at him impassively.
"You are probably correct Lieutenant, I do not expect her to love me in the same way when she recovers."
Tom looked at her with some astonishment and found himself almost seeking reassurance from her.
"Then you don't think Lanna is going to leave me for you?"
"It is highly unlikely."
Seven's eyes tightened a little and Tom suddenly had the feeling that the ex-drone was holding on by a thread.
"Then why are you here?" he asked roughly. Seven took her eyes from the door and looked him in the face.
"Such considerations do not diminish my feelings for her nor my concern. I love her. Nothing is going to change that. If she does want to speak with me I will be here." She turned away to resume her silent vigil, the conversation clearly at an end.
Tom's gaze still boiled with resentment but unwillingly a little pity mixed itself with the jealousy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Several hours later Captain Janeway contacted the EMH from her ready room.
"How's the patient, Doctor?"
"Physically she's fine. She'll be fit for duty tomorrow after a good nights sleep if she does sleep." He frowned. "But emotionally I'm not so sure Captain. She won't talk or eat or sleep. She just lies there staring at the ceiling."
"Has she had any visitors yet?"
"No. She has quite emphatically refused to see anyone."
"Do you think I should talk to her Doctor?"
The EMH looked uncertain. "This is really outside my experience and programming Captain but I don't believe you can make things worse."
"On my way."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The captain arrived after a couple of minutes and the EMH showed her to the bed where the chief engineer lay with her eyes open, staring unseeingly upwards.
"B'Elanna," said the captain, "how are you feeling?" The half-Klingon didn't even turn her head to acknowledge the captain's presence.
"Fine."
"Glad to hear it."
Silence returned. The captain folded her arms and without speaking sat on the adjacent bio-bed and waited. Minutes passed without talk or movement. B'Elanna was the first to crack. She glanced sideways at the silent woman sitting watching her and flinched as her eyes encountered the steel blue gaze.
"I'm sorry Captain. I was rude."
"Very true but I will overlook it. Are you ready to discuss the situation now?"
"Captain this is a personal matter ... "
"Not any more. My chief engineer is lying in sick bay refusing to speak and that is a matter of grave concern to the captain of this ship. Until I'm convinced you can handle yourself appropriately Lieutenant ......"
"I can assure you Captain, I will fulfil my duties to the best of my abilities."
"Assurances are not enough B'Elanna. I want to know how you propose to resolve your personal problems so that they will not interfere with your work."
B'Elanna sat up too quickly and for a second her head swam. Then she slammed her fist down on the bed, anger twisting her features, her voice barely controlled.
"There is nothing to resolve Captain. I have returned from a difficult away mission. Nothing has changed. I am still married and I am expecting his child."
The captain's eyes opened wide in surprise. She hopped down from the biobed, her expression much gentler than before, and placed her hand on B'Elanna's shoulder.
"Don't you think you should tell him B'Elanna?"
"Yes." She took several deep breaths. "Yes I should tell him."
"It's unfair on both of them to keep them hanging on like this. You know that don't you."
B'Elanna laughed mirthlessly.
"None of this is fair captain. It's a bloody mess and I caused it but you're right, I'll talk to Tom tonight."
"What about Seven?"
"No."
"You can't just ... "
"Captain what should I say? 'Sorry Seven. I loved you, used you, but there's nothing for you now. It's been nice knowing you.' "
"She will be very hurt."
"She will understand Captain. She knows me better than I know myself. She told me how it would be and she was exactly right."
Janeway was rather chilled by the half-Klingon's seeming callousness and did not disguise her unease.
"How can you be so sure B'Elanna?"
B'Elanna suddenly found she needed the captain to understand her feelings. She wanted to share them with someone before they were hidden away.
"Seven is my juH wa'Dich," she said. The captain looked blank and B'Elanna tried to think how to explain what she meant without sounding completely foolish. "The closest human expression I can think of would be 'other-half' though it means more than that, more like 'my fate'. If I had not been such a stubborn, resentful fool about Seven, I might have realised before I married Tom. I did love him Captain but it wasn't the overwhelming sense of connection that Klingon poets describe, I didn't really believe that feeling could exist in real life." She paused and twisted her fingers round the edge of the biobed. "I do now." The pain in her dark eyes testified to the truth of the words.
"This doesn't explain to me why you won't speak to her."
"Because I did marry Tom and swear fidelity and life-long commitment. I've already broken the first promise but I won't abandon him and I won't separate him from his child. I don't want my daughter to lose her father. And there is nothing further to say."
"I think you're scared to face her."
Janeway allowed some of her disapproval to appear in her voice and B'Elanna reacted immediately.
"Of course I'm scared," she half-shouted. "I'm scared that I won't be able to do this, that my courage will fail and I'll beg her to take me away from him." Her voice cracked. The captain waited patiently as B'Elanna tried to calm down, breathing deeply until she could speak again. "Captain, I am not exactly a poster girl for duty and responsibility, it would be too easy for me to give into my feelings and run off into the sunset with Seven but I'm not going to do it. I would have no self respect and in the end that would destroy us."
Janeway had her doubts but she smothered the compulsion to offer advice. Someone was going to be hurt whatever and B'Elanna had obviously made up her mind who that was going to be.
"I'll send Tom in to see you," she said and then hesitated before adding, "and I'll speak to Seven."
B'Elanna closed her eyes and lay back down without answering. The captain left the room quietly; there didn't seem to be anything left to say.
Continued in next chapter
TITLE: Lost and Home
SUBSECTION: Lost Again
PARTS: 14 to 18
AUTHOR: halfofone
SUMMARY: Our heroes are home on Voyager but they've lost each other.
Lost and Home by halfofone
Date added: 2005-01-21 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
USS Voyager - Paris-Torres quarters
Tom sat on the bed in their joint quarters and watched B'Elanna. He was trying to keep his expression blank. An impartial observer would have told him he was failing. Concern and fear mixed with pain in his blue eyes.
When he had finally been allowed into sick bay to see her, she had put her arms around his neck and hugged him and told him that she loved him. The relief had been extraordinary and for the first time Tom allowed himself to really believe that his wife had come home to him. His unease was growing again. B'Elanna had been released by the EMH an hour before and returned to their quarters. She did not seem to want to talk about what had happened to her or even to acknowledge that the away mission had been anything other than routine. Instead she wanted to concentrate on what was expected of her at the celebration tonight. At this moment the chief engineer of Voyager was fussing over her dress uniform.
"It's tighter than it was," she moaned "and it was never that comfortable."
"I guess you've put on weight love," he teased.
"I'm pregnant."
The words left a void behind them and for a time Tom could not voice a reaction. When thought and feeling returned, a cold anger filled him.
"Is it mine?"
B'Elanna's confusion at his even asking the question showed in her face as she shot back with anger. "What the hell do you mean?"
Tom was unrelenting.
"Is it mine or hers?"
His wife stared at him disbelievingly. "You think that in the middle of fighting and running for our lives, Seven and I took time out to arrange a pregnancy? Kahless! We were only gone three weeks. Of course it's yours dammit." Angrily she stripped her uniform jacket off and threw it on the floor.
"You took the time to have an affair" he snapped bitterly. B'Elanna's outrage was instantly extinguished and she seemed to diminish in size.
"I don't think we should discuss this now."
"Well I think we should. You owe me that." He folded his arms and pushed away the fear of what he might hear.
Defeated, B'Elanna shrugged slightly and asked in a flat tone, "What do you want to know?"
"How it happened. Between you."
B'Elanna told him in sparse sentences that contained the facts but little feeling and less explanation. Despite her rigidly unemotional account Tom felt his fear escalate.
"... I was unfaithful. I'm sorry." B'Elanna completed her bald account.
"Sweetheart you didn't know what you were doing ... "
"I did know. Seven told me about my marriage before anything happened. I may not have been able to remember you myself but I knew. Don't make excuses for me Tom. I cheated and I've hurt those I love."
"Do you love her?" he queried very quietly.
"I am your wife. I am going to have your child. A three week fling with someone else changes nothing. I have chosen to make my life with you. End of story."
She was saying everything he could hope for in the circumstances but the crushed misery in her eyes could not be explained only by guilt. She looked and sounded like half the woman he knew.
"Do you love her?" he asked again, keeping his tone as neutral as he could.
This time B'Elanna shrugged the question off. "There's no need to ask that Tom. Why discuss something that makes no difference."
"It makes a difference to me."
"Well it doesn't to me. I still love you and that's enough." She turned her back on him. "Computer. Requisition for new uniform for B'Elanna Torres. One size larger than current specification. A new dress uniform is also required. Same size. Authorisation: Torres zero one four alpha."
'Items requisitioned are now available from the stores.' responded Voyager's computer.
B'Elanna picked up her black shirt from the floor. "I'm going to collect. I guess in the meantime I'll have to stick with these." She started to dress again in her Hassan Inc. standard issue clothing. "I want to check up on engineering. See what Vorik has been doing in my absence. Don't wait around for me Tom."
"Lanna, there's no need to go anywhere near engineering yet" he protested. "The captain won't expect you back on duty today."
"I don't want those Starfleet engineers criticising my engine room Tom. I have some pride you know." She half-smiled at him and bent down to kiss his cheek. He put his arms around her and pulled her to him, burying his face against her midriff. He could feel her body tense but for a few instants she let him hold her before pulling away. "I'd better get going if I'm going to do anything useful before tonight." She smiled down at him again. "See you later Tom."
Janeway had warned him to take it slow and not expect too much for a few days but as she left his arms, he couldn't fail to notice his wife release the breath she had been holding and her fists unclenching. Afraid of pushing her too far, he reluctantly released her and answered her smile. "Sure. Until later."
USS Voyager - the mess-hall, later that evening
Captain Chekhov surveyed the Voyager mess-hall with annoyance. Her opposite number on Voyager was not there to greet her guests and Chekhov was finding it hard to swallow her irritation. She hadn't really wanted to attend the celebration, let alone be insulted and ignored when she was there. She also felt out of place in her new Starfleet issue dress uniform. The Voyager crew were either in civvies or the old style dress uniform that had been abandoned many years before. She scowled. Her expression provoked a poke in the ribs from the CMO who had accompanied her.
"Stop looking so fierce," muttered Bones fiercely. "This is a party not unarmed combat."
"And where is our host for this party?" Chekhov muttered between gritted teeth. "Captain Janeway obviously does not think ... "
"She's coming this way" Bones answered, interrupting quickly before her captain and long-time friend could complete any complaint.
"Captain Chekhov," said a smallish red-head, dressed very casually in a white shirt and slacks. "Good evening. I am glad you could join us after all." The captain of Voyager smiled warmly at her guests. In Chekhov's opinion, she looked far too relaxed for a renegade and a troublemaker. She was also much smaller than the younger captain had expected.
"Captain Janeway," Chekhov acknowledged stiffly without returning the smile. She began to introduce the officers who accompanied her, finishing with the doctor. "... and this is Bones, my CMO."
"I've heard about you Doctor - we are grateful for the good care you took of B'Elanna and Seven of Nine."
"My pleasure Captain," answered the small medic. "Apart from insisting on escaping, they were no trouble at all" she joked before enquiring with obviously sincere concern, "Has Lieutenant Torres recovered from her operation?"
"She's doing well. Perhaps our doctor could fill you in on the details."
Janeway signalled to the EMH who trotted over to be introduced to the Vigilant's crew. He swept the doctor away - towards tables which were sagging under the weight of food - only too pleased to be able to talk to someone who might appreciate his genius. Janeway returned her attention to the severe young captain who for some reason looked very disapproving. It piqued Janeway and she couldn't resist prodding her opposite number to find the cause of the resentment.
"How are your repairs going Captain?" she enquired.
"Better than we expected or we wouldn't be here," was the curt reply.
"I'm glad to hear that," Janeway answered carefully, aware that she did not yet fully comprehend the underlying hostility.
Chekhov's eyes narrowed, irrationally annoyed by the older captain's sympathy, and some of that feeling spilled over.
"Of course if you had done as I ordered Captain Janeway and made a run for it, the Vigilant would not be in as bad shape as it is. We would have surrendered and Starfleet would have left us as non-combatant and chased you. We took two more severe hits after you arrived: several crew were injured and the ship was much more heavily damaged. Perhaps you didn't feel up to taking them on alone ..."
Several Voyager crewmen, in earshot, gasped. You couldn't speak to Kathryn Janeway in that manner and expect to walk away unscathed.
"I'm sorry to hear that you feel that way Captain Chekhov." The Voyager captain's voice seemed to drop an octave and the tone hardened as though stayed by a shaft of cold steel and she began to circle. "I might argue that, without our protection, your Starfleet colleagues would have simply destroyed the Vigilant and your crew." Janeway's smile returned but there was no warmth in it this time. "After all, that way Captain, there would be fewer witnesses and you would have been an example to other mutinous captains and crew." Janeway folded her arms combatively, took a step closer and looked Chekhov in the eye, declaring cynically, "and I have no doubt that Voyager would have taken the blame for your destruction."
Chekhov held her ground, refusing to be intimidated by the hard gray eyes from which every hint of blue had fled.
"Your protection?" The younger captain shook her head disbelievingly. "Oh come on Janeway! This is the Federation not Cardassia. No-one was going to destroy a helpless Starfleet ship."
Janeway retaliated angrily, "You're very certain of that, yet Starfleet appeared to be more than willing to destroy Voyager, an equally innocent ship, rather than allow us to get home ..."
" ... Perhaps Captain if you had been more reasonable and obeyed orders, Starfleet would have brought you home when it was safe to do so." Chekhov interrupted, adding with a degree of mockery, "but then it's been a long time since you had to obey anyone's orders hasn't it?"
Without anyone being fully aware, members of the two crews had formed up behind their respective captains. Janeway cast a look behind her, taking in the aggressive poses adopted by many of her crew. She wasn't going to allow this to become a brawl just to satisfy some jumped-up young Starfleet captain. She stepped back and raised her hand in a 'let's agree to differ' gesture, her tone much more placatory.
"Perhaps you're right Captain Chekhov; we will never know for certain but I'm sure the Board of Enquiry will fully take your views into consideration." She noticed Neelix gesturing at the mountainous layout of food and gratefully took the hint. "Mr Neelix. Our guests don't seem to have anything to eat or drink."
"Nor they do Captain and it would be my pleasure to put that right. Captain Chekhov, if you and your officers would care to follow me, I will be more than happy to introduce you to Delta quadrant cuisine."
"But don't touch anything purple," Tom Paris interjected with a quick grin. The Voyager crew laughed and the tension lessened.
For a moment Chekhov looked as though she wanted to continue the argument but Bones was glaring at her and in any case she didn't want to let Janeway appear to be the more adult.
"Thank you Mr ... 'er ... Neelix." she said stiffly and scowled even more deeply as Janeway smiled diplomatically. Though the smile never made it to Janeway's eyes, there was something about the small red-headed captain's assurance that made Chekhov feel like a petulant three-year old. She wanted to smack the older woman. She wanted her to be less in control. Dammit she wanted an apology for ruining her life.
The embarrassing silence was fortunately swept away by the wave of attention that greeted the entrance of Lenara Kahn and Mira Hassan escorted by Seven of Nine.
The three women looked magnificent and there was a collective intake of breath from most of the assembled crew. The Trill leaned on Hassan's left arm, quietly elegant, a strangely civilised consort to the dark warrior queen at her side. In the centre of the threesome, Hassan gazed arrogantly down on the sea of Starfleet officers, betraying none of the mistrust or fear she must have felt, standing in the enemy's camp. On her right side stood Seven of Nine, only slightly smaller than the pirate, an immaculate twenty fourth century princess in her silver alloy bodysuit, with her hands behind her back and her implant raised in amusement at the gaggle of goggling males. Seven was used to being stared at by aroused males, though not usually in such large numbers. Then she caught sight of B'Elanna beside Tom. Seven's amusement faded to be replaced by nervousness and hurt. This was the moment she had been dreading, she hadn't wanted to come but Janeway had made attendance mandatory and given her the duty of escorting Mira and Doctor Kahn. Unable to take her eyes away, she knew the chief engineer had seen her also though the half-Klingon's expression remained unmoved, even cold.
"She is a fool," said Mira unexpectedly in her ear. "B'Elanna always makes the wrong decision."
"She does not!" Seven responded in immediate defence of her lover. "Lieutenant Torres is highly intelligent and resourceful. There is no other engineer to compare to her. I would trust her with my life ..."
"... but not with your heart. Seven, you are not an engineering problem or a military strategy, and she is out of her depth. I am very fond of her but when it comes to personal matters, B'Elanna is both incompetent and stubborn."
"What should I do?"
"Argue, persist and if necessary kidnap her and ride off into the sunset with her over your saddle."
Seven considered the idea and then shook her head. She was not inclined to believe that it would be a successful strategy.
Mira shrugged. She had said her piece and what Seven chose to do with it was the Borg's own business. The pirate returned her attention to her other attractive companion who was hanging on her arm and her every word.
Lenara Kahn was getting used to feeling overwhelmed. She had only met one other person like Mira Hassan who inspired similar feelings in her; someone so confident and at ease with herself that she seemed to have no fear of others opinions. Of course Jadzia Dax had been entirely respectable while it was apparent, even to the innocent Trill scientist, that Mira Hassan was not. Still she did not feel apprehensive or fearful of the powerful woman which was strange at the very least. Lenara considered herself to be a very level-headed person, averse to unnecessary risk and utterly civilised. Criminal activity of any kind was utterly alien to her, Hassan was utterly alien and yet the scientist could not deny the weakness in her knees or her accelerating pulse as dark-blue eyes smiled down into hers and it was with some difficulty that she recalled herself to greet their host.
Captain Janeway had willingly escaped from her detractor to this more pleasant company and her smile was friendly as she held out her hand in turn to Dr Kahn and then Hassan as Seven introduced them.
"Welcome aboard Voyager. On behalf of my crew I have to thank you both for your help in bringing us home and also to Commander Hassan for looking after Seven and B'Elanna."
Mira raised her eyebrow. "I wonder if you will be quite so grateful captain when you see the bill from Hassan Inc?" The pirate's lips twitched as she observed the Starfleet captain's disconcerted face. "They were an extremely expensive and time-consuming investment Captain."
"I'm sure that Starfleet will be able to recompense you" answered Janeway, smoothly moving into 'captain-dealing-with-mercenary-alien' mode. She had a great deal of experience in this area.
"Somehow I doubt that. I do not doubt your gratitude Captain however your superiors are more likely to clap me in irons."
"Because you helped us" said the captain with more than a hint of bitterness.
"Because I'm wanted ... " corrected Hassan cheerfully, "... to assist with several ongoing enquiries" she deadpanned and finally allowed herself to smile. "Perhaps I will just have to forget the bill."
Janeway was momentarily taken aback by the pirate's honesty. She recovered with an answering grin. "I think that might be a good idea Commander Hassan. Given that's the case I suppose that you will not be accompanying us to Earth? What about Doctor Kahn?"
"I too, am persona non grata with Starfleet, Captain Janeway," said the elegant Trill with a nervous laugh. "Commander Hassan has agreed to take me back to Trill where I think I will be safe though perhaps not fully approved of."
"I don't think any of us are likely to find much approval when we get home" said Janeway sadly. "I am grateful to everyone who helped Voyager and I hope the cost to each of you is not going to be too high. I want you to know that I will do my best to protect you."
A loud snort from Captain Chekhov drew Janeway's attention and her eyes lost the misty sentiment. "Of course I know some of you may already regret assisting us or doubt that you did the right thing but I am still thankful that you did and believe this, if any of you ever need my help in return then it will be given to the limits of my abilities."
Worf, who had just joined the party acknowledged the Voyager captain's words with Klingon vigour and seriousness.
"I am certain Captain Janeway, that no warrior with any honour would feel any regret, or need for thanks. We did our duty as Starfleet officers. The consequences are of little importance."
Janeway caught a glimpse of Chekhov's annoyed frown and for a moment felt a stab of sympathy for the surly young captain. It quickly faded.
Worf shook Janeway's hand and she returned her full attention to him. She began to introduce the legendary Klingon to her other guests. He shook hands solemnly with Hassan. Then he was introduced to Lenara Kahn. His naturally stern expression wavered to an outright scowl, he withdrew his hand and simply nodded once. Her expression was not a great deal more friendly. The scientist knew who he was. She knew of his relationship to Jadzia Dax.
The other members of the party couldn't fail to notice the unexpected hostility between the Trill and the Klingon. Not knowing the reasons, Hassan reacted instinctively by moving protectively between the Klingon and her new friend. Equally tall, the Klingon and the pirate eyeballed each other suspiciously.
Janeway put her hand to her head and rubbed her temple in a pointless attempt to ward off the impending headache that this fraught little gathering was generating. The captain looked around her slowly, taking in the assortment of scowls and glares being exchanged.
Tom and Seven. Worf and Kahn. Hassan and Worf. Chekhov and almost everyone. Seven looked stoic but sad. B'Elanna just looked miserable. Chakotay looked nearly as miserable since Janeway was avoiding him where possible and deliberately misunderstanding his thinly-veiled declarations of affection whenever he did manage to catch-up with her. Meanwhile the assorted crews of the three ships, following their leaders' bad examples, had grouped themselves in bristling packs. The only people apparently enjoying themselves were Neelix and the EMH. Neelix loved any party and was skipping between the different guests with a plate of food balanced on one hand. The EMH had a captive audience in the young CMO from the Vigilant and appeared unaware of the furious antagonisms swelling about him. It was going to be a trying evening.
Starfleet HQ - San Francisco
At Starfleet headquarters a small, group of worried people were meeting for the third time that day. Three of the participants were Starfleet admirals in full scarlet dress uniforms. There were several lower lifeforms from the Starfleet food chain buzzing assiduously around the three admirals. A tall, distinguished-looking being in beautiful, full-length blue robes had seated himself at the head of a very long conference table; he stared impassively at the last attendee at the meeting. Weyoun 14, ambassador to the alpha quadrant, settled into a seat opposite the three admirals. He smiled pleasantly at each of his hosts.
"Mr President, it is very good of you to see me again today. The Founders are still extremely troubled by these recent events. It would be very unfortunate if no explanation of the Federation's apparently criminal behaviour were forthcoming."
The president flicked some imaginary speck from his flowing blue sleeve. He looked up and there was nothing in his voice or manner that would suggest anything but calm and serenity.
"I am very happy to meet with the representative of the Dominion. And I hope after this meeting you will be able to reassure the Founders that matters have been resolved to their, and our, satisfaction."
"You have fresh information?" inquired Weyoun blandly.
The president did not reply immediately. If he hoped to make Weyoun feel uncomfortable then he was to be disappointed. The ambassador's expression indicated no irritation nor impatience. If anything he looked benignly disinterested. He was a smallish man with open guile-free blue eyes, his temperament ideal for a diplomat; then that was the purpose for which he had been bred by his gods, in much the same way that humans bred dogs for hunting or herding. That he, a sentient being, understood his fate and accepted it without feeling aggrieved, simply made him more alien in the eyes of the humans.
At last the president stirred. He spoke carefully. "We have identified the wormhole generator."
Weyoun smiled encouragingly. "That is interesting indeed. Have you perhaps discovered who is responsible?"
"We have. Admiral Hayes ... " said the President, addressing the left most member of the red-coated triumvirate. "Can you please arrange for Doctor Kravitz to be brought before us?"
Weyoun raised an eyebrow. This at least was unexpected.
Hayes signalled to one of the adjutants who was lurking near the door. The officer slipped outside the door and could be heard mumbling something to an unseen person.
Moments later, the door opened and three new figures entered the room followed by the adjutant. Two of the new entrants were burly Starfleet security officers. The third, in the middle, in restraints, was Kravitz. His puffy little face was fearful. He looked up and screamed at the impassive figures seated at the table. "Why are you doing this to me? Why is he here?" He pointed at Weyoun and wailed, an almost inhuman noise. "Dear God! You are going to give me to them!"
The president paid no heed to the stricken man and addressed Weyoun. "I am sorry if this is distressing ambassador. I'm afraid the poor soul is quite mad," said the President compassionately.
Weyoun could not hide the shock he felt looking at the bound man. For once the ambassador was at a loss. "What does ... umm ... how is this unfortunate ... creature ... relevant?"
"The wormhole was created at his instigation" said the President.
"That's a lie," shouted Dr Kravitz.
"Then perhaps you could tell us who was responsible if you were not" asked Weyoun.
Kravitz opened his mouth to speak and then glanced at the middle Starfleet admiral. Whatever he saw in the inscrutable face caused the scientist to snap his mouth shut, his fear-filled gaze returned to the ground. He began to wail pitifully.
"Quite mad," repeated the President and gestured at the two guards to remove their prisoner. When he had gone, the President turned back to his guest. "We will of course share with the Dominion, any information that we can find about this disgraceful conspiracy."
"Including perhaps the scientific research?" inquired Weyoun.
"Of course, though we have little hope of obtaining much information. The research facility was unfortunately destroyed by Kravitz and his henchmen.
"Ah!" Weyoun uttered non-commitally. His pleasant smile did not reveal anything beyond mild interest.
The president rose to leave. "As always ambassador it has been a pleasure." He left the room with solemnity and an air of gravity that eminently suited his position.
The senior admiral also rose to his feet. He smiled wolfishly at the still seated ambassador. "I don't suppose any of that little show will satisfy your masters."
"I suspect not," Weyoun agreed amiably.
The admiral grinned back at him and saluted. "Which of course is as it should be."
Continued in next chapter
Lost and Home by halfofone
Date added: 2005-01-21 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
USS Voyager - somewhere in the Alpha quadrant
B'Elanna was tired. She sat on a couch in the middle of the room, sipping a cold beer and watched her colleagues reluctantly talking to their opposite numbers. Following the awkward start, Janeway had let it be known to her crew that she expected them to mingle, make their guests welcome and behave impeccably. It wasn't voluntary. The captain and Tuvok were policing the whole venture and quickly stepped in wherever conversation drifted into dispute. Any crew member not participating also received a visit from the party police and was clearly given to understand that he or she would either entertain their visitors or spend the next day shining the hull.
Blaming tiredness after her operation, B'Elanna had just slipped away from a heated, though friendly discussion with the engineers from the Defiant and she could already see Tuvok working his way towards her. She sighed and looked for an escape route.
In fairness the engineer had to admit that the captain's tactics were beginning to work and a party atmosphere was forming. In the far corner Tom had risen to the occasion and was leading a fairly rowdy game, the sole object of which, appeared to be kissing other participants. Neelix had managed to find some music from the Delta quadrant which didn't sound like the strangling of dumb animals and that was actually possible to dance to. An area had been cleared to allow this, and taking full advantage, the Delaney sisters had already danced with a statistically significant sample of men and women from each crew. Knowing the twins, B'Elanna rather suspected they would manage a full survey before the night was done. She smiled broadly as Jennifer waved at her and then the twin was swept away in the arms of yet another person.
Even the food had been a success. Neelix had learned a great deal about the tastes of the different races aboard Voyager in seven years and he had become much more successful at meeting those tastes. The only two unhappy crewmen were from the Vigilant and they were both Issaurians and even their friends reassured Neelix that the pair were hard to please. Finally the Talaxian had tried some plain leola root stew (like his mother made) on them and they pronounced it to be delicious. As he explained very earnestly (and not very soberly) to B'Elanna, Neelix could not help but regret that there had been no Issaurians amongst Voyager's crew. Cooking would have been a lot less discouraging. However, he consoled himself, he had at least discovered one race of Alpha quadrant people with whom he shared common tastes and, even more encouragingly, he found the female Issaurian to be rather attractive. Though it might be just his opinion, he rather thought the interest might be returned.
Making her excuses to Neelix, B'Elanna ducked down on the couch in the hope that Tuvok would not see her leave. The only hope of evasion was to dodge through the dancers to the back of the mess-hall and then out into the corridor. Timing her move to coincide with the passage of the conga line led by Megan Delaney - which effectively cut Tuvok off and obscured his view - B'Elanna rose to her feet and dashed as inconspicuously as she could for the door. She groaned in relief as she made it outside into the relative cool and quiet of the corridor. Her relief was short-lived.
"Is there something wrong B'Elanna?" said a worried Borg who had observed her beloved's exit and followed. "Are you unwell?" Seven placed her hand on the half-Klingon's arm. B'Elanna jumped and pulled away. Seven dropped her hand.
"I'm fine," B'Elanna replied unhappily. "I just felt like a little, not fresh air I guess, but less warm air. I'm alright really ... thank you." She avoided Seven's eye and the ex-drone straightened up and backed away.
"I did not mean to intrude," said Seven quietly. "I must return to my duties. The captain has ordered me to keep Captain Worf away from Lenara Kahn and Mira Hassan."
"Duties! Well that's damned funny," B'Elanna snorted slightly and grinned weakly at her former lover. "I heard Harry being told to keep Tom away from you. Some party."
"The captain is very thorough."
Seven started back towards the door when on an impulse, B'Elanna caught her arm and stopped her.
"Don't go back yet, I want to talk to you." She tightened her fingers on the ex-drone's arm, gently restraining her from leaving. Seven cautiously turned back to face her.
"For what purpose?"
"I miss you," said B'Elanna simply. "Come over here and sit with me." Her hand slid down Seven's arm until she took the Borg's hand and then gently led her a few yards down the corridor. B'Elanna slid down against the wall and pulled Seven with her. When they had settled, a few inches separating them, B'Elanna rested their joined hands on her outstretched leg.
"I do not think this is a good idea" Seven commented quietly, turning her head to look down at her lover.
B'Elanna did not answer at first. She was staring at their hands and realising she was holding Seven's Borg hand, something she hadn't otherwise noticed except to shiver with pleasure as Seven's mesh-covered thumb gently stroked circles on her skin. Her old self would have noticed alright, her old self could see nothing of Seven except the Borg. Back then - a few short weeks and a lifetime away - she had been afraid. She was afraid now but not of her lover's wonderful hands.
"I suppose you're right. You usually are. At least we know where the Turing's computer gets its insufferable arrogance." Her half-smile morphed into a frown. "I haven't been down to see that digital pain-in-the-ass since we returned. Why does that make me feel guilty? As if I haven't got enough genuine reasons for guilt." The half-Klingon chanced a quick look at her lover. "I'm so sorry Seven."
Seven shook her head. "Don't be. I am equally responsible. I knew the situation and I allowed us to become involved. If anyone should be held responsible then it is I."
"No way!" B'Elanna spluttered. "I don't want to argue with you about this. What I want ... well ..." dark eyes smiled up, lightened by a touch of mischief. Affectionate amusement warmed Seven's face in return, as she listened to the half-Klingon's confession, "... what I want is to drag you away and make love to you until you can't see straight."
"That would be a worthwhile experiment," Seven concurred. "However, not perhaps practicable in our current circumstances."
B'Elanna shrugged and the sadness returned. "Maybe not but I am not going to let you take responsibility for this, sweetheart."
"We should agree to share the blame" said Seven helpfully, moving closer until their legs and arms were touching lightly.
"Yeah ... why not?" B'Elanna rested her head against the former Borg's upper arm. "We shared the good stuff. Guess it's only right we share the bad."
"Even the pain."
B'Elanna rejected that suggestion. "I don't want to share pain with you, ever. I never wanted you to be hurt" she argued pathetically and glanced up.
"It is alright B'Elanna," Seven reassured quietly, her face only centimetres from her lover, close enough to feel the quick exhale of warm breath on her cheek. Their hands clasped tighter.
"But it's not alright is it?" muttered B'Elanna in a low voice, her eyes dropping to Seven's full lips.
"No it is not," said Seven and closed the remaining space between them.
Soft lips parted under hers, the gentle pressure increasing and then suddenly the touch was withdrawn. Knowing what was coming, Seven closed her eyes tighter and prayed to a God she did not believe in, to be proved wrong. She felt her hand squeezed almost painfully.
"Dammit!" whimpered B'Elanna, "I can't do this. It's wrong. I can't make it right."
Seven did not open her eyes, she felt B'Elanna's hold on her hand slacken and release, then felt the loss of contact against her hip and arm and leg as the half-Klingon stood up. Wishing she could stop her ears, the ex-drone listened unwillingly as her enhanced hearing recorded the next few seconds.
Elevated heart rate; heavier than normal breathing; a slight catch and hesitation as though about to speak; footsteps walking away, pausing, continuing; nothing but the hum of the ship's systems.
She heard another sound and opened her eyes in hope rather than conviction. Tom Paris was standing a few metres away, staring down at her intently.
"Too much synthehol?" he enquired coldly.
"I would not ... you are probably correct Lieutenant," she agreed, too tired and sad to want to argue.
"I'm looking for B'Elanna, my wife." He emphasised the last two words and the muscles in his face tightened. "I don't suppose you've seen her - or perhaps - kissed her recently?"
Seven directed her gaze straight ahead and seriously concentrated on the opposing bulkhead. "You saw us," she asserted.
His lips twisted in a smirk. "Yeah. I saw you. She rejected you."
"Yes she did. You need not concern yourself Lieutenant Paris - I will not approach her again."
He ignored her assurance.
"Tell me one thing Seven of Nine. Do you love her? Can you love her?"
Seven put her head back against the corridor wall and closed her eyes again.
"A cleverly designed machine - that is how you think of me is it not Mr Paris? A machine lacking a few of the fundamental ingredients of humanity." She quoted wearily from the writings of a famous Vulcan scientist. "'There is nothing of note in even the most cleverly designed machine that ten thousand years of life cannot imitate and improve on. Yet the reverse cannot be said to be true.' Maybe you think I am 'trying-out' love as part of another investigation into human sexuality?"
She looked at him enquiringly and was met by hostile incomprehension on the pilot's drawn face.
"I guess," he agreed with an equal mixture of ice and pleasantness.
Seven started to get up and Tom automatically offered his hand. After a nano-second hesitation she took the proffered hand and he helped her to her feet. She looked at him and to his surprise almost smiled.
"I tend to think that my experience of love to date is perhaps better described by another author favoured by Captain Janeway, 'A sheltered life, of well-sieved needs and reasoned want; picked apart by unkempt desire and saffron-flavoured passion.' I am not experimenting, Tom Paris. If I were, believe me, I would have collected quite enough data by now and be moving on to the next project. This experiment would not have been deemed a success."
"But that's what you have to do," Tom insisted, "you have to move on." He grinned unsympathetically as he turned to follow in the footsteps of his wife. "Consider it another lesson learned in humanity Seven - recovering from a broken heart - a lesson that I know well."
The Dominion Diplomatic Commission - somewhere on Earth
Ambassador Weyoun considered the padd before him and slowly his finger descended on the communication channel controls. Seconds later the subspace channel opened and Weyoun bowed deeply to the overhead monitor.
"Report," ordered the small, possibly female, founder.
"The Federation story is not believable, Founder," Weyoun contended, his habitual diplomatic smile temporarily suspended for this conversation. The founders did not appreciate humour in their servants. He continued in the same obsequious voice, "They are more than willing to offer us the heads of the numerous alleged conspirators while denying any knowledge of wormhole generation beyond that which is already widely available. They are claiming that all the relevant technology has been destroyed."
"We require that technology. We will find out who has it and then we will take it. In the meantime agree to their terms and accept their apology."
"Yes Founder." Weyoun bowed deeply again and the channel flipped off.
USS Voyager - somewhere in the Alpha quadrant
The party was going with a swing and had spilled out into the adjoining corridors. Captain Worf had brought a fairly large contingent from the Defiant and after the initial awkwardness the Voyager crew were now enjoying the oddity of socialising with new people outside their own tight little clan. Seven years isolated in the hostile delta quadrant meant there was very little that any member of the crew didn't know about each other. Even the senior officers had detailed knowledge of the complicated tangle of relationships, love affairs and quarrels that had flourished on the small ship. For most of the crew, privacy had been a treasured rarity and secrets impossible. To talk and flirt with strangers was a luxury. However, the absence of the three main actors in the most recent Voyager soap-opera was soon noted by their crew-mates. Faster than light the report reached Captain Janeway.
"I'll check this out Tuvok. I don't want a murder to add to our list of problems."
"I'll come with you Captain," said Chekhov unexpectedly.
It had annoyed Janeway all evening that every time she turned round, the young captain was there watching her, listening to her, waiting for something. An opportunity to punch my lights out I suppose.
"What?" Janeway exclaimed loudly. She moderated the volume. "There is really no need."
"I'm sure there isn't," said Chekhov, "but I would like to anyway. I haven't had a chance to really talk to either Seven of Nine or Lieutenant Torres. I would like to apologise to them both for how they were treated."
Janeway looked at her opposite number suspiciously. The taller woman returned her gaze, giving nothing away.
"Anyway, I would appreciate a tour of Voyager. I haven't seen one of these for a long time. They were all destroyed in the early stages of the war. Lucky you weren't here really."
Janeway gritted her teeth and resisted making a comeback. However her assent was not graceful or welcoming.
"Alright then, if you must, follow me."
The captain of Voyager strode determinedly from the mess-hall, closely followed by Chekhov. Tuvok raised an eyebrow. The Vigilant's doctor observed the departure and the commander's reaction.
"Should we follow?" Bones asked.
"That would be most unwise. Were we to do so, then we might be called on to intervene."
"Right there with you Commander," agreed the medic, grinning. "We should definitely stay here."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chekhov was finding it harder than she expected to keep up with Janeway. The 'tour' was being conducted at the double and without a commentary.
Janeway only spoke aloud once, to ascertain the location of her errant crew from the Voyager computer. Seven was apparently in the shuttle bay and B'Elanna had returned to engineering. Tom Paris was also in engineering. Since the shuttle bay was closer, that was where they were headed first, Chekhov supposed. She knew enough about the layout of Intrepid class ships to guess that was the destination. Janeway said nothing; she marched ahead without uttering a word.
On arrival, Janeway entered the shuttle bay almost too quickly for the automatic doors to open and had to execute a sudden braking stop that left Chekhov colliding with her just inside the entrance. Disturbed by the noise of collision and muffled curses, Seven looked up from where she was sitting on the port stabiliser of the shuttle Turing. Her eyes appeared slightly red-rimmed but she wasn't crying. She clutched a magnetic-field hammer in her left hand.
"Seven," said Janeway, righting herself and moving rapidly towards her, ignoring Chekhov apart from a swift scowl. "Are you alright?"
"No Captain, I am not alright," Seven answered tightly, obviously aggravated by the question. Rudely, she turned her back and resumed repairing the shuttle, staring fixedly at some point on the hull, her knuckles visibly whitened where they clutched the magnetic-field hammer in a death-grip. The ex-drone's voice rose unsteadily until she was almost shouting. "However I am functioning acceptably and it would assist me greatly if everyone would stop asking me how I feel, or if I am alright." She swung the tightly clutched hammer down hard on a loose piece of cowling lying next to her. It crashed to the floor, a sizeable dent apparent in the alloy skin.
"I d..did not mean to interfere Seven ... " stuttered Janeway, completely flustered. " ... or intrude on your privacy. However," she tried to regain some authority, "I don't think it benefits you to sit here brooding and as captain it is my job to ensure you are fit for duty."
Seven glared at her. Given the known volatility of magnetic-field hammers and the previously unsuspected volatility of lovesick Borg, Janeway stepped smartly backwards and stood on Chekhov's foot. The younger captain yelped and fell backward.
"Sorry Chekhov," the captain muttered grudgingly and offered her hand to her scowling guest, who was lying prone on the deck. Chekhov ignored the offer and climbed back to her feet unassisted, flexing and testing her injured foot.
"Since this seems to be a time for apologies, would someone like to apologise to me," said an immediately irritating artificial voice.
After a moment of disorientation, Janeway realised it was the shuttle speaking. It seemed to be complaining ... and at some length.
"It is very unreasonable," the Turing's computer was saying, "to have my over-emotional assistant, disturbed in her work by a horde of line-dancing Starfleet captains (both with two left-feet apparently) driving her to such desperation that she must assault my systems; so although I would like to thank you very much for your visit Captain Janeway, I'm afraid I cannot!"
Humiliated, Janeway sneaked a quick glance at Chekhov. The younger captain was looking equally bemused.
The computer wasn't finished.
"And I have a question for you Seven. Are we still trying to make repairs?" it enquired irritably, "Or are we now engaged in some damnably clever plan which necessarily involves increasing the damage? I would just like to know if there is any rational explanation for your behaviour or if this is just a random burst of mindless violence."
"Computer," growled Seven of Nine, doing a respectable imitation of an angry Klingon, "Desist!" She dropped her hammer on the floor with a clatter and everyone jumped, including the computer, who uttered a nervous beep. Janeway noticed uncomfortably that the duranium handle of the hammer had buckled where Seven had been clutching the shaft.
"Captain, it is I who should be sorry," Seven said stiffly, evidently trying to control herself. "However I believe I would benefit from some time alone."
"Perhaps you should confine her to the brig," muttered Chekhov.
Normally Janeway would have agreed but she was not inclined to give the younger captain any satisfaction, so ended up sounding more placatory then she felt.
"Apology accepted Seven. Just keep out of the way, until you can ... umm ... cope with your feelings. Don't break anything else."
Janeway backed out of the room followed by Chekhov who was limping slightly. As the shuttle bay entrance doors closed they heard an aggrieved mechanical voice complaining.
"That's right! Save yourselves. No-one thinks that I should be protected from Ms Lovelorn of Borg."
Chekhov looked at Janeway.
"And you are really going to permit her insubordination to go unpunished?"
Janeway grunted something that sounded remarkably like 'mind your own damned business' before saying in a clipped, overly contained voice, "Seven repays careful handling. She has saved this ship more than once. Now if you don't mind." She indicated the corridor to the left.
Chekhov inclined her head and stepped aside.
"After you."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The approach to engineering was uneventful except for a few members of the skeleton crew, scuttling away. Janeway felt a slight foreboding as she watched them, all apparently heading for remote and well hidden corners of the engineering empire. 'Like rats,' she noted.
The doors to main engineering shuffled open and Janeway stepped inside, followed by her unwelcome shadow. They barely had time to stand aside for Tom Paris who was apparently leaving engineering at some speed. The pilot paid no attention to his commanding officer.
"You're a damned fool B'Elanna!" he barked angrily from the door. "How can I help you if you won't let me? What kind of a marriage is this?"
A moment later he had gone, long angry strides carrying him around the corner and out of sight.
"Does everyone on this ship march about like that?" enquired Chekhov sweetly. "And do they all ignore you?"
Janeway's glare could have peeled the skin from an orange. She stalked into engineering, ready for war.
B'Elanna sat huddled on the steps beside the warp core. Her head was in her hands and her shoulders were shaking slightly. Janeway came to another abrupt, appalled, halt. B'Elanna looked up and quickly wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
"Sorry Captain." She sounded choked. "How can I help you?"
"Just passing." lied the captain casually. "I wondered why you left the party - if you needed any help here?"
"Just a little tired after the operation Captain..." lied the chief engineer in return, "...and there are a few little things I wanted to check."
"Ah! Of course. Would you like me to get the EMH? If you're not feeling well..." inquired Janeway, mortally embarrassed.
"No. I don't think so. I'll just turn in if you don't mind Captain." B'Elanna sniffed.
"Of course. I'll see you tomorrow. Briefing 8 am." Janeway reminded her uncertainly.
"Yes Captain."
Janeway and Chekhov, who was barely suppressing a smirk, made for the doors. Once outside Chekhov began to grin broadly.
"I have to ask Captain Janeway," Chekhov managed, biting her cheek to prevent herself laughing, "is Voyager always such an emotionally turbulent ship? It must be very draining." Janeway looked mortified and the younger captain had to lean against the wall, as laughter finally overtook her.
"Yes, I'm sure it's very amusing Captain Chekhov."
Irritated, Janeway rounded on her counterpart. "I don't understand why you wanted to follow me around anyway?"
"And miss all of that?" Chekhov's effort to control herself fell apart again. She started to choke. Janeway banged her on the back, probably slightly harder than needed. Eventually the young captain managed to stop laughing and coughing long enough to reply.
"Actually Janeway, I'll admit I was curious. When I first met your crew members I couldn't imagine what kind of captain could control such a motley bunch of non-Starfleet personnel. I wanted to see you in action ... " Chekhov started to laugh again and this time, despite herself, Janeway also grinned, if a little shamefacedly. It had been a woeful demonstration of authority.
"I was off form today" she admitted. "You were right earlier, I'm not used to having people around who won't take my orders or who try to give me orders; it throws me off balance." She smiled more warmly. "Actually I think I'm going to quite enjoy being with equals again - that is something I missed in the delta quadrant."
Chekhov had stopped laughing. Her expression was friendly, if a little mocking and Janeway felt suddenly released. It was good being with someone for whom she did not have responsibility.
The captain's smile slipped when she noticed a movement past Chekhov's shoulder and observed Commander Chakotay heading towards them, a warm smile in his eyes. Watching Janeway's face, Chekhov noticed the slight expression of panic and sobered up immediately, wondering to herself, what on earth could be wrong now.
"Kathryn," said the solid-looking second-in-command. "I wonder if I could have a word in private about a personal matter."
"A..Actually, I need to get back to our guests, Commander. Are you sure it can't wait."
"Kathryn, I just need five-minutes," he pleaded.
Janeway's panic accelerated along with her voice. "I'm sure what you have to say is more important than that, Chakotay. You really shouldn't rush it."
He was about to disagree when apparently he thought better of it and nodded his acceptance. "Of course, you are right Kathryn. We should savour the occasion."
Janeway cringed, though whether her reaction was triggered by his sincerity or her insincerity she honestly could not have said. Out of the corner of her eye, she observed Chekhov trying hard not to laugh again.
"I think Commander, we should schedule some time when we can discuss what ever it is properly. If you see me tomorrow, we can arrange an appointment for some other time." Janeway smiled kindly at the big man. He looked a little disappointed as her words sank in but fortunately, years of obedience won the day. He saluted Chekhov, who was mysteriously biting her lip, apparently in some pain, and then he started back towards the deck 12 turbolift. The two captains waited until he had disappeared.
Janeway exhaled slowly and glanced reluctantly at her companion who was no longer bothering to hide her smirk. The tall, dark and handsome captain eyed Janeway humourously.
"Am I right in thinking what I am thinking?"
"Probably," said Janeway, embarrassed again and wondering if her super-nova of a headache would count as reasonable excuse for going straight to her bed.
"Then I take it all back. You must have ruled with a rod of iron." Chekhov whistled quietly. "How long has he been ... "
"Seven years."
"Seven years! And you're asking him not to rush. Good God! What is he made of?"
"He's very spiritual."
"Don't you mean dead?" exclaimed Chekhov, almost in disgust.
"Look, there was no way I could have accepted a relationship with anyone while we were in the Delta quadrant, even if I had wanted to. He knew that."
"That was convenient! Just be grateful that he wasn't me," snorted Chekhov. "No way I'd have waited seven years, stuck in the back of beyond, to tell a woman I wanted her."
"Yes, well that would have been sad," retorted Janeway. "Because I would have said no to you as well and then, no doubt, would have had to watch you sulk all the way home through the Delta quadrant."
"Me sulk? I do not," denied Chekhov and smiled quickly at Janeway. The latter felt a sudden and only barely remembered flutter course down her body and seemingly settle in her loins. She swallowed hard as her conscious mind took in what her body had already noticed: tall, dark, lean as a whip, an arrogant and beautiful face of sharp planes and shadows, grey-eyes that seemed to look right into you. This was bad.
Janeway's comm badge chirruped. Dry-mouth, she croaked "Janeway here."
"There is an admiral on an emergency Starfleet channel for you captain."
"Divert it to my ready-room. I'm on my way." Janeway didn't look Chekhov in the face.
"Sadly I'll have to leave you Captain," she mumbled. "I suppose you can find your own way back?"
"I think I can manage" said Chekhov, bemused by the sudden distance. "And thank you for the tour. I can't remember enjoying one so much." She grinned cheekily but got no answering response. Janeway seemed distracted, looking everywhere except at Chekhov. The young captain felt strangely disappointed. "I'm fine. See you at the briefing tomorrow."
Janeway didn't answer, already en-route to her ready room in mind and body. As she walked away, Chekhov wondered again at how small the Starfleet captain appeared.
The United Federation of Planets' Presidential Office
"Do you suppose that the Founders will believe our story Admiral?" asked the President, unblinking as he stared at the small white ball on the state room carpet.
"Unlikely Mr President; they will want to find our missing link; to find out what we know."
The president carefully swung his gravity- enhanced driver in a perfect arc. It made contact with the little ball which accelerated straight through the wall festooned with portraits of past presidents and into the sky outside. The president tracked its movements on the course monitor, towards the target some 800 metres distant. He felt some satisfaction as the ball arrived within ten metres of the target.
"That must not happen Admiral," said the president lining up his final shot. "Find her first and eliminate her."
"That may be difficult, diplomatically, Mr President."
"I have every confidence in your abilities," said the most powerful man in the Alpha quadrant. He pressed a button on the club and the walls vanished, leaving him with a clear sight of the objective. "You may leave now Admiral. I'm sure you have much to do.
Continued in next chapter
Lost and Home by halfofone
Date added: 2005-01-21 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
USS Voyager - somewhere in the Alpha quadrant
Restless after the party and another threatening conversation with yet another admiral, Janeway stalked the night-lit corridors of her ship. It all seemed monumentally unjust. To get this far and then have everything taken away: her ship, her friends, her freedom even. Unwillingly she realised that a selfish part of her wished they had stayed in the Delta quadrant. She passed two crewmen who were laughing and joking. They would see their families the day after tomorrow. She supposed it was a reasonable exchange: their happiness for hers. This last thought struck her as so pathetic that she immediately reacted against it. 'Drop the self pity Janeway. Poke your nose into someone else's problems instead.'
"Computer locate Tom Paris," she commanded aloud.
LIEUTENANT PARIS IS IN HOLODECK 1.
"Is he alone?"
NO. ENSIGNS KIM, DELANEY, DELANEY, TAL, ... "
Not alone then.
"Enough," she interrupted. " Location of B'Elanna Torres?"
LIEUTENANT TORRES IS IN ENGINEERING.
Janeway frowned. Either B'Elanna was working really hard to solve some unreported problem or she too was avoiding going home, and as for Seven - Janeway had not seen the ex-drone this unhappy since she separated her from the Borg collective. Two more people who would have been happier if Voyager had not come back to the Alpha quadrant.
It was equally apparent that Tom was not finding the return easy either. Since he was likely to be more manageable than B'Elanna, she decided to check up on him first. She headed for deck 6 and holodeck 1.
The doors of the holodeck slid open automatically and the familiar sight of Sandrine's greeted her. It was quite noisy with a large number of officers, many from the other ships, gathered around the pool table. Her own crew saluted her enthusiastically when she was spotted standing in the doorway. She gracefully refused several offers of drinks and was going to leave when she saw Tom Paris sitting alone in a dark corner with a row of glasses sitting in front of him. The captain felt her eyebrows rise - it wouldn't do for the senior pilot to go on a bender just the day before they made their grand entrance at Starfleet HQ in San Francisco.
In 36 hours time Voyager was scheduled to land on the front lawn where they would be greeted by a fireworks display, two orchestras, most of the senior admiralty plus a large number of senior politicians and a horde of relatives, who were being shipped in from around the quadrant with as much speed as Starfleet could manage. The Federation government was determined that Voyager's return to earth was going to be a publicity dream, quashing any unpleasant rumours. The admiral had been quite expansive on the subject of the reception even after he had finished telling Janeway that she had no future as a Starfleet officer.
Even so the captain was adamant that no-one was going to fault her officers or her ship, so she marched determinedly up to the pilot who was staring morosely along the line of glasses, most empty, some not.
"All of those yours Tom?" she enquired mildly and pulled up a seat.
"Feel free to take one Captain. In fact I insist you join me in a drink."
He raised a glass to her.
"Here's to the smartest, bravest, craziest captain in Starfleet." He took a swig.
"Tom!" exclaimed Janeway, slightly shocked at his familiarity.
"I mean it as a compliment Captain." He smiled weakly and then his face slipped back into miserable contemplation of the glass in his hand. "Of course in some ways this is all your fault. You kept bringing the Borg back, didn't you Captain?"
Janeway stood up, annoyed by the attempt to embroil her in his personal misfortunes. It seemed at the moment as though everyone wanted to hold her responsible for their ills.
"I'm sorry that you're having problems Tom but you're still an officer on this ship and I expect you to behave like one. I want you sober and ready for duty tomorrow or you'll return to Earth in the brig. Is that clear?"
The sharpness in her tone pierced his befogged brain and he was immediately contrite. "Sorry Captain. You're right of course but please have one drink with me. Then I'll turn in." He smiled up at her and this time it was genuine.
Always a sucker for the Tom Paris charm, Janeway shook her head in resignation and sat down again. She smiled back at him. Whatever his faults Tom Paris was a good friend and at this moment she needed that perhaps more than she had in the previous seven years.
"Just the one then Tom. But I'll take a whisky"
"Rough day?" he asked after signalling to the waiter to bring the captain her drink.
"You don't know the half of it."
Her drink arrived and she took a sip. The warmth burnt its way down her throat. She felt a compulsion to share a few of her woes. Normally she would have talked to Chakotay but that wasn't possible any longer. She still hesitated, unsure about saying anything to a junior officer then Tom wasn't exactly an ordinary Starfleet officer - a Starfleet brat like herself - he understood what it meant to be kicked out of the Starfleet family better than anyone else aboard. She took a larger sip of whisky.
"You are drinking with the woman soon to be known as ... Captain Kathryn Janeway (Retired). It's your privilege to be the first to know."
She toasted him and started to force a smile. Instead she was annoyed to find tears pricking at her eyes. She tried to cover her distress with a joke. "At least after tomorrow I won't have to concern myself with your behaviour, so I suppose there is an upside."
Tom wasn't fooled.
"They can't dismiss you!" he exclaimed. "That's totally unfair."
"No, I'm to retire Tom. There's a difference, or at least that's what they tell me." Bitterness and the warming whisky weakened her reserve. "And they did give me a choice: retire or be court-martialled along with every senior officer aboard Voyager, the Vigilant and the Defiant also. There were also some vague threats about the former Maquis, Neelix and Seven of Nine. Apparently this way I won't disgrace my father's memory either."
"Bastards."
"Bastards," echoed Janeway with a tired smile. She lifted her glass in another mock toast and knocked back the contents. Tom waved at the barman for another.
"So what are your problems then Tom?"
He wrinkled his nose.
"B'Elanna, B'Elanna and B'Elanna."
"Tough problems," mused Janeway. They sat in silence for several minutes, drinking in woeful companionship.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Seven leaned wearily against the Turing's hull. She had been working on the little ship for six hours, trying to lose herself in the physical labour. It had been partially successful. She found that as long as she could hold the entire schematic designs for the Turing in the front of her memory there was no room for other thoughts. The only trouble was that the moment she ceased to concentrate, memories of dark eyes and dark hair and soft-skin pushed into her mind. She had not realised that memories could actually cause almost physical pain.
"Seven?" a voice interrupted her thoughts.
Mira Hassan stood inside the door of the shuttle bay with her arm loosely wrapped around Lenara Kahn. The Trill was leaning against the pirate.
"I hoped I'd find you here," Mira said.
"How can I help you Commander Hassan?"
"Do you always do repair work, dressed like that?" Seven glanced down at her silver bodysuit, she hadn't changed since the party. Several large scorch marks were apparent, where the heat from the welding phasers had reflected back. She had to admit to herself that her dress was probably not practical for refitting a ship, especially given the degree of manual work involved.
"I'm glad you were the one to mention that Commander," interrupted the computer.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Is she going to leave you?" the Captain asked bluntly, ending the long lull in conversation. The fifth glass of whisky had eased her tongue.
"No," Tom answered slowly, drawing out the syllable, "...no she's not. On that point my wife is quite firm. Captain, have you ever owned a pet? Cat, dog, something like that?"
She nodded, puzzled by the question.
"And have you ever had one that was suffering Captain, suffering so bad that you had to put it down? You love it but you know it's got to die because it's not fair to make it continue to live." He scowled into his beer before taking a swig. "Well that's my marriage Captain. It needs putting down."
"Then you have to leave her," said Janeway logically, lifting her sixth glass to her lips.
"You mean leave her exactly the way her father left her mother complete with small daughter." He shook his head. "It would kill her pride, the same way it killed her mother's. It's really hard to end Klingon marriages Captain. Unwritten rules decide who is dishonoured in any circumstance that you or I could imagine and some beside."
Tom chugged his beer and Janeway followed suit. The pilot glared at the empty glass and remembered the heated words from earlier that evening. "B'Elanna may not be all Klingon but she has enough pride for ten Klingons and she isn't going to let this go Captain."
"So what are you going to do Tom?" The captain signalled for two more drinks.
"Is that wise Captain," he queried as the drinks arrived.
"Don't be such a baby Tom. Now what are you planning to do?"
"My plan, my basic plan ... ," he paused to take a drink and then slumped back in his seat. "I don't have a plan Captain ... I don't know what to do. But I can't bear watching her suffer."
"Tom," Janeway put her arm around her pilot's shoulders. "Have I taught you nothing? Break it down. Break it down. You can't leave her. She can't leave you. Stop me if this gets too complicated." She swallowed a large mouthful of whisky and grimaced slightly. "Sorry, where was I?"
"We can't leave each other," he prompted gloomily.
"Yeah. That's right. Right! It's not good issit? It's a damn bloody mess." She shook her head sadly, tipped up her drink and looked at the empty glass with disappointed surprise. "Short measures they serve here." She stood up to beckon the waiter and staggered slightly. "Whoa! I better sit this one out. Waiter, one for my friend here and just a water for me." She settled back again and gazed thoughtfully at her empty whisky glass.
"Okay let's start again. You love B'Elanna, B'Elanna loves Seven, Seven loves B'Elanna, I love Sev ... eral people. Don't even go there Katie" she murmured to herself and paused to take a drink, looking very disappointed when she realised that it was water. "Tell you what Tom, seems like everyone loves B'Elanna. There! That's the problem." Grinning in lopsided triumph, the captain took a long pull from Tom's newly arrived beer. Tom stared at her with drunken resignation and signalled the waiter for a repeat.
"I think I got that far Captain."
"Call me Kathryn. See what you have to do Tom ... is to fall in love with someone else." He looked doubtful and Janeway poked him in the chest and snorted. "No, not really you dope. B'Elanna has to think you do and that the other woman loves you in return. Then being B'Elanna she'll do the noble thing and stand aside to make you happy. She won't do it for herself but she'll do it for you." Janeway frowned. "Course she may break every bone in your body first but issaplan innit?"
"Dunno. It might work. Seems kinda simple though." Tom scrunched up his face. "But Cap...thryn, there's a problem. Just a teeny weeny one."
"What?" mumbled Janeway with an expression of disappointed annoyance, the sort of look she reserved for anyone with the temerity to question her plans, whether those entailed ending a failing marriage or traversing an enemy's empire.
"I don't think I know any women tha' stupid." said Tom helplessly. "Who would be dumb enough to take that kind of risk with Lanna?"
Janeway poked him in the chest again and grinned drunkenly. "Don' be so defeatist Tom. Course you do. Hell I'll do it myself."
"You!" He started laughing.
"Me!" She slapped him on the back, sank the remnants of her drink in one swallow and stared into space with steely satisfaction. Tom had seen that look before and he wasn't sure whether to be grateful or afraid. An alliance with Kathryn Janeway could be a double edged sword. He waved at the waiter and gestured at their empty glasses.
Janeway's comm badge chirruped. She pulled it off her jacket and glared at it.
"Can't they ever leave me alone?"
"Seven of Nine to Captain Janeway. I need to see you Captain."
"Is this important Seven? I mean can it wait?" Janeway's voice sounded unnaturally emphasised with the effort of not slurring her words.
"It can wait Captain if you are unavailable. Are you alright? You sound strange."
Tom grabbed the badge and yelled at it.
"No she's not alright. So leave her alone."
"Mr Paris. What is happening?" The Borg sounded very concerned.
Janeway snatched the badge back.
"It's okay Seven. Tom and I are just having a little drink."
"I am on my way Captain. Seven out."
"No! Dammit!" Janeway threw her badge in Tom's glass where it sank with a satisfying fizzing noise. She stared at it. "Don' think I shoulda done that. Destroying Starfleet property. That's another few years in chokey." She giggled as Tom tried unsuccessfully to fish out the metal badge. Finally he gave up and drank the beer down to the bottom and then turned the badge out on the table. She cheered and finished her own drink as quickly.
"There you go Kathryn. I'll just put this back on for you." He fumbled with the comm badge, trying to pick it up from the table and then pinned it on his own chest and smiled with satisfaction. "There that's better. Now I've got a spare."
"Good idea Tom." Janeway nodded approvingly and turned the badge right way up - she always liked a show of initiative from her officers. The waiter produced two more drinks and the Captain and Tom toasted each other again.
Seven and B'Elanna appeared beside their table. Neither woman looked remotely happy to see the two drunken officers.
"Uh oh!" murmured Janeway and sank down in her chair trying to make herself inconspicuous. Tom focused his eyes with some difficulty on the new arrivals.
"Lanna!" He jumped back in his seat. "What brought you here?"
"Seven called me. She said it sounded like you and the Captain were in trouble." B'Elanna folded her arms. "It would appear she was correct."
"Tom," hissed Janeway, leaning over against his chair. "This is your chance. Go for it."
Tom gazed at her stupidly. She prodded him again and inclined her head towards B'Elanna. At last Tom's bewilderment gave way to a lopsided smirk of understanding. He nodded, stood up shakily, pulled the Captain to her feet and put his arm around her. She leaned into him and leered up at his face before her head lolled back on his shoulder. They both staggered slightly and for a few seconds it was doubtful they would stay upright. B'Elanna's scowl deepened.
"We want you to know. She's in love," Tom said stiffly though still swaying precariously. Seven and B'Elanna looked confused so he added helpfully. "With me ..... you know ..... Captain Janeway ... and me."
"What are you talking about Tom?" Even drunk, he could see that B'Elanna was very exasperated and possibly murderously angry. Tom Paris lifted his chin. He wasn't afraid of her.
"We're in love" he proclaimed. Kathryn slightly dented the impact of the announcement by sniggering loudly into his shoulder.
"What the hell are you talking about Tom?"
"Well it's true, so you see you don't have to stay with me Lanna. You can divorce me and marry Seven." His voice became softer and more sincere. "That's what you want isn't it? Please Lanna I want you to be happy. This is just all wrong, you pretending that you don't love her. It will destroy us all. Please baby. Forget all this honour and dishonour nonsense. Follow your heart."
Janeway frowned and turned her head to whisper in his ear. "Too much information Mr Paris. I think you blew it. Plus you insulted her sense of honour." It was loud enough for both the Borg and the half-Klingon to hear or indeed any other being with ears within twenty yards. Seven's quirked her implant, a small smile playing over her lips.
"A peculiar intervention ... but I believe they are trying to help us B'Elanna."
"You know I think you're right." B'Elanna ran her fingers through her hair, her anger had vanished. She looked perplexed instead. "So what do we do now? This is ... silly!"
"I believe the ball is in your court my love." Seven touched B'Elanna's arm gently and took her hand. Hope and fear fluttered over the ex-drone's face.
B'Elanna looked confused. "It isn't that simple. I can't ..... I'll have to think." She glanced away from her lover's obvious hurt. "I have to go."
The half-Klingon was on her way out the door but Seven's impulse to follow her lover was frustrated as loud voices from the entrance announced the arrival of a new group of people including Worf, Chekhov and Lenara Kahn. Seven glared at them. What fool had thought of bringing them into Sandrine's. Tuvok and Chakotay appeared from behind the throng.
"Seven of Nine, do you know where the captain is?" asked Tuvok. "Her comm badge does not appear to be functioning."
"It might be better if you did not pursue that question Commander" she warned. The two senior officers looked puzzled and came closer. As they did Seven shrugged and stepped back to reveal Janeway, still leaning against Tom Paris. Chakotay stepped forward and clenched his fists.
"Kathryn, what the hell are you doing?"
Janeway blinked uncertainly and grimaced.
"Oh God, now we're in trouble Tommy. He's not going to be amused." She snorted and clutched at Tom's arm. They both began to giggle.
"Commander, they've been drinking." Seven interjected.
"You don't say?" he replied sarcastically.
"Believe me, it is not how it appears," she tried again. "I was just going to take the captain back to her quarters."
"I think that would be wise," agreed Tuvok. Unfortunately at that moment the captain was spotted by the visitors who started over to pay their respects.
"Captain Janeway," acknowledged Captain Worf. "We wanted to wish you good night."
A look of comic horror passed over the captain's face as she picked out Worf from the sea of faces swimming in front of her and then Chekhov.
"Captain Worf. Captain Chekhov. Nishe of you to visit." She lurched backwards and Tom Paris had to expend some effort to prevent them collapsing in a heap.
"You are not well Captain?" Worf enquired politely. Chekhov was a deal less diplomatic and was having trouble hiding her amusement.
"Perhaps you should sit down Captain Janeway," she murmured considerately while grinning hugely. "Although you are obviously being well looked after." Even filtered through the alcohol haze, Janeway was annoyed by Chekhov's knowing look; she made an effort to regain control.
"No I'm fine, thank you. This was a ... practical joke. However I believe our subterfuge is no longer necessary. Mr Paris, you can release me."
"Yes of course," he stammered and abruptly let the Captain go, falling back in his chair; Janeway swayed violently and several people rushed forward to catch her. Captain Chekhov got there first and found her arms full. Grateful for the support Janeway relaxed against the younger captain before she had fully realised who her rescuer was.
"This is nice," murmured Janeway appreciatively.
Chekhov smiled down at her. "It's okay Janeway. I've got you. Perhaps I should help you back to your quarters." There was a collective gasp from the Voyager crew; even Tuvok moved closer.
"That will not be necessary Captain Chekhov," said Seven of Nine tightly. "I have her, thank you." Seven took a firm grip of the captain's elbow. Chekhov took the hint and dropped her hands. She stepped away allowing Seven to effortlessly pick up the small captain and carry her out of Sandrines.
"Protective aren't they," murmured Mira Hassan to no-one in particular.
There was a crash behind them as Tom Paris fell back into a stack of chairs. Chakotay stood over him glowering.
"How the hell did this happen Paris? What did you do to her?"
"Oh back off and cut her some slack. She got a little drunk is all." Tom retaliated, rubbing his jaw.
"Not exactly normal is it? This stinks of you Paris."
"Well it's not every day she's stripped of her command in order to save you all from prison and disgrace" Tom shouted angrily. Chakotay looked really shaken.
"They can't do that."
"Aaah. I guess that's worse than being shipped out as a special representative on a five year mission to the most far flung, boring and peaceful planet in the Federation," said Chekhov with some feeling. "What was your ultimatum Worf?"
"I am to be transferred to Federation regulation and discipline section."
"Ouch!" Chekhov winced. "Prison warder. Looks like they got us all."
"Why on earth would Starfleet should go to this trouble to remove three of its captains from active service?" asked Lenara Kahn. "It doesn't guarantee your silence."
"Three reasons," said Chekhov and counted them off on her fingers. "One: as humiliating examples to other captains of what can happen if you disobey orders even if you are subsequently proved right. Two: Starfleet avoids a full court martial and the inevitable disclosure of embarrassing truths. Three: and most importantly, if you want to quietly dispose of someone, a serving Starfleet captain is not a good choice. She is important and well protected, certainly more so than an ex-officer, a glorified messenger and a prison guard."
"Are you suggesting that Starfleet intends to 'dispose' of the Captain." Tuvok experienced a certain disappointment at even considering such a failure in the standards of the organisation to which he had devoted the greater part of his life.
"It would be a tactically strong course of action" Worf agreed with his colleague.
"Captains, may I suggest we defer this discussion until tomorrow," said Tuvok as he hauled Tom off the floor, "when a full meeting can be convened including Captain Janeway?"
"Agreed," said Worf. "We meet at 08:00 hours."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Janeway was finding it hard to understand why she was being carried like a baby by her astrometrics officer. Unfortunately her attention was rather taken up at this moment by a violent urge to part with her stomach.
"I need to stop."
"We are very near your quarters captain. I will stop there."
"NO! NOW!"
A quick glance at her captain's face and Seven set the smaller woman on her feet and supported her as she leaned against the corridor wall.
After a few seconds Seven tapped her comm badge. "Cleaning detail to corridor on deck 5."
Janeway righted herself, still looking a little green.
"Today has not been one of my best Seven," she mumbled a little indistinctly, "and I rather suspect tomorrow isn't going to be much better."
Seven took her elbow and guided her the last few yards to her quarters. "I cannot say that this has been a good day for me either Captain."
Slightly distracted from her spinning skull, Janeway stopped to peer up at the tall ex-borg. "You wanted to speak to me earlier didn't you? Is something wrong?"
"It can wait. It was personal."
Janeway took in the sad expression. "No it can't. Come in and tell me about it while I freshen up. A large coffee and I'll be fine." She staggered slightly and Seven steadied her. "Well better anyway."
A few minutes later Janeway was settled in her chair with a mug of coffee clutched in unsteady hands.
"So what did you want to tell me?"
"I want to leave Voyager."
"What are you saying?" Janeway shook her addled head. She was still having some trouble deciphering sounds and the ex-drone's words made no sense at all. It sounded as though she said she wanted to leave Voyager.
"I wish to leave the ship," Seven repeated. Janeway gaped stupidly at her as the ex-drone explained further, "there is nothing here for me now and I am concerned that Starfleet will regard me as a threat or worse. Mira Hassan has offered me employment and a safe haven ..."
"Seven this is silly. Didn't you understand that Tom is prepared to let B'Elanna go?"
"But she is not prepared to let him go. Her reaction to your performance has confirmed my fears."
"What on earth did she say to you to cause this?" Janeway was racking her brains to remember what on earth B'Elanna could have done or said to drive Seven away.
"She had to think about it" said Seven unhappily. "Captain if she doesn't change her mind when the last obstacle to our relationship has declared that he doesn't want her, then when would she do so? Perhaps her marriage is just an excuse ..."
"For goodness sake Seven. B'Elanna is just being stubborn. You know what she is like!" The captain sat up a little too energetically and had to subside back rather quickly. "Just speak to her Seven." The captain lay back and closed her hazy eyes, her breathing deepened. Seven regarded the dozing red-head sorrowfully.
"I think she does not want me anymore, it might be that her old dislike of me has resurfaced - I don't know - however I do not think I can stand to be rejected again. I will miss you Captain."
Continued in next chapter
Lost and Home by halfofone
Date added: 2005-01-21 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
A Dominion Warship on Diplomatic Duties
Weyoun smiled at the Jem Ha'dar commander. The soldier glared back with the cold unchanging expression of his clan.
"And you are certain that Professor Kahn is aboard the Hassan Inc. vessel and the reclaimed Borg with her."
"Our agent was very certain when we spoke. He saw both women come aboard."
"That is indeed very helpful commander. We will intercept the smugglers' ship at the co-ordinates given. No unnecessary bloodshed commander. These pirate vessels have been very useful to us. I do not wish to imperil our agent. If the news got out it might make other informers less willing to assist us."
"Understood ambassador" growled the Jem Ha'dar.
The shuttle Bay - USS Voyager
B'Elanna lowered herself through the Turing's top hatch. The little ship still bore the marks of its recent adventures but the running repair programs were visible in the form of diagnostics scrolling down several viewscreens.
"Computer. Estimate time until you are functional."
"Hard to say," answered the computer imprecisely. "It depends what is expected of me: an hour for a quick flight around Voyager or several to be fit for fleeing from Starfleet."
B'Elanna did not reply, she wandered over to the engineering console and punched a few keys distractedly, hardly noticing the responses.
The computer waited a few moments before enquiring. "Are you here to lend a hand Lieutenant or are you hiding?"
B'Elanna was disconcerted by the accurate guess. "Both," she replied gruffly and honestly. "What makes you so intuitive all of a sudden?"
"I have deduced that you do not seek the pleasure of my company, since you have successfully resisted the urge to visit me since our arrival on Voyager. Therefore only two things could bring you my way: I am needed for some ill-advised and probably fatal mission and must get the Turing spaceworthy, or alternatively, your colourful personal life has made it difficult for you to remain on Voyager. Of the two I strongly suspect the latter to be the correct explanation."
B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Is there some kind of natural law that says artificial personalities must annoy the hell out of everyone?"
"From my perspective the reverse appears true," replied the computer tartly, "and since you are here, perhaps you could help me understand something which I find very irrational and hence annoying? I am curious Lieutenant as to why you are so ready to be unhappy?"
Since this was the subject at the top of B'Elanna's mind she had an answer ready.
"Happiness is not everything. Other things are more important."
"Such as .... ?"
B'Elanna stroked the hard surface of the console as she slowly reiterated the list she had been repeating to herself for days, "Loyalty, honouring promises, sticking by your family."
"Very worthy" said the computer. "And the unhappiness of Seven of Nine, Lieutenant Paris and yourself is a fair exchange! Tell me though, Lieutenant Torres, who exactly is going to benefit from your honourable behaviour?"
"That's not the point," B'Elanna countered, "and anyway my husband is not unhappy." The computer snorted derisively, forcing B'Elanna to add in defence, "I know I've hurt him but he knows that I will put our marriage first and he is satisfied with that."
"I cannot agree with your analysis and nor does he."
"What in Kahless' name do you know about Tom's feelings or mine or Seven's? Have you been talking to Seven?" B'Elanna challenged angrily.
"No. Although I have tried."
"You should mind your own business."
The computer was not going to be diverted. "Remaining in a marriage to which you are only half-committed and where the other party is fully cognizant that he is second best would appear to be both dishonest and ultimately futile. How can it prosper?"
"We would get over this in time." B'Elanna frowned. It sounded weak even to her. The computer pounced on the uncertainty.
"How will you get over it?" it quizzed relentlessly. "Are you going to forget the love of your life or is Mr Paris going to stop caring that you don't really want to be touched by him or even to talk to him. His amusing and somewhat desperate attempt with Captain Janeway to let you off the hook, was motivated by deep unhappiness at watching you suffer and by his feeling of helplessness. I may add that the captain has also concluded that a divorce is in your best interests."
"How do you know all this stuff and how do you know about that stupid stunt if Seven hasn't told you?" There was an awkward silence. B'Elanna, pleased to get the computer on its metaphorical back foot and off the subject of her relationships, said firmly "Computer I expect an answer."
"Cognitive processing units have malfunctioned. The computer is unable to process your request."
"Rubbish," she retorted. " You don't fool me for a moment. You've been prying into the crew's personal logs."
The computer gave up the pretence of malfunction and said in the aggrieved tone of a burglar caught red-handed. "I'm a data processing machine at heart. I was bored so I processed some data." It added airily, "I do not understand why you are getting so upset, the crew logs gave a fascinating insight into ...."
"It didn't occur to your tiny silicon brain that there is a reason the personal log data is heavily encrypted. Namely: that data is none of your damn business!"
"There was a modicum of challenge getting past Voyager's security and encryption but I really do not see why the trivial and self important ramblings of individual crew members should be regarded as sufficiently important for the level of security. The additional encryption levels only drew my attention."
"You have been spending too much time with criminals."
"I'll admit I wanted to know what was going on. I was irritated, watching Seven of Nine weeping day after day and not having any idea of what was happening, and you are changing the subject," said the computer changing the subject. It paused as though for thought and then quoted with a flourish. 'She fills my soul; without her I am empty and alone.'
There was silence. B'Elanna's head shot up, her face a mixture of anger and embarrassment.
"In case you don't recognise the quote Lieutenant," said the computer, "those are your words spoken to your log yesterday at 22 hundred hours. Now, appalling prose aside, do they sound like the words of someone who is going to 'get over it'?" The computer snorted; pleased with itself and amused at her discomfort.
It was too much for B'Elanna, who was now totally enraged. She yelled at the bleeping control panels, "Computer! Shut the fuck up or I swear I will reprogramme you for stores control."
"Threats are the resort of someone who is losing the argument" said the computer unabashedly. "Let me put this problem in a way that we both understand."
"Yeah right! And that would be?"
"An advanced engine is designed, making the best possible use of the technology available, but if a new technology is discovered that completely revolutionises engine design, then, no matter how good the previous design was in terms of the old technology, it will always be less good than the new design. This is irreducible fact."
"A relationship is not the same as an engine design," protested B'Elanna.
"In what way is it not?" asked the computer rhetorically, in the manner of a rather pompous high-school teacher. "A good engine design marries the best available components in an efficient and effective unit. Let me continue," it snapped, cutting off B'Elanna who had opened her mouth to object. Now completely absorbed in its own argument, the computer pushed on relentlessly with the analogy. "You have experienced an irreversible upgrade in your expectations of what a relationship can deliver. A complete technology shift. The old relationship can never compete."
"Computer it is not the same. Ending a marriage because you have found someone better is self-serving and dishonourable."
"If Mr Paris was prepared to keep you at any price and you were honestly able to love him at least as much as you did previously, then that might be true. However I see no evidence that he is willing to remain part of an inferior relationship design that is degrading and where the maintenance costs are likely to be impossibly high. I would suggest you discuss this with him rather than assuming that you know best."
"What about my daughter? She shouldn't have to suffer because her parents have selfishly split up."
"Are you suggesting that Mr Paris would abandon his daughter or that Seven of Nine would be anything less than superb as a parent?"
"No, of course not. But I know what it's like for a child to have her father walk out."
"And I predict with 98.9% certainty that if you remain with Mr Paris your daughter will share that experience and possibly in circumstances that will ensure he abandons you both completely."
That hit home. B'Elanna stared numbly at the blinking consoles.
"I can't believe I am getting counselling from a computer!" she muttered slowly.
"Not just any computer," it countered smoothly, "I am the synthesis of your expertise and that of Seven of Nine."
"And you think that relationship advice from a computer formed by a half-Klingon engineer and a Borg is reliable."
"To an accuracy of 0.004%" said the computer smugly. "I am after all programmed to fix broken things, applying both logic and intuition to what I have learned. And one thing I have learned Lieutenant, is that you and Seven of Nine are perfectly matched components."
B'Elanna sat down and gazed at the controls. "I will talk to Tom and Seven" she said slowly. "You are right about one thing computer. This should not be my decision alone. Damn it's eight o' five. I'm late." She rose and walked aft to the topside hatch just in time to hear the alert klaxon start its mournful barking.
YELLOW ALERT ALL CREW TO REPORT FOR DUTY
B'Elanna pulled herself up through the hatch and dropped down to Voyager's deck from the Turing's port wing.
"Torres to engineering. What's going on."
"We are not certain Lieutenant. A large galaxy class ship has arrived and we have been told to power down the engines. We don't know anymore than that."
"On my way."
The chief engineer set off at fast pace. But she had only gone maybe twenty metres when a beep on her comm badge sounded.
"Janeway to Torres. B'Elanna keep out of sight and stay hidden. That's an order." The captain sounded urgent and anxious.
"Captain, what's happened?"
"No time to explain. Just find the best hiding place you know."
"Aye captain."
B'Elanna turned around and headed back to the shuttle bays. The Turing sat black and squat in its bay. She eyed it for a few seconds and then tapped her comm badge. "Torres to Turing. Can you mask my life signs without anyone knowing?"
"If you are within ten or so metres. May I ask why?"
"No."
"As you command. You know Lieutenant I now know how those old Arabian genies felt - kept in a small, dark space and then asked to perform miracles."
"Just do it and find Seven of Nine. I want to know where she is. Try to find out from Voyager what is happening. Any means necessary."
"So it's alright for you to spy ... " grumbled the Turing's computer. B'Elanna cut the comm link.
She climbed up the maintenance rig above the Turing and then swung precariously on a grab rail next to the vertical entrance to a small maintenance crawl in the ceiling. Normally a hoist was used to reach this entrance into Voyager's innards but B'Elanna had to reach it by holding on to the grab rail and swinging to and fro until she could just reach the bottom rung of the metal ladder. Breathing hard she pulled herself up into the crawl-way. "Sorry baby," she apologised to her unborn offspring. "Mom has to swing from the rafters today. All in a day's work."
She leant back into a recess in the crawl-way so she was out of sight. "Computer, have you found anything out?"
"Seven is not on Voyager ... "
"Then where is she?" B'Elanna could not keep the fear from her voice.
"If you let me finish, the crew manifest recorder shows her leaving Voyager three hours ago. She apparently went with Hassan and that scientist Kahn when they returned to their ship. The Death's Head departed almost immediately, destination unknown though its last heading could suggest that Trill was the objective."
B'Elanna heard the computer's words like a punch to the stomach. "Why would she leave with them?"
"No idea. I'm afraid the news just gets better after that. That oversize passenger ferry hanging off our starboard side is the flagship of Admiral Clift. He is looking for several people: Lenara Kahn, Seven of Nine and you. He has also relieved Captains Janeway, Chekhov and Worf of their commands and put his own men in temporary command until we reach earth."
"I still don't understand why she left ... she didn't even say goodbye."
"At least she's safe Lieutenant which is more than I can say for you. They are searching Voyager now."
B'Elanna tried to pull herself together. "Where is everybody else?"
"All three captains are still here on Voyager but are about to be transferred to the flagship. All the other crew appear to be at their stations ... wait a moment Clift's ship is powering her engines. She's off at high warp. Apparently also in the direction of Trill. She didn't wait for Captain Janeway after all."
"They've gone after Seven and Lenara." That news seemed to galvanise the half-Klingon and she sounded more forceful, more like herself. "You say the captain's still here - that was a mistake. Who's in command of Voyager?"
"Some nonentity called Captain Grub or is it Grob?" said the computer disdainfully. It had developed a low opinion of Starfleet personnel outside of Voyager.
"Computer can you persuade Voyager to return to Janeway's command?"
"Persuade ... as in win a reasoned argument. Lieutenant are you mad? Voyager's computer couldn't out-reason a two year old child! It simply follows orders."
"Well how about persuade as in force?"
"I cannot revoke the command codes yet - the access codes have changed and it will take some time to bypass them - but I could probably issue some orders to Voyager directly."
"What sort of orders?"
"Almost anything you wish Lieutenant. Weapons, communications, shields, deflector, engines. Name it and it's yours. Now I do feel like a genie!"
"You can override anything! How in Kahless' name can you get past the command protocols"
"As I keep telling you, I have been sitting in this dark forsaken parking lot for over a week. I had a lot of time to waste and some interesting borg algorithms to try. Personal logs weren't the only encrypted data to catch my metaphorical eye Lieutenant. Perhaps if some other work had been provided I would not have become so ..."
"Okay! okay! We neglected you and you put your time to good use. I get the picture. Can you patch me through to Janeway?"
"Some minor security to overcome - she is confined to quarters with a full communication security lockout. Nothing which will give ..." The computer ceased bragging when it detected a rise in B'Elanna's temperature and an increase in Klingon hormones. She was losing patience. "Connecting you now."
"Torres to Janeway. Are you there captain?"
"B'Elanna! How on earth ... "
"Later Captain. What's happened?"
"The Federation has decided to round up anyone who has technical knowledge of the artificial wormhole which apparently includes you and Seven. They've also decided that it is too dangerous to leave Voyager, the Vigilant and the Defiant under the command of 'unpredictable forces' so Chekhov, Worf and I are all under house arrest. Clift took off after the Death's Head in a great hurry. Starfleet command are tracking the arrival of some Dominion diplomatic ship in this vicinity; it's hot on the heels of Lenara Kahn too."
"What do you want to do Captain? The Turing's computer is trying to route direct command to you but in the meantime it can relay your orders to Voyager."
"Clever little ship" exclaimed Janeway.
"Yes, well it has its moments."
'Praise indeed,' muttered the Turing's computer.
"B'Elanna, we don't want to involve any more of the crew members than we have to - there have been enough careers ruined and I didn't bring my people home to see them rot in a Federation correction centre. We will do this on a need to know basis only."
"Understood Captain but I'm in. I want to find Seven. Why did you let her go with Hassan?"
"She resigned her position to Chakotay last night and since she's strictly a civilian he had no further jurisdiction. I'm sorry. I didn't even know she'd left Voyager until the meeting this morning. And then ... " The captain was interrupted by a ship-wide broadcast.
I AM CAPTAIN GROB. I HAVE BEEN PLACED IN TEMPORARY COMMAND OF VOYAGER. CAPTAIN JANEWAY IS UNDER PROTECTIVE HOUSE ARREST. SHE IS UNHARMED AND THIS IS JUST A SHORT-TERM SECURITY MEASURE IN RESPONSE TO A THREAT AGAINST HER LIFE. DO NOT BE ALARMED. I REPEAT. YOUR CAPTAIN IS UNHARMED AND WILL BE RESTORED TO HER COMMAND IN DUE COURSE. GROB OUT.
"Is any of that true?" asked B'Elanna.
"That is certainly the official line. In some ways I am quite glad for the lie - as I've said I don't want the crew to put themselves outside the law at this stage."
"Nice sentiment Captain - so what are we going to do if we are not going to involve the crew or Voyager?"
Janeway was quiet. B'Elanna could imagine her pacing her cabin. The captain always thought better on the move.
"I don't want to hurry you," whispered the Turing's computer. "There's a search detail coming this way. They are not moving quickly but that's because they are being very thorough. I estimate we have maybe thirty-five minutes before they search the shuttle bay."
"Point taken. Computer get a message to Hassan and warn her about what's happening. In the meantime we'll work out our escape plan. B'Elanna, is there any way in which we can launch the Turing without it being noticed by either Voyager or the other ships?"
"Yes, should be easy enough. We could use a maintenance crane to move us out of the shuttle bay and then the Turing can cloak as soon as the crane drops us outside the hull. We don't start our engines until we're out of sensor range."
"Good. Get ready to launch. I also want three holo-emitters, the EMH and a holo-camera transported to my quarters as quick as you can ... and quietly. And I need some basic, yet undetectable, form of communication with Tuvok, Chakotay and Tom Paris arranged."
"Understood Captain." The comm link severed with a strangled beep.
"Is the captain always so decisive?" asked the computer. "It's very impressive. It'll make a nice change to work with someone who knows what they're doing."
B'Elanna retorted in a confiding voice "Don't get too friendly. The captain doesn't have much time for artificial intelligences especially the over-talkative kind. She tends to unplug first and ask questions later. So don't annoy her."
"Very amusing."
"Just don't say I didn't warn you."
Continued in next chapter
Lost and Home by halfofone
Date added: 2005-01-21 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
The Turing tumbled out of the rear shuttle bay, cloaking before it had even fully cleared the bay. The Vigilant was cruising behind Voyager. Observing through the shuttle's forward viewing panels, B'Elanna heaved a sigh of relief as the little ship narrowly missed colliding with the Vigilant's right nacelle. She gave the thumbs up to her co-pilot. Tom waved back at her and reported quietly.
"We're clear Captain. We'll be out of main sensor range in ten minutes."
"Exactly where did you learn the trick with the holo-emitters?" asked Chekhov.
Janeway looked at her with a half-smirk. "You must have been one of the good little academy cadets. Did you never find a need to leave the dormitories in the evenings?"
"I did it the old fashioned way, you know, with pillows under the covers but I guess you were a science nerd."
Worf looked at them both curiously. "Am I not correct in remembering that being absent from the dorm was strictly forbidden?"
"Can no-one remember that we are meant to be maintaining complete silence until we are out of range of their sensors?" inquired the computer sniffily but very quietly.
USS Voyager
"Grob to security. I haven't had the hourly security report on the detainees."
The ensign checked his watch and swore silently. He punched the door entry. "We're checking them now sir." He looked in the open door and could see the three captains sitting on chairs with their backs to him, looking out at the stars. Captain Janeway looked back at him and the ensign saluted briskly. She nodded slightly and then looked away. He closed the door.
All three present and correct sir."
"In future do not delay your report Ensign. I expect your reports to be timely and precise."
"Yes sir."
"Grob out."
"Geez," grumbled the ensign. "Who stuck a pole up his backside? One minute late."
The Death's Head (en-route to Trill)
Hassan felt the cold duranium edge of the disruptor held against her right temple. Her other cheek was crushed against the corridor wall, her head gripped by an armoured glove worn by a large and very ugly Jem Ha'dar. A second and a third, both equally ugly, held her pinioned arms forcing her to kneel on the floor.
"What do you want?" she asked with some difficulty.
"We have what we want pirate."
A fourth soldier arrived, the Jem Ha'dar's commander apparently, he growled some orders and the soldiers abruptly released Hassan. A hard blow at the base of her neck knocked her semi-senseless to the floor. The soldiers then retreated out of sight.
Mira Hassan was on her feet as soon as she was able. She opened a comm link. "Commander Arwyn, this is Hassan. What is our status?"
"The Dominion ship has gone. Unfortunately they have taken Professor Kahn and Seven of Nine."
"Were the tracking devices in place?"
"Yes and they appear to be functioning. We are pursuing but their ship is faster and I fear we will lose them from sensors in a few hours."
"Keep up the pursuit and get a message to Janeway. Brief her. In the meantime I will be investigating this ambush Commander. It appeared to be very well planned."
"Understood," said the ancient meuranti commander calmly. "The Jem Ha'dar had inside information. The raid was too well organised and why else would they have left anyone alive?"
"To protect their source" stated Mira with absolute certainty.
"That would be my assumption" her deputy agreed.
Both smugglers knew that there would be fewer but better crewmen within a few hours.
Yet Another Brig
Seven stretched out her long legs and tried not to shift the head resting against her shoulder. Lenara Kahn had finally fallen asleep and the ex-drone did not want to wake the frightened woman.
She considered the time. Four hours since they had been kidnapped. B'Elanna and Captain Janeway would be on their way ... if they even knew what had happened. Seven reprimanded herself for not knowing more about her captors. She had no Borg memories of them so presumably the collective had not encountered them and she had not reviewed the Starfleet records since the Dominion had apparently been defeated by Starfleet and were no longer a significant force in this quadrant. She had little doubt what they wanted - Lenara Kahn. She was just a bonus. A piece of Borg flotsam to be studied. She supposed it was ironic that she had run away from Starfleet to escape that fate and now she was facing it again. It seemed there was no escape from her Borg heritage or at least other people's interest in that heritage. Perhaps she should just run home to the Borg? At least that way she would eliminate the constant pain of rejection and lost love. For a moment she allowed herself to imagine building a slipstream shuttle like the Turing and returning to the collective. 'To what end?' she chastised herself. It would be like dying, only more destructive, perhaps even allowing the collective to assimilate the Federation and more importantly those she loved. If she wanted oblivion then she would have to seek it in the traditional human ways. She could defer such considerations for the future.
The 'now' required her to again seek a means of getting out of yet another cell. She smiled to herself, remembering B'Elanna joking about their Cooke's tour of prisons and brigs of the alpha quadrant and that led to other memories, clear and bright as though she was reliving them this instant. The ex-drone drifted off to sleep, lost in memories of being cradled in her lover's arms, listening to her heartbeats and soft murmurs of endearment.
She didn't sleep for long.
"Seven wake up," hissed a familiar beloved voice in her ear. Seven opened her eyes wondering if she was still dreaming. The semi-darkness did not hinder her borg vision. She looked up into B'Elanna Torres concerned dark eyes.
"Lanna!"
"Shh!"
Beside them, Lenara Kahn woke suddenly and started to scream. Seven clamped her hand over the scientist's mouth.
"Keep silent please," Seven ordered. The scientist subsided with a whimper and Seven let her go. "What do we do now?" the ex-Borg enquired.
"We creep stealthily out the same way I came in. They don't know we are here yet. The Turing is clamped to the forward docking bay."
"Impressive," whispered Seven.
"You can thank Tom. He flew it to within inches of the docking bay before we lowered the cloak. They can't see us that close. But we have to get out of here now before they notice anything."
A howl of disruptor fire announced that it was too late for stealth. B'Elanna's comm badge sputtered to life and the prisoners heard Janeway's voice.
"They've seen us B'Elanna. We'll cover you. Remember these soldiers can cloak themselves. Stay alert."
A barrage of hand-phaser fire started up outside the cell, illuminating the corridor.
"Give me your weapon and you take Lenara," said Seven.
"Why?"
"Because I can see these soldiers despite their cloaking devices." She smiled at her lover's face. "It is a Borg thing."
B'Elanna grinned back and handed over her heavy phaser. She then helped Lenara to her feet. "Let's go."
Seven peered into the corridor and calmly began shooting. She had killed the five Jem Ha'dar who were advancing down the corridor before they even realised that their supposed invisibility was completely ineffectual.
"Clear," she said.
B'Elanna took Lenara Kahn's hand and together they ran toward the main exit from the brig area where Janeway, Worf and Chekhov were laying down continuous fire phaser fire in patterns devised to catch out the invisible Jem Ha'Dar.
"Nice to see you again Professor Kahn" said Janeway not pausing in her firing. Chekhov also welcomed the scientist and even Worf managed to grunt some kind of greeting.
"Where is Seven?" Janeway enquired.
B'Elanna grinned. "She is explaining to the Jem Ha'Dar guards that resistance is futile."
Phaser fire and shouts behind them announced that Seven was mopping up a few more surprised soldiers. After a few seconds she joined them and began to methodically clear the passage in front of them. Some well aimed shots later, she said calmly.
"We may proceed. I will take point."
"Agreed," said Janeway, allowing Seven to take charge and ignoring the humorous look from Chekhov.
"May I ask Captain, how we are going to undock from this ship without being destroyed?" Seven asked curiously. She shot two more soldiers who appeared around the corner.
"That depends Seven. We left the Turing's computer trying to make friends with the main computer."
"I see" Seven sighed. "So we will be relying on your famous intuition then Captain."
"Oh God I hope not," B'Elanna muttered fervently.
"I heard that Lieutenant."
Worf roared his pleasure as his rearguard fire caught out a soldier trying to catch them from behind. "I could smell the creeping petaQ," he explained triumphantly.
"How much further?" asked Lenara. Her face was pale and her voice, shaking. She felt close to collapse and would have done so without B'Elanna and Chekhov supporting her.
"Nearly there," said Janeway soothingly. An explosion against the bulkhead behind them belied the Captain's 'walk-in-the-park' tone.
"Run," ordered Janeway. "Worf take Professor Kahn. Now" she bellowed when the Klingon hesitated. He picked up the scientist and the small group fled. Phaser and disruptor fire ahead warned them that Tom and Mira Hassan were also in difficulties. They turned a corner to see the defenders of the Turing fighting hand to hand with six Jem Ha'Dar. Seven, B'Elanna and Chekhov weighed in immediately.
"Come on," yelled Janeway, "retreat to the Turing."
The defenders struggled to obey, retreating yard by yard. B'Elanna stumbled and Seven hauled her upright. "Get inside, think of the baby. You should not be brawling."
B'Elanna glared at her and floored a Jem Ha'Dar with a knee in the groin. She then slipped back behind the ex-drone, saying as she went. "Okay, I suppose you do have a say in her upbringing since you're going to be her mother too."
"What!"
"Well you are going to marry me aren't you? Or is this rescue just a wasted effort?" B'Elanna took her lover's hand. "Please marry me." Her expression changed when she saw a large soldier lifting his disruptor behind the borg. "Your left!" she warned. Not even bothering to look, Seven snapped her borg arm up and back. Her fist connected with the Jem Ha'Dar's jaw and he sank to the floor.
Seven took B'Elanna's hand. "Yes" she said softly and was very surprised when a she heard a loud whoop next to her ear.
"At last," yelled Tom. "The bachelor life for me."
Janeway appeared beside them looking angry and wielding a phaser slightly smaller then herself. "Get inside before we are all killed. Tom. Go. Start the engines. There is no more time."
They fought their way back through the airlock and an instant later the Turing closed its doors and floated free. Then they were dodging heavy frag fire from the Dominion ship. A couple of resounding hits shook the little ship.
"Shield's holding," reported B'Elanna.
"Only just" said the computer. "Two more hits like that and we're done for. And I am so young."
"I think they'll have trouble of their own soon" said Hassan and looked at her chronometer. "Five, four, three, two, one."
A blinding flash and the Turing was buffeted and tossed by some enormous force.
"Their ship! My God it's lost all power," said Chekhov looked at the tactical sensor readout. "I'm detecting residual amounts of resonance amplification explosives! That's illegal - only pirates use that stuff! It's too unstable to even transport."
"Is it?" responded Hassan casually. "I am afraid I am not up on Federation law or Starfleet regulations." She tightened her hold on an exhausted Lenara Kahn. The scientist shook her head helplessly and then allowed it to rest on her rescuer's shoulder
"I too appear a little rusty" said Janeway.
"You planned this. Dammit they'll have your pips" exclaimed Chekhov angrily.
"And that will make a difference in what way? They can only sack me once Chekhov."
"Yes but now they can lock you up as well and throw away the damned key! And why didn't you tell me?"
"To protect you. There's no point in all of us going to jail. Anyway apart from some perforated ear-drums the Dominion crew will be unharmed. They are unable to pursue us - they will have to get their life support back first before they can do anything at all." Janeway looked thoughtful. "Computer. Send a distress signal to Admiral Clift. Rescuing them will give him something else to think about too." She shrugged and turned to smile at Seven and B'Elanna. "In any case it was worth it." A wide answering grin lit the half-Klingon's face and she threw her arms around her tall drone and kissed her. Seven returned the embrace enthusiastically.
"So you're going to take the plunge with Seven, Lieutenant Torres?" asked Janeway.
"I don't think I have a choice," said B'Elanna, still wrapped in her borg's arms. "After all captain, Kahless knows what you'd try next!" Another long interval passed before B'Elanna turned her head again to look at Tom and Janeway, who were both grinning stupidly. B'Elanna smiled affectionately at them and said breathlessly.
"Well Tom, in view of the horrific revelation of your relationship with Captain Janeway, I hereby formally divorce you but do not think that this gets you out of your parental duties nor Captain Janeway out of her duties as Godmother."
Janeway punched Tom's shoulder.
"Told you. Just needed a little command level strategy. Hey what duties as Godmother?" she grumped as that part of B'Elanna's words penetrated. "Everyone's always giving me duties."
B'Elanna ignored her captain and gratefully returned her attention to Seven. "It seems I'm a free woman."
"Not for long," growled Seven.
"Are you sure about this?"
"Never more certain of anything. And Borg never exaggerate."
"May I say something," said the computer. But no-one was listening. Seven and B'Elanna had retreated indecently fast to the cabin and locked the door. Poor brave Tom had shut his eyes and put some ear-plugs in. He was pretending to sleep and not to have noticed their departure. Janeway and Chekhov were now arguing furiously and the unfortunate Worf was trying hard not to take sides in what was a very even battle. Mira Hassan was comforting the still distressed Lenara Kahn and making all kinds of promises that she would find very hard to keep. So it was in vain that the Turing's computer tried to tell the crew of its discoveries.
"And to think I had to pretend to enjoy talking to that excruciatingly boring Dominion computer for ten minutes which as everyone knows is a lifetime for a computer. Typical," it sniffed, "no-one bothers about my feelings."
THE END (EXCEPT FOR THE EPILOGUE)
Epilogue
And now the news at 6 pm Earth Standard Time:
The main news today is the announcement by the President that he is stepping down to spend more time with his family. A spokesman denied that the president's resignation had anything to do with the suspension of three Starfleet admirals yesterday by Starfleet command.
Another piece of breaking news is the dramatic rescue of the crew of a diplomatic vessel from the Federation's former enemies, the Dominion. The ship was attacked by pirates yesterday and the crew would have perished without the timely intervention of Starfleet vessels in the area. Ambassador Weyoun has thanked Starfleet for their assistance. Questions are being asked about the penetration of pirate raiders into an area of space which has previously been considered safe.
On a happier note: the Starship Voyager touched down at 3 pm at Starfleet headquarters in San Francisco. There were joyous scenes as the crew were reunited with their families after seven years adrift in the delta quadrant. The captain, Kathryn Janeway, is to receive the Federation medal of honour and, it is rumoured, command of her own squadron.
And those are the main stories this evening.
FINIS
TITLE: Perfect Misfits AUTHOR: halfofone RATING: R CODE: T/7 GENRE: ST: Voyager FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome. EMAILADDY: SUMMARY: An away team crash on a planet. Lose a shuttle. B'Elanna and Seven disagree. Business as usual. WARNINGS: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further. ARCHIVING: If you like ....... I'd quite like to know where DISCLAIMER: Star Trek Voyager and all who sail in her belong to Paramount/Viacom and noinfringement of copyright/trade marks is intended. STATUS: Complete
Perfect Misfits by halfofone
Date added: 2000-07-01 Rating of this chapter: PG13
Description: An away team crash on a planet. Lose a shuttle. B'Elanna and Seven disagree. Business as usual.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page.
B'Elanna Torres, Chief Engineer of the Federation starship Voyager, opened her eyes, groaned with pain and closed them again as she remembered where she was, in a crash pod, somewhere on a no name planet that she and a small shuttle team had been surveying for minerals.
Another shuttle lost. Oh ye gods the Captain was not going to be pleased. If she was lucky Voyager might be able to salvage the wreck, if not then the chief engineer faced long tedious hours building a replacement. And suffering from the Captain's disapproval at the waste of resources.
That was the future, for now she needed to get out of the damned pod, find the others and try and survive whatever the planet could throw at them until Voyager arrived. She checked the pod's sensors and was relieved that the environment outside was acceptable. The sensors detected signs of other crash pods but at some distance. She tapped her communicator but got no response. The damn thing was not working. She would have to find them the hard way.
Cursing her misbegotten half-caste luck Torres pushed open the escape hatch of the crash pod and immediately regretted it as a wall of heat and moisture and light and noise fell on her head. _This is no place for a Klingon with a hangover_. The noise of insects and birds in the towering trees echoed in her aching skull as she crawled head first into the sunlight and got to her feet.
Looking round at her surroundings she noticed three things.
Firstly she seemed to have crash landed on someone's house, broken pots and a table and the greater part of the roof lay on the ground around the pod. _Well dammit it is more a hut than a house and at least it was empty when I landed._
Secondly, the huge atmospheric storm that had put them in this situation had evaporated as quickly as it arrived and strong light from the planet's main sun was flooding the room through the hole in the roof.
Thirdly. entering the front door of the hut and rising up against the light to look at the cause of the disturbance was a large yellow and black snake. Actually to say it was large was an understatement, like saying the Borg are unfriendly. This snake was enormous.
Torres reached for her phaser and found, without any surprise as it had been that kind of day, nothing.
A pair of red eyes peered at her and perhaps puzzled at what it saw the reptile must have asked for a second opinion for a moment later another similar head, this time with yellow eyes, appeared through the door and loomed over her. _Oh great! Twice the fun._ Easing backward she tried to inch her way towards a large spear she could see lying on the ground two paces to her right when a calm voice calling from outside the hut made her jump.
"Lieutenant Torres please report your location? What is your functional status?". The voice then added somewhat unnecessarily. "Lieutenant Torres this is Seven of Nine".
Both snakes twisted toward the sound and B'Elanna took her chance to dive sideways to the spear landing painfully hard on her side. Grunting she rolled away and up on her feet, to find the open maw of the red-eyed snake at arms length from her face and approaching rapidly. B'Elanna shoved the spear deep into it's throat with every ounce of strength at her disposal.
"Swallow that and get some sleep red-eye" she screamed beginning to enjoy herself as only a Klingon can when engaged in a life and death struggle with a giant snake.
The animal's head snapped up and writhed away taking the spear along with it and the second snake reared towards her.
"Oh shit - the cavalry". Torres jumped over the table and crouched down between the table and the wall as the snake struck, missing her by a hands breadth. High above her head, hanging on the wall, she could see a large battle-axe but to reach it she would have to stand up right under the beast's nose.
Before she could solve that problem Seven of Nine appeared through a side entrance close to the table. The snake lunged at this new target. Seven yelped, fired her phaser and missed. She fell back against the table and lay motionless on the floor. The snake opened it's jaws and prepared to swallow the fallen Borg. Torres leapt on the table and grabbed the axe off the wall. Praying that the blade was sharp she swung at the neck of the beast. The stroke, delivered with perfect force and a loud Klingon curse, severed the head from the snake's body. It flew across the room and landed by the door. The yellow eyes blinked once and then fell open. B'Elanna nearly laughed as the severed head lay looking at her in apparent astonishment.
The engineer dropped to her feet beside Seven and felt for a pulse in Seven of Nine's neck. As she touched her, Seven's ice blue eyes opened and gazed up at her. The blue eyes softened momentarily and then opened wide with fear as they looked past her. "B'Elanna! Behind you!". Spinning round B'Elanna realised that the remaining snake, still with the spear stuck in it's jaws, was thrashing towards her. It proceeded to vomit a foul smelling green liquid over the disgusted engineer, then screamed and fell back dead.
Seven of Nine struggled upright and looked at the carnage in the hut and the filthy battered Klingon and said in a neutral tone. "I believe you have been enjoying yourself Lieutenant." B'Elanna felt irritated by the implication that she had deliberately caused the current mess rather than simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Listen Borg everything was under control until you turned up!" She yelled untruthfully. "And you might like to thank me for saving your scrawny butt." Seven of Nine lifted an eyebrow but did not respond other than to pick up her tricorder and run it over the Lieutenant. "You have a mild concussion Lieutenant, some bruises and cuts but otherwise you are undamaged. The green substance would appear to be harmless although evil smelling, it is probably a defence mechanism to discourage predators."
B'Elanna looked worried "There might be creatures living here that regard Sammy the snake as lunch!" Not really wanting to think about what such an animal might be like B'Elanna busied herself collecting her survival equipment from the pod including, she noted with satisfaction, a compression phaser rifle. "Seven we need to find the others.."
Seven interrupted her. "I have established a base camp with ensigns Kominsky and Walthers 20 minutes walk from here. Lieutenant Gerard is damaged but stable. We should rejoin them quickly."
B'Elanna wondered why she felt so irrationally irritated by the Borg's efficiency and calm assumption of authority. "Seven I am in charge of this away mission and I don't want any confusion over who is giving orders." _Kahless but I sound like some Starfleet prig._
Seven did not seem upset and replied evenly "I understand the concept of the chain of command Lieutenant". Which somehow annoyed Torres even more. Sighing she picked up her pack and led the way out the door wrinkling her nose at the awful smell and then realising again that she was the source.
~~~
Outside the hut about twenty tall silent bipeds had gathered carrying spears, shields and knives. For a few moments the aliens and the two Voyager crew members stood and looked at each other. The aliens were humanoid, about 2.5 metres tall, heavily built with dark complexions, completely black eyes and dense black fur down their arms and legs. Their torsos were covered with lightly armoured jerkins. The group included males and females.
All hell broke loose as the aliens began gesticulating at the hut and cursing and shouting threats at the Voyager crewmen. The crowd took a few threatening steps towards Torres and Seven of Nine. Torres raised her rifle and shouted over the din. "We are from the starship Voyager. We mean you no harm."
"Lieutenant it is unlikely these creatures know what a starship is and they have the evidence of your destruction of one of their homes to gauge our probable intent. We should demonstrate our firepower rather than attempt to engage in futile introductions."
Feeling foolish Torres agreed silently and fired her rifle over the heads of the angry group disintegrating part of a an overhanging shrub and there was immediate silence. Then the members of the group raised their spears and their features contorted into what Torres thought might be grins. She could have sworn that she heard one of them say. "Today is a good day to die."
"I think Borg that was the wrong approach. Lay down fire in front of the group and keep them back and we'll try to make a run for the trees." Seven of Nine nodded her agreement. They started firing continuous bursts at the ground in front of the excited warriors while backing rapidly towards the edge of the forest. The hairy aliens came after them dodging the phaser bursts.
Their retreat was interrupted by a mighty bellow and an alien ran out from the ruined hut carrying the severed head of the snake. He took it over to his fellows, shouting at them excitedly. The others looked at him and lowered their spears. A large fellow with heavy scarring on his face roared at Seven and Torres in a guttural voice. "You did this?" _Oh gods don't tell me I've killed the family pet._
Torres replied as firmly as she could "Yes I killed the stinking beast."
The big chap looked at her carefully and then wrinkling his nose replied "You do not smell so good yourself great warrior." At this he started to laugh and a moment later all his compatriots also roared with laughter. Torres lowered her weapon and shouted. "I am glad that this amuses you scarface." The aliens laughed even harder.
The heavily scarred male spoke again "Tell me small one with the mighty arm, why are you here and what is it that you want? Do you seek battle and glory? Or are you thieves and cut-throats without honour?"
B'Elanna felt curiously familiar with this type of address and replied easily "We are travellers from the sky and we came to find rest and food on our travels. We do not seek death but we would meet it with honour."
The hairy alien thought about this for a moment and seemed to be satisfied. "Then you are welcome to find rest here in my village. This beast has killed my brethren and to kill such a beast single handed brings glory to the hunter. We will have a feast to celebrate and the beast itself will provide the dinner. We are Verroth". He covered the ground between them and picked up B'Elanna in a big hug. "Your friend is welcome also."
Cheers and laughter could be heard and the aliens immediately began preparations by removing the bodies of the two snakes from the half demolished hut. The Verroth were a noisy, rambunctious people laughing and quarrelling in equal measure. A row soon broke out between those who wished to demolish the damaged house and those trying to rebuild it. The resulting fight completed the demolition and resolved the argument. B'Elanna found it rather funny and shouted encouragement to the combatants.
Seven of Nine sighed gently "I believe Lieutenant that you have finally found a group of beings of a like mind to yourself."
B'Elanna looked embarrassed. Then remembering her responsibilities she said "I had better make arrangements with Scarface to collect the other members of the landing party. If these people eat, drink and party like Klingons we are all going to need our strength tonight."
She walked away to talk to Scarface leaving Seven of Nine wondering why she had volunteered to go on this trip. Well, she knew why but she had not anticipated spending several days in the company of a troupe of hairy Klingon wannabees.
"I will adapt" she said to herself. And then her eyebrow lifted, the nearest approach the Borg had to a smile, as she observed the small dark Klingon-Human hybrid slap the hulking Verroth on the back causing him to visibly wince.
=Continued...=
Perfect Misfits by halfofone
Date added: 2000-07-01 Rating of this chapter: R
Description: An away team crash on a planet. Lose a shuttle. B'Elanna and Seven disagree. Business as usual.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres lay back happily and looked up at the stars. There were no familiar constellations but she was used to that after six years in the Delta quadrant. Her stomach was full, her team was safe and Torres felt content for the moment. Her brain was a little fuzzy and warm after drinking the local brew. Seven had refused to touch it after scanning the pitchers placed in front of them at the feast but B'Elanna Torres was fairly confident that there would be few alcoholic brews she couldn't stomach, after all she was a Klingon, of a sort.
Dimly she wondered what Tom was doing; they were probably worried up there on Voyager after they had lost contact with the shuttle. The distress call should have reached them by now, and they would be pulling out the stops to find them, Kathryn Janeway hunting for her lost brood. Especially as the Captain's pet Borg was amongst the missing team. Torres looked over at Seven sitting quietly and neatly staring into the campfire and felt the familiar resentment at the Borg's perfect body, perfect face and air of superiority.
Fuelled by the alcohol she started to speak her mind "I suppose Kathryn Janeway is in a panic now her little favourite is missing. I'm surprised the search parties haven't already arrived."
Seven of Nine raised her head and stared at the pugnacious engineer "As you already know Lieutenant it will take several days for Voyager to reach us." Seven looked away "Why do you dislike me B'Elanna Torres? Is it because I am Borg or is it my friendship with the Captain?"
"Don't take it so seriously Seven, I am only teasing you and I don't dislike you. Well, OK, I do find you a bit smug and superior and you sometimes irritate the hell out of me and I don't know why the Captain thinks that you should always get your own way on everything. But apart from that, you and me, we're fine." Her words slurred together.
Seven shrugged her shoulders. "You are inebriated Lieutenant, further conversation is unnecessary." She stood up elegantly and went to check on Lieutenant Gerard whose injuries were fairly severe. Her crash pod had been damaged on impact with the ground and the science officer had broken three ribs and her left leg. Seven had arranged for the Verroth medical man to set the bones in Gerard's leg; a painful process that seemed to afford the Verroth much amusement.
B'Elanna watched the beautiful Borg check the strapping and splints on Gerard's ribs and leg, it suddenly seemed very funny to the Klingon. Seven as an angel of mercy. B'Elanna drunkenly contemplated Limerick rhymes involving Seven but couldn't get beyond "There once was a young Borg called Seven who despaired she would get into Heaven". Even drunk, B'Elanna could see that Seven was unlikely to share her amusement.
As she continued her observations, a touch of desire trailed over her skin. She pushed it aside. It was not the first time. She had often watched the Borg moving purposefully about engineering or astrometrics, carrying out her work with that absolute concentration that she brought to everything. Graceful, certain and arrogant, Seven made B'Elanna experience lust and annoyance almost in equal measure. The engineer relieved her frustrations by insulting the Borg.
B'Elanna sat up and swore. Klingons don't have these sorts of feelings. B'Elanna herself had always regarded same sex relations as a rather bizarre aberration and a weakness of lesser species. _But you are not a 'real' Klingon are you B'Elanna?_ sneered her inner voice.
And there was Tom. _Yeah what about Tom?_ the voice jeered.
In any case Seven adored the Captain, everyone knew that.
B'Elanna Torres got unsteadily to her feet, perhaps she was a little worse for drink, maybe it was time to turn in. "Kominsky you have the first watch, Walther you take the next and I'll take the third and Seven the fourth".
Seven regarded her, "Lieutenant Torres as I do not require sleep it would be more efficient to assign me to all watches."
B'Elanna could not hide her exasperation at having her orders questioned "I did not assign you to every watch because, Ms Smart Alec, I didn't ...." At this point B'Elanna couldn't think of a reasonable, or even an unreasonable point. "Because that's not how we do it, you know, all's fair in love and war." she said. B'Elanna stopped realising that Seven was looking confused.
Then her befuddled brain came to her rescue and she finished with a flourish "and in any case, Seven, since you won't be able to regenerate until we are rescued, I suggest you try and learn to sleep." With that the engineer staggered into the hut they had been assigned and fell fully clothed on to her bed. She passed out almost immediately and dreamt of beheading blue eyed snakes that then reproached her for her cruelty.
A while later B'Elanna was disturbed from sleep by shouting outside and Seven's raised voice "Take your hand off me or I will break your arm." This was met by deep laughter and she then heard a Verroth growl "You are too pretty to hurt me little one." Kominsky was trying to reason with the Verroth and getting short shrift and there followed noise of a scuffle. Torres rolled out of bed and lurched upright and stubbed her foot, cursing the planet and its inhabitants in her best Klingon.
The Verroth Doctor was hanging heavily on an angry Seven's arm with his arm draped round her shoulders. Kominsky was picking herself up off the ground several metres away.
"What the fucking hell goes on here? Take your hands off her you great hairy quack." yelled Torres furiously. It was bad enough to be woken early with a hangover without the repellent sight of some stupid brute pawing Seven. The medical man let go of Seven, pulled himself up to his full height and glared at B'Elanna Torres. Then a drunken, cunning smile slipped over his face.
"The great warrior, she is your hroth. My apologies pretty one." He addressed these words to Seven of Nine.
B'Elanna wondered yet again at the selective abilities of the Universal translator but decided that little harm could come from agreeing if it would get this over with quickly. "Yes I am her hroth. Now push off and let me get some sleep."
His black eyes gleamed victoriously "I will leave now 'great warrior' but I challenge you for this woman. I will see you at the second sunrise tomorrow." He turned and left, staggering slightly as he walked.
"Oh Kahless! What the hell have I done now." B'Elanna put her head in her hands and then looked up. Seven of Nine was looking at her with definite amusement. "It would seem that you are to fight for me 'great warrior'."
Kominsky smirked and Torres promptly lost her temper again and snapped at her "Take your sorry butt out of my sight and go find Scarface. I need to speak with him and try and sort this out." The hapless ensign jumped to attention and set off at the double. Watching her go B'Elanna muttered to herself "What in Kahless' name is a hroth anyway?"
~~~
Scarface laughed loudly when Torres explained the events of the night to him but he was quite unyielding about the outcome. It would seem that hroth roughly translated as some where between husband and master. Torres would have to fight the amorous doctor or she would lose by default and he would be entitled to take Seven of Nine as his property. It was normal Verroth custom to challenge other members of the tribe for their spouses/partners. No amount of pleading that it was a genuine cultural misunderstanding carried any weight. This was a matter of honour. On the bright side Scarface had said it was unlikely that any other Verroth would challenge for Seven of Nine as in his opinion the doctor had very unusual taste in women. Seven's expression at that point nearly made the whole fiasco worthwhile.
"Well it seems I have to fight. Has anyone discovered anything that might help me?" Torres asked her assembled crew.
"We have asked several Verroth what is involved and none appear to be willing to enlighten us" replied Ensign Walther. "I don't think they rate the medicine man as a warrior and they don't want to give you any help". Walther was a quiet young scientist and the boisterous Verroth made him nervous. Torres knew she needed to maintain the team morale. "Well" she noted with a smile "I see where the home crowd support will be."
"Well that isn't necessarily clear Lieutenant" replied Ensign Kominsky seriously. "The odds being offered are in your favour. I think the Verroth just want a good fight."
"Are you telling me there is a book open?" The two young ensigns nodded nervously at their chief. "Good I shall place a bet on myself."
"Is it a fight to the death?" B'Elanna asked this as casually as she knew how not wanting the crew to detect any fear in her voice.
Seven answered her question "Since Scarface said this was a normal of means settling ownership disputes it seems unlikely that the expected outcome is death. However given the number of facial scars we have observed amongst male and female Verroth it seems possible that the degree of facial scarring determines the loser."
Seven was trying to be reassuring but at that moment B'Elanna could have hit her. Sensing from B'Elanna's expression that perhaps she was not very comforted Seven continued lamely. "Voyager's doctor will be able to repair any scarring." B'Elanna grimaced and ground her teeth.
Seven said quietly. "B'Elanna you do not need to do this."
"Yes I do. We have discussed the alternatives and they all suck. If we run away we would have to survive in this jungle and it would be too dangerous, particularly with Gerard in no condition to travel. If I default then you will have to handle the 'The Doctor of Love' and you will probably kill him leaving us back at scenario number one. The Verroth would not approve of being murdered by their property. No, the only way is for me to defeat the 'Love Doc' in honourable battle and have him leave us in peace."
Trying to lighten the atmosphere B'Elanna commented "Remember I have to answer to Captain Kathryn 'Prime Directive' Janeway. The Captain would not like us busting local laws and creating mayhem amongst law abiding aliens just to avoid being sliced and diced. I am much more afraid of Janeway than any great hairy warrior"
The crew laughed except Seven of Nine who stepped close to B'Elanna and cupping her face in one hand said in a low voice. "Be careful wIj qa', I do not think I could bear to lose you." She then walked out of the hut leaving behind one stunned Klingon.
After a long moment B'Elanna glanced round at the other crewmen who were looking curiously after the Borg. Lieutenant Gerard was sitting up, smirking, and said to the engineer "Well who would have guessed it Lieutenant, the Borg has a crush on you."
B'Elanna recovered herself and responded with sarcasm "Jealous Gerard? You like the girlies don't you, perhaps you thought you had a chance?"
"Even I draw the line at Borg Lieutenant."
In that moment of rage B'Elanna Torres considered killing the woman and Gerard drew back with fear at the murder in the Klingon's eyes. B'Elanna lifted the frightened woman by her collar "Listen to me daughter of fools and scoundrels, Borg or not, you are not fit to breathe the same air as Seven of Nine. Speak of her again in such a manner and I will crush your skull with my bare hands."
And then B'Elanna's rage evaporated in confusion and she dropped Gerard who shrank into the corner. Not knowing what to say next B'Elanna made do by scowling at the subdued crewmen, silently daring them to make any further comment. She went outside the hut and sat down on an upturned box and waited. Two hours to second sunrise. The Klingon consoled herself _ Well at least I have improved the odds. If I win then we get out of here in one piece. If I lose then I avoid having to face Seven or any of my crew again. A win/win situation._
=Continued...=
Perfect Misfits by halfofone
Date added: 2000-07-01 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
A while later B'Elanna could hear some cheering and shouting coming from the far side of the village. Curious she moved towards the noise and was surprised to see quite a sizeable crowd gathered around a clearing, clapping and shouting encouragement and abuse at some unseen entertainment.
Pushing to the front she was astonished to see Seven of Nine armed with what appeared to be a large wooden stave and a small metal shield facing two angry looking Verroth who were similarly armed.
"What the hell is going on?"
A highly amused Verroth slapped her on the back and explained "Your woman is teaching our finest warriors a lesson." One of the two armed Verroth charged the Borg who effortlessly sidestepped the man, deflected his blow with the shield and then followed it up with a swipe to his head with the stave which sent him crashing against a tree trunk where he subsided with a sigh. "That makes eight" said the amused Verroth.
B'Elanna then noticed that there were several Verroth in various states of unconsciousness littering the ground. The remaining Verroth warrior soon joined them as Seven efficiently removed him from combat with a blow to his genitals that made the crowd groan in sympathy. "Well that is that - a practice session that they won't soon forget." said some wag in the background. Another round of laughter shook the assembled crowd.
The watching Verroth then quarrelled with each other over bets laid in the course of the fight. Gambling was an art form here. Tom Paris would have been in Heaven.
Seven of Nine, who was hardly breathing any more than normal, called out loudly to the Chief Engineer "I do not believe Lieutenant that you will be troubled by any warrior that these inferior beings can produce."
B'Elanna looked around nervously to see if the Verroth were taking any notice of Seven's insult. Mostly they were not. But across the other side of the combat area B'Elanna Torres could see the Medicine man and Scarface look up at Seven's words and then start a very animated conversation.
"If you are trying to frighten the 'Love Doc' Seven I think you are barking up the wrong tree. This is a matter of honour. This guy isn't going to surrender because I might hurt him."
Seven replied with certainty "I do not think honour was the motivating factor in this challenge and it is my belief that the Doctor will be leaving. Soon."
"I don't think you understand Seven" said B'Elanna in a slightly patronising tone but as they watched, the Medicine man shrugged his shoulders, turned and walked away from Scarface and disappeared into a nearby hut. B'Elanna Torres narrowed her eyes and started after him. Seven caught her arm.
B'Elanna Torres looked at her with some annoyance. "Seven I can look after myself in a fight and I do not need you to protect me."
Abruptly Seven took her hand off the engineer's arm. "I did not mean to cause offence Lieutenant."
The Borg was interrupted by Scarface trying to make an announcement.
"Fellow Verroth and honoured guests. It is my misfortune to report a shameful occurrence. The Medicine man, Thrys, has run away from our village and will not defend his challenge to the mighty warrior B'Elanna Torres. A howl of outrage came from one of the Verroth and then there was pandemonium as the crowd surged angrily towards Scarface who was now standing behind several henchmen who were trying to keep the mob away from him.
Ensign Kominsky, a small pretty woman, was impressed by the fury of the crowd towards Scarface. "Poor guy. Talk about shooting the messenger."
"Their reaction is understandable Ensign. Many of them believe they have just suffered a considerable loss."
B'Elanna Torres stared at Seven who was watching the mayhem with apparent satisfaction. "Seven of Nine how did you know the Doc would leave?"
The Borg considered her words before speaking. "The so called doctor is what you might call a 'ringer'. I heard two of Scarface' associates discussing the Medicine man and his prior history. Apparently they did not know of my enhanced hearing."
"And what is this prior history" asked B'Elanna Torres impatiently.
"He is from another, distant, village and was here at Scarface's invitation for several weeks. In his own area he is a very successful fighter and warrior but his abilities were not known in this village. Medicine men are very poorly regarded and usually only rather feeble warriors enter that profession." Seven paused as the quarrelling Verroth grew louder.
"Scarface is a notable local bookmaker and most of the money wagered was on the Lieutenant winning the fight."
"I can see where this is going." said the chief engineer and then added as an aside. "After all I know Tom 'would you care to take a wager on that' Paris."
Seven continued her explanation "Scarface believed that the Lieutenant's prowess was overrated. That together with his knowledge of the Medicine man's fighting abilities gave him an opportunity to deceive his fellow Verroth."
Kominsky interrupted "So Scarface engineers the whole fight including the original challenge in order to make a killing on promoting the fight and running the book."
"Precisely Ensign."
Torres glared at no one in particular saying "The little slime ball probably intended to use his ringer against one of his own people but then we arrived and gave him an easier mark - me! He had the cheek to question our honour. I will kill the deceitful little bastard."
"I do not think that is necessary Lieutenant. He appears to be in great danger from his own people." The pushing and shoving Verroth were becoming more agitated and weapons were being drawn. Scarface could be heard shouting "Everyone will get their money back."
"I hope the hairy tick gets what he deserves."
But that said the engineer did not like the look of the mob. "OK people lets get back to our quarters. This may get ugly. I think we have been involved in enough fighting for one day."
The Starfleet crew left the riot scene just as the first punches were being thrown. Hoping they were not noticed they walked back to their hut.
"I still don't understand Seven why Scarface changed his mind after seeing you despatch those Verroth on the practise ground." asked Kominsky.
"The Verroth hierarchy is strictly based on physical strength and fighting prowess. When Scarface saw what a 'mere minion' of the great warrior could do then his low risk scheme turned into certain ruin. To prevent that outcome the fight had to be cancelled, he forced the Medicine man to leave ensuring that all wagers would be void."
"Let me get this straight Seven" said Torres with a dangerous look on her face. "You decided that it was OK for you to fight nine of their best warriors in order to prevent me fighting one." She faced Seven of Nine and folded her arms.
The Borg looked slightly wary but answered coolly. "There was little danger. It was only a practise session and the weapons were harmless."
"Tell that to those Verroth warriors you whacked" snorted Kominsky who subsided quickly when Torres turned a furious gaze on the ensign.
"Seven I thought you understood that I was in charge of this away mission. You had no right to make a decision like that without bringing the information to me first."
"You would not have agreed to my plan Lieutenant." and then more hesitantly. "I am sorry Lieutenant, it was not my purpose to challenge your authority. It seemed .... like a good idea at the time."
Astonished B'Elanna looked into Seven's candid blue eyes. A phrase straight out of the Tom Paris book of excuses thought B'Elanna. The Chief Engineer nearly laughed.
And then did laugh when Seven of Nine tried again, clearly uncomfortable with her human excuse. She took a purely Borg approach. "My actions were efficient."
Seven looked relieved if puzzled at B'Elanna's reaction and the Lieutenant became aware that other members of the away team also looking surprised at the sudden change of mood. Trying to sound stern the engineer said "Seven, I know you tried to act for the best but next time talk to me. I don't bite."
"That is not what I have heard Lieutenant." said the Borg quite seriously. Kominsky and Walther gasped and clutched each other. B'Elanna counted to ten and decided that in this case it would be better to pretend she had not heard any comment.
"Right lets get this camp cleaned up, it looks worse than a Starfleet cadet's bedroom." B'Elanna worked out her frustration bullying and shouting at her away team until the camp had been rearranged to her satisfaction, dinner had been prepared, eaten and cleared and they were at last sitting quietly under the stars. Kominsky and Walther had withdrawn from the circle around the fire and were deep in conversation. B'Elanna watched them gaze into each other's eyes and wondered what they would do when they returned to Voyager and their respective partners. That thought brought to mind to her own situation and she glanced at Seven of Nine hoping not to be too obvious.
The Borg was staring at the fire. But sensing the Klingon watching she looked at the engineer and for a moment unguarded yearning seemed to fill her eyes. Then the expression disappeared and the face of the ex drone took on it's normal neutral appearance.
Torres felt embarrassed and not really knowing what to say or do lifted her mug of ale in a mock toast and grinned.
Seven looked mystified and the engineer cringed. _Dear God, the woman has told you she cares for you, is in obvious pain and all you can do is make stupid drunken gestures and grin like an idiot._
"Er Seven what you said this morning. I didn't know ... I did not mean to hurt you or anything." B'Elanna cursed herself for not having the right words. _Kahless I am an engineer not a damned poet._
"It is not necessary to try and comfort me Lieutenant. I have researched the rituals and protocol surrounding Human and Klingon mating and I am well aware that you have formed a bond with Ensign Paris which prohibits you forming other such relationships."
"Don't be such a hard ass Seven, I can show a bit of sympathy."
"To what end Lieutenant? Your sympathy does not change how I feel nor does it change the basic situation." Seven glanced at the two human ensigns who were now kissing quite fiercely and remarked rather bitterly. "It would appear that some humans are not as scrupulous about their personal loyalties, perhaps that is why I prefer a Klingon."
After an awkward silence Seven spoke again. "Since Ensigns Kominsky and Walther are occupied I will take the first watch." and so saying Seven of Nine got up and walked to the perimeter of the camp site.
Torres watched the shapely figure recede into the darkness. The Chief Engineer felt a sense of loss envelope her in a deeper blackness.
Gerard, who had been placed on a mattress near the fire, sat up on her elbow and also watched the retreating Borg. "You know Lieutenant I may have to rethink my prejudices about the Borg. Perfect bod." She whistled quietly.
B'Elanna looked at the reclining figure by the fire with dislike. "In your dreams Gerard, in your dreams."
"Well Lieutenant Torres it seems to me that you don't really have any say in that do you?"
B'Elanna picked up a large pitcher of ale and stalked into the hut. _She will get over it. Everyone has to go through crushes._ The thought of Seven recovering from her feelings did not make B'Elanna feel any better. The foggy feeling of loss just got bigger.
First sunrise brought the light, a hangover and Voyager.
=Continued...=
Perfect Misfits by halfofone
Date added: 2000-07-01 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
"Janeway to away team. Acknowledge." The communicator crackled and buzzed furiously.
B'Elanna opened her bleary eyes. For an instant she couldn't remember where she was. Then her captain's voice came again, slightly stronger and more insistent.
"Away team. Acknowledge."
The Lieutenant scrabbled on the floor for her comm badge that was still attached to her discarded jacket. "Lieutenant Torres here, Captain."
"Are you all right, B'Elanna?" The concern mixed with relief could be heard in Janeway's voice even though B'Elanna could hardly make out the words through the interference.
"Yes, Captain, we're all okay. Lieutenant Gerard requires medical attention but nothing life threatening."
"We can't beam you out directly, B'Elanna. The planet's atmosphere naturally interferes with transporter signals as well as comm signals. Harry thinks it will be another hour before the interference clears sufficiently for transport. What is your position now, Lieutenant? Sensors show you surrounded by humanoid life forms, but they appear to have very low levels of technology."
"The Verroth, Captain. They have been very hospitable, and we are in no danger."
"Federation protocol require us to minimize this culture's exposure to our technology. Can you take your leave of the Verroth and allow us to collect you from another location?"
"Will do, Captain."
Back on the planet B'Elanna gathered her team and informed them of Voyager's arrival.
"Get yourselves packed. We are going to walk out of the camp to a safe distance before Voyager beams us out."
"Why can't they just come and get us from here?" asked Gerard testily. Her ribs and leg still ached, and Torres kept throwing dark looks her way, so she wanted out of this bloody place.
Torres was contemptuous. "Because the Captain doesn't want us flashing our technology around. Don't worry, Gerard. You'll be in a nice comfortable sick bay soon enough." The chief engineer managed to make the words of comfort seem like a threat but Gerard was not intimidated.
"Well I won't miss the inside of this hut but the Doc's bed side manner is just not gonna be the same as Seven." The science officer half-leered at Seven, who looked surprised.
"Gerard, I warned you!" snapped Torres.
Gerard settled back on her bed and shut up, but the mutual dislike between the two Lieutenants was plain.
B'Elanna put on her jacket and went out to inform the Verroth of the imminent departure. The wreckage of last night's riot was still plain to see as were a large number of prone bodies, although whether they were unconscious from their injuries or hangovers B'Elanna was unable to tell.
Finally, B'Elanna tracked down Mythryn, one of the senior elders who was at least upright if not very sober.
"Mythryn, our leader has arrived. We are to return to our home ship within the hour."
He peered at her from bloodshot eyes, but managed to crack a broken-toothed grin. "Surely, Great Warrior, you were not thinking of leaving without a proper farewell? We wish to meet your leader. It is traditional for the leader of another tribe to reward hospitality to his followers."
"Mythryn, your people have been very good to me and my followers. But it is now time for us to leave. We can only rejoin our ship between second sun-up and first sundown, which gives us just a few hours to reach the appointed meeting place......."
"Nonetheless, Great Warrior, we will meet your leader. You will not be permitted to leave until proper reward has been agreed."
B'Elanna sighed angrily. "So now we are hostages."
The big guy looked both stubborn and offended. "No, not hostages, debtors. No Verroth leader would expect his men back with such a debt unpaid. It is not just."
B'Elanna stifled an angry retort and replied as formally as she could manage "I will convey your wishes to my leader for consideration."
~~~
"That's the situation, Captain. Basically we are hostages until you make the Verroth some sort of gift. The local currency is beryllium so I don't think it will give us any problems replicating the amount they may require."
"What do you suggest, B'Elanna?" asked Chakotay. As the second sun-up approached, the communication signal had improved noticeably.
B'Elanna was regretful. "We could fight our way out but I would prefer not - the Verroth are very quarrelsome but they have looked after us. On the other hand, they can be unpredictable. We shouldn't give the impression that money is no object."
Janeway spoke then. "There is another problem. We've found the shuttle wreckage. It's been looted from the original crash site and much of it is now distributed around the Verroth village. We must try and get it back or risk severely contaminating the future development of this culture. I will speak to the Verroth directly, and try and negotiate for your return and the return of the shuttle remains. Tuvok and I will beam to the surface outside the perimeter of the village at the coordinates Harry is transmitting as soon as transport can be accomplished safely. Meet us there in thirty minutes. Janeway out."
"Kominsky and Walther, go meet the Captain, Seven and I will prepare the Verroth," snapped the Chief Engineer, glad to have something to do. "Gerard, stay here and keep out of trouble."
~~~
The Verroth elders were very keen to meeting the leader of Voyager, which reassured B'Elanna slightly that this was more of a ceremonial event than a plot. A great deal of preparation was going into preparing the village for the meeting and galvanized tribesmen were hurriedly clearing away the results of last night's fracas.
B'Elanna noticed that Scarface was still apparently on the senior team but had clearly suffered demotion, and by the marks and bruising on his face that reduction in rank had a very physical manifestation. The former senior elder was very subdued. B'Elanna felt almost sorry for the old devil.
An hour later, Janeway and Tuvok were led by the Starfleet ensigns to the appointed meeting place as Mythryn, a great bear-like man and now the most senior Verroth, rose to meet them. Nearly 3 metres in height, he towered over the Captain. Used to this kind of disparity she smiled at him but to her obvious surprise the Verroth shoved her unceremoniously aside and proceeded to address Tuvok.
"Great Leader, we are honoured by your presence."
Mortified B'Elanna stepped up to Mythryn, punched his arm hard enough to make him wince and roared, "Not him! HER!"
Janeway, who had only just kept her footing, stared at her senior engineer. Perhaps the Lieutenant had gone mad, because it was certainly strange diplomacy.
Mythryn looked carefully at the small redheaded woman who still looked a little unsteady on her feet, and then began to laugh. "Surely, Great Warrior Torres, you cannot be serious. You should challenge this puny mite and become leader. I will not talk with such an insignificant woman." He began to walk away.
Seven and B'Elanna exchanged exasperated looks. This was going to be difficult. Janeway wasn't physically strong enough to impress the single minded Verroth. Then in a moment of inspiration, B'Elanna Torres went down on both knees before her astonished Captain. To her credit Seven had the presence of mind to grasp what the Lieutenant was doing and to follow suit. Head bowed, B'Elanna began to beg for mercy.
"Forgive us, Captain! Please,...we do not mean to offer any offense. Take pity on your miserable officers, and on these pathetic villagers and their stupid elders. Gladly, we would give you our lives to remove this dishonour." Out of the corner of her eye, B'Elanna saw Mythryn hesitate.
No fool, the Captain guessed what was expected of her. Straightening her back and blanking any emotion from her face, she drew her phaser and slowly circled the kneeling Torres. "Offering your life, Lieutenant Torres?" she questioned in a low drawl.
The Lieutenant did not answer, but shrank away in a passable imitation of terror. Janeway shrugged and gently lifted B'Elanna's face to look at her.
"That is a mistake, Lieutenant, as it is not yours to offer. Your worthless life is already mine to dispose as I see fit." She then smiled, her eyes so cold and brutal that for a moment B'Elanna felt a real thrill of fear.
"However," said the Captain conversationally, "for the moment I require your services, but your followers are not so fortunate." She slapped her comm badge dramatically and prayed the transporter crew would not query the odd phrasing.
"Voyager remove Kominsky, Walther, and Gerard now." The two ensigns looked suitably frightened as they began to shimmer in the transporter lock. The Verroth gasped and then an appalled hush fell on the normally noisy tribesmen as the crewmen disappeared into thin air.
Seven and B'Elanna remained kneeling. B'Elanna muttered quietly, "Leave them to me, Captain." Janeway acknowledged her request with a slight nod.
"I am offended by these Verroth Lieutenant," said Janeway loud enough for everyone to hear. "You will negotiate restitution from these creatures, but not with the buffoon who insulted me."
Seven and B'Elanna rose from their knees and advanced on the now rather impressed elders who watched them warily. Seven addressed them in her best Borg monotone that did not allow for disagreement or resistance.
"We require one of you - not you," she said as she stiff-armed Mythryn as he moved forward, stopping him forcibly in his tracks. "You will appoint another spokesman."
The Verroth shuffled about a bit, and then Scarface stepped forward seeing a chance to redeem himself before his fellows. "I will speak for the Verroth."
Trying to hide his fear, the self-appointed Verroth speaker, flanked by Seven and B'Elanna, approached the Starfleet Captain who now seemed much larger to everyone present. She and Tuvok had moved away from the gathered Verroth and as she turned a chill gaze on the quaking Verroth spokesman, he shuddered involuntarily.
Janeway scrutinized him carefully and allowed her disdain to show, before speaking to Commander Tuvok. She deliberately ignored the Verroth spokesman. "We require a tribute from the Verroth. Lieutenant Torres will negotiate a price for their salvation with this creature. You and I, Commander, will return to our camp and await the Lieutenant."
Janeway then returned her attention to the chief engineer. "I trust we will see you soon, Lieutenant Torres, bearing suitable gifts. Fail and you will share the fate of your crewmen."
'Overly melodramatic Captain - a touch of Arachnia Queen of the Spider People,' thought B'Elanna as she tried not to laugh and instead kept the proper degree of fearfulness. At least Scarface didn't seem amused.
Janeway turned about and marched smartly towards the perimeter of the village, back towards the agreed transporter location. Tuvok's eyebrow had reached his hairline. Extortion was not in Federation first contact rules but, as he reflected, not many of Janeway's actions in the Delta quadrant would meet with Starfleet approval. Permitting himself an inner sigh, the Vulcan followed his eccentric leader into the forest.
B'Elanna Torres folded her arms and focused her attention on the relieved, if somewhat peeved, Verroth. She could see him thinking that at least he wasn't going to have to talk to the terrifying redhead.
B'Elanna spoke slowly but with emphasis "Mythryn is a fool. He has insulted my leader and she must be compensated."
The Verroth replied "Mighty warrior this is a poor village, we have very little."
"Ha! You lie. But we are not robbers and it is true that you are unlikely to possess any wealth which would impress Janeway. What else can you offer?"
Scarface looked about slightly desperately. "We have food, women, fine weapons."
B'Elanna laughed unpleasantly "I do not think any of those things will be of interest to Captain Janeway. Perhaps we should end your suffering quickly rather than prolong this pointless negotiation."
She turned away and sighed theatrically. "Even if you are a foolish petaQ, it causes me sorrow to end our friendship this way. You offered shelter to my crew when we were in difficulty and in return I would like to be generous. But I cannot return to my Captain empty-handed. It would not go well for any of us."
There was a moment of silence while B'Elanna allowed the Verroth to consider what 'not going well' might entail before she spoke again, asking in a gloomy voice, "Seven of Nine do these qoHpu' Dogh possess anything of value with which to save their sorry hides?"
Seven made great play of examining her tricorder before responding "There is no useful technology or manufactured objects, Lieutenant, in the village. But I have observed the wreckage of our shuttle craft and numerous other Starfleet artifacts looted from the shuttle within the village." She picked up a piece of metal that appeared to be part of a warp manifold. "The return of what is ours may satisfy the Captain."
B'Elanna nodded agreement. "Your village is to collect all the Starfleet artifacts and debris in its possession and return them to us at this location. Do not attempt to hide or retain any articles. We will be able to detect it and Captain Janeway will not be merciful a second time.
The Verroth was having a hard time hiding his relief but he was crafty, and now he knew the wreckage had some value to the Starfleet crew he was honour bound to try and get some return for his village. "These pieces are of great religious significance to our people, Mighty Torres."
Seven asked curiously "The debris is widely used by your people as boot cleaners and door stops. What is the religious significance?"
Scarface had the grace to look embarrassed, and B'Elanna snorted and played busily with her comm badge. The Verroth peered at her nervously, worried that she might summon an invisible foe to snatch him from the air.
"Such things are gifts from the gods" he extemporized desperately, unwilling to give up all advantage but fearful that the Starfleet crew might take what they want and destroy the village anyway. "It would dishonour our Gods to simply discard such gifts."
Torres said nothing for nearly a minute and Scarface shifted uncomfortably wondering if he had gone too far. Eventually she spoke, sounding as bored as possible, "A small payment then, to appease your Gods and to seal our friendship. Say 500 pieces of your currency. No more, and remember this is between us Verroth, I do not want the Captain to know of the payment."
For a moment he thought about haggling and then thought better when he saw the Lieutenant twiddle again with her comm badge.
He slapped her back and beamed "A very generous contribution, Great Warrior. The Gods will be pleased." And so would his fellow Verroth. It was a sizable sum, not enormous, but on the other hand they were getting it for next to nothing. The elders had expected the negotiations to result in considerable loss to the Verroth. He would gain much credit with his fellows.
"You may go, Verroth. We require no further assistance from you." She deliberately turned her back on him.
"About payment, Mighty Torres." said Scarface and then yelped in pain as Seven grasped his wrist, twisted his arm behind his back and effortlessly forced the Verroth to his knees.
B'Elanna smirked menacingly, "I will make the 'contribution' when Captain Janeway is satisfied."
"Leave now." The ex-Borg lifted him bodily back on to his feet and released him. Scarface forgot his dignity and scurried away.
B'Elanna grinned approvingly at the former Borg. "Has anyone ever told you that you would make a great gangster not to mention actor."
The blonde was not sure if she had been complimented, from her understanding gangsters were not admirable people, but it was sufficient that her actions had met with B'Elanna Torres approval.
The engineer glanced round to ensure there were no Verroth in earshot. "Torres to the bridge; negotiations complete, Captain. The Verroth will collect and return all the debris. We will require 500 pieces of the local currency to complete the deal."
Chakotay replied, "Yes, we were listening on the open comm link. Good work, B'Elanna, you and Seven make your way to the transport area and get back up here."
~~~
Back on the bridge of Voyager, Captain Janeway was pleased with the outcome, but her self-satisfaction was short lived when Tuvok said with trademark acerbity. "I believe I should point out Captain that you have violated several Federation laws pertaining to piracy, theft, and misuse of Starfleet privileges."
She was defensive. "We have remunerated the Verroth generously in their terms. I grant a certain amount of subterfuge was used, but we have not directly interfered in their culture or destabilized the region. I think we can call this a good result if a trifle unorthodox."
Neelix had no reservations about the ploy. Years of surviving on the edge had left him with nothing but admiration for any strategy that avoided violence. The usual currency of the Delta Quadrant was phaser fire. He was effusive.
"I have to say that was an impressive performance. Seven and B'Elanna make a great team. I never suspected they would work so well together."
Tuvok said nothing but raised an eyebrow in vehement disapproval and Captain Janeway tried to avoid feeling guilty. But Neelix was right about one thing, she thought. B'Elanna and Seven of Nine made an unexpectedly strong team.
=Continued...=
Perfect Misfits by halfofone
Date added: 2000-07-01 Rating of this chapter: PG13
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Tom Paris was being given the same impression in sickbay where the other three members of the away team were being checked out. Kominsky and Walther were relating the stories from the mission, and taking turns to recount the exploits.
"I thought it was kinda sweet when Seven took on all those Verroth just to look after Lieutenant Torres." said Kominsky.
Gerard's girlfriend had arrived and was fussing around the science officer's bed. "You're losing it, Kominsky. You can't be talking about her glacial highness."
Kominsky smirked, "You tell that to your girlfriend - I tell you, Seven took a lot of trouble nursing her. I would never have believed a Borg could be that gentle. Got some competition there Fry."
Gerard shifted uneasily, since her girlfriend was famously jealous and quick to cause trouble. She tried to divert attention away from herself.
"Hey, purely professional interest, anyways it's Tom Paris that needs to worry about the Borg, not Fry. Lieutenant Torres was definitely finding resistance pretty damn difficult."
Tom put his head on one side and screwed up his baby blues in amused puzzlement. "What are you trying to say?"
"I am saying that Seven of Nine, late of the Borg collective, has a thing for Lieutenant Torres."
Gerard glanced at the other away team members for corroboration. They both shrugged and nodded.
Tom whistled slowly. "Well that's something I wouldn't have bet on," he said. The helmsman and part-time medic was amused but unconcerned by the revelation. "I'll bet B'Elanna was surprised too. I'd like to have seen her face."
Smiling lightly but feeling annoyed by his smug complacency, Gerard added, "Well, she may have been surprised at first but she sure took exception to any criticism of 'her Borg.' Nearly took my head off."
"Her Borg?" repeated Tom. "You are pulling my leg."
Gerard just smiled at him. He looked at the others with a cockeyed grin which faded when they evaded his eyes. "Oh get a life, Gerard." He walked away laughing and pretended to examine a specimen tissue sample but the suspicions squirmed in his consciousness, evading any attempt to extinguish them.
It was ridiculous. How could anybody link his B'Elanna with that Borg? Total nonsense. Some of these below decks officers had nothing better to do with themselves than make up completely stupid rumours. He was going to see B'Elanna and sort this out.
~~~
Tom was called to the bridge. He was relieved to get out of sick bay. When he arrived, Chakotay was discussing with Tuvok which additional personnel should go down to the surface and assist B'Elanna and Seven of Nine.
"Commander I'd like to go if possible. You know I haven't seen B'Elanna for over a week." Tom thought that if he could see B'Elanna then he would be able to lay his silly fears to rest.
Chakotay was benevolent as usual. "I don't see why not but don't get into any trouble down there, Tom, and don't stay long. The salvage operation shouldn't take more than 3 hours and the Captain is anxious to get on her way. I'll need you back here for your next shift. You can give B'Elanna and Seven a check up while your there, by way of excuse for the trip."
~~~
B'Elanna and Seven were sitting close together on a fallen tree when they caught sight of Tom materializing some yards away. B'Elanna hailed to him, "Hey, Tom! How did you wheedle a trip down here." She smiled at him without a trace of self-consciousness.
"Surprised to see me?" While he congratulated himself on his cool, he noticed that Seven of Nine looked awkward and had dropped her arm from B'Elanna's shoulder. 'So that's it,' he thought, 'the drone is putting the moves on my girlfriend.'
"Yeah, but it's a nice surprise, Tom. Are you gonna stay for dinner?" Seven stood up and began to walk away. "Seven, where are you going?"
"I must survey the collected salvage, Lieutenant." The drone spoke calmly enough, but to Tom's eye she looked upset.
B'Elanna did not notice the strained atmosphere. "Okay, but get your butt back here when you have finished. I want to introduce you to banana pancakes."
"Thank you, Lieutenant, but I would like to return to Voyager to regenerate." Seven sounded stilted and avoided looking at Tom. She backed away rapidly, disappearing through the trees towards the salavage site and this time even B'Elanna realised all was not right.
"What's up with her now?" she wondered out loud. "The survey could have waited!" It then occurred to her that perhaps Seven wasn't too happy around Tom. 'I am an insensitive pig,' she thought.
Tom interrupted her thoughts, "She's Borg. What more needs to be said, sweetheart? Seven doesn't really want to socialise with any of us. She has better things to do and I expect she wants to get back to Voyager and see the Captain. Make sure she is still numero uno in the collective."
B'Elanna frowned. "Don't talk about her like that, Tom. No more Borg jokes. I know I'm the last person to talk but we really have misjudged her. Granted she's not good with the small talk but neither am I, and she really is a good person and a good comrade."
Tom said casually, "Gerard says that's not all she wants to be."
B'Elanna looked at him sharply, and he knew he had made a mistake. "Is that why you are here, Tom?" she asked tightly.
Tom tried damage control, and whining. "Hey sweetheart, don't be mad. I just wanted to see you. I didn't pay any attention to Gerard. She was just mouthing off about how friendly you and the Borg were getting."
B'Elanna was having none of it. "Damn you, Tom! You know that I don't cheat. Hell, even Seven knows that."
Tom tried partial confession. "Look I'll admit I wanted to make sure you were okay and she wasn't putting you under any pressure, baby. I admit I was worried."
"Tom, this is me you are talking about. No one puts me under pressure unless they want multiple fractures." B'Elanna shook her head and clenched her fists. The helmsman backed away a little from the famous fists.
"Yeah I know, sweetheart, but she does think a little differently from us. You know 'God is on the side of the Borg battalions,' " he punned desperately.
"Tom, I warned you, quit with the Borg jokes. Seven is a human being now. One more crack about Seven's Borg history and you'll be history. Yes, she does have a crush on me but she knows I am with you and she accepts that. I really like her and at least I can be a friend to her, Tom. Seven is not some soulless drone and no one is going to make dumb comments about her in my presence."
Tom started to lose his coolness "Oh lighten up, B'Elanna. You don't need to get all heavy just because the Borg Babe has the hots for you. Flatters your ego, I'll bet, or is it more than that?"
She was shouting at him now. "Kahless, why am I putting up with this? Seven has a better opinion of me than you. At least she assumed I wouldn't cheat on you no matter how much I felt for her!" B'Elanna bit her tongue, but Tom was now so angry that he didn't notice the Engineer's slip.
"Yeah, well I don't know that for sure and neither do you. This is all self-righteous Klingon crap, B'Elanna, and you know it. If the shoe was on the other foot you wouldn't hesitate to think the worst of me." His pale face was flushed and angry.
"You have a point there, Tom, and we have a problem," said B'Elanna quietly.
"What do you mean?" Tom also lowered his voice. He was unpleasantly disconcerted by the engineer's abrupt change of tone. B'Elanna never stopped yelling in the middle of a fight.
"You don't trust me and I don't trust you," she stated flatly. They stared at each other before Tom began to shake his head.
"Oh no, you are not going to use that as an excuse to dump me for her. Don't go there B'Elanna."
"I don't need an excuse Tom. I need a reason to stay and I don't think you're going to find one."
Her anger had fizzled to nothing, and B'Elanna felt tired to the bone. She really liked Tom but it was never going to work between them. She wondered why she hadn't seen the plain and obvious truth before.
An uncomfortable inner voice which always sounded like her mother, nagged in her ear, 'Because then there was no-one better and now there is.'
"I won't stand for it, B'Elanna! You are not going to do this to us. That blonde bitch has poisoned your mind. She's a robot, B'Elanna, a machine. She won't be able to love you. What's she gonna do, assimilate you?"
"Tom, I'm sorry but just fuck off." Hand on comm badge. "Transporter room, remove Ensign Paris."
Up on Voyager the transporter crew looked at each other, before shrugging their shoulders and complying. "Why do they keep asking us to remove people? Is this some kind of new protocol?"
Tom Paris appeared in front of them still screaming abuse. As he realised what had happened, he froze and carefully adjusted his uniform jacket. "What are you looking at gentlemen? Never seen a transport before?"
Tom Paris left the transporter bay fuming. This was not over yet, by a long, long way.
~~~
B'Elanna stood and looked at the spot where Tom had been.
'You've burned your bridges now, Lanna,' said her Mother's voice.
She felt a burden lift off her. 'Yeah damn right they're burned,' she thought to herself and smiled.
The End
SHORT STORIES AUTHOR: lazydevil69 aka allie RATING: PG13 CODES: T/7 GENRE: ST: Voyager WARNINGS: These stories include same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further. ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where. DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't. No infringement of copyright/trade marks is intended. STATUS: Complete
Seven comes across Tal Celes' bodice ripper novel in Astrometrics and while reading it a certain Chief Engineer takes the place of the tall, dark leading man.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page.
Seven returned to Astrometrics after consuming her evening nutritional supplement alone in the mess hall. With nothing else to do and no friends available to spend her free time with, she had decided to spend the evening, before regeneration, upgrading the power conduits for the Astrometrics viewscreen.
Knowing that the calculations required would take up several hours of her time she entered Astrometrics on autopilot and headed towards the secondary console to begin inputting her calculations.
As she waited on the computer to return her results Seven turned suddenly and peered into the farthest corner of the lab. On entering Astrometrics she had noticed something out of place but had dismissed it as insignificant and irrelevant to her theories, but now that she had time to actually think about what she’d seen, she decided to investigate it.
Her long stride carried her to the other end of the lab in a matter of moments where she stooped to pick up the offending object.
A book.
An actual paper copy of a novel. It’s pages were worn and marked obviously by countless turnings of the pages. The slightly musky smell of decades’ old paper reached her nostrils as Seven straightened and read the title of the book. ‘Diamonds and Tears.’ Reading the back cover she discovered it was described as ‘A gripping romance novel set in early 1920’s England, capturing the essence of rural England’s aristocracy and the tangled love affairs of the upper class gentry.’
Flicking open the book Seven read from the first page she landed on. ‘The dark haired young man slid his arms around the young blonde female and gently ensconced her in his arms. Lowering his head to gently graze her lips with his, he whispered ‘I love you’ before tenderly kissing her full on the mouth. The unbridled passion which had been building since before the wedding ceremony was finally given free reign as their love and lust consumed them.’
Sighing gently, she closed her eyes and pictured the scene. Seven raised her eyebrow at the unbidden images dancing behind her eyes. In place of the dark haired male, her mind’s eye had an altogether different image of who was doing the kissing. Blushing furiously at the thought of that person getting close enough to actually share kisses with her she could only shake her head in wonder at the extravagant nature of the writing.
The Collective had deemed romance irrelevant and had discarded all knowledge of it from the races they had assimilated therefore Seven’s knowledge of the topic was severely lacking. The only data a drone required regarding the subject was whether the race would produce strong healthy bodies which would add to the Collective’s strength.
The sudden whoosh of the lab doors opening startled her into opening her eyes hurriedly; dropping the book at the base of her console and shoving it out of sight with her foot she turned to greet her visitor.
Blushing again at the unbidden thoughts of passion and perfection described in the book and desperately trying not to relate them to the woman standing in front of her Seven spoke quietly. “Good evening Lieutenant.”
Nodding in Seven’s direction Torres headed over to the main console and laid her toolkit on the floor beside it. Noticing the computer running a complicated looking computation she turned to Seven and queried. “Does this have much longer to run? I need to take apart the console to upgrade the converter.”
“It will be finished in 2.374 minutes Lieutenant. Why does my console need to be taken apart? It is not malfunctioning.”
“It will if I have to keep supplying you with additional power for that damned screen of yours. The converter will blow before much longer so I want it replaced before it happens.”
“You could have assigned the task to me Lieutenant rather than having to complete it yourself on your evening off.”
“And have you ‘upgrade’ my design and integrate even more Borg technology into my ship before I can blink? Not a chance Blondie!” The unintentional use of a moniker floored both of them. B'Elanna blushed to the roots of her hair while Seven’s ocular implant attempted to leave her forehead altogether.
“Blondie?” Seven ground out. “Is this another nickname you have for me? I thought you preferred Ice Princess or Barbie Borg?”
Desperately trying to regain control B'Elanna shrugged. “Yeah, well, those two are getting kinda old now, so I thought I’d try out a new insult for you. Like it?”
“No.” Seven had retreated to the secondary console to complete the computations and close down the programme she was running to allow the lieutenant to work on the main console. Stubbing her toe on the book she’d previously hidden there she frowned as she looked down at the offending item, romance was certainly different to real life.
Noticing the frown and the downward glance Torres followed the gaze downwards and spotted the novel. Sauntering over to the other console she grinned like a predator about to snack on lunch. “Whatcha hiding there Seven?”
“I am not hiding anything.” Seven retorted.
“So what’s that at your feet then?” She nodded, indicating the book.
“A novel.”
“I can see that. I didn’t think you were into reading books Seven. I took you more for instruction manuals and star charts.” B'Elanna leaned over swiftly and retrieved the novel before Seven could stop her. “Diamonds and Tears?”
“Apparently.” Seven acknowledge the title. “I found it earlier when I entered the lab. I presume it belongs to Tal Celes.”
“A likely story Seven! What’s it about?”
“I do not know. I have only read one brief paragraph from it. I have no idea what the story is about.”
Scanning the back of the book cover for a brief description of the contents B'Elanna grinned as she read ‘A gripping romance novel set in early 1920’s England, capturing the essence of rural England’s aristocracy and the tangled love affairs of the upper class gentry.’ “You’re into romance?”
“As I have already stated Lieutenant, the book is not mine. Regardless of ownership of the book, why are you surprised at the thought of me being “into romance” as you so eloquently put it?”
“All work, no play makes Seven a dull Borg. Somehow, the words Seven and romance in the same sentence don’t really fit together.”
“I could be very romantic Lieutenant.” Seven smirked.“You have never socialised with me to know how I behave when I am off duty or how I behave in romantic situations.”
“That I would love to see!” B'Elanna blurted out before she thought about what she was saying. “Seven in a romantic setting behaving like a normal human female.”
“Are you asking me on a date Lieutenant?” Seven tried not to sound too keen on the idea as she started towards the exit.
“What? No. I didn’t mean with me. I meant that I would like to see you behave less Borg-like and more human. I wasn’t asking you out.” B'Elanna retracted her words whilst blushing again.
“A pity Lieutenant. I would have agreed quite readily if you had.” Seven replied as she walked out of the lab.
B'Elanna's annoyed...
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page. Rating 18 due to implied violence.
Author:~allie
Hands Off
Storming into the Mess Hall B'Elanna Torres scoured the room to check on the location of her intended prey. Spying them sitting in a dimly lit corner of the room she stalked across to them, almost scaring the life out of one of the two occupants of the table, as she suddenly loomed large over her.
She’d spent the last six months putting up with this crap and she’d really had enough. Now it was time for her to humour her Klingon side and choose the honourable path to deal with this usurper.
Now she was gonna make her pay.
The previous six months had been both Sto-Vo-Kor and Grethor for B'Elanna as she alternated between ecstatically happy and downright miserable. The happiness only just made up for the misery; but, when trying to deal with the misery, she couldn’t recall the happy times and ended up even more irate at the situation than ever before.
Her Klingon rage had finally overthrown her human self-control and decided to exert its authority over her temperament and deal with this little toad the Klingon way.
She was gonna kick the crap outa her!
Slamming her hands down on the table she lowered herself into the face of the terrified woman and growled in fluent Klingon. “Is this a good day for you to die?”
Updating her Klingon language skills with long forgotten knowledge, with Seven’s assistance, was finally coming in useful for something other than private conversations in public places.
Satisfaction registered on her face in the form of a sneer as she saw the woman gulp visibly and turn a chalky shade of grey. The thin bead of sweat forming on the woman’s top lip allowed B'Elanna’s Klingon to gloat in satisfaction. --Damn, humans are so weak they scare at just the threat of violence.--
“I asked you a question Captain? Is this a good day for you to die?”
Terrified beyond comprehension she stammered “No. I don’t want to die. Please don’t hurt me?”
“Then for the last time, Seven is mine! Hands off!”
My First ever fanfic. My first attempt at comedy. Silliness follows...
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page. There's a little bit of Janeway & Chakotay bashing in this, so don't read if they're your favourites.
Author: ~allie
Nightmares
“AAAARRRRRGGGG”
She ran screaming from Cargo Bay 2, pounding hell for leather the length of the corridors. The only thought in her mind was safety from the thing following her.
It rather closely resembled a zombie from the old horror movie genre. All grey and gory and ewww, she couldn’t really think of another way to put it. It really was ewww.
I really have to stop thinking in NaomiWildman-speak she thought as she ran full tilt towards the turbo-lift her buxom heaving with exertion.
As soon as the lift doors opened, she dived inside.
Only to be confronted by another nightmare.
Janeway.
Wearing nothing but a short silk nightie, she leered at Seven with undisguised lust as she breathed closer to her.
“Oh Seven, I was just coming…” She smirked. “…to find you. I had a thought or two on how to further your quest for humanity.”
I can imagine just what you are thinking. I may be innocent but I am not stupid.
“Captain, I would love to hear what you have in mind but there is a zombie chasing me and I have to find a place of safety.”
“Well, my arms would be the safest place for you.” Old Janey smiled her sexy, sultry smile.
(Author: Oh God, did I just write that? Forgive me? Please?)
“I do not think so captain. Yours are not the safest arms on the ship.” Seven informed her coolly, as she flexed her Borg-enhanced fingers. But I do know who’s are and that is where I am going now
“Seven, we really should have a ‘philosophical discussion’ about dating and your love-life.” Janeway edged closer so that she could wrap her hand around Seven’s bicep.
oh should we now? And what would you say if I told you I have a perfectly perfect love life and you do not fit any where in the equation?
“Captain, I am sorry, but I really do not have time for this. The Zombies will have taken the next lift and followed me to my ultimate destination. Please forgive me?” Seven tried to look repentant (Author: or whatever the right words is, insert your own if you can think of a better one) as she called out to the computer for a site-to-site transport.
Seven tried not to smile as she thought of where she had just sent the captain. She knew from a previous discussion with Chakotay that he would be in the holo-deck communing with nature; probably in a loincloth and not much else.
(Author: Why do I write such things – am I trying to make my readers ill?)
The turbo-lift finally let her off on Deck nine, Section Twelve. She raced along the corridor, buxom heaving, trying desperately not to think of the horrors following her.
She knew she would only have a few minutes to spare before they caught her. She belted the door chime with her human hand muttering to herself about the inefficiency of doors being locked while she was scared and needing entry.
A rather grumpy, sleep-tousled Torres opened the door and growled at her “Vat do you vant? I vas schleeping; and you haf vakened me. Dis had better be good Borg or I am gonna rip your arms off and beat you vif them over de head.”
“B’Elanna, why do you have a bad German accent?”
“Because it is in the challenge, stupid Borg. I must play the part I am assigned. Even if it means I haf to use a very bad, very fake German accent.” Her accent really was terrible. “Vot do you vant anyway?”
“There are zombies chasing me. I need protecting.” Seven almost pouted at the engineer. “I am scared.”
“So you came to the half Klingon vif a bad accent and vorse temper for protection? You really are a stupid Borg!”
“Not so stupid. I sent Janeway to commune with Chakotay instead of accepting her not so subtle sexual advances.”
Torres smirked and pulled the blonde into her quarters. “Vell, you may not be so stupid but…”
The rest of her sentence was cut off as Seven captured her lips with her own.
Torres & Seven discuss how to deal with sexual harrassment in the workplace.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page.
Author: ~allie
Rating: 18 for implied violence and rude language.
Straight and Narrow
“Reporting his harassment of us to Captain Janeway is the most logical conclusion to reach B'Elanna.”
“I know, but maybe it would be kinder just to kick his ass and tell him not to be such a dickhead!”
“It is unlikely that he would heed such a warning, he is not known for his ability to see that which is staring him in the face. He did, after all, pine after the Captain for several years before he realised he didn’t have a chance with her romantically.”
“He’s certainly not the sharpest tool in the toolkit Seven, but he is my commanding officer I know he appreciates the straightforward more than the subtle approach. I still think kicking his ass would be the best choice.”
“Can you think of any other way to prevent his continuation of this ludicrous plan of his?”
“Nope.”
“Very well then, you can “kick his ass” at the earliest opportunity.”
“Really? I can’t believe you would actually agree to it. You are usually so pacifistic. You really don’t have any other suggestions. I’m more shocked at that, than you actually agreeing to let me kick his ass.”
“We have exhausted 43 different scenarios where we use a non-violent solution to Chakotay’s entreaties to me spending the night with him to cure my fascination with you; and in his words “to put me back on the straight and narrow”. His conviction, that if I spend one night in his bed, that I will return to heterosexual behaviours is ludicrous. I am “not wired” that way.”
“Oh, I know that only too well benal. I know exactly how you are wired, both externally and internally.”
“Stop leering at me B'Elanna. We do not have time for you to put your libidinous thoughts into action. We are supposed to be concentrating on how to prevent Chakotay trying to entice me into his bed every time I see him.”
“I thought we’d solved that already? I’m gonna kick his ass next time he propositions you.”
“B'Elanna, I will refrain from wearing normal clothing and return to wearing a bio-suit when we are off-duty, if you do not refrain from trying to undress me. Of the 43 scenarios we have discussed, only two are possible solutions to the dilemma which would not result in you being incarcerated in the Brig for the next forty years. Of those two solutions, mine is the path of least resistance. There would be no bloodshed. Janeway would deal with the situation for us and Chakotay would finally get the message.”
“Oh! I just thought of something! Janeway hates getting involved in the crew’s personal lives so she may just tell us to take a hike and deal with it ourselves.”
“That is something I have considered. If that was the way she reacted then I would withdraw my labour until she fulfilled the promises she made me when I was disconnected from the hive.”
“What promises?”
“She promised she would protect me from harm during my transition from Borg drone to human female. My transition is incomplete; therefore her promise is still valid. She has no option but to protect me from him.”
“Benal, it’s my job as your wife to protect you, not Janeway’s. We will tell her, then, if she does nothing, you withdraw your labour and I’ll kick his ass! Deal?”
“Agreed.”
“Good, now can I take your clothes off and ravish you?”
Seven just smirked as she beckoned her wife to follow her into the bedroom......
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Author Note: *and this is where you have to use your imaginiation as to what happens next* ;-)
“That’s what we dream about, isn’t it? For someone who looks so deeply into our soul that they’d find something worth dying for.”
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Author: ~allie
That’s What We Dream About
“That’s what we dream about, isn’t it? For someone who looks so deeply into our soul that they’d find something worth dying for.”
The words echoed dully through the fog of her consciousness. They reverberated around her brain until she could hear nothing else except them and the rush of her own blood pounding in her ears.
Somehow she knew that the speaker of those words had meant something more than she had picked up at the time. It wasn’t just a sarcastic comment directed at her in one of her usual tirades.
It was a plea. Or at least it seemed to be...but what was it a plea for? Absolution? No, it couldn’t be that. There was nothing to forgive.
They’d made peace with one another months ago. They’d become friends who regularly spent off duty hours involved in shared passions. They had overcome their usual hostility and begun a friendship which meant more them than to anyone else on the ship.
The others couldn’t fathom why they had suddenly ceased hostilities.
They wouldn’t understand.
They couldn’t understand.
They had no way of knowing that when the hostilities had ceased and they actually started talking, rather than shouting at each other, they had more in common than either of them realised.
Their love of joint pursuits meant that almost every waking hour not spent on duty was spent together, either in the privacy of B'Elanna’s quarters or Cargo Bay 2.
Their time was never idle though, it was spent converting part of the cargo bay into quarters for Seven and modifying one of the alcoves into a smaller version of itself.
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During their conversation the previous evening they had been discussing the subject of love, a subject which completely confounded Seven. B'Elanna had commented that she often dreamed about meeting her “third heart”.
“Explain?” Seven demanded.
“You know that Klingon’s have two hearts, well when we refer to our “third heart” we mean the person who completes us. The one we will spend our lives and beyond with. When we reach the gates of Sto-Vo-Kor it is them we wish to meet if they have already passed, if they haven’t then we want them to perform the death wail for us to have warned Sto-Vo-Kor of our coming. I think the best way to explain it is to call the person we are referring to as our ‘eternal love’.”
Frowning slightly Seven sought further clarification. “You dream of this person?”
“I haven’t actually had the dream for a while now, but yeah, I’ve dreamt about her. That’s what we all dream about, isn’t it? For someone who looks so deeply into our soul that they’d find something worth dying for. For someone who makes my hearts flutter, my palms sweaty and my pulse race quicker than a warp core breech.”
Seven latched onto one word in that sentence and felt her own pulse rocket. “Her”; B'Elanna wanted her third heart to be a female and had dreamt it so. “Why did the dreams stop?”
“I don’t really know. I think it’s because I’ve met her now, but knowing the kind of luck I have, I’ve probably let her slip right through my hands.” B'Elanna sighed ruefully.
“When did the dreams stop?” Seven demanded in her usual forthright style.
“I dunno, a while ago I think.” B'Elanna paused to consider the question. As realisation dawned upon her she could feel the colour drain from her face and her pulse suddenly become supercharged.
“B'Elanna?” Seven noticed the changes immediately. “Are you functioning adequately?”
“Erm...yeah...fine...listen I gotta go. I’ll see you later.” Torres fled with no consideration for Seven’s feelings or the incomplete regeneration alcove.
~~~~~~
Now, trying to fathom the reaction of her friend and the profundity of the statement Seven found herself at a loss. She couldn’t really reconcile the savage Klingon with such tenderness as indicated by B'Elanna’s phrase. “That’s what we dream about, isn’t it? For someone who looks so deeply into our soul that they’d find something worth dying for.”
Trying to work out why she had suddenly fled when asked when the dreams had stopped was giving Seven a headache. She turned the conversation over in her head repeatedly. There was no indication that any offence could have been taken inadvertently; there was nothing to indicate that Seven had accidentally upset B'Elanna.
There was no cause for her to flee.
Unless...
Seven left the cavernous bay and headed towards the closest turbolift as she spoke. “Computer, what is Lt. Torres' location?”
“Lt. Torres is in her quarters.”
“Is she awake?” Seven queried, her internal chronometer suddenly making her conscious of the early hour.
“Affirmative.”
When she reached the door to B'Elanna’s quarters Seven experienced a rare bout of apprehension. So many “what if” scenarios ran through her mind; questions, which would remain unanswered until she rang the chime on B'Elanna’s door.
Gathering her courage she pressed the chime and requested entrance. Moments later B'Elanna appeared, dishevelled and tired, looking like she’d spent the night pacing her quarters rather than resting. Indicating Seven to join her, she moved into her quarters and settled on the sofa.
Seven drew herself to her fullest height, took a deep breath and blurted. “Your dreams stopped when I came on board.”
“Yes.”
“That is why you were so hostile to me.”
“Yes.”
“You were unconsciously invoking a Klingon Mating ritual.”
“Yes.”
“You wish to engage in non-reproductive cop...”
“Stop!” B'Elanna roared rising from her seat so quickly she almost overbalanced. “No, I don’t want to copulate with you.” At Seven’s raised eyebrow she continued. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’ve been in love with you longer than either of us realise. I’ve been dreaming about you for years and only realised it last night.”
Giving into her human side’s need for tenderness, she sank to her knees; grasped Seven’s left hand in her own and whispered. “I love you Seven, will you marry me?”
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*(I'll leave it to you, the reader, to decide the answer ;-))
fandom: Star Trek VOYAGER pairing: TORRES & SEVEN rating: 18 summary: AU Fic: Ro Laren makes a guest appearance as First Officer. Chakotay was left in the Alpha Quadrant. Seven is tempted to do something out of character. B'Elanna is furious. Disclaimer: TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit. warnings: Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further. Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1. This series has a definite 18 rating as it contains scenes of a graphic sexual nature in later chapters.
AU Fic: Ro Laren makes a guest appearance as First Officer. Chakotay was left in the Alpha Quadrant. Seven is tempted to do something out of character. B'Elanna is furious.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1. This series has a definite 18 rating as it contains scenes of a graphic sexual nature in later chapters.
Seven smirked slightly at the sight of her wife. She knew she had angered her wife with her last comment and knew that if B’Elanna lost her temper there would be Grethor to pay. Even after ten years of marriage, she still found it fascinating to watch the passionate woman.
B’Elanna for her part was desperately trying to reign in her Klingon temper and not lose control over this incident. She knew that there was a perfectly good explanation behind Seven’s confession; if only she could get her inner Klingon to shut up long enough to let her listen to it. Her human side was a lot more reasonable than the Klingon; she wanted to listen to the explanation, the Klingon wanted to rip something apart and beat someone over the head with it.
“B’Elanna?” Seven’s husky voice growled. As her wife turned back to look at her she raised her ocular implant and tilted her head. “I was not unfaithful to you.”
“Right at this moment; I don’t give a damn!” B’Elanna fumed; her notoriously short fuse about to blow. “The fact that you thought about it is enough to piss me off!”
“Your logic is flawed as usual B’Elanna; there is a very distinct difference between thinking about something and actually doing said something.”
Seven’s cold Borg logic seemed to inflame B’Elanna further. She stalked from the room in search of…something that wasn’t her wife at this moment in time.
Entering their bedroom, she threw herself onto their bed and covered her eyes with her arm sighing heavily. Maybe she was being unreasonable; maybe she was being childish; maybe she was even being ‘illogical’ like her wife accused her of being…but said wife had all but admitted to kissing another woman!
That thought raced through her mind. It wouldn’t leave her alone. Her inner demons had Seven in a full on relationship with this woman and telling B’Elanna she wanted a divorce.
“Why? Why did she tell me? I know that Seven can’t keep secrets, she’s too honest and logical for that, but why the Grethor did she tell me?”
Her inner nag decided it was time to give her some answers to her questions.
“Weelllll…you see, you work 15 hour shifts, and you leave her alone for hours on end and she is one of the most beautiful women in this quadrant. Did you really think no one else would notice her?” the nagging little voice was taunting her and she knew it.
“Yeah, but she works just as long as I do. And of course I know other people look at her, she’s beautiful so of course they look. But she thought about it!” B’Elanna argued with herself.
“Yeah, thought about it for a few seconds.”
“For a Borg, a few seconds is like an eternity for the rest of us.”
“B’Elanna, you really need to get a lid on your jealousy. She thought about it for Kahless sake. She didn’t go through with it.”
“She thought about kissing Ro Laren. She was close enough to her that their breath mingled and their noses touched. That’s what she told me. You know Seven; her eidetic memory allows her to repeat verbatim what happened.”
Unable to control the tears she had been holding back B’Elanna started sobbing. “What if she leaves me for her?”
Stepping into the room quietly Seven answered the question. “I would never leave you Bang’wI. I love you.”
“Oh, Seven!” B’Elanna threw herself into her wife’s arms as Seven sat on the edge of the bed. Sobbing loudly she pulled Seven into a tight embrace knowing her Borg physiology could cope with Klingon strength.
Tightening her own grip Seven tenderly kissed the ridges on her beloved’s brow. “I love only you. I was tempted for 0.0035 seconds to respond to the romantic overtures from Ro Laren. I did not however allow her to kiss me. That is something I reserve for only you.” Seven whispered in her wife’s ear. “ONLY you; no one else has ever kissed me. Nor will they.”
Raising her head from the shoulder she was crying on, B’Elanna swiped at the tears flowing down her face. “You mean that?”
“Indeed. I will never kiss another.” Seven vowed. “That is a promise I have always kept.”
“But you thought about it?” B’Elanna couldn’t get the thought out of her head.
“Yes. She handed me a padd with data regarding the next sector of space. Our fingers brushed together. She grabbed my hand and pulled me towards her. As you know we are of a similar height, so her face was very close to mine. I knew from the look on her face that she was about to kiss me. Her eyes were hooded and I could smell her arousal. It was then that I thought about it.”
B’Elanna gasped, even though Seven was repeating exactly what she’d told her earlier it still shocked her to hear it.
“She leaned our joined hands against my chest and grazed her nose gently against mine. At this point I pulled away reminding her that I am a married woman; married to a Klingon.”
Klingon jealousy over the faithfulness of their partners is legendary so B’Elanna knew that Seven had been making a strong point by bringing that into the conversation.
“She laughed and told me that she wasn’t afraid of you. She said she could handle ‘the little Klingon’ and tried again to kiss me. I reminded her that there was nothing more dangerous in the quadrant than a jealous Klingon and moved out of her grip. She glared at me; called me ‘Ice Princess’ and left Astrometrics. That is all that happened.”
“She called you ‘Ice Princess’?” B’Elanna asked in disbelief. She hadn’t picked up on that earlier. “I’ll rip her heart out and feed it to my targ! That’s my pet name for you; no one else should be using it!”
Seven’s face lit up in a beautiful smile, her beloved was finally focussing on something else. There would be no more discussion of her supposed indiscretion for a while. She watched, as her wife stalked from one end of the bedroom to the other mumbling under her breath just exactly what she would do to Ro Laren when she got her hands on her.
Catching her wife in a strong grip as she passed her again, Seven pulled her into her lap. “There has been too much talk about kissing…” She whispered, raising her face to her wife. Taking the hint B’Elanna proceeded to kiss her senseless.
Ro Laren questions her sanity.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1. Please be aware that later chapters are rated 18.
Striding swiftly from Astrometrics Ro Laren mumbled under her breath completely oblivious to anyone or anything else around her.
“Have I just made the biggest mistake of my life? Have I completely lost my mind or has an alien taken possession of my body and manipulated me?”
“Whatever the reason, I’d better think of it soon because as soon as the ‘little Klingon’ finds out what I’ve had done there is going to be Hell to pay. There is no way such an honour-bound person like B’Elanna will let me away with what I have just tried to do.”
“Spirits preserve me. She is going to rip my heart out and feed it to me! There isn’t anywhere in the Quadrant I will be able to hide when she comes looking for me.”
Without realizing how she got there she punched her entry code into the pad at her quarters. Stepping inside she blew out a huge sigh as she made for the replicator. One very large Klingon blood-wine in hand later she made for the large sofa in her main room. Flopping down; her monologue continued unabated as she drank the potent liquid.
“I called her ‘Little Klingon’ how stupid am I? Is there no end to the insanity? ‘Little Klingon’ indeed, she’ll snap me into little bits when she gets her hands on me and feed me to her pet targ. Or she would if she had a real one. What was I thinking of; boasting that I wasn’t afraid of her? The woman is a walking war-zone when she gets started. Oh, and by the way Laren, what better way to start her than to try to kiss her wife?”
The alcoholic content of the blood-wine was quickly taking effect on her system as she gulped mouthful after mouthful. Returning to the replicator for a refill her thoughts centred on how she would be able to avoid a furious Klingon; for the next fifty or so years.
“I’m the bloody First Officer! I’m supposed to be above things like this, this is more like a stunt Paris would try to pull off, not something the second in command of a starship should do. Janeway has it right; holograms are a lot less trouble. B’Elanna is going to kill me. I will be able to avoid her for a few days but for years? Nope, not likely. She’s gonna track me down and hurt me.”
Gazing at her again empty glass she glowered trying to remember drinking it. Lurching from her semi-recumbent position on the sofa she almost fell over her own feet. Blood-wine shouldn’t be drunk by amateurs and Laren was a definite light-weight when it came to alcohol.
“When Seven tells her; and she will, make no doubt about it, she will tell her everything. Every minute detail. Hell, she’ll probably be able to tell her how high my blood pressure was when I thought she might just kiss me back. She’ll tell her how I tried to make her unfaithful to her Bang’wI. She’ll get me killed. It’s all her damned fault.”
Ro had heard many tales of Blood-wine reducing full grown Klingons to quivering wrecks if they drunk too much so her slight Bajoran physique was in no way capable of coping with the alcoholic content of the empty again glass. It was also reducing her mental capacity to mush.
“If she wasn’t so beautiful, I would never have tried to kiss her. It’s her fault. If she has anyone to blame for her infidelity it’s herself, not me. I could see her thinking about it, for almost a second, she wanted to kiss me. B’Elanna may kill me for trying to kiss her, but will she kill Seven for thinking about it? No, she’ll probably just let her away with it, even though thinking about kissing another woman is cheating in my book.”
Ro threw the glass at the wall opposite her in disgust.
“B’Elanna may be big on honour, but will she allow her wife this indiscretion? Oh Laren, why ask? You know the answer yourself. Of course she will. Seven is perfection to the Little Klingon. There is no way she won’t forgive her. You get to die, or at least damaged severely, and the ‘Ice Princess’ gets off scot-free. When did the rules of monogamy change? Thinking about it is as bad as doing it! That’s what I was taught. She thought about it. She wanted to. Oh, crap, B’Elanna is gonna kill me.”
The sudden chirping of her door chime made her jump about a foot in the air. Struggling to rise above the stupor she’d drunk herself into she was about to call out to the computer for the identity of the person outside her door. Before she could ask the computer the person outside bellowed loud enough for her to hear.
“Ro Laren, get out here! I want a word with you about trying to kiss my ‘Ice Princess’!”
The third installment of Temptation...this section is from B'Elanna's POV.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
thanks to jamie for her betawork...you're a goddess my love...thanks to karen for putting up with me whilst I wrote this monster fic.
TEMPTATION – The Third Bit
“Ro Laren, get out here! I want a word with you about trying to kiss my ‘Ice Princess’!” B’Elanna bellowed from the corridor. She knew that Ro would hear her. She also knew that if she got physical with the first officer in public that Janeway would throw her in the brig.
Silently counting to ten she waited for Ro to open the door to her quarters. Having spoken to Seven about what had happened she believed that Ro had taken advantage of her wife. Even after ten years of marriage she still felt that Seven was an innocent. Not quite as innocent as in the beginning, but definitely still an innocent.
There was no way she was going to allow Ro “P’taQ” Laren make a mockery of their vows by placing Temptation in Seven’s path. She was going to…
…laugh her head off. Ro had opened the door to her quarters and stumbled out into the corridor falling flat on her face. The overpowering smell of Klingon Blood-wine permeated the small area. Ro Laren was absolutely plastered! (Really drunk for the non-Glaswegian’s in the audience)
From her position on the floor Ro mumbled something which sounded like “amnutafreyda-u tortoise” and tried to pick herself up. Grasping at the Klingon’s legs and body she managed to haul herself up B’Elanna until they were breast to nose.
B’Elanna frowned at the hands pawing her legs and body. They were getting a little too close for comfort for her. She gasped and froze for a second as she suddenly came nose to breast with a very drunk Bajoran.
Steeling herself for a confrontation she moved Ro out of her personal space and back towards her quarters. This conversation was not one she was willing to have in public.
The inebriated officer was putty in her hands as she was heaved onto her sofa. Watching her land with an audible whoosh of discomfort B’Elanna suppressed a grin. This was better than expected. She would be able to say whatever she wanted without reprisal. Ro was too drunk to be able to remember what was said.
“Don’t you dare B’Elanna.” Her inner nag sounded just like Seven. “That would be unacceptable.”
Sighing heavily, she glared at Ro who was desperately trying to focus on her. “Why did you try to kiss my wife?” B’Elanna quizzed. “You know she’s married, so why did you try?”
“I thought she wanted to kiss me.” Ro responded. “When our hands touched it was like she was hinting to me to kiss her.”
“Touching hands means kissing in your warped world?” B’Elanna only just restrained herself from bellowing. “You tried to kiss my wife! Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t rip you apart?”
“Because - I’m drunk?” Ro giggled. “You wouldn’t hit someone who obviously can’t defend themselves would you?”
“You’re right, I wouldn’t. But…answer me this? Are you going to stay drunk for the rest of the trip home?”
The look on Ro’s face was priceless; this was one solution she hadn’t considered. Being drunk for the next fifty years or be on the receiving end of Klingon justice? “Yeah. Drunk for years. That’s good.”
“You tried to tempt her and make her break her vows. Why?”
“Because, she’s beautiful. It’s her fault. She’s too beautiful. No one should be allowed to be that beautiful. She wanted to kiss me too. Did she tell you that?” Ro rambled.
“Yes. She told me that she thought about it for a second. But pushed you away. You laughed at her. When she reminded you that she’s married: to me; you told her you weren’t afraid of the “Little Klingon” and tried to kiss her again. When she refused to kiss you, you called her “Ice Princess” and walked away. Did I miss anything?” Seeing Ro shake her head B’Elanna continued. “Why Ro? There are plenty of single women on this ship, why go after Seven?”
“I wanted a little of the happiness you two have. I wanted a little piece of Borg Perfection for myself. No one; except you can say you’ve experienced that!” Ro spat out jealously. “You don’t deserve her.”
“Neither do you.” B’Elanna turned and headed to the door. As the mechanism triggered she turned back and growled. “Ro, one more thing?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t ever call her “Ice Princess” again or I will rip you apart.”
Chapter 4 - Janeway's musings over the incident
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Thanks to Jamie for betawork...thanks to Karen for putting up with me whilst I wrote this monster...
TEMPTATION – The Fourth Feature
“Captain’s Personal Log Supplemental – A rather unusual occurrence in the Delta Quadrant happened today; an argument involving B’Elanna Torres which didn’t result in bloodshed. I was alerted by a couple of crewmen of a potential conflict outside Ro Laren’s Quarters. B’Elanna was bellowing for her to come out and face her. I wasn’t told why, just that it was happening. I rushed from the bridge to Deck Three to try to calm any conflict between them.”
“Everything had been going so well for B’Elanna in recent years; she'd settled down and lost the edge off her Klingon temper when she and Seven married. They’ve even begun to talk about having a baby!”
“When I got to Ro’s quarters, I saw B’Elanna shove Ro out of her personal space and move her into the room. She did not look pleased at how Ro had pawed her way up her body. Oh, how I would love to have been on the receiving end of that treatment. I wouldn’t have shoved Ro away; I’d have pulled her closer and ravished her in the corridor.”
“As I stood there dreaming about Ro and having hugely inappropriate thoughts about my First Officer’s naked body wrapped around mine Seven appeared at my side.
She nodded at me and raised her left eyebrow as she spoke “Have they gone inside?”
I replied that they had. It was here she told me why her wife was about to confront Commander Ro. She smirked after she had filled in the details. She seemed so calm and unaffected by the whole debacle. They were about to fight over her; her honour; her fidelity and she stood there smirking.”
“There are some days I want to slap myself for ever having entertained lustful thoughts of Seven and me together. She’s much too…I don’t know what; I really wouldn’t mind Ro wrapped around me though; preferably naked.”
“We could hear voices from inside but I couldn’t make out the words. Seven could, you could tell by the look on her face that she was able to hear every word: even with the soundproofing. She seemed to straighten and stand even taller just as the doors whooshed open.”
“B’Elanna had her back to the door, her posture relaxed but wary. From my angle I could make out Ro, seemingly slouched across her sofa. She didn’t look like she’d been in a fight…and what was that smell?”
“Don’t ever call her “Ice Princess” again or I will rip you apart.” She spoke quietly.
“Seven’s ocular implant made a dash for the ceiling and I thought I’d faint. This was new; B’Elanna giving a warning rather than a beating? I could hardly believe it. She strode from the room into Seven’s waiting embrace. They kissed tenderly then B’Elanna muttered something too low for me to hear. Seven smiled, a full on honest to God smile, lifted B’Elanna bodily and strode towards the turbolift.”
“I had a feeling I knew what they would be doing for the next few hours. I entered Ro’s quarters just before the door closed and blushed to the roots of my hair…Ro Laren was sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor; wearing nothing but her jewellery and a smile.”
Questions, a pregnancy for one of the crew and more questions than answers
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
B’Elanna staggered from the bathroom holding her stomach which was cramping in agony. She was a Klingon, she should be able to cope with a little pain, but this was excruciating. Why in Grethor had she agreed to this madness?
Six Months Earlier
Seven carried her from Ro Laren’s open doorway to the turbolift. While waiting she kissed her wife tenderly before setting her down. “Do you really mean it B’Elanna?”
“Of course I do Bang’wI. We’ve been married ten years now; I think it’s time for us to start our own family. I want us to have a baby.” She smiled.
“I will conduct research on maternal roles and typical behaviour for both Klingon and Human children.” Seven stated with her usual efficiency.
“I’d much rather you took me home and made love to me.” Smirked B’Elanna. “It will be much more fun than research.”
“Indeed.” And up went the ocular implant causing B’Elanna’s pulse to race.
In Ro’s quarters Janeway was rooted to the spot. Ro was naked, wearing nothing but her jewellery and a smile which brightened at the sight of the Captain. She’d managed to pull most of her clothes off while B’Elanna was leaving her quarters. She’d tripped though as she tried to pull her trousers off which was why she was in a heap on the floor.
“Captain, help a poor girl up?” Ro pouted. “My legs don’t seem to work properly.”
“Oh Ro, what did you do?” Janeway asked as she offered a hand.
“I tried to kiss Seven; she refused and told B’Elanna who shouted at me. I got drunk and my legs don’t work now.” Ro had the most endearing pout.
“What were you drinking? Blood-wine, I presume? Nothing else gets you in this state.
“Yeah. I just wanted to forget what I’d done. Captain, Kathryn, can I talk to you off the record?”
“”Don’t you think you’d be better waiting until you’re sober?” Kathryn was having a hard job keeping her eyes on Ro’s face. Her mind was working overtime. Her thoughts were definitely libidinous. And they were going to get her into trouble shortly if Ro didn’t put some clothes on.
“Nope. I won’t be able to talk about it if I sober up.” Ro moved slightly towards her, causing Janeway’s heart-rate to soar.
Gulping, she squeaked. “Put on a robe then?”
Emboldened by the alcohol in her system Ro grinned. “Why? Don’t you like my body?”
Under her breath Janeway mumbled, “Just a little too much.”
Steeling her gaze she managed to answer aloud. “If you want to have this conversation off the record, then you get dressed.”
Flouncing away from her muttering about not being appreciated by anyone Ro staggered into her bedroom. Grabbing her robe from her bed and throwing it on, she returned to the sofa.
“Kathryn, I want to ask you something and I want you to answer as a woman, not as my Captain. Okay?”
“Go on.” Kathryn replied not committing herself until she heard the question.
“Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to kiss Seven?” Ro asked.
Kathryn made her way over to the replicator, ordering two very strong, very black coffees, she answered. “Not anymore. I used to before she and B’Elanna got together. But once I knew they were serious it felt inappropriate. Thinking about kissing another woman’s wife is dangerous territory.”
“What do you mean?” Ro was puzzled.
“Thinking about it brings all kinds of questions into the mix Ro. How would you feel if someone else was lusting over your wife?” Kathryn tried to explain.
“I’m not married though, so how does me thinking about kissing Seven cause problems?”
Janeway sat on the sofa beside Ro and tucked her right leg beneath her. Settled, she continued. “If nothing else Ro, it’s inappropriate. She’s married. She took her vows with B’Elanna and promised to honour them. You trying to kiss her makes a mockery of those vows. She promised faithfulness; you give her temptation”
“She thought about kissing me back.” Ro defended.
“Most people would. If a beautiful woman tried to kiss you, most would at least think about it; but that in itself can cause problems.”
“How?”
“Is it cheating on your partner if you think about it? Or is it only cheating if you actually do it? There are so many answers and so many reactions to each one.”
“B’Elanna was going to rip me a new one; until I fell flat on my face.” Ro grimaced at the thought of a painful beating from the feisty Klingon.
“In her place, I would have too.” Kathryn admitted. “I think you should get some sleep. Get the Blood wine out of your system and stay away from both of them for a while.”
“Yes Captain.” Ro mock saluted. “Kathryn, do you find me attractive?”
Stunned at the sudden change in subject and tone coming from Ro Kathryn could only gape. Her libido stood up and starting giving the rest of her body orders. Her pulse rocketed and her face coloured several interesting shades of scarlet.
“You haven’t answered me Kathryn.”
Her command mask slipped into place like a well worn glove. “Have dinner with me, tomorrow. Sober. Then we can continue this conversation.” Her voice remained surprisingly strong considering she had not intended on asking Ro for a date.
“Where?” Ro was almost as surprised as Janeway was at the request.
“My quarters. I’ll have Neelix send something nice.” She laughed. Her lack of culinary skills was legendary among the Voyager crew. “Nineteen hundred hours?”
“Okay.” Ro whispered. The thought of a date with the Captain overshadowed everything else. As Kathryn left her quarters Ro sank back into the sofa and sighed. “Oh, Spirits help me. I just agreed to a date with the Captain.”
END FLASHBACK
------
Lowering herself carefully to the sofa B’Elanna cursed her wife. Klingon physiology and Borg neo-natal nanoprobes were never meant to mingle. She was supposed to be pregnant for nine months, growing slowly, getting used to the change in her centre of gravity and swollen belly. Not built like the side of a shuttle and due to give birth any moment now after just six months.
Another labour pain stabbed through her abdomen causing her to gasp loudly. She couldn’t even double over because of the size of her belly. Slapping her comm badge she growled. “Torres to Seven of Nine.”
Replying from her spot on Janeway’s sofa Seven smiled. “Yes Bang’wI? I’m here.”
“You may be there, but I need you here. Your child is about to put in an appearance.” Seven, Ro and Kathryn could hear the obvious distress in B’Elanna’s tone.
As Seven turned in her seat to look at the doorway Janeway and Ro both smiled; Seven was still so innocent sometimes. Two seconds later they both witnessed something they never expected of the ex-Borg:
She fainted.
Sex and Senior Officers
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Six months earlier
Had she been in the Alpha Quadrant Janeway would have contacted her sister to discuss the ramifications of her actions with Ro. Since she wasn’t she was sprawled her length on the couch in her Ready Room and listening to her conscience.
“Katie, you have a bloody cheek to lecture Ro Laren on the morality of monogamy and the dangers of temptation. I thought you wanted to uphold the ‘Starfleet Ideal’ and not get involved with a crew member?”
“I know Phoebe, I know. I’m having a sexual relationship with a bloody hologram to try to cure the frustration of being alone out here. But Ro is so tempting. She’s beautiful, strong-willed, passionate, intelligent and extremely resourceful. How could I not ask her for a date? The opportunity arose?”
“You are playing with fire Katie. Just watch you don’t get burned.” Her conscience warned.
The chirping of the Ready room door startled Janeway out of her conversation with her conscience. Calling for the doors to open she sat up properly and adjusted her uniform jacket. Back to business she thought with a sigh.
--
The following morning saw Ro Laren struggling to remember anything that had happened the previous evening. She did remember that she had stumbled from her doorway into her bedroom and had promptly passed out. The before that part was vague.
She remembered trying to kiss Seven and being rejected. She remembered coming to her quarters and drinking a glass of Klingon Blood Wine; but not a lot else.
Suddenly bolting upright she got a flash of conversation. “Have dinner with me, tomorrow. Sober. Then we can continue this conversation.” Her stomach lurched at the sudden movement and her heart stopped momentarily.
She’d agreed to a date with the Captain.
“Oh fuck. Out of the frying pan and into the fire Laren? You just love temptation, don’t you?” She questioned her own sanity. “A date: With Janeway. You are mad. Absolutely…. Fucking…. Crackers. She’s gonna be all over you like a rash.”
Ro knew that the Captain was attracted to her. She could sense when Janeway was watching her. Her favourite time for sneaking glances was usually when she thought Ro wasn’t aware of what she was doing.
“Oh well, if I can’t have Seven since she’s so happy with Torres then maybe I should see if it would work with Janeway?” Ro grinned to herself. The third most beautiful woman on the ship had asked her on a date. Hell, she was starting to look forward to it.
How Janeway managed to get through her day without any mishaps was a surprise to even her. Her mind continued to wander back to the glorious sight of a very beautiful Ro Laren; a very naked Ro Laren. A very sexy Ro Laren. In fact, her thoughts seemed to be looped on the image of Ro, completely naked, stepping towards her and the words ‘do you find me attractive’ echoing off her skull. She handed command of the bridge to Harry Kim for the evening shift and hurried to her quarters. She had a date to prepare for.
At precisely 1900 hours her door chimed. Calling for it to open and her visitor to enter she turned to face the newcomer. Her breath caught in her throat, her heart swelled and triple-hammered against her chest. Her respiration increased by a factor of forty. Ro was wearing a pair of figure hugging black slacks and a skin-tight vest top and a smile. Nothing else: no shoes, no Bajoran earring, no jacket or shirt. She had never looked more beautiful than she did at that moment in time.
Kathryn’s normally sedate self decided it was time to introduce some colour to her face; prompting her to colour several interesting shades of crimson.
Her libido stood up and commanded the rest of her body.
Her desire for this woman was about to run out of control. She couldn’t stop the blush from travelling from her navel to her cheeks. She couldn’t stop the libidinous thoughts and images from running riot in her mind. All she could do was stand there; blushing.
Ro noticed the normally in control Captain falter. She knew she looked good in this outfit; that was why she’d chosen it. She hadn’t expected the reaction she was getting though. Walking over to where Kathryn stood gaping she halted a couple of feet from her and whispered. “Katie, you okay?”
Kathryn tried shaking herself from the images of a naked Laren writhing beneath her in bed, moaning in unadulterated pleasure and responding passionately to the kisses she was bestowing on her. It didn’t work. She was caught in a loop again.
This was temptation for her.
This was a fantasy that she wanted turned into reality. This was an end to years of enforced celibacy.
This was going to happen...
Ro stepped forward one pace to check Kathryn over. The sudden movement seemed to prompt Kathryn into action as she stepped forward too. Their bodies collided first. Arms wrapped around the other’s waist, lips locked: and breath mingled as they shared their first kiss…
Seven's Heaven
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1. It gets a little graphic from here on in...read at your own discretion.
Thanks to jamie for her betawork
TEMPTATION – Seven’s Heaven
Six months earlier...
Seven and B’Elanna had travelled the short distance from the turbolift to their quarters locked at the lips and had bumped into every doorway in between. Almost as soon as the door to their quarter closed Seven pinned B’Elanna against it, plundering her mouth with her tongue.
The blonde ex-borg used her enhanced strength to lift the Klingon and pin her to the door with one arm while the other travelled to the waistband of her wife’s trousers. Tugging roughly at the buttons and zip she started to slide them off B’Elanna’s hips. Swallowing the moans coming from her wife she increased the contact between them by roughly shoving her body harder against B’Elanna who responded by wrapping her legs around Seven’s hips.
The low, continuous growl B’Elanna had been emitting suddenly sounded more like a kitten mewling as she panted into her wife’s mouth. Seven knew which buttons to press to arouse her Klingon libido and getting a little rough was one sure way of that happening.
As they broke for desperately required oxygen Seven groaned; loudly. “Bang’wI, I need you. Now; comply.”
B’Elanna lowered her legs from Seven’s hips and spun them around. Both of them were well aware of the strength of the other but neither had anything to fear. The Klingon and The Borg were perfectly matched. Neither was afraid of the other hurting them. They had enjoyed this game many times in the past.
Shifting her stance she pinned Seven to the door and attacked her mouth with abandon. Tugging the full bottom lip with her teeth she demanded entry into the hot cavern of her wife’s mouth. Swirling her tongue across pearly white teeth she re-introduced it to its companion.
Seven gasped at the sensations running through her body, even ten years later her wife had a profound effect on her when they kissed. Her libido overwhelmed her Borg control causing Seven to give in to her arousal. Pulling her wife closer and deepening the kiss she manoeuvred the uniform top up to allow her access to her partner’s breast.
Cold fingers against her warm Klingon flesh made B’Elanna gasp into Seven’s mouth. Growling low in her throat she renewed her attack on that precious, kiss-swollen mouth. Her hand travelled to the neck of the biosuit searching for the fastener. Gripping it tightly in sweaty hands she tore the opener apart. “I want you naked; now Soch. My blood is on fire.” She hissed.
“Engineering to Torres.”
“Kahless! You have got to be kidding me?” Seven growled before B’Elanna could. “You are not leaving this room tonight B’Elanna.” She warned.
“Torres here.” She panted. “This had better be life or death Vorik.”
“The main plasma injector is ‘throwing a wobbly’ as you would put it. I thought it prudent to inform you.” Vorik’s cool tones informed them.
“You’re a bloody engineer Vorik; fix it! You don’t need me for that! Torres out.”
Turning back to her wife she smiled and growled low in her chest, “Now, where were we?”
Coming Out
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Thanks to jamie for her betawork
TEMPTATION – Coming Out. (Pt 8)
The temptation to stay in bed snuggled into the warm body underneath her was almost overwhelming for Kathryn. Her face was tucked neatly between the firm breasts of Ro Laren and her arms wrapped securely around her waist.
This was her perfection.
The Borg were wrong, perfection is not a thing that can be obtained; it’s that feeling of contentment found in the embrace of the person you love.
Feeling her partner stir she moved slightly to watch the reaction on her face. The eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the dim light of Kathryn’s quarters, then settled on the woman above her.
“Hey.” Ro whispered. “Good morning.” She smiled. She had never dreamed that Kathryn Janeway of all people could be so passionate. They had made love until they had passed out from exhaustion; falling asleep curled around one another.
“Yes, it’s a very good morning.” Kathryn smiled. “Perfect, in fact.” The smile which lit Kathryn’s face was glorious to see.
Ro had a vague recollection of declaring her love for Kathryn at some point during their passionate encounter. The thought didn’t upset her too much. Twenty four hours earlier she had been lusting after a married woman, now she was contemplating a long-term future with Kathryn. Was this just a reaction to the best sex she’d had in years or was she really in love with her Captain?
Ro’s inner nag stood up and introduced herself into the conversation. ‘You’ve always had a thing for Kathryn; you just ignored it because you thought she was unavailable.’
Out loud she whispered. “You’re an amazing woman Kathryn. I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”
The reaction she got to that was completely uncharted in the history of dealing with her Captain; Kathryn burst into tears.
Through her sobs she managed to whimper. “I thought you had only said that as a reaction to the moment. Do you really mean it?”
“Yes. I think I do.” Ro smiled pulling Kathryn towards her. Kissing her softly she murmured into her mouth. “Is that okay?” Ro asked, suddenly unsure.
Pulling back slightly to look in Ro’s face Kathryn replied seriously. “Perfect. It makes it perfect. I love you too Laren.”
“So, you want to try this….” Ro waved her hand between them. “…having a relationship with a crewmember?”
“You’re a Senior Officer, it’s a little different.” Kathryn laughed. “Sex and Senior Officers is frowned on but not forbidden.”
“Good job or we would both be facing Court Martial.” Ro giggled. “You going to be okay with the crew finding out?”
“I think it will be strange them knowing I have a private life, but yes.” Kathryn admitted. Part of her was absolutely terrified of the reaction of her beloved crew.
“Good. The first person I’m going to tell is B’Elanna Torres.” Ro sniggered.
Groaning, Kathryn lowered her face back into Ro’s shoulder and contemplated the consequences of that conversation.
~~~~~~
Seven and B’Elanna were cuddled together on the sofa looking at a data padd full of Seven’s ‘research’. It contained information on typical behaviour to be expected from both human and Klingon children.
Laughing B’Elanna couldn’t help comment. “The only thing you can expect from a Klingon child is the unexpected. Klingon children don’t like rules or authority figures.”
“Our child will respect us.” Seven commanded. “She will be a perfect child.”
“Only to us Be’nal. Only to us!” B’Elanna continued laughing.
After their strenuous lovemaking the previous evening they had moved to their bed and whispered conspiratorially about the mechanics of two women having a baby. Twenty fourth century medicine had made it so much easier than in previous centuries, but they wanted it to be perfect.
Seven explained to her wife that as a former Unimatrix Zero One drone she had the ability to impregnate B’Elanna. That way the child would carry the DNA of both of them with no need for surgical procedures or donors. B’Elanna had agreed instantly. They also agreed that she would carry the child as Seven’s abdominal implant would cause too many problems for her to carry the child.
“It won’t hurt doing this, will it?” B’Elanna had asked the previous evening.
“No, I will use my assimilation tubules; you will only feel a little prick.”
B’Elanna guffawed loudly at the automatic thought which raced through her mind. Seven frowned at her as she continued explaining. “The tubules will combine our DNA then the neo-natal nanoprobes will ensure pregnancy and good health for both of you.”
“Let’s do it then.” B’Elanna enthused. It wasn’t the most romantic way of accepting her wife’s decision to get them pregnant but Seven knew that B’Elanna was excited.
Pulling B’Elanna into a passionate kiss to distract her Seven allowed her Borg-enhanced hand to travel to the toned abdomen. Smirking into the kiss as her wife gasped she slowly extended her tubules.
“So, now that we’re pregnant, what do we do?” B’Elanna asked burrowing further into her wife’s body.
“WE make sure YOU work less hours and take care of yourself. No more temptation to work 15 hours without a break. No more neglecting yourself.” Seven pronounced as B’Elanna frowned. “You will comply, Bang’wI.”
“Okay, but I wanna be the one to tell Ro Laren. That should ‘put her gas at a peep’.” B’Elanna giggled at the archaic expression she’d learned from Tom thinking it fit perfectly with what she meant.
This is a two part chapter...where you really have to forgive my ignorance...I know nothing of childbirth, labour or children in general. I made it all up ;-)
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Author:~allie
TEMPTATION – Departures (pt 9a)
Picking Seven up from the floor and gently patting her cheek Kathryn stifled her giggles. The proud ex-borg, normally so controlled had just fainted.
“Seven.” She gently slapped the cool cheek. “Seven, B’Elanna needs you.”
Groaning Seven opened her eyes slowly and looked around her. Bolting upright she narrowly avoided cracking skulls with Kathryn and gasped. “The baby?”
Ro chuckled at the woman. “Yeah, Torres is in labour and wants you there, not here. You better move it before she loses it completely.”
Frowning at Ro she was about to retort when Janeway spoke first. “Computer: site to site transport to B’Elanna Torres location; for all occupants of this room.”
“Command Authorisation Required.” The computer intoned.
“Authorisation: Janeway, delta four, four, two.”
~~~~~~
B’Elanna had made it as far as the doorway in her quarters when the three of them shimmered into existence. Seven dashed to her side, helping to prop the ailing woman up. “Bang’wI, you should have called me earlier.”
“Benal, it hurts.” She whimpered. “The baby wants out. Now.”
“We shall proceed to the Doctor.” Seven hadn’t reverted to Borg-speak in a long time. She was undoubtedly nervous at the thought of her baby appearing here in their quarters.
Ro helped Seven manoeuvre B’Elanna out of the room and along to the turbo lift. Kathryn smiled fondly at her love interacting with the volatile Klingon. They’d become good friends in the last six months. Closer than Kathryn had ever thought possible given their initial confrontation over Seven.
Smiling she followed them to the turbolift looking forward to becoming a surrogate grandmother; even though she still felt she was far too young for the title.
B’Elanna was furious. So much for being a big strong Klingon! Her weak human side was mewling like a kitten at the pain in her abdomen. Her Klingon side raged at the indignity of such weakness!
Her human side very politely told it to shut up and get her to sickbay.
~~~~~~
Having been notified by Janeway about the imminent arrival of the newest addition to Voyager’s crew the Doctor was prepped and ready for B’Elanna.
He fussed around her as soon as she appeared at the doorway to sickbay, scanning her with a medical tricorder and calling out instructions to Sam Wildman who would be helping with the delivery. Between them they managed to get B’Elanna onto the biobed and comfortable.
Seven positioned her self at the head of the bed and spoke softly to B’Elanna. “She’s determined to make her appearance today Bang’wI and we have yet to decide on a suitable designat…name.” She corrected herself just in time.
“She’s strong. I can almost hear her telling me to hurry up and get her out of there.” She panted. “Her name will be…aaaarrrrggghhh!”
“Indeed.” Seven couldn’t help but grin. “An unusual name for a child. I much prefer Bethany Hansen-Torres.”
“You really want to call her that?” This had been one of her suggestions. She was delighted. The debate they’d had was more about her surname; they'd both picked Bethany as her first name.
“Yes. I think it’s perfect.” Seven smiled holding B’Elanna’s hand tightly as another contraction made itself known.
“You’re ten centimetres dilated B’Elanna.” Sam called from the foot of the biobed. “It shouldn’t be too long now.”
“Good. Next time Soch, you get to carry the child.” She panted heavily as the contraction ended.
“You’re already planning another?” The Doc asked from his position at her side. “Joy of joys, a little Borg to deal with; along with the little Klingon.” He muttered sarcastically.
B’Elanna was about to explode at him when another contraction and an excited squeal from Sam stopped her. “I can see her head, she’s almost here.”
Half an hour later an exhausted B’Elanna lay curled around Seven on the biobed cradling their daughter. She had four little ridges like B’Elanna and blonde hair and blue eyes like Seven. Her skin was a perfect blend of their own complexions. She looked positively angelic.
Seven looked at B’Elanna solemnly and declared. “I love you B’Elanna Torres; now I have Perfection.”
Ok, this could be a little confusing for anyone who's not me LOL...but I reckon that children understand a lot more than they let on, so I think it is possible for this to be true. Either that or I'm completely nuts and this is just a bit of silliness to make you smile. Either way, this is the baby's story leading up to her birth, in her own words....enjoy ;-)
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Author:~allie
TEMPTATION – Arrival (pt 9b)
AUTHORS NOTES: 1. Borg neo-natal nanoprobes allowed for quicker than normal development of a foetus so at just sixteen weeks into the pregnancy baby H-T had the equivalent of an 18 month old child’s cognitive reasoning.
2. The combination of DNA from Seven and B’Elanna meant that the child would be exceptionally intelligent and more than likely very beautiful. She would also inherit most of their mannerisms too. At that particular moment she was displaying her mama’s famous Klingon temper.
3. This chapter is written from the baby’s POV – these are her words…….
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I hear mommy growling as she presses her face to mama’s belly. They think this is soo hilarious. Mommy growls and makes me squirm; which makes mama laugh coz it tickles her when I move.
They are sooo childish.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I can’t make out what they are saying but I can hear the soft tones they use. I understand a lot of feelings they have, but not the words. They never speak like that with anyone else; only with each other. ”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Mama gets really mad when she is in the place with the humming noise if the noise changes. It makes her feel funny to me. All tingly-buzzy.
The only other time she gets like that is when she goes near mommy. I don’t know who she is but I know mama doesn’t like her near mommy.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“If she doesn’t stop letting mommy do that I’m going to start stomping on her bladder.
See how she likes it when someone disturbs her.
I’m trying to sleep for Kahless sake.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Good grief, what is your problem mama?
All I want is a taste!
It’s not like it will poison you or anything, it’s only banana ice cream and pickled onions.
Okay, so I want them dipped together, but I don’t see how that is a problem. They’ll end up that way anyway once they reach your stomachs!
Mama, if you don’t get me onions and ice cream I’m going to sit on your sciatic nerve all night long. I want them now.
If I don’t get them, you’re not getting any sleep tonight.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Oh brother!
It’s too hot in here.
I want out.
Mama, you wanna help me here? I’m stuffed like a turkey and baking hot here.
Let me out?
Mama?
Please?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Okay, now that hurts. You do that again mama and I am going to be sooo pissed at you.
I can’t move in here and you’re flexing your muscles and squeezing me?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Mama, what the Grethor are you doing?
You’re making me feel sick.
You can’t turn me upside down like that!
I don’t want to go into the little space!
I want mommy, at least she only makes me squirm.
MAMA, DON’T MAKE ME GO IN THERE!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Oh mama, you did it this time!
You are in so much trouble!
I’m getting squished to pulp here and all you can do is growl about it being a little uncomfortable for you!
Hurry up and get me outa here!!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Okay, I can hear that nice voice again; it’s No-mee’s mamma.
I want to go to her.
She’ll get me to mommy and make the owwies go away.
I’m all squished and sore and I want my mommy!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“HEY! LET GO OF MY HAIR!
STOP PULLING ON MY EARS!
GET YOUR COLD HANDS OFF OF ME!
DON’T YOU DARE SMACK MY BOTTOM!
GET THAT COLD CLOTH AWAY FROM ME, MY FACE IS CLEAN!!
~~~~~~~
ARE YOU MAMA?”
~~~~~~~
“Mama, make the growly sound again? I like the growly sound.
Make mommy kiss you again so that I can hear it…
Aaaahhhh
Perfection!”
the continuation....
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
TEMPTATION – CHAPTER 10 – two years on
For a change all was quiet in the Delta Quadrant; no alien attacks; no violation of the Prime Directive to prevent a major catastrophe; not even any battles over engineering protocols between the ex-Borg and the Klingon hybrid, in fact it was positively boring.
Ro Laren glanced around her quarters desperately looking for something to occupy her; Kathryn was on duty for another three hours. She was bored. Bajorans didn’t do bored very well. Especially not pregnant Bajorans.
With only two days left to her delivery date Ro had been relieved of duty and ‘advised’ by her wife to ‘rest or else’. The enforced inactivity was driving her crazy. Her sulking was interrupted by the solemn tones of Seven of Nine.
“Seven of Nine to Commander Ro.” Her crisp even tone gave nothing away.
“Ro here Seven, whatcha need?” She replied, trying not to sound too hopeful that her help was required.
“May I speak with you privately Commander?”
“Sure. I’m in my quarters. Come visit, bring the little one too if you’re off duty?”
“Acceptable.” Seven abruptly cut the link between them leaving Ro wondering what the hell had happened to cause Seven to revert to Borg-speak. Formal speech from her was most unusual after almost eleven years of marriage to the little Klingon, so Ro was intrigued. Seven had relaxed her way of speaking a lot but still found it difficult to use contractions. Ro thought to herself.
---xxx---
Seven of Nine, ex-Borg and wife to Voyager’s only Klingon was in a quandary. She knew she needed assistance in order to fulfil her plan; but the only person she could ask for help, was the one person her wife would hate her going to.
Although Ro and B’Elanna had made their peace with one another not long after Bethany’s birth, Seven could sense an underlying tension when they were around one another. It was something Bethany could sense too. Their little one was very perceptive of her mama’s feelings; often commenting on the tingle-buzz she felt from her.
Cradling her sleeping child in her arms Seven left their quarters and made her way to the Captain’s quarters. Ro had moved there when the two had married a little over a year ago.
Entering the turbolift she encountered Sam Wildman who promptly grinned like a Cheshire cat. “Seven, how’s little Beebop today?” She cooed into the sleeping child’s face.
Frowning at the oft used nickname for her daughter Seven replied. “Sleeping.”
“She’s so adorable.” Sam enthused. “Naomi and I just loved babysitting her. When are you and B’Elanna going out again?”
“I will let you know when we need a sitter Sam. I have not promised anyone other than you and Kathryn the position.” Seven smirked slightly, living with B’Elanna for so long had increased her sarcastic abilities. She knew the competition between the two women for babysitting duties was intense. Neither liked the other getting the task. They both often offered to take Bethany overnight to allow B’Elanna and herself time alone. Although grateful, they preferred to spend quality time with their daughter and rarely took up the offers. Each woman had only had the pleasure of sitting for Bethany twice in her two short years.
Exiting the lift on deck three she bade Sam farewell and walked to the Captain’s quarters.
Bethany stirred in her arms and mumbled sleepily without opening her huge blue eyes. “Mama?”
“No, little one, it’s mommy.” Seven whispered, brushing her fingers tenderly over the little forehead ridges. “Mama is in engineering.”
“Mommy!” Bethany exclaimed happily opening her eyes and smiling. “Down, pwease?” As any child in any quadrant knew, Bethany knew how to play her parents. She knew that a smile like her mama’s, and a polite request, would get her whatever she wanted from her mommy.
Lowering her daughter gently Seven smiled at her tenderly. She had never known love until B’Elanna; now she had an overabundance of it with her daughter.
“We see Capa’gwan and Wawen?”
Still smiling Seven nodded as her child stopped outside the Captain’s quarters. “Laren only today. Captain Gran is still on duty.” Seven’s smile brightened at her daughter’s speech. Two year old and already a chatterbox. Her pronunciation was still a little off, but B’Elanna had assured her that it was perfectly normal.
Knocking the door the old fashioned way Bethany grinned at her mommy. She’d been shown how to use the chime several times before, but Bethany knew that Ro liked her to knock. It was a game they played frequently.
Almost as soon as the door opened Ro Laren gently pulled the child to her and sniffed at her hair. “Smells like a Klingon.” She chortled. “Looks like a Klingon, but is she a Klingon?” she chanted.
Roaring as loud as her little lungs could manage Bethany responded with “I AM a Klingon!” to complete their game.
Ushering mother and child into the room Ro waddled slowly behind them. “So, what can I do for you Seven?”
---xxx---
B’Elanna cursed Voyager to Grethor and back. The ship just was not playing the game at all today. She and Seven had spent the last few weeks designing an upgrade to the anti-matter containment field but it steadfastly refused to come online. Even cursing in several languages hadn’t encouraged it to initialise. Throwing the data padd at the nearest wall in disgust she stormed out of engineering.
Mumbling and muttering to herself she ignored the various crew members she passed as she headed to the Mess Hall. Maybe some food would help her think of a solution.
Neelix spotted her as soon as she entered. Hurrying over to her he smiled his biggest smile. “B’Elanna. What a pleasure to see you. What can I get you today?”
“As long as it isn’t Leola root anything, I don’t really care.” B’Elanna growled at the good-humoured man.
“One stack of banana pancakes coming right up then.” He grinned walking away. Leola root was obviously featured quite heavily on the menu today if she was being offered pancakes.
Glancing around the Mess Hall B’Elanna noticed a couple of unusual things. One it was really quite busy for being late morning and two Senior Bridge Officers were ‘engaging in intimate relations’ as her wife would have described their passionate kissing. Smiling for the first time in hours she called over to them. “Hey Starfleet, put him down, you don’t know where he’s been!”
Blushing wildly Harry looked over and giggled, “Oh but I do Maquis, I do!”
Frowning at his choice of phrase she beckoned them over. “So, what gives?”
“I do.” Harry couldn’t stop giggling as they wandered over to join her.
“Me too.” Tom joined in the hilarity. The confounded look on B’Elanna’s face was hysterical. Glancing at his lover for silent permission, he spoke through his laughter. “We’re getting married!”
In all of the experiences they’d had in the Delta Quadrant Tom and Harry thought they’d seen just about everything; until B’Elanna fainted.
---xxx---
ANOTHER INSTALLMENT...
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
TEMPTATION – Chapter 11
Entering Ro Laren’s quarters; Seven smiled indulgently at the antics of her daughter and the second in command of Voyager. They played this game every time Bethany was present. Ro thought it was hilarious to hear the child trying to growl like her mama.
“Wawen?” The little voice piped up tugging on Laren’s trousers. “We pway peeboo?”
“Sure.” Ro laughed. Another favourite game between them; the child would hide while Ro pretended to find her. It always gave the adults a chance to converse in private while occupying the active two year old. “You get ready to hide.” She advised as she lowered herself to the sofa indicating to Seven she should join her. Looking over to the child Ro nodded and chortled as she watched the little girl make a dash for the bedroom. “So, Seven; I ask again, whatcha need?”
“I require your assistance in a project.” Seven replied coolly. Her ‘borg’ coolness was well and truly back.
“You got me really curious now Seven.” Ro smiled. “I haven’t heard you so formal since you married B'Elanna. What gives?”
Blushing slightly Seven studied her suddenly interesting fingernails. “I need you to help me while you keep what you are doing a secret.”
“I can do secrets Seven.” Ro giggled. “I kept my pregnancy secret for long enough, didn’t I?”
“Indeed.” Seven answered. “I am…uncomfortable with the thought of keeping a secret from B'Elanna.”
“Aaaaahhhh. You’re afraid of making your little Klingon mad at you?” Ro smirked.
“Ro Laren, as you well know, I am not afraid of anyone. Not even B'Elanna. She would never hurt me. But I find it…inefficient to keep secrets.” Seven relied curtly.
“I still don’t understand why you’ve reverted to such formal speech patterns. I had thought that you spoke like the rest of us now?”
“Normally I do, but I have a ‘bad habit’ as B'Elanna would say, of reverting to more formal speech patterns when I am concerned about something.”
“What are you concerned about Seven? Come on, you have got to tell me!”
“I need to prepare for B'Elanna’s reaction…” Seven faltered.
“Bloody Hell, Seven!” Ro exploded. “Just tell me!”
“I need to…prepare…for B'Elanna’s reaction to me being pregnant.”
Ro stopped. She stopped moving, breathing, everything. She was absolutely stunned. Seven was pregnant and B'Elanna didn’t know. she chortled to herself. Outwardly she kept her face straight and clarified. “So, you wife doesn’t know?”
“No.” Seven responded, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor. “I have not discussed this with her yet.”
“Were you two planning on another baby?” Ro just had to ask.
“We had briefly discussed it. No formal decision had been made though.”
“Oh shit.” Ro smirked. “She’s not gonna be too pleased with you.”
“I think you have mastered the art of making the understatement of the year! Her reaction is why I need your help. I need you to pre-empt her into thinking seriously about having more children.”
“You’re gonna manipulate her?” For the second time in a few short minutes Ro was speechless. “Since when do you resort to manipulation?”
“Since I found out I am pregnant without my wife’s knowledge or consent.”
“How can you be pregnant without her knowing about it?”
Seven stood and paced the room. This was a habit she had picked up from B'Elanna. When she needed to think something through or was worried her wife paced; Seven copied her wife’s idiosyncrasies without even realising it.
Turning back to face Ro she grimaced. “It is a private matter Ro. Suffice to say ‘things got carried away’ and I am pregnant as a result.”
“You got carried away? Seven I thought you two could only get pregnant if you implanted one of you with the combined DNA of both of you? Or something like that? I never did understand how you do it.”
“I was overwhelmed. I lost control as did B'Elanna. As a result I am now…”
“Yeah, I got that. You’re pregnant. How are you gonna explain that to her?”
“I was planning on you taunting her about more children. That way if I bring the subject up…”
“No.”
“No?”
“No. Seven, you know damn well that she won’t agree to having a kid just to annoy me. You can’t seriously believe that she’s that dishonourable! Even I know she wouldn’t agree to that!”
“I don’t know what else to do.” Seven floundered.
“You do what your instincts are screaming at you – you tell her.” Ro could not contain her laughter as she continued speaking. “Tell her you lost control as a result of her passionate lovemaking and you’re gonna have a little Sochling.”
Seven looked aghast at the suggestion. Having ‘accidentally’ impregnated herself with their combined DNA during an exhausting, passionate evening of lovemaking she now had to face the consequences. She knew in her heart that telling B'Elanna was the right thing to do; having the courage to do so was another matter altogether.
Her ruminations were disrupted by a little voice. “Wawen, you find me now. I’m hiding in youw cwoset.”
NEXT .....
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Temptation Chapter 12
Tom hurried to B'Elanna’s side and picked her off the floor. Gently patting her cheek he tried to rouse her. He’d never known a Klingon to faint before and was concerned about his friend. He looked over at his partner and frowned as he spoke. “Harry? What do we do? She’s never fainted before.”
“Kim to the Doctor & Seven of Nine.” Harry made the decision for Tom, his command training kicking in when he needed it.
“Doctor here Mr Kim.”
“Seven here. How can I help you Ensign?”
Both responded at the same time talking over one another. Kim looked at the prostrate woman and frowned. “Doc, Seven, B'Elanna just fainted. We need you both here.”
“Where is here?” Seven asked as she made her way from Ro Laren’s quarters, scooping up her daughter as she left the room. Her long legs carried her to the door of the turbolift in a matter of moments.
“The Mess Hall.” Replied Harry solemnly, trying not to panic as B'Elanna didn’t respond to the gentle slaps.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Seven strode onto the lift with her daughter held firmly in her grasp trying to imagine what would make her wife faint. Bethany squirmed in her arms, unsettled. “Mommy; mama’s sore.”
“I know baby, we will find out why in a few moments.” Seven responded, gently caressing her ridges to comfort her. The lift seemed to take an eternity to reach the Mess Hall. Entering, Seven found a huddle of people around the prostrate form of her wife. The tide of people parted as she approached. Handing her daughter to Neelix, she knelt at her wife’s side and gently caressed her ridges.
“B'Elanna?” She questioned gently while caressing her cheek.
The Doctor pushed his way through the whispering crowd and knelt at B'Elanna’s side. His raised eyebrows were met with a raised ocular implant and a cool glance in his direction. Seven was obviously none the wiser about her wife’s ailment than he was.
Running the medical tricorder over her he frowned and glanced again at Seven. She caught his look and raised her eyebrows at him again. “Doctor?”
“I think we should get her to the privacy of Sickbay before we discuss this Seven.” The Doctor was flustered. He didn’t keep secrets well. He didn’t know how to break this news to Seven and fearing her reaction, he certainly didn’t want to tell her in the middle of the Mess Hall.
Seven gently lifted her wife from the floor and started towards the doors as Ro and Janeway entered. Seven brushed past them, ignoring them as they both quizzed the Doctor. Informing the Captain and her spouse that B'Elanna was in no immediate danger he left to follow Seven to Sickbay promising to keep the Captain informed of B'Elanna’s progress.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Tom, Harry, Ro and Janeway seated themselves and nodded as Neelix offered drinks. Janeway was first to ask Tom and Harry for their version of events. Explaining what had happened to their Captain was highly embarrassing for the pair. Blushing crimson Harry concluded. “I didn’t even know it was possible for Klingon’s to faint. I thought with all of those redundant systems they would be immune to things like that.”
Ro smirked and was rewarded by a kick in the shins by her wife. The Klingon and Bajoran may have a truce but it was tenuous at best. Ro seemed to take great delight in any misfortune which befell B'Elanna and vice versa. Janeway and Seven both despaired of them ever reaching a lasting peace. Even little Bethany could pick up on the antagonism they felt towards one another. Glowering at her wife Ro was about to comment when she was doubled over by pain shuddering through her abdomen. Catching the sound of the sharply inhaled breath Janeway turned fully to her wife and knew that their child was demanding entrance to the world.
+++++++++++++++++++++++
Seven was met in Sickbay by Samantha Wildman who helped her lay B'Elanna on a bio-bed and start the diagnostics the Doctor would demand as soon as he appeared.
As they both stepped back Bethany reminded everyone of her presence. She had followed her mommy to Sickbay catching up a few moments after Seven had arrived. Samantha lifted her and cuddled her gently. “Don’t worry Beebop. Your mama’s going to be fine. Mommy and me and the Doctor will look after her.” She cooed.
“Mommy?” Bethany leaned over Samantha’s shoulder, staring intently at her mommy and spoke quietly. “Mama’s baby come now?”
The two of them gasped at the child’s quiet words; Seven just looked stunned. Whipping her head round she stared at her child. “Clarify?”
Bethany had heard her mother use that word before so she knew her mommy wanted her to explain what she meant. “Mama, got baby. You got baby too.”
“Indeed.” Seven replied coolly turning again to focus on B'Elanna. Her mind was in turmoil; was it possible that both of them were pregnant? How was it possible that her child could know this? Could she have implanted both of them at the same time? Could she have lost control to that extent? How did her daughter know about the baby? She had so many questions running through her mind, some of them were repeating themselves as she found no answers to them. Forcing them aside she concentrated on getting her wife to waken.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
NEXT AGAIN...
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
TEMPTATION – CHAPTER 13
Ro Laren was not happy; in fact, that was the understatement of the quadrant. She did not want to be in this much pain while her wife was laughing hysterically. Growling low in her throat as she tried to breathe through the pain shooting through her abdomen, she cursed her wife to Earth and back again. Janeway wiped the tears of laughter from her cheeks and tried to apologise.
“I’m sorry babe. I don’t mean to laugh at you. I just think it’s fitting that every time you think something nasty about B'Elanna something happens to cause you discomfort.” She wheezed through her giggles.
“Discomfort!” Ro exploded. “You get me bloody pregnant! I balloon about forty sizes and you call it discomfort!” Ro tried to stand but couldn’t quite make it. She leaned heavily on the table as Harry quickly rose and helped to support her. “ Next time you decide that ‘we’ should have a baby, you get to carry it. I am never going through this again.”
Janeway stood, while smiling at her wife. “Let’s get you to Sickbay and the Doctor can take care of you.” She tried to placate her wife.
“B'Elanna’s there, remember? He’ll be too busy fussing over her to pay any attention to me.” She whined. It was out of character for Ro to be whiny, but her hormones were playing havoc with her moods.
“He’ll be able to make you comfortable and keep an eye on you both.” Janeway used her best diplomatic tone on her wife. Harry and Tom just glanced at one another; silently communicating their next actions.
Tom took Ro’s left side, Harry her right; with one hand behind her knees and the other supporting her back, they scooped her into their arms in a cradle and started to walk out of the Mess Hall. Squealing at the indignity of the situation Ro cussed up a storm as her wife started giggling again.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Seven frowned at the Doctor as he repeated the scans she’s seen him do in the Mess Hall. She felt he was being inefficient and opened her mouth to speak when her daughter beat her to it.
“Dokor, you fix mama’s baby.”
The EMH would have broken his neck had he been flesh and blood as he whipped round to glare at the child.
“Bethany seems to think that her mama is pregnant.” Sam spoke quietly, diverting the angry glare away from the child.
“It would appear that the Little One is correct.” The Doctor stated flatly. He had never gotten over his love for Seven and still found it difficult at times to deal with B'Elanna fairly.
“Wildman to Naomi Wildman.” Samantha grinned at Bethany’s reaction to her words as the child’s face lit up in a perfect replica of Seven’s smile.
“Yes mom?” Naomi responded.
“Could you come down to Sickbay and look after Bethany for a little bit please?”
“Sure mom. Is everything okay? Is Seven okay? What’s wrong?” Naomi questioned.
“I’ll tell you when you get here. Wildman out.”
Seating Bethany on a vacant biobed Samantha turned back to the Doctor who was now running a series of complicated scans to confirm the cause of B’Elanna’s fainting. His angry glare changed to a satisfied frown as he determined that it was nothing more serious than her pregnancy.
“Her blood sugar levels are too low and her adrenaline levels a little high, even for a Klingon. Her body simply shut down to protect the baby.” He looked like he was about to launch into another round of narcissistic praise of his medical abilities when Seven turned her back on him.
“Bethany, when Naomi gets here, you will go with her. She will care for you until mama wakens. I will remain here; if you need me, you know how to call for me.”
“Yes mommy.” Bethany leaned slightly from the biobed into her mother’s embrace and whispered for her ears only. “I love you mommy. We get the babies soon?”
“I love you too.” Seven whispered back, gently kissing the tiny ridges on her daughters brow. “I will explain later when mama is awake, okay?”
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Tom and Harry entered sickbay with the still cussing Ro Laren in their arms. Gently depositing her in the biobed next to B'Elanna, they retreated quickly behind Seven as Ro threatened to pull them apart limb from limb.
“How’s B'Elanna?” Harry asked from her shoulder.
The Doctor, fussing around Ro now started to respond but B'Elanna beat him to it. “She’s fine. Bang’wI? Where’s Beebop? Is she okay?”
“She just left with Naomi.” Sam answered for Seven. “We were worried about you.”
“I’m fine, let me outa here Doc?” B'Elanna glared at the Doctor defying him to say no.
“Sorry B'Elanna, you’re here overnight at the least. You need to take better care of yourself in your condition.” The Doctor stated coldly.
“What condition?” She frowned at him as she turned to her wife. “What in Grethor is he talking about?”
“It would appear that you are pregnant.” Seven blushed.
“I’M WHAT?” B'Elanna exploded.
NEXT ...
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
TEMPTATION – CHAPTER 14
Seven stepped back hurriedly as B'Elanna launched herself from the biobed and stalked towards her. She couldn’t believe her ears. She had to be dreaming. In fact this was more like a nightmare than a dream. There was no way she was pregnant! Yes, they had discussed it, but they hadn’t finalised anything. They hadn’t agreed to go ahead. There was so much to prepare for before having another baby. It wasn’t a simple thing to cope with, it was made all the more complicated because of the neo-natal nanoprobes.
Seven continued backing up until she was pinned against the wall of sickbay. B'Elanna was ‘in her face’ and glaring at her. “How am I pregnant? What the Grethor did you do to me? I never agreed to being pregnant again! What the fuck have you done?”
Lowering her eyes from the intense gaze of the irate Klingon Seven blushed at the accusations being fired at her. Unable to formulate a reply she continued to stare at the floor.
“I’m waiting BORG! Don’t you think I deserve an answer? What the fuck did you do to me?” B'Elanna was toe to toe with Seven and almost purple in the face with barely suppressed rage.
Raising her eyes briefly, catching the anger in her love’s eyes Seven quickly whispered. “I lost control.”
Exploding at full volume B'Elanna roared. “Lost control?” Turning away from her wife, she paced the length of sickbay cursing in every language she knew.
“Lost control of what? Your mind? You don’t just get me pregnant without my agreement Seven! How could you?”
“Bang’wI, I know we need to discuss this – situation - but can it be done in private?” Seven was conscious of the curious stares of the crew in sickbay. “B'Elanna, please?”
“Fine!” B'Elanna stormed from sickbay without a backward glance.
Ro Laren watched B'Elanna explode at her wife and tried not to smirk. The last time she’d thought evil towards B'Elanna her contractions had started so she was taking no chances. As B'Elanna stormed from sickbay Ro felt her own wife tighten her grip on the hand she was holding.
“Oh God! I’m going to have to separate those two.” Kathryn wailed. “Things were going so well too. They haven’t had a bust up for ages!”
Smirking Ro agreed and tugged her wife closer. “Yeah, but they are certainly value for money when they start.” She immediately regretted opening her mouth as another contraction ripped through her belly. Squealing in pain she cursed her own stupidity. She’d known the Spirits had a warped sense of humour and this was their way of making sure the uneasy truce between the two of them was maintained. Sarcastic remarks from Ro about B'Elanna seemed to be forbidden.
Janeway mopped the sweating forehead and encouraged her wife to breathe through the contraction. She wasn’t looking forward to having to referee a verbal sparring match between Seven and B'Elanna. She moved slightly to allow Sam Wildman access to scan Ro’s upper abdomen. For the moment she was concentrating on her wife and the birth of their child; the happiest moment of her life. Seven and B'Elanna could wait, she wanted only to see her baby born.
~~~~~~~
Ten years of marriage had mellowed B'Elanna slightly, she was still furious with her wife, but the walk to their quarters had helped take the edge off her rage. She stalked through the doorway and halted in the middle of the main room. Before she could speak Seven indicated that they should sit. The look on her wife’s face made B'Elanna pause and obey the unspoken instruction.
“B'Elanna, you know how much I love you.” Seven whispered, knowing the Klingon’s hearing would pick up every word she said. Cerulean eyes met sable as they locked. “Your being pregnant is not the only bad news…”
Whipping around from her side-on view to face her wife fully B’Elanna growled. “Wadaya mean? What else can possibly go wrong?”
Seven stared, swallowed hard and blinked once. Steeling herself for the reaction she was sure to get she whispered. “I am pregnant too.”
B'Elanna was out of her seat like someone had lit her ass on fire and across the room before either of them could really process her movement. She stared at her wife before taking a huge breath.
“You’re pregnant too?” She blurted as she tried to breathe out slowly to calm down. The grin on her face spread like wildfire through a forest. “Really?”
The Klingon rage dissolved as she looked at her wife properly. Seven had a radiance about her that had gone unnoticed until that moment. B'Elanna studied her wife closely as she walked back towards her. She looked even more beautiful than ever.
B'Elanna melted.
She couldn’t stay angry at Seven, not now that she knew she was pregnant. Her Klingon protective instinct kicked in and she leaned over into her, caressing the cool pale cheek and smiled. “You are pregnant? For real?”
Leaning slightly into the touch Seven smiled shyly. “Yes.” Reaching up she pulled B'Elanna gently into her lap. “We need to discuss this situation.”
“Don’t we just!” She laughed at the irony. “I don’t really care about the how, I know that, you did the same as when we had Beebop didn’t you?” Frowning at the detested nickname for their daughter Seven nodded in agreement. “Why though? That’s what I don’t get. We’d discussed it but hadn’t agreed to have another baby.”
“I know B'Elanna. I have searched my memory and can only conclude that I managed to lose control at some point. As I have no conscious recollection of implanting you, or me, I assume it was my subconscious desire to carry your child which made me do it.”
NEXT...
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
WARNING : PROFANITY USED FREQUENTLY IN THIS CHAPTER
Naomi Wildman smiled as she walked through the corridors of Voyager to her quarters; Seven and her mom trusted her to look after the two year old. The child was chattering away nineteen to the dozen as they walked when something she said caught Naomi’s attention.
“What did you say Beebop?” She asked, gently pulling on the child’s hand to make her stop.
Frowning at being pulled, Bethany looked up at Naomi and raised her left eyebrow in imitation of her mommy. “No-mee?
“What did you say there just now? What about a baby?”
Nodding and giggling like the little girl she was, she replied. “Mama got a baby.”
Restarting their journey to the Wildman quarters Naomi thought about who Bethany referred to as ‘mama’ – she always got them muddled. As she entered the code to her quarters and stepped inside it dawned on her who Bethany meant. “B'Elanna’s pregnant?”
Bethany nodded as she made a dash for Naomi’s toy targ. The bright pink monstrosity was threadbare and desperately needing repaired around the ears, but he was well loved by both girls. Hugging it close to her little chest Bethany grinned at her friend. “Yep. Mama got a baby.”
“Great Spikes! No wonder my mom wanted you outa the way. They didn’t plan this one.” Naomi grinned at her own mother’s foresight. The inevitable row between the ex-Borg and Klingon hybrid was sure to be explosive. If they had been seriously planning for a baby, Samantha Wildman would have known about it as she was the ‘midwife’ for Voyagerand by default Naomi would have known too. “Beebop? How do you know?”
“Mama got baby. Beebop know.” She grinned. “Beebop talk to baby when she’s sleeping.”
“Who’s sleeping? You or the baby?”
Frowning, in perfect imitation of her mama, Bethany crossed her arms over her little chest and repeated. “Beebop talk to baby when she’s sleeping.”
“You can hear the baby? You can talk to it?” Naomi was dumbfounded. She’d heard of other species who were telepathic, but she didn’t for one minute think it was a human or Klingon trait.
Ro Laren roasted the hearing of her wife by once again roaring at the top of her lungs. “This is your entire fucking fault! I am never having another child! You wanna be maternal Janeway then you carry your own fucking kids in future! This is the last goddamn fucking time I’m going through this fucking shit!” As another contraction racked her body she ended her tirade at her wife and tried desperately to breathe her way through it.
She felt like she had been in labour for days, but it had only been a couple of hours. She was pale and sweaty and in huge amounts of pain as the contractions brought the birth of her baby closer. She’d refused drugs as she and Kathryn had agreed a natural childbirth would be best for baby. Now she was regretting that decision.
Kathryn held on firmly to the grasping hand and coaxed her through the contraction. Her hands were sore from being crushed by Ro’s larger ones and her ears were ringing from the profanities hurled in her direction. She didn’t care about either. Her baby was almost here. They were going to be mommies. She was so excited she was almost dancing on the spot. Smiling at Ro she gently brushed the brunette’s sweaty hair from her brow.
“Hang in there babe. It won’t be much longer.” Watching as an exhausted Ro just nodded, she couldn’t resist saying. “For the record though – my parents were actually married years before I was born.”
Ro hung her head in shame recalling the rude names she’d called her wife and the abuse she’d hurled at her. She didn’t cope with pain very well without the benfit of adrenaline rushing through her system. She grinned at her wife and pouted an apology. “I’m sorry love. It just hurts so damned much!”
“No-mee, mama’s baby is girl like me and you not it.”
“But, how do you know?” Naomi was frustrated with the little two year-old. Although she was really clever, her speech wasn’t as well developed as her ability to work things out. She was better at demonstrating things than talking about them.
“Girl told me, we talk, she say she girl like me. No boy like Itchy.”
Grinning at the nickname for Icheb she tried to understand. “You know your mama is having a baby?” Bethany nodded. “It’s a little girl, like you and me?” Again the nod. “You can hear her when she talks to you?”
“She hear me too.” Bethany said proudly. She was lying flat on her back on Naomi’s bed cuddling the targ. “We talk when mama nap-time.”
Naomi rubbed her spikes and pondered the probability of her little friend being telepathic or at least empathic. She knew that Klingons could sense their mates when they entered a room and that Klingon children knew at birth to remain silent, but she didn’t know how to explain Beebop’s apparent telepathy with the unborn children. She’d have to do some research to verify this apparent conundrum. Perhaps it was something to do with Seven’s nanoprobes being in the little one too. She wandered over to her mom’s computer console and entered her search parameters. Thinking to herself that maybe it was just Beebop playing a game. Sure, Kids had the imagination to dream something like this up, but Bethany wasn’t old enough to………. At least Naomi didn’t think so. She’d best tell her own mom when she returned from duty.
Ro Laren gave one final push and collapsed back into her wife’s arms. Sam gently wiped the child’s face and cleaned the baby up before presenting her to the exhausted woman.
“She’s beautiful ladies. Absolutely beautiful.” Sam had tears in her eyes as she handed over the precious bundle.
Ro smiled proudly up at her wife as tears poured from her eyes. “We did it Kath. We have a daughter.”
Swiping the tears from her face she gently caressed the child’s mop of auburn hair. “Hello, little one.”
“Welcome Niamh Ro Janeway.” Ro smiled as she kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Spirits bless you little one and keep you safe.”
Kathryn leaned forward and kissed the child too; unable to keep her tears in check she wiped them from Niamh’s crown as they spilled onto her. Never before had she felt an instant overwhelming rush of love towards another human; but staring at her daughter she knew instantly that death would become her before she allowed any harm come to her baby.
NEXT...
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
TEMPTATION – CHAPTER 14b
Lying in bed holding her wife tightly B'Elanna caressed the pale shoulders; they had been discussing the night which had resulted in them both being pregnant. It had been very sexy, very passionate and beautiful. They knew now where they had lost control. At one point in their lovemaking Seven’s Borg-enhanced hand had been almost fully inside her. Her tubules had extended briefly, without either of them realizing it, impregnating B'Elanna just at the crest of her orgasm. Seven had subconsciously commanded her own nano probes to use DNA captured from B'Elanna’s orgasm to impregnate herself with. Neither of them had realized at the time just how important that night would be.
*flashback*
Seven laid her naked body down over B'Elanna's until their nipples touched each other. The warmth from B'Elanna's body penetrated her flesh and Seven could feel B'Elanna surrender to her touch, as she began to stroke B'Elanna's face with her hand. Seven outlined the features of B'Elanna's face, and drew her knee up into B'Elanna centre, applying pressure. B'Elanna's head tilted back slightly and her mouth opened just a little, so Seven seized it with her hungry lips and tongue. As soon as her mouth found B'Elanna's; the hunger grew, and Seven could feel lightening speeding its way to her clit. Seven could tell that B'Elanna felt it too, as she moaned and arched into her.
Seven's hands searched for B'Elanna's breasts, as she rose up slightly to allow her fingers access to B'Elanna's hardened nipples. Seven pulled and pinched them until B'Elanna's breath became ragged, even as they savagely kissed. Her tongue couldn't stop its lust for B'Elanna, and the force of B'Elanna's tongue in her mouth made Seven's juices flow. Seven could feel her cream dripping and mingling with B'Elanna's.
Seven slid her tongue from its home in B'Elanna's mouth to her neck. The smell of B'Elanna's musk wafted past Seven's nose and she became fevered in her ministrations. B'Elanna's moans turned to growls; Seven could feel B'Elanna rumble against her. B'Elanna's sounds turned Seven on even more and she felt an electric jolt in her stomach.
B'Elanna called out as Seven’s mouth found its way to B'Elanna’s breasts. Seven seized a nipple in her mouth and sucked and swirled her tongue along the ridges, until B'Elanna started to arch and gyrate her hips. B'Elanna eyes, which had been closed until that point, opened and stared at Seven with a feral and wanton look. As Seven began to suck and lick her way down B'Elanna's belly, B'Elanna dug her nails into Seven's back, scratching and drawing blood. They both smelled the blood at the same time, as it mixed with the scents of their desire; B'Elanna growled a deep and primal sound.
Perspiration covered B'Elanna's body in a sheen, and Seven slid her way down until her swollen lips found B'Elanna's curly hair. She teased B'Elanna, watching as she began to buck; Seven could tell B'Elanna needed her. Seven felt her passion rise yet again and she was overtaken with lust.
It was like their first time together and all Seven wanted to do was feel herself inside B'Elanna. She wanted to consume B'Elanna and be consumed by her. Seven wished that she could fuck B'Elanna and make her pregnant, and that B'Elanna could return the favor.
Her hand drew down upon B'Elanna's slick crotch, and Seven placed two fingers at the edge of B'Elanna's entrance. She slowly entered them, feeling B'Elanna's hot wetness envelope her fingers. Seven's mouth blew gently upon B'Elanna's clit and then she took it into her mouth and sucked. B'Elanna gasped and began rocking harder and harder. Seven's fingers went in and out of B'Elanna faster and harder, and her tongue licked at B'Elanna like a starving beast. B'Elanna began to buck and her wetness spread across Seven's hand.
Seven was bucking too, from the sounds of B'Elanna's growls and screams. B'Elanna's hands were wrapped tightly in Seven's hair, and B'Elanna's smell was so intoxicating Seven felt herself get dizzy. She entered another finger and then another, until Seven felt like her whole hand and B'Elanna were one. Seven thrust over and over until her hand tingled while her mouth sucked B'Elanna until she released herself with a howl.
*End flashback*
NEXT
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
TEMPTATION – CHAPTER 15 (The Conclusion)
Lying cuddling with her wife, Seven became aroused both by B'Elanna massaging her shoulders and the conversation they’d just had. The musk wafting from B'Elanna's body enhanced the electrical charge Seven felt as her wife touched her skin. She could feel her clit start to throb, and in answer to its call, she swept B'Elanna's hair aside and let her lips find refuge on the darker woman's neck. Seven's ruby lips began to swell as they sucked and nipped, causing B'Elanna to lean back and moan.
She could feel her own senses heightening, as her body responded to Seven's ministrations. Her nostrils flared, taking in the sweetness of Seven's odour, and a low growl escaped her throat. Seven sucked first on B'Elanna's right breast, swirling her tongue on the hardened nub, while using her fingers to tease and stimulate B'Elanna's left nipple. B'Elanna felt shock waves coursing her body from her breasts down to her clit. She throbbed from the stimulation; wanting; needing her wife to fulfil her desire. Pulling her wife closer she escalated their kisses.
Several hours later, they were again cuddled in bed. Now, they had to deal with the repercussions of their passions: both of them were pregnant at the same time; one of them with an abdominal implant to contend with, the other a Klingon temper and raging hormones.
As she cuddled further into her wife’s embrace B’Elanna made the plans in her head. First stop would be the Doctor. Get both of them checked out properly to ensure as smooth a pregnancy as possible. For herself this would probably be the same as last time, frequent check-ups and reduced hours towards the latter part of pregnancy, nothing major that she couldn’t deal with.
For Seven though it was a different matter. There was no reason why she could not carry a child; the Doctor had advised them when they had been planning Bethany that it would be problematic; not impossible. She remembered part of the Doc’s lengthy explanation.
“The position of the child in her womb could pose a problem because the abdominal implant will be in the way; especially during the latter stages of pregnancy when her belly is swollen with the child.
The nanoprobes will need semi-constant monitoring through an adapted cortical monitor or a series of commands programmed into them to prevent the rejection of Klingon DNA once pregnancy occurs. This will probably be the biggest risk, as we have no previous knowledge of ex-Borg pregnancies to go on.
Although the abdominal banding is adaptive, there may be some discomfort for Seven if it fails to adapt quickly enough to the demands of the growing child. The neo-natal nanoprobes will protect the child at all costs. Even at the cost of the mother’s life. That much I do know as fact about Borg pregnancies. The actual birth of the child will have to be closely monitored to prevent the neo-natal nanoprobes from remaining active after delivery.”
He had droned on a lot longer but B'Elanna had tuned out the rest. Thinking now; with Seven carrying this child the baby really would be a perfect blending of the DNA used. This time B'Elanna hoped that more of Seven’s features would be prominent. She loved Bethany’s little forehead ridges but she wanted Seven’s baby to look just like Seven. Bethany was a beautiful child both to look at and in nature, but she definitely had the physical characteristics of her Klingon mama.
Her inner nag stood up and made itself known at this point.
Silently cursing herself, she rephrased her thoughts. She wanted their baby to be blonde, blue eyed and tall, with forehead ridges, which were only just noticeable. She corrected her scattered thoughts again as she thought about it. All she really cared about was that the baby was healthy and happy nothing else really mattered.
~~~~~~~
Tom and Harry were leaning against the bar in Sandrines talking about Ro Laren and Niamh’s delivery.
“I take it Janeway forgot about Bajoran birthing techniques since Ro went through all that pain?” Tom smirked. He thought it hilarious that the biggest practical joker on the ship (after himself) had been getting a taste of karmic justice whilst she was pregnant. Ro had complained to him that every time she thought something bad about B'Elanna, something happened to her, which either left her in pain or acutely embarrassed; or both.
“More to the point Tom, how do you know about them?” Harry frowned at his love. “What are they anyway?”
Tom giggled into his beer as he tried to recall the details around Bajoran pregnancies through the alcoholic fuzz. “The Doc told me about it when Ro first announced her pregnancy. It’s a relaxation thing with breathing exercises and calming sounds; something about the sounds creating a calming effect and helping with the labour. The details are kinda fuzzy but I think they had to wear a shawl and play some instruments.”
“I thought the worst thing they had to cope with was all that sneezing?” Harry grinned. Ro’s sneezing had been a frequent topic of conversation. “Have you seen the baby yet?”
“Nope. No visitors until tomorrow. Captain’s orders!” Tom laughed. “They called her Niamh though, I think it’s beautiful.” He smiled.
“Yeah.” Harry smiled too. “I looked it up in the database it means "Bright" in Old Irish. Niamh was the daughter of the sea god in Irish legends who fell in love with the poet Oisin, son of Fionn. It was fascinating reading.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it was Harry.” Tom frowned at his empty glass. “Want a refill?”
~~~~~~
Ro and Janeway were cuddled together on their bed with their new daughter propped between them. Neither had stopped smiling since leaving sickbay with the child. Janeway was grinning like a Cheshire cat and had her future all mapped out. She would learn to walk and talk and then she would be put into command training, she was after all the ‘heir’ to Voyager as the Captain’s only child.
Ro was thinking along similar lines but her future for their child differed hugely from her wife’s vision. She had plans for the little one to have a happy, carefree childhood filled with love and laughter with space for Niamh to learn at her own pace. There would be none of that ‘Starfleet’ nonsense where everything was regimented and learned to a timetable. Niamh would have the flexibility of a Maquis-like childhood, without the violence around her, to learn at her own pace, learning whatever she wanted whenever she wanted with no set curriculum.
~~~~~~
Seven turned slightly in B'Elanna’s embrace and sighed heavily. Concerned about her wife B'Elanna instantly raised her head with a gentle finger. “What? Why the big sigh?”
“It is nothing Be’nal.” Seven smiled as she kissed her wife gently. They had spent several hours discussing the night they’d become pregnant; the results of which would be obvious in a few months. After the discussion she had grabbed B'Elanna and taken her to bed for a replay of all that had happened that night, with the exception of the pregnancies.
“If it’s nothing - why a huge sigh?” B'Elanna grinned at her wife.
“I simply want a large piece of banana & toffee cheesecake and coffee flavoured ice-cream but cannot be bothered moving to get it.”
B'Elanna roared with laughter at her wife’s discomfort – they both had some really strange cravings to look forward to.
~fin~
Quick note: Niamh (pronounced Neeve) really does mean “bright” and the legend is true in Old Irish.
TITLE: The Enemy Within AUTHOR: halfofone RATING: NC17 CODE: J/7 with a hint of J/T GENRE: Star Trek: Voyager FEEDBACK: Umm yes. I think so. EMAILADDY: halfofone@iname.com SUMMARY: A dangerous alien is aboard Voyager and sometimes Janeway's instincts let her down. WARNINGS: This is a horror story (or at least a horrid story). A bit late for Halloween 'though that's when I had the original idea. ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where. DISCLAIMER: Star Trek Voyager is the property of Paramount/Viacom. I am merely having a little fun with her characters CREDITS: Endless thanks to Steff (rebelgirl) for beta'ing this monster PUBLISHED: 12 February 2002 STATUS: Complete
TITLE: The Enemy Within
AUTHOR: halfofone
CODE: J/7 with a hint of J/T
SUMMARY: A dangerous alien is aboard Voyager and sometimes Janeway's instincts let her down.
WARNINGS: This is a horror story (or at least a horrid story). A bit late for Halloween
'though that's when I had the original idea.
CREDITS: Endless thanks to Steff (rebelgirl) for beta'ing this monster
PUBLISHED: 12 February 2002
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
USS Voyager - The Brig
"You keep me here against my will," said the smooth voiced alien. She threw herself against the force-field again and was driven back, clenching her streamlined face against the pain.
"You sound surprised. Would attempted murder be treated any differently on your world?" asked Captain Janeway.
"Yes. I would be skinned, eviscerated and then my remains would be tried for failure to kill." The alien laughed and a shiver ran down Janeway's spine. "But I would not be incarcerated and held against my will. You are barbarians."
Janeway hid her disgust and replied as coolly as she was able, "Justice takes many forms. Had you succeeded in murdering any of my crew I might have been more inclined to follow the local custom."
"I did not ask you to rescue me Captain Janeway. But you did and now I am honour bound to destroy you and your crew."
"I've heard enough. We will set you down on the next empty habitable planet. In the meantime, enjoy the comfort of your cell." Janeway smiled angelically into the glistening blue-black eyes and marched out of the brig, ignoring the whistling scream of fury and the fizz and crack of the force-field as the alien hurled herself at it for the fourth time. Chakotay fell into step beside the captain.
"I tell you Chakotay there are days when infinite diversity seems like a very bad idea." Janeway shook her head trying to obliterate the memory of finding Lieutenant Holmes, alive but half-skinned. She turned her thoughts to the more appealing prospect of Seven of Nine. "How was Seven's final examination?"
"All clear. The Doc reckons she can return to normal duties, although I think that order has missed the boat. Seven has been back for several days."
"I still don't really understand the Borg's need for the cortical inhibitor. It would appear redundant in a drone." Janeway had heard the official explanation but it seemed off to her.
Chakotay shrugged. He had little desire to understand the Borg. It was enough not to be one. Instead his thoughts turned on Kathryn's obsession with the blonde ex-drone. He wondered if she realised how obvious it was and, in particular, how painful for him.
"Well Seven is rid of hers now." continued Kathryn innocently, not noticing Chakotay's expression. "And I for one, am looking forward to her taking her final steps back to humanity."
She stopped outside her quarters, raked a hand wearily through her hair and winced at the pain in her shoulder. She made a quick decision.
"Would you mind if I gave our dinner a miss? I'm feeling pretty tired and banged up and you can blame Seven for that. She beat me at velocity for the first time yesterday, three times actually because I wouldn't admit defeat." Janeway smiled at him ruefully. "Removing that inhibitor has done the world of good for her game."
He smiled down at her and hid his pain deep inside. His soft voice betrayed no disquiet.
"Of course. Have an early night Kathryn. You earned it today."
She smiled gratefully at him and watched him walk away, an evil part of her almost laughed at the dignity he showed. He was so horribly patient with her and she treated him so badly. It would have been pathetic except their lives out here were anything but pathetic.
She entered her quarters and was surprised to find the lights at one half and soft music playing.
"Who's there?" she asked, too tired to be able to work out if she was annoyed or simply puzzled.
From the shadows, Seven of Nine stepped into view and smiled at her. For a second Kathryn had trouble breathing. The Borg was beautiful, blonde hair flowing over her slender shoulders, sparkling blue eyes enhanced by a dress of shimmering cornflower blue. Even the blue-black, shining star implanted in her right arm gleamed like precious stones adding an exotic darkness to the Nordic princess. Involuntarily Kathryn stepped backwards.
"Am I repulsive to you?" Seven asked and something close to hurt shadowed the sky-blue eyes.
"No!" said Janeway too emphatically. "I .. You surprised me and I think there have been a few too many of those today. Surprises that is."
"I apologise for the intrusion Captain. I'll leave now."
"No Seven. Stay. I didn't mean you should go just yet; I wanted to talk to you." Janeway smiled shyly. "You look beautiful Seven." She tried to collect herself. "What is the occasion?"
Seven ignored her question. "You are tired Captain, let me help you." She sounded more confident and moved closer until she was standing only inches from the small captain. "Elevated breathing, temperature also, erratic heartbeat. Perhaps you are not well or perhaps there is some other cause."
Disconcerted by the cool assessment, Janeway backed away a little. "I'm fine Seven. I just need some rest." She rubbed her eyes. "I must be getting old, .. never felt tired like this before."
"You need more than rest." stated Seven of Nine. There was unmistakable arrogance in the cool voice.
"Really. And you would know what I need I suppose?" said Janeway with an edge of sarcasm.
"Yes. It is obvious."
"Is that so?" Annoyed by the knowing tone, Janeway drew back and went to get herself a drink from a tall bottle standing by the replicator. The whisky burned her throat but the warmth afterwards was worth it. Sighing, she undid her jacket collar which seemed unusually tight. When she turned round again Seven was again standing very close; Janeway was touched with a little panic.
"Seven whatever you may like to think, I would like to get some rest if you don't mind."
Seven nodded. "Of course. I will assist you."
"I don't need any help Seven ..." Impassive, the ex-drone stooped and lifted the captain without effort; then carried her through to the bedroom, ignoring the furious protests. She laid the struggling woman quite tenderly on the bed and stood for a few moments as though undecided. Janeway glared at her. Righteous anger and humiliating need coloured her icy demand. "What the hell has gotten into you Seven? I will not ..."
"You," interrupted Seven.
"What do you mean?" asked the captain, barely controlling her anger that threatened to detach her habitual mask of command.
Seven leant low over her and replied with great gentleness. "You have 'gotten into me'. I think about you constantly, imagining your thoughts, dreaming of your expressions, hearing your voice when there is no-one there. When I cannot see you it's like a physical pain. When I do see you it hurts as much and each casual dismissal brings darkness. And each day, when I know that I am to see you, " she smiled as though embarrassed by her own foolishness, "I know what it is to walk on air."
The Starfleet captain, vanquisher of Borg and Hirogen, could not find a single word. Their eyes locked and Kathryn held her breath. Seven years of self-control were slipping away; seven years in thrall to the stifling demands of duty, guilt and responsibility, distorting her emotions, her dreams and even her friendships, as effectively as any device the Borg could produce.
"You already know that I love you Kathryn."
Expecting to be kissed, Kathryn tensed, although even she could not have said whether it was fear or anticipation, but Seven stood up again. Kathryn tried not to be disappointed. The Borg was frowning. "Banal words compared to what I feel for you, what I want for you. Now that I can express those feelings without inhibition."
Janeway watched, fascinated as the fabulous blonde stretched upwards, languorously reaching for the ceiling, every curve and muscle delineated. "As to what you want ..." Seven's voice dropped lower and she turned to look into Janeway's eyes and a shock of desire, half recognised, shivered through the latter's body. With the same casual grace, the Borg unexpectedly bent down and pinned Janeway's wrists to the bed, disregarding all attempts to wriggle free. "You need this." She leant down and softly kissed the elegant mouth and then again more firmly.
Janeway jerked her mouth away and stared angrily up at her captor, the blood thundering in her ears, driven too fast through her veins by an explosive mixture of love, rage and lust. Seven might well be right she thought bitterly; maybe Voyager's captain needed sex. She had to regain some control; this is what holodecks are for, she reminded herself and felt the humiliating sting of memory, thinking back on her useless attempts to moderate her loneliness with artificial companions; not much help to lost and lonely captains, hopelessly in love with members of their crew.
"Seven I cannot allow this. I thought you understood my situation," she asserted but her voice shook and the blue-grey eyes were shadowed with longing. Wasn't this what she had imagined in so many idle daydreams? "I'm the captain. We have discussed this many times."
Seven of Nine almost smiled. "You cannot be 'The Captain' everywhere and forever Kathryn. I will not allow you to be captain here any longer." She did not release Janeway's wrists although the captain had ceased to struggle. "Here I will be in command. That is what you want isn't it?"
Seven gazed into the wilfully impassive face. Janeway used her years of command training to mask any reaction. Ignoring the sudden stab of uncertainty, Seven returned her mouth to the soft, sweet lips They remained stubbornly closed. The ex-drone released one of the captain's wrists and delicately trailed her Borg fingers along the captain's thigh. She was gratified to see fearful desire shade Kathryn's slate-blue eyes. Seven decided to play for advantage and bent to kiss the captain's neck. She was rewarded with a light moan, quickly stifled, but not quickly enough. With fresh courage she licked and kissed her way across the soft skin to the raging pulse point.
Janeway gasped again. She felt Seven bite into her neck and muffled a scream. Her resistance crumbling, her arms circled the Borg trying to pull her close. Seven braced herself, and pulled back, not allowing any contact other than her mouth. The Borg was not going to lose control now. "Seven, please."
"Kathryn. Let go. Trust me." Kathryn let her arms fall back. She shivered as Seven unfastened the Starfleet jacket. "I'm going to undress you."
Slowly and inefficiently, Seven removed her clothing. Inefficient because she stopped to caress and kiss every new discovery. Kathryn was beside herself but Seven would not be hurried. At last she lay naked under the Borg's gaze. Even then Seven seemed to think they had all the time in the world. She laid her Borg hand on Kathryn's exposed stomach stroking slowly, considering the contrast between the completely human body, squirming against the touch of the mechanical construct, and the thing that touched her.
"You are very beautiful Kathryn. This is not. How can you stand to be touched by it?" She lifted her hand so that Kathryn could see the evidence of her Borg past. Janeway was shaken by the disgust in Seven's face. The captain slowly reached out and took the metal threaded hand in hers. She drew it down to cover her breast.
Seven's expression lightened a little. "Beauty wants the beast," she murmured. "And she shall have her." With that she bent to kiss the exposed breast, taking the soft flesh into her mouth, circling the pebbled tip with her tongue. Kathryn's back arched at the contact. The Borg hand still covered her other breast, the powerful fingers delicately raking across the swollen nipple, stroking and twisting. Not roughly but hard enough to make Kathryn sob.
In the hours that followed she did more than sob. Seven allowed her no respite unless she begged for mercy and beg she did, losing herself and every scrap of her famous restraint. Even when the Borg eventually decided to bring herself some release, Kathryn had no control, was allowed no active part. The tall blonde, sliding her lanky body over the smaller woman's smooth thigh, rode to a shuddering climax, even as her fingers thrust again inside her lover, driving her to helpless entreaty. Finally exhausted and spent, Kathryn Janeway slept cradled in strong arms. As she drifted off to sleep Seven murmured in her ear. "Safe with me my love, nothing can harm you."
~~~
7 AM. SHIFT BEGINS IN ONE HOUR. THIS WARNING WILL BE REPEATED IN FIVE MINUTES.
Kathryn Janeway opened her eyes and winced. She rolled on her back.
"Oh my God," she breathed. Closing her eyes didn't help. A rush of images crammed themselves into her memories. She opened her eyes again and noticed something lying on the next pillow: a PADD. She levered herself up onto one arm and tapped on the message screen. A short message scrolled across.
'Sorry to leave before you woke; I required a period of regeneration. I hope you are not too tired this morning Kathryn. You are very beautiful when you sleep; I watched you all night (what was left of it). I will see you in the senior team briefing, although it will be difficult to wait that long. I love you.'
"What have I done? How in hell am I going to sort this mess out?" She sat up and untangled herself from the sheet. 'I have to speak to her.' Full of energy, Kathryn Janeway bounded from the bedroom to the shower. As the water ran down her skin she noticed several bruises. 'Rough enough for your fantasies Janeway?' she mocked.
She was out of the shower after only a few minutes and dressed quickly. Ten minutes later the captain stood at the door of Cargo bay 2 trying to find the courage to enter. 'Don't be so weak Katie. Oh I forgot,' she sneered, 'that's the new Janeway; begging permission from her lover.' She cringed at the memory and the contempt stiffened her resolve.
She entered the cargo bay; the green glow of the borg alcoves beckoning to her through the gloom. "Computer, lights on full," she instructed and walked determinedly to stand in front of the alcove. Seven stood silently, held fast in the grip of the regeneration cycle, angelically calm. 'She is gorgeous,' was Kathryn's involuntary reaction.
"Computer, end regeneration cycle," she said firmly, ignoring the dizzying wave of lust that weakened her knees and released another flood of distracting memories.
REGENERATION CYCLE INCOMPLETE
Seven opened her eyes and hesitated before looking down.
"Kathryn," she breathed.
"Seven," acknowledged Janeway trying to keep the tremor from her voice. "We have to talk."
The ex-drone smiled wearily. "Is this where you tell me that our love can never be? That a starship captain cannot have any relation with a member of the crew." Janeway was silent, wrong-footed again. "There is no need to concern yourself Kathryn. No-one will know. I expect nothing from you. And if, in the night, you are lonely, all you have to do is call. I will wait." Seven stepped down from the alcove. "If that is all you wished to discuss, I am required in Astrometrics. We have a full day."
Kathryn wanted to protest but could find nothing to protest about as she had come to say exactly that. Not the lonely night thing obviously. It could never happen again.
"Seven, it doesn't seem right .... "
"Kathryn I understand. Your situation makes it too hard for you ..... "
The red alert siren went off and the emergency lights started to flash. Janeway's hand was on her comm badge before she was even aware of having moved it.
"Janeway to Chakotay. What's happened?"
"The prisoner has escaped from the brig. Two security guards are dead." Janeway felt sick momentarily then her command mask flipped back in place.
"On my way. Has the prisoner been traced?"
"No. It's disappeared."
"I want full internal security scans. Armed crew at every access point. All senior staff are to report the briefing room. Janeway out."
Janeway was white-lipped with fury. Seven knew how much the captain hated to lose anyone and, inevitably, she blamed herself. There was something exciting about the stone-cold anger radiating from those eyes, darkened now to slate grey, and the low harsh voice.
"Seven you're with me." The Borg fell into step behind her leader as they marched to the turbolift. "Bridge." said Janeway. They stood in silence. All personal thoughts had been driven from Janeway's mind. She imagined all the ways the alien may have escaped, hardly able to wait for the lift to arrive so she could hunt it down and make it pay for what it had done to her crew.
"She warned you," said Seven quietly watching the captain's face.
"What?"
"The alien warned you that she would kill you and your crew if you didn't kill her first."
"Are you saying it's my fault?"
"It is a consequence of your decision."
"We don't murder prisoners." Janeway told her stiffly.
"Such a stance has consequences. In this case, fatal ones."
The lift arrived and the doors opened before Janeway had a chance to reply. Angry, she ignored Seven and headed for the briefing room. Chakotay, B'Elanna and Tom were there already; Harry was still on the bridge programming the internal sensors.
"Where's Tuvok?" Janeway snapped angrily.
"He was called to the brig. No one wants to touch the bodies before he has seen them," said B'Elanna ominously. "They are going to be sent up to the Doc. for examination."
Janeway hesitated for just a moment. "Why?"
"They were mutilated. Gutted," was the short reply. The engineer was angry and revolted, all mixed up with a little fear. She had already checked on her baby three times.
The red alert sounded and simultaneously Janeway's comm badge chirruped.
"Kim to Janeway."
"Go ahead Harry."
"You'd better get back here Captain. There's been a series of explosions in engineering." Even filtered through the comm link, Harry's distress was evident. Cursing under her breath she almost ran the few yards to the bridge, slowing as she entered, asking calmly.
"What's the situation Harry?"
"The explosions were in lower engineering. Reports are confused but there are casualties. Force-fields have gone up around the area. A level eight plasma fire is burning. Sixty-five percent of the engineering decks are on fire"
"Sabotage?"
"Quite possibly." interjected Chakotay, scanning the preliminary security reports. "Captain, the warp core is in danger, we may have to vent engineering."
"Make sure all the crew are out and then do it," she ordered without hesitation.
He grimaced "That may not be possible. The rescue team report that most of the crew are trapped on the far side of the fire and the transporters went off-line when the power circuits were destroyed. It seems the crew cannot be evacuated without first extinguishing the fire."
"Damn. I'll get down there. Harry, do what you can to control the fire. Tom, close down all engines if you can. B'Elanna and Seven come with me. Chakotay, you have the bridge. Keep me informed."
~~~
The three women entered the turbolift without speaking though, under her breath, B'Elanna was cursing steadily. Janeway put her hand on the half-Klingon's shoulder. The lift stopped on deck 12 and the captain and her team entered the Jeffries tube connecting the deck to upper engineering. They descended the ladders, moving fast, in silence, until they arrived at the foot of the tube.
"Report Chakotay."
"We have contained the fire within a force-field but it is unlikely we can maintain the containment for more than a couple of minutes at best."
"Tell the crew to get out now Chakotay, anyway they can, Jeffries tubes, maintenance crawls whatever they can access."
"Yes Captain."
Janeway gestured to Seven to open the hatch to the main corridor. Cautiously she complied. Heated air from the corridor flooded the tube and in moments, the women were perspiring.
They entered the deck 12 corridor only a few yards from the main entrance to upper engineering. The doors were hanging half open, demolished in the first explosion and across the gap they could see a level ten force-field, shimmering as it held back the extreme heat radiating from the devastated engine room. Through the distortion, figures were visible running about on the lower decks. Some were crouching, trying to hide themselves from the searing heat. A blue sea of molten plasma, one story high, was floating in a containment field. As they watched helplessly, the plasma began leaking through the containment and then burst free and poured through engineering, overrunning screaming crewmen.
"Captain, we must vent engineering or the fire will spread to the rest of the ship." Seven's calm voice interjected above the lacerating noise. "And we will have to eject the warp core if we are to have any chance of saving it."
Janeway could not disguise her terror and pity. "There are still people alive in there Seven. I can see them."
"You cannot help them Captain," said Seven very gently and took the captain's hand as though trying to convey strength to the small red-head.
Janeway withdrew her hand and fingered her comm badge. No-one could help her with this. She had no choice left; the situation every commander feared. "Janeway to Chakotay. Dump the warp core and vent the main engine room." Pain and guilt twisted at her heart.
"Yes Captain," answered the first officer, gravely. B'Elanna Torres sank to her knees and howled as her colleagues and friends of seven years were condemned to death.
The warp core slid smoothly down the guide rails and fell away from the ship. Seconds later, the emergency vents opened. Everything not tied down flew towards the vacuum, spilling out of the wounded ship in a fountain of plasma, equipment and bodies. Janeway could have sworn that she heard the desperate crew shouting for help although she knew that was nonsense.
Without the glow of the warp core and the light from the plasma fire, engineering was now in total darkness; a dark hollow tomb. She shut her eyes against the images and the tears. "On my oath as a Starfleet officer. It will pay." She repeated in a voice, choked with rage. "It will pay."
Seven was monitoring the damaged decks with a tricorder. She seemed almost obscenely calm but her hands shook a little. "The fire is extinguished," she announced. "The damaged area may be re-pressurised now." She looked at Janeway expectantly.
For a tiny eternity the captain did not react. She spoke at last and there was no emotion in the voice, her pain disappearing behind the cold mask of command. Janeway had to move on. There were procedures to follow; protocols to endure. She could not allow herself to feel, not yet, possibly never. "Chakotay; seal the vents and re-pressurise main engineering.
"Acknowledged Captain." Almost immediately the vents closed.
"Seven, find Tom Paris and take a shuttle. Try and recover any bodies."
Seven nodded once and left.
B'Elanna sat on the floor and stared vacantly into the dark, lifeless void that had formerly been main engineering.
Janeway spoke, her voice quite low. "B'Elanna."
The engineer did not react.
"Lieutenant Torres are you listening to me?"
The chief engineer looked up at her, the dark eyes, anguished hollows.
Janeway allowed no pity in her voice. "Assemble whatever engineering crew you can find. I want an assessment of the damage and a plan for recovering the warp core and regaining warp power."
B'Elanna did not move.
"Lieutenant obey your orders." Janeway's voice was slow and measured as though talking to a simpleton, but her words were brutal. "I have no time for you to disintegrate like a whining petaQ Torres. Get on your feet and get me that assessment."
B'Elanna flinched. Sluggishly, she rose to her feet and whispered. "Yes Captain." The half-Klingon shook her head, trying to concentrate. "We can set up an operations room in the engineering sub-station on deck 12. Most of the assessments can be done from there."
"Good. Keep me informed and let me have a preliminary report as soon as you're able. I'm going back to the bridge."
Torres watched her go, the slim body ascending the Jeffries ladder at speed. After the captain had disappeared, Torres activated her communicator. "Ensign Wildman."
"Wildman here."
"Is everything okay Sam? How are the kids?"
"Naomi is a little scared and Miral wants her feed but they're fine. There are terrible rumours flying about B'Elanna. Is it true we've dumped the warp core?"
B'Elanna could hear the fear leaking from her friend's voice. She didn't know what to say. "Sam I can't talk now but it'll be alright, I'll speak to you later. Torres out." She hesitated and then a new determination rose in her. Her daughter and her husband and all her friends were depending on her holding together. Without the warp core they were as good as dead. "Computer ship-wide announcement. This is Lieutenant Torres. All engineering crew are to report for duty, to the engineering sub-station on deck 12, immediately."
TITLE: The Enemy Within
AUTHOR: halfofone
CODE: J/7 with a hint of J/T
SUMMARY: A dangerous alien is aboard Voyager and sometimes Janeway's instincts let her down.
WARNINGS: This is a horror story (or at least a horrid story). A bit late for Halloween
'though that's when I had the original idea.
CREDITS: Endless thanks to Steff (rebelgirl) for beta'ing this monster
PUBLISHED: 12 February 2002
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Janeway re-entered the bridge to find Chakotay and Tuvok discussing the best way to find the alien. Chakotay was heated. Tuvok was Vulcan.
"Tuvok we have to start armed searches and sweep each deck. The internal sensors are revealing nothing."
"The alien may no longer be aboard Commander."
"With respect Tuvok, nothing has left this ship. Somehow it is masking its presence here."
"Or, it masked its departure, although I do not believe the alien's technology was sufficient to allow such cloaking in either case. However the sabotage of our systems is impressive."
"Explain Tuvok." prompted Janeway.
"The explosion in engineering was apparently triggered by generating a feedback loop in the EPS conduits. In order to set this up, the alien had to override three separate security systems without detection. It was a considerable technical feat Captain."
Harry chimed in.
"Perhaps it's some kind of shape shifter and is disguised as something else. Or perhaps it's a mind reader."
"Too many guesses in that suggestion Ensign. I want facts." Janeway said harshly. "Tuvok, organise security into search teams and start a deck by deck search. Seal off each deck when it has been searched and cleared. I also want to know how the alien breached our security. Harry, I want you to rerun the internal sensor sweep and this time I want every molecule of material on this ship examined and identified. Anything out of place or unusual and I want to know. What is the status of the away team?"
"They are on their way to the debris field, it's drifting away from our position. Seven reported that they have identified twenty-two bodies. They will try and isolate them and then use a tractor beam to bring them back to Voyager."
"How many more missing Chakotay?" She asked brusquely, hiding her dread in the voice of command.
Chakotay was not fooled. "Four bodies have been found in Engineering and five wounded. Twelve crew are not accounted for."
"Why so many Chakotay?" she asked, shocked at the numbers of dead. Voyager had not experienced those kinds of losses since they were first transported to the Delta quadrant.
"The explosion occurred at 07:53. Many of the alpha shift had arrived early for their shift and the gamma shift were still on duty," he added unnecessarily.
"I see." She pinched her nose.
Chakotay continued. "I have instructed the doctor to expect the bodies. When he has identified them, they are to be stored in Cargo Bay 1. A detail of volunteers is being organised to look for the missing ..."
"Captain," interrupted Tuvok, "Voyager is powering main phasers. It is targeting the shuttle."
"Override now Tuvok. Janeway to away team. Raise shields immediately."
"I am unable to override. Voyager is firing."
"On screen." The view screen activated in time to see the blue flare of the shuttle's shields as a full phaser blast struck the small ship. "Away team. Evasive manoeuvres. Get out of range now. Computer. Captain's emergency override. Shutdown main phasers; authorisation Janeway gamma five zero omega." She waited and the seconds stretched to eternity.
"Main phasers are disabled Captain. They have powered down," said Tuvok.
Janeway let out the breath she was holding.
"Away team to Voyager," said Seven's cool voice. "We have suffered minor damage and no injuries. We are able to complete our mission before returning to Voyager."
Janeway almost smiled with relief. "Good but make it quick Seven. Be efficient."
"Indeed Captain. Seven out."
Janeway sprawled back in her command chair. Where the hell was the intruder and how was she using Voyager against her own crew? An obvious question struck her. The intruder must be launching her attacks from a command station somewhere. "Tuvok. Try and trace the source of the command that fired the phasers."
"I have already attempted to do so Captain." His voice indicated vague disapproval at being asked such an obvious question. "The command file has been deleted. As in the case of the EPS sabotage, all records have been erased."
"Alright, where did that command come from?"
"I believe it was part of the same command set. On deactivation it self-destructed."
"It thinks of everything. Keep trying to track it Tuvok; I want a list of any places on a Voyager where a seven foot blue lizard could hide and gain control of the ship. Chakotay you have the bridge. I going to brief the search teams, visit sickbay and boost morale a little, then B'Elanna to discuss repairs."
"Is it sensible to put yourself in the line of fire?" Chakotay asked dutifully, but with little hope of curbing her impulse to be on the front line. As the losses mounted the captain's sense of self-preservation would decrease.
"Everywhere on this ship is in the line of fire Chakotay. Do you think the bridge is less of a target than a corridor on deck six?" She grinned at him, a little forced humour, but he responded in kind.
"Thank you for that thought Kathryn. We all feel much better now." The sense of fear lessened amongst the bridge crew. If the captain and commander could joke then things weren't that hopeless.
"The shuttle is returning to Voyager Captain" reported Harry.
"Good. Ask Seven to join me in engineering in 10:00. In the meantime she is to help you with the sensor sweeps. And Chakotay, tell Tom to report to the EMH for assignment. We're not going anywhere for a while, unless B'Elanna works a miracle."
~~~
B'Elanna Torres was feeling distinctly useless. The few remaining engineers had been unable to effect a single meaningful repair. Every time they analysed a problem, they needed something else and that was either destroyed, also in need of repairs or unreachable in the gloomy hell hole that was main engineering. The environment in there was so hazardous, that she could not allow more than two personnel at a time to enter the area, and then only if they were wearing full protective suits. She decided to concentrate on one thing and that was preparing the ship to receive the warp core. The weakened lower hull, transporters, main deflector, replicators, lower deck communications, lower deck turbo lifts, port torpedo tubes and the port impulse engine would have to wait. Her team of twenty-three, mainly beta-shift engineers were showing the strain as well and she would have to pace them carefully.
She had split the small group into two double shifts but grief and fear were not conducive to clear thinking or concentration and the chief engineer was having to check every piece of work. A surviving alpha-shift engineer had shown such distress, that she had to be relieved from duty and was now in sickbay under sedation. For her own part, B'Elanna would not allow herself to think of all the companions and colleagues, whose charred bodies now lay in cargo bay 1.
The report she gave to Janeway an hour later was not significantly different. While Janeway scanned through her report, B'ELanna, for want of anything better to think about, observed Seven of Nine. She was uncharacteristically lounging against the wall, watching the captain. The possessive look caught B'Elanna's attention and she wondered if something had happened between them; it was none of her business of course. She dragged her mind back to present.
"Seven can you help here?" She asked, desperation overriding her normal reluctance to engage with tall Borg. "I need every competent pair of hands I can muster. Some of my crew are barely capable of changing a fuse."
"If the captain is agreeable then I will do so." The tall blonde looked to Janeway for confirmation.
Janeway didn't look up from the report as she gave her assent. "Fine. Recovering the warp core is our priority." She was very disturbed by what she was reading. They were unlikely to be going anywhere for four or five days and that was being optimistic. Janeway handed the report back to B'Elanna. "Take whatever resources you need B'Elanna. There is nothing more important than getting the warp core back on line."
"Apart from destroying the intruder," Seven muttered.
"Apart from that." agreed Janeway in a low hard voice. She turned to go. "I'll see you later Seven."
"Yes Captain."
B'Elanna was taken aback to see a lazy smile spread over Seven of Nine's perfect features. Then Seven noticed her expression and the smile was wiped away instantaneously leaving the familiar impassive gaze.
"Where should I begin Lieutenant?"
"Kahless knows. Everything needs doing. We would struggle if we had a full shipyard at our disposal. Well we haven't so we improvise. We need to realign the main energy converter cells before we can even think about re-installing the warp core. So let's start with that."
"A reasonable plan Lieutenant."
~~~
Apart from B'Elanna and Seven, who were fully engaged in the Herculean struggle in engineering, the senior staff had gathered in the briefing room to review progress.
" .... she must have been destroyed in the plasma fire and then sucked into space." said Harry vehemently.. "There have been no further attacks since the fire and the search of the decks, and the sensor scans have found nothing."
"You're forgetting the attack on the shuttle Harry" Chakotay said patiently.
The young ensign looked a little annoyed. "That could have been a pre-arranged booby trap. She might have set it before she died."
Chakotay let his doubts show. "I wouldn't like to bet the ship on that theory Harry. It may be that she has been hampered by the high levels of monitoring and is just waiting for us to drop our guard.
"True," agreed Tuvok, "We do not know enough about the creature's capabilities and cannot be sure that she has not evaded our scans. I would counsel extreme caution Captain."
The captain covered her frustration at the lack of progress. "Agreed. All security staff are to remain on full alert and keep scanning. If it moves we may be able to detect it." There was a long silence. Unwillingly, Janeway turned her attention to the EMH. "Doctor. Report."
"I have identified all the bodies recovered in the shuttle and several more that were found in engineering. There are still eight crew unaccounted for. It is likely that their bodies were completely destroyed in the fire. All of the crew injured in the explosion are now on the road to recovery including the most serious plasma burn victim; I have developed several techniques which are, I believe, quite unique."
Seeing that the Doctor was about to indulge in a bout of self-congratulation and observing his captain's darkening expression, Chakotay intervened. "That's excellent but what about the psychological effects Doctor?"
The EMH grimaced. "Less good news there," he admitted. "I have three crew under sedation and another six being treated for traumatic stress. I am afraid there may be many more who are simply not coming forward for treatment. It is very important that I identify any crew members who are having difficulties."
"That would be everyone Doc," said Tom bluntly.
"I may be able to help a little," Neelix interrupted earnestly. "I have found that many of the crew want to discuss their fears but do not want to do so with the Doctor. Sorry Doctor," he muttered apologetically. "So I have been encouraging off-duty staff to get together and we just, well talk. Seems to help some of them, well I think it does." He shrugged self-deprecatingly. "I may be able to direct the most disturbed to the Doctor."
Janeway smiled at him with real affection. "Thank you Neelix. That sounds excellent." She drew herself up in her chair. "If no-one has anything further to add then let's get back to it gentlemen. Dismissed."
~~~
B'Elanna propped herself against a bulkhead and wiped the sweat from her eyes. After eleven hours of back-breaking, dangerous work, they had managed to clear sufficient debris and replace or repair enough components to allow the warp core to be put back. Not that it would work or power the engines. That would take another four days at least, but it was a good start. She was even feeling a little amused as she watched a distinctly filthy ex-drone wriggle out of a maintenance hatch. Adding Seven to the team had been like adding three chief engineers. Nothing seemed too difficult for her and she had laboured unstintingly. "Good job. Why don't you take a break for a few hours?"
Half-expecting the blonde to decline, B'Elanna was surprised when Seven responded promptly. "Thank you Lieutenant. I need a rest. It seems to be very warm in here."
"I'd noticed. Environmental controls are playing up." Or being interfered with. She didn't voice the fear that immediately sprang to everyone's mind. "I'll get someone to have a look."
"I will return in exactly 120 minutes." Seven rose on her impossibly long legs and strode from engineering. Torres thought she heard the Borg ask the computer for the location of Captain Janeway. Definitely something going on there.
"Okay people if Seven needs a rest then I'm guessing you do too. One hour break everyone. I want a volunteer to collect whatever you fancy from the mess-hall." She made a face, remembering that without replicators there wasn't likely to be much that anyone would fancy. "Well, get what you can. Charlie, you and I need to look at the environmental controls. It is getting very warm."
~~~
"Come." Janeway responded automatically to the entrance buzzer.
Seven entered. She had cleaned herself up and replaced her biosuit and she was carrying a steaming mug that she placed on the desk in front of the captain. "I wondered if you required a coffee."
Janeway was touched and puzzled. "How on earth did you manage that? All the replicators are off-line."
"I had previously replicated a supply of the necessary beans," Seven replied evasively. Janeway continued to look enquiring and the ex-drone looked embarrassed. "I was interested in your addiction and wished to study it further."
"Hmm. I'm not sure how to feel about that. But thank you anyway Seven. I was resigned to a coffee-less existence for the duration of this crisis." She smiled and mentally suppressed the immediate physical response generated by Seven's presence. "How are the repairs proceeding?"
"Better than expectations. Lieutenant Torres is working too hard."
Janeway nodded and took the hint. "I'll order her and Tom to take a break together; go and see Miral. Thank you Seven. Is that everything?"
"No. Are you alright Kathryn?" Seven moved closer to the desk.
The captain shrugged, met the intent blue-eyed gaze with a half-smile and said laconically. "I am functioning within acceptable parameters as you used to say."
"Do not try and divert me Kathryn." Seven leaned across the desk and placed her hands over the captain's.
Janeway pulled her hands back and tried not to appear panicked. Seven was too close. She stood up too quickly and backed away from her desk, knocking her chair over in the process. Not a smooth move Katie. Cursing herself for a clumsy fool, Janeway sidled away from the desk, to stand looking out at the stars.
Straightening herself, Seven smirked. With a few short strides, she stood behind the captain, only inches from the small woman. "An ineffective tactical retreat," she whispered in her ear.
"I'm aware of that Seven," said Janeway half-irritated and half-aroused. She groaned as Seven closed the remaining gap and wrapped her arms around her waist, pulling the captain back to press against the length of her body. "Damn." She swayed slightly and Seven tightened her hold to support her. "I don't have time for this Seven."
"You have six point four minutes." said Seven inexorably, her hand stroking lower.
"What happened to all that understanding of my position as captain?" Kathryn sounded a little choked.
"We may die. Your position as captain is then irrelevant but I do not wish to wait for that occurrence." One hand slipped inside the captain's waistband as the other unfastened her jacket and cupped her breast.
Janeway groaned and tried to wriggle free. "I can't allow this" she protested in a low rough voice.
"If it makes you feel better Kathryn, you are not allowing it." As Seven said this, her fingers slipped lower, sliding slowly in hot wetness and the captain shuddered. "Ready for me," murmured Seven.
"Seven stop this. Please."
"Do you really want me to stop?"
"Yes."
The slender fingers stilled within her and Janeway bit back a moan and held herself rigid, suppressing the urge to move against them, trying to control her rapid breathing. Gradually Seven withdrew her hand but her other arm held the captain fast. Almost without intention Janeway let her head fall back against Seven's shoulder.
Chakotay pressed the buzzer to the ready room and entered without waiting to be called, a first officer's privilege. He regretted it even before he spoke. The captain pushed Seven away but the flushed face and disarray told him enough.
"Kathryn! What in hell's name is going on?" he blurted, the pain of the moment driving his original purpose straight out of his mind. He could not hide the anger swelling inside him. And the acute sense of injustice.
Captain Janeway re-asserted herself. With an effort of will she ignored the sea of mortification that was engulfing her. She was angry enough with her own weakness to offer no quarter to Chakotay. "You have something to report Commander? I am right in supposing you had a reason for coming in here?"
Chakotay glared at Seven his fists bunching. Slowly he recollected why he had come here in the first place. His shoulders sagged. "Bad news. Security have found another body."
Janeway flinched for an instant. "Who?" She asked very quietly.
"Tal Celes. They found her in Astrometrics. She's been dead for maybe an hour."
In the background Seven of Nine mumbled something unintelligible and he remembered that Celes was one of her crew.
"Dammit, I was hoping that Harry was right." said Janeway grimly. "Why her?"
"Perhaps she found something." suggested Seven.
Chakotay looked at her oddly. He tried to disregard his rising resentment towards the cool blonde. "Good guess. We think she may have. Her blood was not the only blood found at the scene. There was some alien blood and what appears to be scales from the creature. It looks as though Celes stumbled across the creature and it killed her. It may have been wounded when she found it."
"Give me some good news Chakotay. Tell me you know where it went."
"No. I'm sorry Captain."
"This is impossible. It just appears from thin air, kills and then disappears again like some fairy tale monster. I'm not buying this Chakotay. We are missing something." She straightened her jacket and fastened it. "Briefing room now. All senior staff." She stalked from the room leaving Seven and Chakotay to sort out who should follow first. The rivals looked at each other.
"After you Commander," said Seven, too politely and quirked her implant knowingly.
Chakotay was infuriated. "Leave her alone Seven. I'm warning you."
Seven didn't bother to pretend not to understand or to hide her contempt. "And you believe 'leaving her alone' is what she needs after seven lonely years of responsibility and command. It is unsurprising that you have failed with her." She lowered her voice to sound almost confiding. "What she needs, Chakotay, is an equal, someone to challenge her, someone whom she cannot defeat, someone to fill her dreams and .... her bed." She pushed him aside. "I do not think I will give way to you Commander, after all."
"This isn't the end of this conversation Seven of Nine." He glowered after her.
TITLE: The Enemy Within
AUTHOR: halfofone
CODE: J/7 with a hint of J/T
SUMMARY: A dangerous alien is aboard Voyager and sometimes Janeway's instincts let her down.
WARNINGS: This is a horror story (or at least a horrid story). A bit late for Halloween
'though that's when I had the original idea.
CREDITS: Endless thanks to Steff (rebelgirl) for beta'ing this monster
PUBLISHED: 12 February 2002
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
B'Elanna sat in her quarters and watched Tom play with Miral. The baby giggled happily as he fooled about for her. It seemed surreal, having an all-too-rare moment together, dressed in the bulky protective suits. Janeway had been immovable on the subject of getting some rest. After long hours of concentrated effort the recovered warp core was now back in place and the captain had insisted that B'Elanna take a break. The environmental suits were just an unwelcome precaution. All crew were to wear them at all times and helmets had to be kept within reach. The orders were not popular, since the suits were uncomfortable to work in, inconveniently bulky and did not ease the underlying fear amongst the crew.
Loud giggles caught B'Elanna's attention. Tom was pretending to hide behind his hands and then popping out. His daughter thought he was hilarious. "Hey, you finally found someone who understands you," she jibed.
He grinned at her. "You bet. Cos you're my little angel aren't you baby-face?" He cooed at the delighted infant and tickled her toes as she shrieked with joy. He laughed. "Well at least you find me funny, don't you sweetheart? Not like your mother, my other little angel."
B'Elanna scowled and pretended to be angry. "Less of the 'little angel' Paris. I'm a big bad Klingon."
"Not to me." He looked at her seriously for a moment before Miral poked him in the eye and he howled in mock anguish. The lights went out. The darkness was absolute.
"What the ...?" exclaimed Tom. And then the emergency lights came on and they both breathed again. Almost immediately those too were extinguished. Darkness flowed around them.
"Get her in the enviro-crib Tom. Now."
"Damn. Where the hell is it? Okay. It's okay. I've found it. I need some light B'Elanna."
B'Elanna fumbled for the light on her suit. As her fingers closed on the switch she felt her stomach lurch in a sickening transition to zero gravity. Tom swore emphatically and she could hear Miral crying. Zero gravity was disturbing enough when you had been trained for it. B'Elanna activated the light. A bizarre scene met her eyes; Tom was gently spinning in the centre of the room, the crib containing Miral clutched in his arms. He was only a few inches from the ground but it might as well have been a mile as he was unable to reach any surface.
"I'm a bit stuck here B'Elanna, can you reach anything?" he asked. Apparently unflustered, he activated the light on his own suit and carried on sealing Miral into her enviro-crib as they rotated slowly. Tom had always boasted that he had aced all the zero-gravity courses at Starfleet academy.
"I think so," B'Elanna rplied. She was about to push her hand against the wall when a movement near the ceiling caught her attention. Directing her light up at the ventilation duct she could see a dense white smoke trickling into the room. "Kahless!"
"That does not look good," agreed Tom.
In the seconds that followed, her reactions accelerated beyond conscious thought. The two environmental helmets were floating a few feet from her. She pushed herself at them and used her momentum to direct one to Tom. "Catch." To her relief he did but the small impact from the helmet was enough to start him moving towards the ceiling and the spreading white pall. Hampered by the crib Tom was unable to get his helmet on. She snatched the other helmet and jammed it over her head, fumbling with the sealing mechanism.
As she floated nearer Tom she found herself upside down. Using her arms and legs to generate some movement, she initiated a gradual rotation about her own axis. She raised her knees to get at the switch that would activate her gravity boots and then slowly extended her legs, timing the movement to bring her boots into contact with the floor as she rotated to an upright orientation. She felt the contact and the welcome tug as the boots held fast. Twisting her body, she made a grab for Tom's leg. For a sickening instant she thought she'd failed, before her desperate fingers tangled with the material of his suit and she pulled him effortlessly downwards.
"Helmet. Now." She gasped, holding him tight and grasping the handle of the crib with her free hand. Tom didn't need to be told twice. He pulled his helmet on and activated the seals and his gravity boots. B'Elanna let him go, to check the seal on Miral's crib. The baby was howling and B'Elanna had to crush her desire to hold the frightened child.
Tom hugged her and for an instant they clung to each other before he let her go. "Nice job Lanna, let's get the hell out of here." Tom's voice, mediated through the helmet communicator, sounded distant. They walked to the door with the slow deliberate steps enforced by the gravity boots. The door stayed shut.
"The power's gone. I'll get the manual override." B'Elanna bent to the override lever and forced the door open. She stepped back. A wall of white gas floated in the corridor. "What in Kahless' name is this stuff Tom?" She asked, trying to keep the panic from her voice as the wall gradually began to seep into their room. Miral continued to cry, her wails penetrating the unnatural silence.
Tom checked the environmental read-out in his helmet display. He sounded calm. "Nerve gas, simple formula, easy to make in large quantities; so now we know what our uninvited guest has been doing in her spare time. We're safe inside the suits. It's not corrosive."
They advanced into the corridor and B'Elanna swore loudly, as the light from their suits penetrated the poisonous fog. Ten feet away an ensign was suspended, motionless and contorted in the air, his helmet barely inches from his grasp. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, B'Elanna could see the light from other suits. Some were moving. A few were not. "Torres to Janeway."
"Janeway here. What's happening?"
"Tom and I are on deck 6. We've lost lights, gravity, power and environmental controls. Some kind of nerve gas has been released. We have casualties."
"Same everywhere except decks one, two and engineering for some reason. Make your way to deck 2 B'Elanna. Take as many crew as you can find on the way. Head for the escape pods. I'm giving the order to abandon ship."
"What? You can't be serious." B'Elanna yelled, shock making her forget the niceties of the Starfleet chain of command.
Janeway ignored the breach of protocol, she understood the chief engineer's feelings. "I want everyone off Voyager B'Elanna, except for the security teams, and 'everyone' includes you and Tom. If we cannot find and destroy this thing then we won't need an engineer or a pilot. As things stand I cannot protect the crew. Tuvok, Chakotay and myself will stay to lead the search teams. Harry and Seven are staying also, to coordinate the search and to try and counteract any further use of Voyager's systems. Everyone else is to leave immediately. I'm sorry B'Elanna. Janeway out."
B'Elanna and Tom exchanged slow looks. Tom shook his head.
"Of course you know why she wants both of us off the ship," said B'Elanna, bristling with indignation.
Tom nodded. "Miral," he said shortly. "Yeah I know. But she's right. We're not actually necessary for this. Don't go off on some Klingon honour crusade Lanna. No one doubts your courage."
She hesitated and the anger died within her. "I suppose you're right. I guess we should be grateful." She shook her head. "Come on Tom. Let's get moving. It's a long climb up to deck 2."
~~~
Tuvok was thinking. There was something entirely unsatisfactory about the accumulated data before him. The logical conclusion to which he was being driven would not please the captain but nonetheless his arguments were valid. "Captain before we start this search I must lay before you certain facts which have a bearing on what we are looking for."
Janeway recognised that voice. Tuvok had something to say that she wasn't going to like. "What is it Tuvok?"
"I do not believe we are looking solely for the creature that escaped from the brig."
Janeway looked at him blankly.
"I have studied the creature's ship and it is wholly improbable that it would be capable of carrying out the technical manipulation of Voyager. The level of technological achievement is completely insufficient. Her species are only recently warp capable and it would seem from their recorded history that even that technology was stolen. Furthermore, covert action would be highly abnormal behaviour. The Dren are very violent but not subtle. They consider it dishonourable to kill their enemies in any way apart from tearing them to shreds in open combat."
"You're saying there's something else aboard."
He shook his head. "Captain, given the nature of the attacks, the most logical suspects would be amongst Voyager's own crew." Janeway gaped at the Vulcan.
Chakotay was also appalled and seeing Kathryn's shocked disbelief, he stepped in to the argument with some confidence. "This is ludicrous Tuvok. You cannot expect anyone to believe that one of us is capable of these acts of butchery. And what about the first two deaths, the security guards? They were torn to shreds. No crewman carried out those murders."
"I concur that Chapman and Hendy were killed by the creature when it escaped," conceded Tuvok. "But the subsequent incidents were not, in my view, the work of the Dren female."
"What about Tal Celes?" Chakotay persisted. "Her throat was cut."
"Entirely unnecessarily. She died when her neck was broken. The incision in her throat was made afterwards. I repeat, the most logical suspect for the later incidents is someone from the crew."
Janeway was struggling with Tuvok's theory. Rationally she acknowledged what he said was possible and fitted the facts yet she found it almost impossible to accept that one of her own crew could do this. "But why would anyone do this? It makes no sense for a member of the crew to destroy Voyager. We need each other." Janeway could not see any member of her crew as a mass murderer. When she tried to visualise what sort of person it could be, she simply drew a blank. Her crew were family. "What about the Dren?" She asked. "I know you say it couldn't carry out the sabotage but it's still free, that's quite a coincidence Tuvok." His answer did not help her peace of mind.
"I am unable to provide any suggestion as to motivation Captain; it does appear most irrational. Perhaps the Dren is able to manipulate minds. There is some suggestion of telepathic abilities, though I am speculating. Suffice to say, the perpetrator is clever, well acquainted with Voyager's systems, cautious and apparently completely amoral."
Chakotay was openly scornful. "I'm afraid Tuvok that I don't recognise this person you're describing. If you could add height, eye colour and gender we might have a little more to go on."
The sarcasm was not wasted on Tuvok. He replied with a touch of asperity. "I too, would be grateful for a detailed description of the suspect. However the lack of such information does not affect my deductions Commander."
"Kathryn. I don't think we should waste any time on this nonsense." Chakotay seemed almost angry.
The captain responded sharply. "We have to 'waste time' on it Chakotay. Neither of us may like it but it is possible." He looked as though he was going to carry the argument on but then stopped and dropped his gaze to the ground. Kathryn stood by the ready room console and watched without seeing, the incoming damage reports. Finally she turned to look at two senior officers. and spoke decisively. "For the moment I want to keep this between the three of us. Tuvok, reanalyse the sabotage, but this time concentrate on the possibility that these incidents were not perpetrated by an intruder but by someone who already possessed all the necessary access codes. In the meantime Chakotay, carry on with the planned search of the ship."
"You think it could be a member of the senior staff?" Chakotay's voice sounded disbelieving.
"Chakotay," she sighed. "It may be more than one person, they may not even know themselves. I want them eliminated from the list of suspects Chakotay. I have to know who we can trust."
~~~
B'Elanna shook Neelix's hand and wished him luck. He swung the airlock door shut. That was the third escape pod ready to go. Four more were still loading. She tried not to think about all the empty pods that were not needed.
She looked round for Tom. He was busy counting heads, while joking with a couple of hefty engineers about the weight limits in the pods. He looked over at her and waved. She waved back. Another two minutes and they would be ready to go. She picked up Miral's crib and hoisted it over her shoulder. The baby seemed to have adjusted to the weightlessness and was now sleeping quite soundly. B'Elanna still felt uncomfortable about leaving Voyager and her comrades but a part of her was relieved to get Miral and Tom away from the stricken ship.
"Naomi to B'Elanna," said a small voice. She smiled. The small Katarian was in the last pod with Neelix and her mother. "See you later B'Elanna and say hi to Pookey for me." B'Elanna smiled at the little girl's nickname for Miral - Naomi had assured her that she made it up but it was real Klingon.
"Will do. See you later shortie. Look after your mother."
"Okay. Bye. And I am not short!" Replied the small girl with an indignant giggle.
"If you say so shortie." B'Elanna grinned and closed her communicator.
WARNING. ESCAPE POD LAUNCHING PREMATURELY. ALL PERSONNEL TO VACATE THE LAUNCH BAY IMMEDIATELY. IGNITION IMMINENT.
"Oh God no! Everyone, out of the launch area." B'Elanna shouted into her communicator on the open channel.
She started to run as fast as the gravity boots would allow. Voices were yelling over the comms channel but she could not make any of them out above the howling scream of the pod engines, warming up behind her. She threw herself and Miral through the main door, into the tiny control centre and yelled at the ensign on duty. "What in Kahless' name are you doing? Abort the launch."
"I can't sir, I'm trying." The ensign was in tears.
B'Elanna pushed him aside. "Dammit they're all launching." She slammed her hand on the comms panel. "Emergency control to all pods. Close your hatches now. Seal them now. Computer override emergency launch."
CANNOT COMPLY. EMERGENCY LAUNCH IN PROGRESS.
"I know that dammit. Abort. Authorisation Torres alpha seven four gamma."
CANNOT COMPLY. EMERGENCY LAUNCH IN PROGRESS.
"Seal the god-damned airlocks then."
CANNOT COMPLY. AIRLOCKS ARE OPEN FOR BOARDING.
B'Elanna stared at the view screen. She could see Tom and a dozen other crew running for the exits. Someone fell down just short of the exits. Tom hesitated and turned back.
"No dammit. Run you fool," she whispered.
He bent to help the fallen crewman back to his feet and they started to run again. She watched, unable to look away, as the fifteen escape pods lifted off and the enormous forces being generated by their wake, plucked him from the exposed deck, together with the other stray crewman, and blew them about like leaves in a hurricane. An escape pod exploded; debris hurtling back against the ship. She lost sight of Tom. Desperately she looked, but it was impossible to distinguish him amongst the cloud of objects.
She jabbed at her communicator. "Tom. Where are you? Answer me damn you." There was no reply. Just crackling silence. She stood staring into the gathering darkness for several minutes until Miral's whimpers caused her to look down.
She crouched down. "It's alright baby, everything is going to be alright. Nothing's going to hurt you. Everything is going to be just fine. Mama's going to make damn sure of that, if I have to kill every living being aboard this ship."
~~~
Forty seconds later Janeway, Chakotay and Seven of Nine together with half a dozen security officers arrived to find the small group of traumatised survivors cowering by the closed blast doors. Where's Lieutenant Torres and Lieutenant Paris?"
The ensign from the control centre gaped at her stupidly. "Did you hear me ensign?" she barked and half-lifted him by the collar.
"She took off Captain, took a blaster and her baby and just went."
Janeway gripped his collar harder. "And what about Mr Paris?"
The ensign didn't seem to be able to speak any more, he just pointed at the empty space behind the blast doors. Janeway let go of the terrified crewman.
"No. Not Tom," she mumbled. The anger inside her froze another level. "Chakotay, Seven; find B'Elanna. Is that understood? I don't want to lose anyone else." Seven placed a hand on her shoulder. Janeway shook it off and Seven felt a sharp thrill as the captain's grey eyes sliced though her. "Don't waste time," she snarled, her voice hard, like cold gravel. She turned her back on the ex-drone. "Janeway to Tuvok. See that all the access points to these decks are guarded or sealed. Shut off power to all systems completely. Main computer, sensors, life support, everything. Use emergency power packs for sick bay. What isn't there she can't use against us. And let me know the status of the remaining escape pods as soon as possible."
Seven hefted her blaster and signalled to the security officers to follow. They opened a hatch into the nearest Jeffries tube and descended into the darkness to search for the missing engineer.
Chakotay followed them but hesitated at the mouth of the Jeffries tube. He wanted to say something but the brittle rage on Kathryn's face stalled him. She wanted no words of comfort from him or anyone else. At least she wants nothing from that damned Borg, he reassured himself. The Commander lowered himself into the tube and watched as the hatch was closed. He heard the locks slide shut. In the closed darkness, he pulled his helmet on and turned on his suit light which illuminated the tube for a few yards. He could hear the security team getting further away but made no effort to catch them. Instead he crawled along a side passage leading to a parallel tube.
TITLE: The Enemy Within
AUTHOR: halfofone
CODE: J/7 with a hint of J/T
SUMMARY: A dangerous alien is aboard Voyager and sometimes Janeway's instincts let her down.
WARNINGS: This is a horror story (or at least a horrid story). A bit late for Halloween
'though that's when I had the original idea.
CREDITS: Endless thanks to Steff (rebelgirl) for beta'ing this monster
PUBLISHED: 12 February 2002
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
B'Elanna finished feeding Miral. She jiggled the tiny infant and smiled sadly as the little fists clenched and her face screwed up.
"Crabby after eating too much, just like your mother aren't you sweetheart? And brave like your daddy." B'Elanna pushed the corrosive pain away and made herself concentrate. "You go to sleep for a little while and let Mama look for the big bad wolf." She laid the tot back in the crib. "And when I find the evil bitch, I'll kill her," she crooned in a soothing undertone. Miral yawned and closed her eyes. A few minutes later the child was asleep. Her mother scowled at the flashing command station instrument panel. She hadn't had much luck trying to trace the alien. "But I'll find you, be'Qa'."
The warp core hummed behind her, not doing anything much but it was familiar and it helped her concentrate.
The control panel lights faded to black without warning. B'Elanna cursed. Auxiliary power had been cut to all computer systems. Here we go again she thought. At least the bitch has been kind enough to leave the lights and environmental controls working down here. She grinned without humour. So it's probably down here with me. She tried not to imagine what horrors were being visited on her remaining shipmates on the upper decks.
The half-Klingon hauled a 300 pound emergency power pack across the floor and plugged it in to the panel. It blinked back to life. She tapped a few keys. Futile. There seemed to be nothing else on-line, even the main computer was dead. She hunted around a bit more, trying to determine where the shut down had been initiated. The last command seemed to have come from the bridge. B'Elanna frowned. Maybe she was alone now. Or perhaps not. A panel light blinked. One other station was now active. The Borg alcoves in cargo bay 2. Maybe Seven was there. She was about to transmit a coded hello to the Borg when she heard footsteps on the walkway below.
~~~
On deck 2, Janeway picked her way through the injured crew lying on the floor of the makeshift sickbay. The grim-faced Doctor, seeing her coming, jerked his head towards the small office.
"Thank you for coming Captain."
"You have something to tell me?" Her face was completely expressionless. It occurred to the Doctor that he had seen Borg with more emotional range than his captain was displaying. He hesitated. The captain waited and a small frown formed which the EMH found strangely comforting. At least irritation was an emotion.
"I'm concerned about Seven of Nine. I received an alert following a routine computer scan." He was annoyed with himself. "I don't know how I missed it at the time, it was quite obvious. All I can say is that I have warned repeatedly of the risks of not maintaining my matrix adequately..."
Janeway interrupted. "What are you talking about Doctor?"
"Her post-op scan showed signs of abnormal activity. I've double checked the records and there is a problem." Seeing that the captain still looked baffled he added, "I think we misunderstood the purpose of Seven's cortical inhibitor. I think the Borg used it to correct what they would have seen as a flaw in Seven's humanity."
"What in hell's name are you talking about?" Janeway repeated roughly. The Doctor glanced at her apprehensively and fiddled with the computer screen.
"I ran a computer check on Annika Hansen's Starfleet medical history. I found a confidential file." He paused again. "Annika Hansen was genetically engineered by her parents. As you know, that is completely illegal under Federation law. Like many such children, the modifications were dangerous and she was born with a psychotic disorder. He turned the screen to face the captain. A picture of a small blonde girl stared back at her. "The records are not clear, parts are missing or have been deleted, but what is known is that she was diagnosed at the age of three and was due to receive corrective treatment when her parents took her and disappeared. They left, not just to study the Borg Captain, but also to hide themselves and their small daughter from Starfleet. Apparently the Hansens did not accept the diagnosis or the proposed treatment. When Annika was assimilated the Borg would have identified her condition. The cortical inhibitor was their solution. Ironically, it was very similar to the treatment proposed by Starfleet. A form of control rather than a cure. I'm worried about her Captain. She may be experiencing emotions and impulses over which she has no control. We have to find her."
An icy chill had settled in Janeway's chest as she remembered all the little changes she had noticed in Seven in the past few days. Fear and pain lapped at the edges of her mind, threatening to break through at any moment. Even the normally un-perceptive EMH was surprised by the raw emotion on her face. Impulsively he held out his hands and, to his great astonishment, she took the offered support, grasping his arms and leaning against him, shaking and dry-mouthed.
"I don't think I can accept this Doctor," she replied in a voice so low that without his holographic hearing he would have missed it.
"Captain I understand," he said gently, not understanding at all. "Seven is very special to me also."
She struggled to stand back and his hands dropped from her arms. The captain steadied herself against the wall and looked up at him. The Doctor thought he had never seen such despair in a human's eyes. In a very low uneven voice she said. "Do you understand that I have to kill her Doctor? I have to kill the person I love. Do you understand that? Because I'm not sure that I do."
The EMH gaped at her, uncomprehending, his mouth opening and closing, looking so much like a cartoon character that Janeway felt a hysterical desire to giggle. Then she wanted to be sick. She pushed him aside and walked unsteadily out of the small office, stepping over the injured bodies of her crew. Some were asleep. Some looked up at her as she passed and she could see the fear in their faces. She recited the names of the dead to herself as she walked, remembering what she knew of each of them. Seventy-six dead, twenty-nine injured. Vorik, Nicoletti, Tal, Ayala, Icheb, Tom ......
It's my fault. I let this happen. I should have known. The mantra circled stupidly in her head until an urgent recollection shoved a spoke in the cycle of blame. "B'Elanna, I sent her after B'Elanna. She doesn't know." For a few seconds the fog in her brain lifted. She tapped her comm badge. "Tuvok, Harry, meet me here on deck 2 at Jeffries tube 1." She waited, not really aware of the passage of time, until they arrived.
"What is it Captain?" asked Harry heroically controlling his trepidation. He had never seen the captain like this; shaking like a leaf, all control and reserve gone. She gazed at him from wild eyes.
"Seven." She said. "It's Seven. She's the one. We have to save B'Elanna and Chakotay and the others down there. They don't know, Harry. They don't know about her."
Even Tuvok was shocked. It was inconceivable. He could hear young Harry Kim repeating a few violent and profane words, over and over. Tuvok fell back on the only logical explanation he could find. "She has reverted to the Borg."
Janeway's face cracked in a horrible imitation of a grin. "No, it's not the Borg. Not this time. No, she's recovered her humanity. Taken those last few damnable steps back to her humanity."
"But what about the shuttle attack?" Cried Harry Kim. "She was on the shuttle when it was attacked."
Janeway stared at him impatiently. "She faked it Harry. To cover herself. To fool me. I even wondered at the time why it was so easy to deflect that particular attack. But I was so grateful that they had escaped that I forgot."
"Then the Dren ... ?" he asked clutching for some explanation.
The captain was almost scornful. "She freed it; to blind-side us. It worked perfectly. I expect it's dead. Another victim."
Tears rolling down her face; she fell back on the one thing she knew how to do beyond all others. Take command. "Tuvok. I'm going to leave you in charge here. Organise defensive positions. Harry, come with me. We have to try and warn Chakotay and B'Elanna." She put her helmet on and checked the power supply. Three hours. It would have to be enough. "If we are not back within three hours start a sweep of the lower decks. And Tuvok, tell your teams, shoot to kill."
~~~
Cautiously, B'Elanna peered over the side of the walkway. Two crewmen in security uniforms were patrolling deck 14. It was a relief on two counts. Firstly she wasn't alone on Voyager and secondly it wasn't the Dren. She supposed they were part of the search teams and wondered whether to say hello. (She was feeling guilty about running out on the captain.) She watched them walk to the far side of engineering and noticed their odd stiff-backed gait. The hair on the back of her neck prickled.
At the far side of engineering, the two crewmen halted, turned about and started back towards her. B'Elanna nearly dropped her blaster. They were drones, Borg drones, or at least humans well on the way to becoming drones, the tell-tale black veins spreading across their exposed skin. Where the hell had they come from? Her hearts racing, she pulled back out of sight, panic swelling inside her. The illuminated instrument panel caught her eye. Damn. A few more steps and they might be able to see the lights. She crawled to the command station, trying not to make any noise in the bulky enviro-suit and pulled the plug to deactivate the station. It went blank. She could still hear footsteps echoing on the metal floor. Then the sound stopped. Perhaps she had not been quick enough or they had heard something. After a couple of deep breaths she crawled back and peeked over the edge again. The drones were stationary, looking away from her position. She thanked Kahless and his wife and breathed again, very quietly.
Seven of Nine entered the other side of engineering with a blaster casually resting on her shoulder. She strolled in. And B'Elanna felt her hearts flutter again as the ex-Borg walked straight towards the area where the two drones stood. She had to warn her but was too late. Seven's voice interrupted the silence.
"I thought I had lost you for a moment." The two drones turned towards the voice. "Kathryn has finally had the sense to deactivate the main computer. Much as I love her, she is not very intelligent sometimes. Of course it does make it a little harder to control you."
For a confused moment B'Elanna thought Seven must be speaking to her. Then she realised that the tall blonde was addressing the drones. Seven continued speaking.
"At any rate matters are likely to become much more interesting now. I foresee hand to hand combat in dark corridors. Would you like that? No I suppose you do not really care. That's the disadvantage of being a drone. Lots of killing but no real involvement in the process." Seven began to adjust something, a cortical node perhaps, on the side of the head of one of the drones. She continued conversationally. "Personally I like a little blood letting. I love the colour, of human blood at least. Klingon blood, that lavender, is horrible." She finished fiddling with the drone and moved to the next. "Of course the other problem with drones is the lack of conversational skills." After a little more adjustment, she patted the second drone on the head. "You are finished. Rejoin your comrades." She turned away and walked quickly towards the door by which she had entered. The two drones plodded after her. Twenty seconds later and they were gone.
B'Elanna rolled onto her back and gazed at the ceiling as nausea swept through her. She hunted desperately for a rational explanation. That creature that came aboard: it must have infected Seven or possessed her. She had to get this information to the captain. But sending a direct message was impossible now the main computer was down. She would have to make her way back to the upper decks through drone infested corridors and hope there was still someone alive to listen. Or she could take Miral and fight her way to the shuttle bay and run for it.
"Come on baby, we have some climbing to do. Only thirteen decks." She fastened Miral to her back and shouldered the blaster. A faint click behind her and B'Elanna span on her heel, bringing the muzzle of the heavy phaser to bear on the source of the noise. A tall woman in a Starfleet uniform lumbered towards her and B'Elanna cursed as she simultaneously recognised the ensign as one of the Delaney twins and realised that she was a drone. B'Elanna fired. Megan dropped to her knees and slowly pitched forward. B'Elanna looked down at the smoking body of her former drinking friend and sometime rival for Tom. This must be hell. I've gone to hell. she thought. "We have to go." she said aloud.
"Leaving so soon?" remarked a cool voice. Seven of Nine stood at the entrance with her cortical implant raised in amused enquiry.
B'Elanna aimed the blaster directly at the former Borg. "Get out of my way Seven."
"The Captain asked me to find you B'Elanna. She was worried about you, running off like that. It is not safe down here." She gestured at Megan Delaney and smiled.
B'Elanna felt her anger rise and her fear diminish. "What happened to you Seven?" she asked angrily.
Seven smiled cheerfully. "Not as much as has happened to you Lieutenant. I think I can say that honestly. Half your team dead; your beloved ship in ruins; most of your friends helpless, trapped in their little escape pods and your loving husband, missing, presumed very dead. I, on the other hand, merely became human and copulated with the captain."
B'Elanna's finger tightened on the trigger. Hatred was beginning to boil the blood in her veins. "Don't forget you also took the time to become a cold-blooded killer." she gritted out.
Seven shook her head and disagreed pleasantly enough. "No, I was always that. Ask my parents. I was only six and I thought the Borg looked a lot more fun. Of course I seriously misjudged the Collective." She sighed theatrically, "I did not realise what a joyless activity killing could be."
B'Elanna pulled the trigger. The blast washed over Seven uselessly. Seven looked apologetic.
"What can I say? I adapted. I may be human B'Elanna but I kept the Borg gadgets. They make some good toys. Like these." She extended her assimilation tubules. "Which would you prefer? You first, or Miral?"
B'Elanna backed away towards the edge of the walkway.
"You could jump I suppose," said Seven evenly. "But it is unlikely to kill you."
"I'm not thinking of dying Borg."
"Good. Because technically you won't be dead. Klingons, even a half-breed like you," Seven sneered, "make excellent drones. And finally, Chief Engineer, you will do exactly as I tell you." Seven began to walk towards the half-Klingon.
B'Elanna balanced herself and gripped the stock of her blaster. She wasn't going to make this easy for the Borg. She watched the slow graceful, approach. Kahless, she even walks differently. It's like being stalked by a wild animal.
"Give up B'Elanna. You cannot fight me. I'm stronger, faster and I'm not worried about hurting the child."
"Give up yourself drone," she snarled and thrust the blaster hard into Seven's midriff. Seven was knocked back a little but quickly recovered her balance. She shrugged and dropped into a fighting stance. B'Elanna swung her phaser like a club at Seven's head. The ex-drone side-stepped easily and grabbed the weapon and reversed the motion knocking B'Elanna backwards against the walkway rail. Miral started to cry as she was shaken about. Distracted B'Elanna slipped and went down on one knee. In the next instant Seven's foot made contact with her jaw and sent her flying to the floor. She twisted awkwardly to prevent herself landing on Miral. A second kick to the head and B'Elanna almost lost consciousness. She lay gasping. Strong arms gripped her from behind and pulled her upright twisting her arms behind her, holding her immobile. In her peripheral vision she could just see Seven's Borg hand reaching round, bringing the wriggling squirming tubules closer to her neck.
"You do not know how often I've done this," breathed a soft voice in her ear. B'Elanna shut her eyes only to open them again when she heard the most welcome sound cutting through the sluggish air.
"Let her go Seven. Now."
"Kathryn," uttered the ex-drone and even B'Elanna could hear the shock in the blonde's voice. Seven had certainly not planned for Janeway to find out like this. B'Elanna felt her captor straighten and turn her head to look towards the captain. Her hold relaxed slightly. B'Elanna didn't need a written invitation. She pushed with every ounce of strength at her disposal and shoved Seven hard against the bulkhead. The ex-drone grunted as the air was knocked out of her and she lost her grip. B'Elanna twisted free and ran towards the entrance to the walkway where the captain stood, holding a phaser almost larger than she was.
"You should go B'Elanna," said Janeway quietly and lifted the compression phaser.
"It's no good Captain. She's adapted. To our phasers. We have to go." B'Elanna gasped between panting for breath but the captain didn't seem to hear her. She was watching Seven walk towards them and the blue-gray eyes widened as they locked with her lover's. Seven smirked. B'Elanna could see the captain's hands were shaking.
"Captain please." said B'Elanna. "This is not Seven of Nine."
Miral started to howl with renewed vigour and the noise seemed to penetrate the captain's haze.
"It's okay Lieutenant," she muttered. Without warning, the captain fired the huge phaser at Seven's feet, vapourising a large section of the decking, leaving a gaping hole. Seven lost her footing and slid through the gap to the walkway on the deck below. Janeway grabbed B'Elanna's hand and they ran into the darkened corridors, Miral still screaming her displeasure.
Lying on the lower walkway, Seven contemplated her condition. Gingerly she started to move and grimaced at the pain.
"My Kathryn," she said ruefully, hauling herself to her feet. "Never fails to surprise me. No wonder I love you." She limped towards the main corridor. "This is going to be interesting."
~~~
Janeway and B'Elanna crawled along the pitch black Jeffries tube. It was slow going in their enviro-suits but there was still no life support on these decks and they had no choice. B'Elanna halted.
"I'm sorry B'Elanna. We have to hurry." objected Janeway.
"Easier said," grumbled B'Elanna to herself. She was carrying Miral on her back. To be fair, the captain had offered but B'Elanna did not feel like trusting anyone with her daughter at the moment. They crept onwards too slowly, but with the unpleasant sensation of going too fast for comfort. B'Elanna was tired. Kahless knew how the captain, who was at least fifteen years her senior, was coping. The few words they had exchanged had almost frightened B'Elanna. The captain was all steel-grey determination but it was as though all the life had gone out of her. If she had sprouted Borg implants B'Elanna would not have been surprised.
At the designated exit onto deck five, Kathryn signalled to her to turn off her enviro-suit light. In total darkness the captain opened the hatch and listened. Satisfied that there was nothing in the immediate vicinity, she lowered herself to the deck and took her phaser from her back, kneeling down quietly and peering into the darkness, senses straining to detect any movement. Nothing. She reached up and tugged at B'Elanna's suit three times. B'Elanna lowered herself to the ground and then reached up to collect Miral's crib. In the darkness she fumbled and the crib slipped. She caught it before it went anywhere but the jolt was enough to wake the baby. The little girl started to cry loudly. Janeway bit her lip. If there were any drones about they would certainly hear that noise. B'Elanna was frantically trying to hush the baby through the sealed cover but Miral wasn't having any of it. She wanted to be cuddled or fed or changed or all of those things.
Kathryn froze. Through the noise, she heard a slow uneven footstep, maybe two, coming towards them. She would have to divert whatever 'it' was from B'Elanna, with fireworks if necessary. She tugged once on B'Elanna's suit: a sign to the Engineer to stay where she was. Slowly Janeway crawled forward on her belly towards the footsteps. The crying was diminishing as B'Elanna had a bit more luck quieting Miral, so perhaps this suicide would not be in vain. The captain waited until the footsteps were almost on top of her and then, with a yell, she stood up and rammed the phaser butt into the darkness. She missed. Her momentum took her forwards and the next thing she knew, something had tripped over her in the dark.
"Ow! What the hell?" exclaimed the thing.
"Dammit," she swore as she struggled to free her legs.
"Kathryn is that you?" said Chakotay's voice in the darkness. She turned on the light from her suit. Chakotay was sprawled across her legs. "It is you. Why are you trying to trip people up?" he asked.
"I thought you were a Borg." she whispered.
"You were trying to trip up a Borg?" Chakotay sounded disbelieving.
"No I was trying to smash your skull. I missed."
"Looking at the size of that phaser Kathryn I am profoundly grateful. You realise that if a man carried a weapon that large, people would make unkind comments." The amusement in the big man's face faded. "When you say Borg, I am right in supposing you mean Seven of Nine?"
"No I mean Borg drones. Seven is building her own private drone army from our crew." She shivered. "I don't understand why you were thumping about, sounding like a three legged man. Aren't you supposed to be a stealthy Indian?"
Chakotay picked himself up and offered her his hand. "Actually at that moment I was three-legged. I was supporting Harry. He's a few yards back. I found him on deck 6, he broke his ankle when the gravity returned."
Janeway took the offered hand and was hauled to her feet. "Wonderful," she said caustically. "I am crawling about with a Klingon earth-mother and you have brought the walking wounded with you. Seven is going to have us for breakfast."
"So it's true about Seven," he growled. "Don't you think we should return to deck 2 and come back in force?"
"No. We have to disrupt her plans now. In any case, she has maybe fifteen to twenty drones. I doubt we could raise more than forty crewmen in a fit condition to fight. 2 human to 1 borg in a straight assault. We would be decimated and quite possibly lose. We need to sabotage her operation." They both heard a noise, possibly at some distance, possibly not. "But first we need to find somewhere safer to talk."
"What about sick bay? It's got it's own atmosphere and emergency life support. And with a bit of luck we can treat Harry's ankle."
"Good idea. It'll give B'Elanna a chance to sort out Miral. Let's get them." She picked up her phaser and turned to go back to where she had left B'Elanna. Ten minutes later the small group staggered into sick bay.
Janeway engaged the life support and set up a force-field while Chakotay found a bone knitter and a tricorder. He began treating Harry's broken ankle.
As soon as the atmosphere reached acceptable levels, B'Elanna took Miral from her crib and laid her on a bio-bed to change her diapers. This didn't please Miral at all and she howled in earnest. Chakotay and Harry both seemed a little queasy but an unreadable Janeway ignored the noise and the smell. Matter-of-factly, she increased the force-field's noise-dampening setting.
"I've gotta feed her now," B'Elanna announced as she undid her suit and stripped to the waist. She was amused by both Chakotay and Harry, trying so hard not to look at her. Miral was soon happily ensconced, sucking hard, her mother felt the familiar rush of love as she looked down at her tiny daughter.
Meanwhile, almost indifferently, Kathryn briefed Chakotay and Harry on what she and B'Elanna had witnessed. "Any suggestions?" she asked.
"I have one Captain, although you may not like it." said B'Elanna, adjusting a very hungry Miral.
"I'll listen to anything Lieutenant."
"When Seven first came aboard Voyager some of us were concerned about her loyalty. We did not believe she would ... adapt. So we agreed to take out a little insurance." B'Elanna waited to see if Janeway was becoming agitated. The captain seemed unmoved.
"What sort of insurance?"
B'Elanna didn't see any point in prevaricating.
"We booby-trapped the alcove. We built in some features that could be activated if Seven proved a problem." Unconsciously she held Miral a little tighter, waiting for the explosion of anger. She was to be disappointed.
"You did this without authorisation." Janeway did not sound angry, not even curious. It made B'Elanna uneasy - she would have preferred it if Janeway had shouted. The captain's spirit seemed mortally wounded.
"I authorised it Kathryn," said Chakotay quietly.
"And who authorised you? she queried. "I can never really trust you Chakotay, can I?" There might have been a little disappointment in her voice, as she stood up and walked away, but she still seemed uninvolved, enquiring very politely.
"What are these features you added Lieutenant Torres?"
B'Elanna eyed her uncertainly. The passivity was unnerving. "Well for one thing the regeneration procedure can be reversed. Energy can be sucked out of the drone. All I have to do is get to the alcove controls and set the trap."
"How long would you need?"
"3 minutes."
"Would it kill her?" Janeway asked, her face empty of expression.
"Yes. I think so." B'Elanna watched her commander closely. Not a flicker of emotion was visible in the elegant features as the Starfleet captain replied tersely.
"Do it."
TITLE: The Enemy Within
AUTHOR: halfofone
CODE: J/7 with a hint of J/T
SUMMARY: A dangerous alien is aboard Voyager and sometimes Janeway's instincts let her down.
WARNINGS: This is a horror story (or at least a horrid story). A bit late for Halloween
'though that's when I had the original idea.
CREDITS: Endless thanks to Steff (rebelgirl) for beta'ing this monster
PUBLISHED: 12 February 2002
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
B'Elanna worked feverishly, her fingers flying over the console. The captain stood in the doorway of cargo bay 2 watching the corridor. "Hurry it up B'Elanna. Chakotay and Harry won't be able to divert her for long."
"Another couple of minutes Captain. I need to hide the programming changes." She was concentrating hard and this bit was crucial if Seven was not to notice that anything was wrong. At last it was done. She grabbed her tool kit and ran to the door. "Let's go."
They had run a few yards down the corridor when a cheerful voice in front of them brought them to a halt. "You never have time to stay and talk Kathryn."
They turned to run to find three drones blocking the corridor. The drones raised their Starfleet issue phasers and fired. Both women pitched forward as they were hit by multiple phaser blasts.
"That must have hurt," pondered Seven of Nine aloud as she stood over the two bodies. She smiled affectionately at the limp form of her lover. Almost too easy.
Seven of Nine gazed fondly at the captain who was lying on her side, bound and unconscious on a raised storage crate. She ran loving fingers down the elegant cheekbone and shivered a little with anticipation. Her Kathryn.
Her other guest stirred. Seven's expression hardened into malevolent amusement and she walked over to stand in front of the prisoner who had been tied to the wall of the cargo bay, suspended by her bound arms. Seven casually slapped the half-Klingon across the face. And then a little harder. B'Elanna's dark eyes opened and she started to protest. The protest died as the pain in her suspended arms and bruised ribs reminded her where she was. She fell back on stubborn silence.
"Awake at last," stated Seven with satisfaction. She didn't see any point in wasting time. "What were you doing here Lieutenant?"
"Dropped by to see you Seven. Chew the fat. Talk over old times."
"Very polite of you," said Seven and punched her in the gut. B'Elanna stifled a cry of pain. She coughed violently and that hurt too. "You know Lieutenant. I may not kill or assimilate you after all." drawled Seven. "I find this exercise very pleasurable." The ex-drone hit her again and a rib audibly snapped.
B'Elanna could not prevent the shout of pain. Seven's blue eyes glittered. "Do you see what I mean? And we can do this again and again. We will get to know each other very well."
Her consciousness sliding away in the pain and nausea, B'Elanna blacked out for a few seconds, only to be brought reluctantly back by a few stinging slaps to her face. It was agony just breathing.
Seven watched her. "You will not get out of this that easily Lieutenant. I really want to know what you were trying to do in here. I've tried asking the blockheads over there but they seemed very confused about the details."
B'Elanna opened her eyes and squinted in the direction that Seven was pointing. Two immobile figures stood guarding the door. "Harry? Chakotay?" she mumbled. The figures at the door didn't move or respond. She didn't really need to ask what had happened. She sagged against her bonds, all hope of rescue fading.
"Now once more Lieutenant Torres. What were you doing?" Seven raised her Borg hand and prepared to hit B'Elanna again.
Over on the packing crate, the captain moaned and Seven's hand stayed. The ex-drone lost interest in the beaten half-Klingon. She went to stand beside the captain, slid one arm around Janeway's shoulders and helped her upright. Janeway leaned against her gratefully.
"Are you functional?" asked Seven anxiously.
"I think so. Where am I?" Kathryn's eyes slowly took in the gloomy surroundings of cargo bay 2 and the bound figure of Lieutenant Torres. She swallowed and closed her eyes again in bitter misery. For a few brief moments she had thought it all a bad dream. "Oh God Seven." She froze in the circle of Seven's arm. "What have you done to us?"
"Set you free," offered Seven. She lifted Kathryn's chin to look into her eyes. "I love you Kathryn but you are trapped by these." She indicated the four pips of command on Kathryn's uniform collar. "You could not love me freely because of these." She rested her hand on the captain's shoulder and then without warning, ripped the pips from the red collar and dropped them on the floor. "There. All gone. No ship, no crew and no pips."
The captain jerked away and strained at the cuffs binding her wrists. "Seven you will have to kill me."
Seven looked at her tolerantly. "I know you feel that way at the moment. I would have been surprised if you had said anything else. But even supposing I give you any choices Kathryn, death will not be one of your options. I love you and nothing is going to get in our way." She bent to kiss the captain quickly on the lips. Janeway turned her head, avoiding the caress. Seven did not seem to mind and kissed the captain's cheek instead.
Tenderly the ex-drone removed her arm from the captain's waist. "I am discussing your recent activities with Lieutenant Torres. Please feel free to break in with any relevant information." She meandered back to where B'Elanna was suspended. "Now where were we?" She backhanded B'Elanna across the face and opened a cut across the half-Klingon's mouth. "I do not think I need to repeat the question."
B'Elanna lifted her head, coppery tasting blood staining her lips. "Fuck off drone."
Seven grinned and bared her teeth slightly. She picked up a light metal bar and swung it experimentally narrowly missing B'Elanna's face. B'Elanna didn't flinch. "I am glad you are such a hero, Lieutenant. It's more fun this way. Now let me see, in a full Klingon there would be no vital organs in this area." She rested the tip of the bar against B'Elanna's left shoulder. "Of course you're half-human so I may miscalculate."
B'Elanna stifled her scream as the metal bar pierced her battered body. Seven twisted it violently and this time the half-Klingon did scream. Seven paused, considering her next move. B'Elanna began to cough up blood.
Janeway watched in anguish. Fear for the lieutenant pierced her indifference. "Leave her Seven, let her go and I'll tell you what you want to know."
Seven appeared to think about it and then shook her head regretfully. "I can't do that Kathryn." A look of speculation appeared on the coldly beautiful face "You had a real crush on Lieutenant Torres at one time, didn't you my sweet Captain, if your personal logs are to be believed? It must have really hurt to watch her frolicking with the knuckle-headed Tom Paris. It was fortunate for you that I came along to take your mind off her. And I was so much better! Younger, better-looking, stronger, taller, more intelligent and, best of all, I needed you so badly."
"Seven. Let her and the rest of the crew go free. I'll do whatever you want."
"You don't seem to understand Kathryn. You'll do what I want anyway. And I'm afraid letting them go would be an inefficient waste of resources, not to mention dangerous. I need to enlarge my workforce to repair and operate Voyager." Seven looked even more regretful.
"I won't love you Seven. You might be able to torture me into obedience but you would not get my love."
"Yes I will Kathryn and I have no attention of ever hurting you." Seven replied with careless arrogance.
"You mean apart from murdering my friends and crew and destroying my ship?"
Seven inclined her head in acknowledgement.
"Apart from that." she agreed equably. She hesitated and the infuriating smile disappeared. Something had obviously interrupted her although the two Starfleet officers could not have said what. A strange air of concentration overtook her and she looked like the Seven they knew. Janeway even entertained the crazy, concussion-bred idea that the old Seven of Nine had returned. Some seconds elapsed before Seven spoke again. "The situation is becoming more interesting. Three of your security teams have entered the lower decks, to rescue you I suppose, no matter. In a short while I will have control of the ship. We have already succeeded in gaining control of several key systems and the rest of the ship will follow once the captain's command codes are overridden."
She moved to the control unit adjacent to the her alcove and keyed in some commands. Her face darkened. B'Elanna held her breath in case the sabotage was discovered. After a few more seconds the Borg seemed to give up. "I may need your help Kathryn," she averred, still sounding abstracted.
"Not a chance in hell."
"I disagree. You find it exceedingly hard to watch Lieutenant Torres suffer. How much more would you feel about an innocent child? You might be interested Captain, to know what we found, concealed in a stasis tube in sick-bay. Lieutenant Torres. I look forward to a touching mother/daughter reunion with the child you so carelessly discarded. You did not suppose I had forgotten about the poor little mite. Do you not despise parents who leave their kids alone and unprotected?"
Despite her agony B'Elanna pulled herself up, her dark eyes blazing. "Hurt her and I will dismember you limb from limb."
"What with? An angry glare? Klingon bravado is not going to make any difference here Lieutenant Torres. You would be better off begging the Captain to cooperate with me." Seven sauntered over to the captain and lifted her effortlessly from where she sat, setting her down on the floor and holding her in a tender embrace. She stroked the auburn hair softly.
Janeway held herself rigid and ignored the traitorous urges of her own body. She resolutely refused to meet the clear-blue eyes. Seven kissed her anyway, full lips, gently insistent. Despite the fear and hatred, and without wanting to, the captain responded, her mouth opened and Seven deepened the kiss. Horrified at her own reaction, Janeway twisted her face away, angry tears running down her cheeks. It was impossible for her to reconcile what she felt with what she knew.
Seven tightened her arms before finally releasing her, saying, "I will leave you to consider your options for a while. I have a warm welcome planned for Commander Tuvok and his team." She kissed the captain on the forehead and then set her back on the storage crate, checking the wrist restraints. And then she left. The lumbering Chakotay drone followed her but the Kim drone did not. It lurched three paces closer to the prisoners and stopped. It stared at them intently, silently. For a couple of minutes neither woman said anything. Janeway was crying silently, furious, ashamed tears.
B'Elanna watched her quietly unsure whether to be angry or sad. "Captain, please, this is not the time ...." she said at last and then stopped, not knowing how to proceed. Speaking was too damned painful without anything worth saying. The Kim drone directed its attention to the voice. But as no threat appeared it remained stationary.
Janeway closed her eyes and grappled with her helplessness and self-disgust. When the gray-blue eyes opened again she had vanquished the fear, if not the loathing. She was a Starfleet captain and her ship and crew were in mortal danger. She had to find a way out of here. She forced herself to think about the situation. Her hands were tied behind her back and her legs shackled together but she was otherwise unrestrained. Seven had evidently believed the remaining drone would be able to prevent her going anywhere.
"Harry?" she said to the drone. "Does any part of you still know who you are?" The drone looked at her but without displaying any consciousness. "I don't even know if you understand what you hear." She swung her legs over the side of the crate and the drone immediately stepped towards her. She stopped moving and the drone stopped also. "Look up there," she shouted suddenly and directed her gaze at the ceiling. The drone looked up but seeing nothing it re-directed its steady, inhuman stare back towards her.
B'Elanna jumped at the sudden noise and groaned in pain. She wondered what the captain was playing at and hope stirred a little, at least Janeway was doing something.
"So you can hear and you do understand on some level Ensign Kim."
Janeway regarded the drone with a bit of satisfaction. It still looked very much like Mr Kim. It hadn't been surgically altered in any way and there were no signs of assimilation apart from the star burst implants on his cheek, the blackened veins visible under the skin and the distinctive, bruised mottling now apparent on the face. Harry's thick dark hair was also beginning to fall out, giving a strangely shaggy look to the young man.
"You are not a full drone yet. How does she control you without the technology of the collective?" Janeway asked herself, not really expecting a reply from the drone or the injured Lieutenant.
She underestimated B'Elanna who whispered. "Captain, I saw her adjust something on the side of their heads." Speaking was agony and the half-Klingon needed all her determination not to faint.
The captain looked at her and the blue-grey eyes darkened, stormy at the sight of her Chief Engineer hanging bleeding from the wall. But the words she uttered were reasoned. "A cortical node of some sort perhaps, but how are they communicating?"
B'Elanna remembered Seven's words. Spitting a little blood and breathing erratically, she mumbled. "When you disabled the main computer captain ... " The half-Klingon paused to inhale a little air. "... she said ... , she said that it would make it harder to control them. Maybe if they are at a distance....."
"Or perhaps she needed Voyager to control the ones she can't think about," said Janeway taking over. "I wonder how many she can control simultaneously? Take Mr Kim here. He has been given some order to prevent us leaving but what if something happens that is outside his orders. Can he cope with it independently?"
"Maybe not," breathed B'Elanna, "but doesn't it rather depend on whether she is actively monitoring him? I'm not sure she would leave you unprotected."
Janeway frowned at the lieutenant's strange choice of words but then realised she was probably correct. In Seven's warped little world she would regard herself as protecting Janeway rather than imprisoning her. "She might not have any choice B'Elanna. She clearly did not expect the drones to be able to cope with Tuvok's security teams on their own. Organising many drones to deal with three separate incursions might require all her concentration."
"On the other hand Captain, she may be listening to our conversation right now and laughing her head off."
"I'm not so sure. Mr Kim here is not paying as much attention as he was earlier. He isn't even reacting to our voices. Can you try and attract his attention?"
"Sure, I'll waggle my eyebrows at him." Seeing the captain taken aback by her sarcasm B'Elanna grinned painfully. "I'm a little tied up Captain."
"Just shout at him Lieutenant. Loudly. Very loudly."
And B'Elanna did just that. She did not ignore the pain that exploded over her body as she yelled. She used it to fuel the stream of invective and fury that she directed at the mute drone. It looked at her. She redoubled her efforts recalling every curse and swear word she had ever heard. She abused his ancestry, his appearance, his unborn children and his abilities or lack thereof. The drone took three steps towards her and put it's head on one side. Behind him, Janeway slipped quietly to the floor and shuffled awkwardly towards the open door taking care to keep hidden behind various boxes and crates. All the while B'Elanna never let up the river of abuse.
Janeway noticed a discarded security seal lying on the deck, next to an open crate, inwardly she reprimanded the unmilitary carelessness. She positioned herself next to the crate and knelt down awkwardly, leaning backwards, her numb fingers fumbling for the small disc. Then she had it. Clutching the small piece of metal tightly, she stood up and continued her silent, shuffle towards the main entrance. Once within ten feet of the door Janeway twisted round, said a small prayer and threw the alloy seal as hard as she could towards the open door. It bounced near the door with a small metallic clatter. She crouched down and waited.
B'Elanna heard the noise and paused. The Kim drone did too, it turned towards the open door, then it looked at the empty crate where the captain had been sitting. After a pause that seemed to last hours, the drone marched very quickly towards the door and headed off into the corridor. Janeway lurched round the corner of the wall of stores, still impeded by her shackles. "We have to get out of here." she said unnecessarily.
"Captain, there's a package-opener in the recess under the central work-top. You can use it to cut the ties."
Janeway nodded and positioned herself by the worktop. She reached back into the recess. She could feel the tool and was able to get her fingers near enough to pull it out. Her hands shook. Positioning the cutter as best she could against her bound wrists, she switched the tiny phaser on. It hummed as it gradually vapourised the alloy restraint, heating the metal red-hot. Janeway thought she wasn't going to be able to stand the pain any longer when the shackle at last gave way. Without further heed to the burns already blistering her wrists, she set about removing the leg shackles. Another minute and she was free. Through swollen and blood-filled eyes, B'Elanna watched the captain break loose. She gave a strangled cheer which degenerated into a racking cough.
Her own injuries forgotten, Janeway half-ran to the engineer's side. B'Elanna's torso was soaked in blood. The metal bar protruded from her left shoulder and blood continued to ooze from the puncture wound. Janeway hesitated, amazed that B'Elanna was still conscious and frightened of hurting her further. The captain gritted her teeth and was about to begin cutting the engineer free when they heard footsteps running in the corridor.
"Hide," hissed B'Elanna. The captain did not hesitate. She launched her aching body behind another pile of stores and crawled inside a small vent. Crouching there, she listened, her heart pounding so loudly that she was certain it would lead them straight to her.
"Where is she Torres?" screamed the barely recognisable voice of Seven of Nine. A pulverising thud was followed by an agonised cry of pain. Janeway shrank back.
"I don't know dammit, but you've lost her drone-girl." B'Elanna's angry voice dropped to confiding tone. "I don't think she liked your small talk Seven. Great body, great face, shame about the homicidal insanity."
There was another sickening crack and silence. Oh God. Janeway cried to herself. She's killed her.
"I have to respect your courage Lieutenant." Seven sounded much calmer. "Even if I am going to drain it from you, until it's all you can do to squeal with fear and beg to lick my boots," she added venomously.
She's still alive thought Janeway with grim relief. She eased nearer the front of the vent and peered through the gaps between the boxes. She could just see Seven standing in front of B'Elanna. Three drones were with her and one was carrying something. The drone put its burden down and Kathryn realised that it was Miral's crib. The three drones turned to leave.
"Don't come back until you've found her. Is that clear? She can't have gone far. And I want her alive." Seven could hardly control her emotions. The ex-drone paced up and down in front of the bleeding engineer. She was perspiring from the effort of controlling twenty nine drones. They had successfully ambushed one of Tuvok's security teams and in the process, had acquired four new drones The additional load of managing the new drones had been too much and she had lost contact with the Kim drone. By the time she managed to re-establish control Kathryn had gone. Seven left her small army to mop up the next patrol, taking care this time to order them to kill rather than assimilate, and retreated to the cargo bay with two major concerns on her mind. One, Kathryn was free and might get hurt and two, Kathryn was free and very dangerous.
Seven tried to think clearly amidst the sea of reports and images she was processing from the drones. She needed to know what Kathryn and the Klingon had done to her alcove. It might give her a clue to Kathryn's whereabouts. Standard diagnostics had found nothing wrong with the alcove but it was such an obvious point of attack she was sure they had done something. She walked over to the crib and smiled. Getting that information from B'Elanna Torres would be easy and entertaining.
Seven picked up the child and Miral started to whimper. In the unfamiliar hands the whimpers became cries and soon the baby was shrieking her displeasure loud enough to wake the dead and her unconscious mother. B'Elanna stirred and lifted her blood-stained face to peer, half-blinded, at the small infant being held in front of her.
"Please," was the only word the half-Klingon uttered.
Seven smiled and placed the howling baby back in its crib. "I think you have something to tell me Lieutenant." She grasped B'Elanna's hair and lifted the tortured woman's head. "Now tell me what you have done to my alcove."
Kathryn eased herself out of the vent, as quietly as she could manage. She would have only one chance at her rather limp idea but she could not sit here any longer. Lowering herself to the floor, Janeway sneaked behind the stack of boxes nearest to the Borg alcove, thanking God that they had recently restocked the ship.
With total despair in her voice, B'Elanna was explaining to Seven the booby trap they had set in her alcove and how to remove it. Seven listened attentively. After the half-Klingon had finished Seven let the lieutenant's head drop.
"Very good Lieutenant," said Seven appreciatively. "And it's been in that state since I joined the ship? You really didn't trust me did you?"
"Not in the beginning," B'Elanna mumbled.
"A wise precaution in retrospect," said Seven brightly and walked to the alcove to disable the trap. With some satisfaction she completed the task. "But it's gone now Lieutenant."
A sound disturbed the ex-drone and she looked up to see a high wall of storage crates tumbling down on her. The ex-drone was knocked to the ground and pinned under several hefty loads. She struggled to rise. With a superhuman effort, Seven pushed the main load off her chest and freed her legs. She tried to stand. But a heavy blow to the head made her reel and fall back on one knee. Shrugging it off she stood up, staggering slightly and tried to make out her attacker. Not that she had many doubts as to the identity. She had been negligent to believe that Kathryn would abandon the lieutenant.
Janeway watched her carefully. Seven was still much stronger than the captain but the ex-drone was stunned and her balance disturbed. Deciding it was now or never, the captain rushed the Borg, throwing all her anger, fear and sorrow into the charge. They both crashed into the regeneration alcove. Seven grasped Kathryn's arms and held her off. The ex-drone stood up straight.
With an audible warning, the alcove clicked into action and Seven found herself firmly attached to the regeneration port. A loud whine alerted her to an overload condition but she couldn't move. She looked at the woman held helpless in her arms. The blue-grey eyes held a hint of triumph and something else.
"A second trap." Seven stated calmly. "I did not think the Klingon would risk her child by lying. A mistaken assumption." She glanced admiringly at B'Elanna Torres who was watching the end in horrified silence. The whine grew louder and Seven felt pain. The alcove hummed. Janeway did not struggle as Seven's grip tightened. She was going to die with Seven and there was such a rightness to it that she knew that this was what she wanted anyway.
Seven's blue eyes staring into hers suddenly narrowed with understanding. She threw the captain back and the small woman almost flew away, landing several feet from the base of the alcove. She lay there gasping, winded.
"I will not allow you to die Kathryn. I love ..." Seven didn't complete the sentence. The alcove lit up, blue energy arced over its surface. She went rigid as the alcove accelerated into the reverse cycle and sucked the life from her. She lost consciousness. The overload continued until a final coruscating flash of energy rippled over every surface and it went dark.
Kathryn stood up. She did not look at the alcove or the burnt body hanging there, firmly attached to the regeneration port. Without a word the captain went over to B'Elanna and began to cut her free. She lowered the badly injured half-Klingon to the floor. "I'll get you some help B'Elanna. Try not to move."
Miral was still crying but was otherwise unharmed. Distantly, Kathryn wondered whether the baby had been damaged by all the fear and neglect. She placed the crib next to the lieutenant who began to struggle upright. Janeway held her back and whispered. "She's alright B'Elanna, just stay still. I have to get help."
The captain walked to the doorway unsteadily. A shape loomed and Janeway raised her fists defensively.
"Captain! Are you hurt?"
"Tuvok." She lowered her fists slowly. "B'Elanna is hurt badly. You must help her. I think she's dying."
Tuvok entered the cargo bay, accompanied by two of his team. Smoke drifted around the darkened alcoves and there was a strong smell of burnt flesh. He moved to where B'Elanna Torres was lying on the floor. She was badly hurt. A long metal bar jutted from her chest and the original colour of her uniform jacket was unrecognisable. Blood matted her swollen face. It was a long climb up to deck two, which was still the only fully habitable place on the ship, and the distance was too great for the lieutenant in her current condition. He dispatched one of the security officers to fetch the EMH. "May I ask what has happened to Seven of Nine?"
The captain pointed at the alcove but did not look. Tuvok regarded the captain with concern. He had never seen Kathryn Janeway cringe away from anything.
"Is Voyager safe?" said Janeway neutrally. She knew she ought to ask.
"We have secured all decks. There are drones still active but they are just standing about. They do not seem to know what to do and pose no immediate threat. We are capturing them readily although there is currently nowhere to put them."
"And the rest of the crew?" The captain sounded as though she was asking after the health of a distant acquaintance.
"We suffered three more deaths in the conflict and a total of five assimilated crewmen were also killed. There may be other casualties aboard the escape pods but we have only partial communications."
She nodded and said nothing. For once the Vulcan found himself wishing for some display of feeling but after a few seconds of silence and a final glance at B'Elanna, she walked out of the doorway and left him to it. Perplexed, Tuvok surveyed the ruins of the cargo bay. He was uncertain about the correct course of action. The captain was not herself but .....
B'Elanna stirred and whimpered. She looked up at him and then slowly moved her head to look around. "Tuvok, where is the Captain?" she said, her voice weak but urgent. "Don't leave her alone. Get her back."
Tuvok replied. "Do not concern yourself Lieutenant. Your condition is poor and you must remain still until the EMH arrives."
B'Elanna almost growled. "Tuvok. Shut up and go find her. I'm not going anywhere but the Captain is not... I don't trust her Tuvok. She may hurt herself. Do you understand?"
He nodded and signalled to the remaining security man to stay with the Chief Engineer. Tuvok returned to the corridor outside the Cargo bay and peered through the semi-gloom of the emergency lighting. After a few seconds of adjustment, his Vulcan eyes could discern a shadowy figure leaning against the wall of the corridor some twenty yards away. As he watched, the figure doubled over. The captain was throwing up. Reluctantly he approached.
"Captain, I am sorry. There are many things to be attended to. I require your assistance."
She stood up and wiped her mouth on the back of her uniform sleeve. Slowly, she lifted her head. "I'm afraid, I'm unavailable Tuvok. I cannot ....." Her voice trailed off and she did not say what she could not do. Tuvok waited. Eventually she looked at him, saying with bitter certainty, "I can make some very bad decisions if you wish and cause the deaths of half the crew. I can lose everyone I love or care for. But I cannot assist you."
Tuvok recognised that the captain was indeed, not herself. This was clearly a matter for the Doctor and in the circumstances he took the only decision he could.
"Captain Janeway. I am temporarily relieving you of your command under rule 242 of Starfleet regulations, pending a full examination by the Chief Medical Officer."
"Good decision Tuvok." she said thinly. "Let's get away from here, now."
"Yes Captain," he said from years of habit. Janeway was already climbing the Jeffries tube ladder. Commanding the commander, he realised, was not going to be straightforward.
TITLE: The Enemy Within
AUTHOR: halfofone
CODE: J/7 with a hint of J/T
SUMMARY: A dangerous alien is aboard Voyager and sometimes Janeway's instincts let her down.
WARNINGS: This is a horror story (or at least a horrid story). A bit late for Halloween
'though that's when I had the original idea.
CREDITS: Endless thanks to Steff (rebelgirl) for beta'ing this monster
PUBLISHED: 12 February 2002
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Twenty four hours later Voyager was still hanging in space. The remaining active crew were labouring to get the warp drive back on-line. B'Elanna Torres was still recovering from her injuries but she was determined that before the end of the day the warp engines would be operational. The only good news for the hard pressed crew was that Seven's drones had carried out much of the necessary repair work. (The surviving drones were being treated by the Doctor. He was confident that they would make a full recovery and that any residual physical effects of their assimilation would be short-lived.)
Tuvok had his hands full reorganising the depleted crew in such a way that the ship was even operational. There were not enough crewmen to man all three shifts without working dangerously long hours. In some sections there were not enough people for even two 12-hour shifts. Crew were having to double up and work in two departments. Non-essential departments were closed completely and their staff transferred to more important areas. In the midst of this chaos, funerals were conducted quickly and without fuss, officiated by Neelix and a couple of volunteers. There was simply no time for anything else. Sometimes friends or partners attended but often there was no-one. The worst job on Voyager was finding and collecting the bodies. Many crew had died where they stood and they lay scattered throughout the stricken lower decks. The security teams drew the short straw simply because no-one else could be spared and by the end of the day all crew had been accounted for, except one, in the one place on the ship that no-one had dared enter.
~~~
Ensign Hicks was deeply apprehensive as he pushed his anti-grav cart towards the cargo bay. He had to retrieve the body of Seven of Nine and he had been warned it was not a pleasant sight. The doors opened, and as he stepped inside, he shivered. Cargo bay 2 stood in semi-darkness. A dull green glow suffused the gloom. "Lights. Full." Nothing happened. He cursed. It wasn't that surprising. Half the circuits around the ship were burned out. He lit his portable lamp and pushed the cart through the door, making his way over the debris, surprised to see that the green glow was coming from the alcoves. Then his mouth fell open.
Upright, Seven of Nine stared at him from wide, sightless blue-eyes. He screamed and fell backwards, nearly dropping his light. The figure didn't move. Sweating with fear Ensign Hicks picked himself up. Seven hadn't moved but she looked so alive. He opened his tricorder and ran it over her. She was alive. Shaking, the ensign ran outside and called for assistance.
Long minutes later, Chakotay, fully re-humanised except for his bald head, arrived with the EMH. They had seen the body of the ex-drone the previous day and it did not take much imagination to guess what had happened. The EMH scanned the former drone while Chakotay kept his compression phaser trained on the motionless figure. The EMH snapped his tricorder shut.
"She is fully regenerating. She isn't conscious yet. Won't be for several days."
"I don't think the captain should be told about this Doctor," said Chakotay firmly.
"What are you saying Commander?" the EMH asked. He was confused.
Chakotay did not answer. He tapped his communicator. "Transporter room. Lock onto the co-ordinates I'm sending to you and prepare to transport everything within those co-ordinates into deep space."
"Commander you can't do this," protested the EMH.
"I can. And furthermore Doctor, you will not mention this to anyone."
"But she doesn't have to die. I can easily control her psychosis. It's a simple operation."
Chakotay's black eyes did not waver. "There is no argument in the universe Doctor that will persuade me to let her live." He jabbed his communicator. "Transporter room. Now." The area around the alcove glistened and shimmered and then disappeared leaving a gaping hole in the deck and inner wall.
At the funeral service later that day, a coffin with Seven's name was launched but there was no body in it. The only attendees were Neelix, Tuvok and the EMH. The captain was not informed.
~~~
Three days later Voyager resumed her journey. She was still carrying a lot of damage but the major systems were back. She could run and fight if necessary.
Neelix reopened the mess hall, both for food and as a social and counselling centre. It was also in the mess hall, that the children were to be found. Miral was completely unscathed by her ordeal. Naomi took it far harder. Apart from the general terror of the past week, she had lost so many surrogate uncles and aunts and adult friends. Worst of all, she had lost Seven of Nine, possibly her best loved friend apart from her Mother and Neelix. The little girl sat alone and refused to talk to anyone except Miral from whom she refused to be parted.
The captain was working in engineering. She refused to discuss any command issues with Chakotay or Tuvok but she had also made it clear that she could wield a wrench with the best of them and that was what she was going to do. B'Elanna and Chakotay had shared doubts about the captain going back down into the hell of the lower decks but she had been determined and the EMH had backed her up. His private view, expressed to Tuvok alone, was that sooner or later the captain would find it impossible to stand back from her command. At the moment her guilt and grief were so intense that she could see nothing past them. She would not talk to anyone except B'Elanna. If she wasn't working, then she sat in engineering and watched B'Elanna working. If B'Elanna wasn't there then the captain slept where she worked. This wasn't that unusual. Without turbolifts, climbing up and down the Jeffries tubes to reach the sleeping quarters was hard work. Rather than be alone in their quarters, many of the crew slept where they worked or made the climb to the mess-hall. B'Elanna usually did the latter, to be with Miral and to escape from the pressures and responsibilities of engineering and the guilt-ridden eyes of her captain.
~~~
Voyager was cruising at warp 5 and there were no immediate problems to contend with. B'Elanna decided to take a break and visit her daughter. She wandered into main engineering to brief Janeway and was suddenly uncomfortably aware that the captain was nowhere to be seen. Janeway hadn't left engineering for five days.
"Computer. Location of Captain Janeway."
CAPTAIN JANEWAY IS IN CARGO BAY 2
B'Elanna felt immediate alarm. She started to her feet, unwelcome adrenaline pushing through her, and set off at a half run.
The doors of the cargo bay opened before her and she was dismayed to see the small captain huddled on the steps where the alcove had been. There was nothing now except a hole. Slowing down, B'Elanna walked over to the captain and sat down beside her. For a long while they said nothing.
"Quite a mess." B'Elanna murmured at last and mentally kicked herself for being insensitive but Janeway just lifted her head from her knees and looked around.
"There's nothing left of her," she said emptily and B'Elanna felt her hearts squeeze at the pain. She wrapped her arms around the captain and pulled her close.
"All I have left of Tom is an old television and the largest collection of awful holoprograms in the Delta Quadrant. Sometimes I wish there was nothing."
"You have Miral," Janeway replied.
"And you have me. Has no-one ever warned you about saving the life of a Klingon? We stick like glue and our families get involved and they stick like glue also. Then there are all the blood oaths and drinking and rituals. It's a job of work. We should carry a health warning. Save life at own peril."
Janeway snorted and she turned her head to rest it on the half-Klingon's shoulder. "Well I'm good at peril. Have you always talked nonsense like this B'Elanna?"
"No, that's something else I learned from Tom."
"I am so sorry B'Elanna, about Tom and the crew and ship." Janeway started to shake. "I let you down. I didn't protect you and I should have done," she wailed gently. "B'Elanna, I can't live with that and I can't live without her and I can't understand why I still love that monster after what she did to us." Her voice petered away to nothing.
B'Elanna wasn't sure she could stand this shell of a captain much longer. She took the older woman's shoulders and shook her a little. Tear-filled, grey-blue eyes opened wide and gazed at the half-Klingon mournfully. B'Elanna did not hide her impatience.
"I'm sorry Captain but I don't really see what you could have done differently. You are a very good captain but you are not clairvoyant. As for loving her, the Seven of Nine you loved ceased to exist when the cortical inhibitor was removed."
"You don't understand B'Elanna I encouraged her to have it removed because I hoped she would love me." The captain looked sadly at her and B'Elanna sighed with exasperation.
"Captain. I am not going to keep saying this. You could not have known what would happen. Your motivation, whether altruism or selfishness, really doesn't matter, unless you suspected that she was going to become a murderous fiend, which you obviously did not. You have to pull yourself together Captain. There are not enough of us left to allow for useless passengers who won't pull their weight. Do you understand what I am saying?"
Janeway shook off the half-Klingon's hands. "You're on dangerous ground Lieutenant," she growled warningly.
B'Elanna scowled in return. "No. I'm not. I'm not talking to the captain of Voyager. You passed that mantle to Chakotay, the poor bastard, and he didn't get a choice. No. I am talking to the ship's loser. A loser who made some decisions and doesn't have the balls to live with the consequences or to help the rest of us who are also living with the consequences." B'Elanna stood up in disgust. "I'm not going to sit around and listen to you justifying your retreat from the ship. On your feet Janeway. We are going up to the mess-hall to meet some of your miserable, frightened crew and you are going to start behaving like the captain I once knew as Kathryn Janeway. And if you are no longer she, then bloody well pretend that you are." She held out her hand to the shell-shocked captain. Unsteadily Janeway took it and the half-Klingon hauled her to her feet. "After you Captain," said B'Elanna sweetly.
The captain took a deep breath and nodded at her chief engineer. Slowly she led the way from the cargo bay. As they left, B'Elanna remembered that she wanted an answer to something that she suspected would not be forthcoming in normal circumstances. "Did you really have a crush on me at one time Captain?"
Janeway paused and stiffened, as though some force passed right through her. She levelled a full force ten command glare at the upstart. B'Elanna didn't know whether to be scared or delighted. "Damn right I did Lieutenant. Now, if you have quite finished asking me impertinent questions, let's get moving." The captain turned smartly on her heel and left the young engineer standing, stunned, with a stupid grin on her face.
Epilogue
A small piece of Voyager floated aimlessly in the void of space. It was a bizarre structure consisting, as it did, of a chunk of deck, a section of wall, various bits of floating miscellany attached by power or data cables and two Borg alcoves. One active, one not. One empty, one not. The active alcove glowed greenly, still powered by the emergency power pack that floated next to it.
The little girl crouched in the darkness of the equipment locker and listened to her parents screaming. Screaming and then silence. She clutched the small toy cube in her little hands and waited. She did not wait long. The locker door drew open and a ray of dark red light illuminated the small space. She screamed as a gleaming black arm reached in and screamed again as a cold metallic hand seized her arm and pulled her effortlessly into the juddering emergency lights. And then in a moment of sharp agony, everything that the little girl was, everything that she would become, ceased.
REGENERATION CYCLE COMPLETE announced the fully operational Borg alcove. A perfect smile slid over the perfect face and lit her bright blue-eyes. Full consciousness returned and she found herself gazing upon infinite darkness.
Seven of Nine screamed, for a full five seconds, but there was no sound. She shut her eyes. I am in hell. A minute passed. Nothing happened and she opened her eyes, her hands clutched the sides of the alcove. She was still attached to the regeneration port, she could feel the faint exchange of data and energy. But there was no ship.
Slowly, Seven forced herself to examine the structure in which she rested. Her sharp mind pieced together the evidence and the likely chain of events. A single thought burned its way to the surface of her consciousness. She left me to die alone. Tears formed in her eyes until she could hardly see. That Kathryn would try and kill her she understood, that Kathryn would desert her was beyond comprehension.
Time passed and she stopped crying. I will not accept this. She considered her situation. It was highly improbable that she would be found by a passing spacecraft before the power pack expired. There was no way she could transmit a general call for help as she was unable to leave the protected environment of the alcove. That left only one option. A high risk was attached but she had no choice. Carefully she reached across the alcove and flipped open the sub-systems control panel. She keyed in a release code. A light began to flash. I will find her and she will be mine, she repeated and lost herself in memories of her red-headed lover.
Four light years from her position; a solitary drone, monitoring the sensors aboard a Borg scout ship, observed a blinking light. BORG HOMING BEACON DETECTED said the collective monotone, ALTER COURSE. The drone complied.
The End
TITLE: The Queen of The Lost Worlds AUTHOR: halfofone RATING: R CODE: T/7 FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome. SUMMARY: Same characters, different universe. Very different. And perhaps the characters are not all that similar either ... NOTES: I don't really have an explanation for the genesis of this story; so don't ask me to explain it ;-) There is a lot of exposition disguised as back story. I have a whole new universe to explain, some of it is familiar and some not. ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where. DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't. STATUS: ongoing.
TITLE: The Queen of The Lost Worlds
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: T/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Same characters, different universe. Very different. And perhaps the characters are not all that similar either ...
NOTES: I don't really have an explanation for the genesis of this story, and only a basic idea of where it is going. There is a lot of exposition in this chapter disguised as back story. I have a whole new universe to explain, some of it is familiar and some not.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 1a
She braced her hands and arms against the sides of the narrow corridor and placed one foot against the protesting valve. "Take that you pointless piece of junk" she said and kicked the stuck valve sharply with her heel, dropping to the floor as a jet of plasma shot past her left shoulder with a scream of release. It was obviously a dangerous procedure but she had done this countless times in her twenty-seven years and watched her father do it as many times before she was big enough to help.
She lay still on the deck until the pressurised jet subsided and then rolled over and gazed up at the small floating ball of plasma now isolated by a containment field.
'One day we are going to have to fix that,' she thought and grinned.
It was a standing joke in the family. Whatever else they had replaced and upgraded on the old girl, somehow the secondary warp core inlet valve was never amongst the priorities. B'Elanna rose with easy grace and knocked the expulsion lever up with a flick of her elbow. The containment field and its contents were propelled out through an air lock and expelled into space.
Making her way back through the dark and twisting access corridor, she hummed cheerfully to herself. Today she would arrive at Barak VII where the Queen was scheduled for a refit and B'Elanna for some R&R. The main port of Khi'Tok was known throughout the sector for its facilities and the warm, sometimes steamy, welcome given to traders, plus she would have the chance to meet up with Tom Paris. She hadn't seen the him for six months, not since his marriage, and she wanted to know how married life was suiting him.
The entrance to the bridge slid reluctantly open with a mournful sigh and B'Elanna entered the heart of her domain where a small grey parrot eyed her carelessly. "Captain on the bridge, Captain on the bridge,, Captain on the bridge, Captain .... " it trumpeted loudly.
"Pipe down," B'Elanna yelled at the little bird. Not for the first time the young trader wondered what had possessed her dad to purchase the not very attractive, loud-mouthed pest.
'You need a companion on the long hauls,' he had smiled, 'and these little critters are very rare. They came from Earth originally but you won't find any there now except in DNA banks. They are good luck.'
B'Elanna had humoured him by accepting the gift. A course of action she soon regretted when she realised that her father had taken the time to teach the bird a number of mostly profane phrases which it never hesitated to unleash at the wrong moment. The bird was also unfailingly quick to learn any annoying vocal habits which a passenger might have, usually not pleasing either the long-suffering half-Klingon or the offended customer. Her dad simply laughed when B'Elanna recounted these tales.
Oddly enough her mother really liked the bird too and would spend time tickling the parrot's stomach as it lay on its back in her hand. B'Elanna was convinced her mother only repeated this trick because she was the only person that Arkoo would allow to touch him like that. Her mother always liked to demonstrate her Klingon superiority.
B'Elanna glared again at the feathered beast.
The parrot was unabashed by his owner's anger. "Pipe down, pipe down." it mimicked exactly and then squawked delightedly. B'Elanna took out her annoyance on the ship.
"Time to Khi'Tok?" she barked at the computer.
"Fifteen solar minutes captain."
She grinned. Even the damned parrot couldn't ruin her mood for long. It had been a great run from Solar IV, nearly a record, though that was still held by her father. She would beat him one day; the older Torres would be sweating when he heard the news of this run.
She would have beaten him comfortably today if she had not lost precious time being stopped by a vessel from the Interplanetary Trade Enforcement Corp while she was cutting through the great nebula of Martok. The bastards were watching for any ship traversing the nebula. Admittedly it was a major smuggling route and she should have expected the intervention; it was still disappointing. She wouldn't make the same mistake again; next time she wouldn't stop, not even if a Klingon bird of prey was on her tail. The ITEC lackeys would have to catch her and despite her crumbling and slightly antiquated looks, the Queen could reach warp five point eight, maybe even six on a good day, and then hold it for several hours. ITEC had nothing that fast. She had only stopped this time because the plodders were really jumpy right now and likely to assume she was a Romulan spy and start shooting, or even worse, call ahead to get her cargo impounded at the port.
These were edgy times. The Klingon High Command had placed all of their empire and dominions on high alert following the recent annexation of two Solar Trade Federation colonies by Romulan forces. Feelings were running very high amongst both klingons and humans and the considerable forces of the empire were mobilising for the inevitable war.
Yet there were some troubling signs. Even the most jingoistic supporter of the empire couldn't fail to realise that the unity and single-minded purpose that had characterised previous imperial wars was distinctly lacking at this time. The fabric of the Klingon empire was wearing thin and small tears were appearing in the tightly stretched seams which bound the different cultures together.
The human Solar Trade Federation with its great wealth and abundant resources was the jewel in the Klingon imperial crown. Without it, when Praxis (the second moon of the Empire's home planet Qo'Nos) exploded, the Klingon empire would have been bankrupt and probably would have fallen to the unholy alliance of Romulans and Bajorans. However the mismatching of klingon military power and human wealth was now causing ructions within the empire. Many humans questioned the absolute right of the klingons to control their destiny. Some were even talking of a human federation of planets based around the Solar Trade Federation; a radically different political structure based on elected delegates and representatives rather than the feudal system of Klingon family oligarchies.
B'Elanna's mother was outraged at such human ingratitude after all the centuries that the klingons had protected them from the numerous warring alpha quadrant powers. Her letters were full of heated polemic and citations from ancient histories demonstrating the utter foolishness of partition.
Personally speaking, B'Elanna Torres couldn't care less about the politics. She had a foot in both camps and all she wanted was for conditions to stabilise so that she could carry on the family business in peace. Her father was likewise unimpressed by all the posturing. In any case he thought separation was inconceivable. Despite cultural differences, human and klingon affairs were inextricably intertwined and there had even been widespread inter-species marriage and migration once the old interdicts had been dissolved a generation before. B'Elanna's parents had been among the first to take advantage of the end of the old, widely hated and widely ignored purity laws.
In spite of being a beneficiary of the change in the law, B'Elanna's mother would still occasionally argue that perhaps the new laws were unwise and had served to weaken the perception of klingon strength. Her husband never failed to retort angrily that this was utter bilge and only a prejudiced old battleaxe with no trace of feeling could ever assert the contrary at which point Prabsa would smile at him as though reassured. B'Elanna had never really understood why her mother found comfort in this argument until Antonio explained one day, 'Your mother believes that personal beliefs chime with the intellectual sweep of history, B'Elanna. My certainty about the change in the law proves to her that I have no regrets about our union. It hasn't yet occurred to her that marriages might end for other reasons than political beliefs.'
The Torres marriage was a source of wonder to all who knew it, including their children. How two such disparate people could remain married, and apparently happily so, was still an occasional topic of discussion amongst the erstwhile drinking companions of Antonio Torres, in bars in every sector of the quadrant. Tony would just smile whenever one of his old friends started to bewail the loss of the good old days when the trader would disappear for weeks at a time into the inns, brothels and gambling dens, in any one of a dozen wild space-ports that dotted the lawless planets on the fringes of the trading routes. His drinking and gambling sprees had been the stuff of legend. That had all changed when he surprised everyone he knew and married the prickly daughter of the Klingon house of Torg. All he would say when asked why was, 'It seemed like a good idea at the time and it still does.'
The fate of this particular marriage was also a subject close to the hearts of the aforementioned Klingon family. The certain doom and disgrace of its youngest daughter, Prabsa, was predicted annually by B'Kor, the matriarch of Torg. Yet Qo'noS had circled the home star twenty-eight times and still Prabsa and her human husband stubbornly stuck together; quarrelling, bickering and destroying an inordinate amount of furniture (though, as their children often observed, items destroyed were usually those for which both parents had expressed a profound dislike, more often than not gifts from that same Klingon matriarch who regarded their marriage as such a strange and ill-fated aberration) yet somehow the marriage held together, confounding B'Kor's expectations. Not that Antonio's mother-in-law disliked Antonio; she very much approved of his fearlessness, lawless behaviour and hard-drinking. These were all characteristics she would have wanted in a son-in-law. What appalled her was his readiness to surrender all this for her bookish daughter!
Prabsa had been a source of great sorrow to her parents. She was more interested in poetry, opera and Klingon history than war or upholding family honour. As her mother, B'Kor, was too fond of saying: the old stories and religion were all very well and should be honoured with the appropriate customs but a good Klingon did not laze around reading about ancient warriors and valiant deeds, they went out and caused a bit of mayhem for themselves, preferably at the expense of a rival family. Unmoved by her mother's rages, the daughter of B'Kor showed a complete lack of interest in real combat or even the ritual quarrelling and fighting that characterised much of Klingon social interaction. On top of everything else that worried her parents, this unwillingness to participate in the socially acceptable rioting amongst young Klingons, made it that much less likely that Prabsa would attract the attention of a suitable mate. That their daughter was actually a very apt student of the Klingon martial arts rubbed the salt of disappointment even deeper into the parental wounds. They couldn't even blame her deficiencies on some physical malady or shortcoming. It was much worse. Prabsa was every Klingon parent's worst nightmare: she was a scholar of the liberal arts.
When, at the age of thirty two (after her mother had given up all hope) Prabsa announced her forthcoming marriage to the human pilot and transport captain, Antonio Torres, her parents barely managed to twice forbid the marriage. They were secretly so relieved to be rid of their troublesome daughter that it had been an effort to oppose the marriage at all. Although Torres was just a human, he was better than nothing they reasoned to each other in the privacy of their own bed-chamber. The marriage would get their daughter off-world, away from the mockery of other Klingon houses; at a distance, her eccentricities could be laughed off. So, at the third time of asking they had consented and B'Kor made the first of her gloomy predictions: 'You will not keep him a year child. Why should a man of action remain with a woman who prefers stories to life? Take my advice: it would be better if you did not bear children to such a marriage.'
Prabsa became pregnant within a month of the marriage and their first child was born seven months later. A girl with beautiful dark hair, a stern Klingon brow softened attractively by her human ancestry and a temper that made her grandparents proud. Named B'Elanna for a heroic ancestor of her maternal grandmother, the child was the opposite of her own mother. The little girl fought with anyone who crossed her and especially anyone who was foolish enough to laugh at her mixed heritage. In later days she extended her belligerence to the defence of her younger brothers and sisters.
The seven Torres children on an outing were a force of nature. B'Elanna's grandmother was almost misty-eyed the day the young Torres clan routed the more numerous offspring of a rival Klingon family. 'How did that dish of lukewarm gagh produce such a fine brood of young Klingons and with a human at that?' B'Kor wondered aloud to her husband several times a day.
Prabsa was not in the least misty-eyed about the battle of the stolen doll, as it became known in family legend. She grounded her oldest daughter for a month, an action that resulted in the girl stowing away aboard a freighter bound for the outer colonies. It took Antonio six weeks to find her, by which time she was working as a technician in the engine room of the freighter after impressing the vessel's captain with her knowledge of warp technology. After this episode, B'Elanna's parents decided it was time that the fourteen-year-old was apprenticed to one of her father's small but growing fleet of cargo ships.
'If she is so bored with studying that all she can find to do with her days is brawl with louts then it is time she grew up,' her mother asserted implacably. 'I have no illusions about this. She will, I am sure, find plenty of opportunity to indulge herself fighting with the dregs of the empire. She is without doubt her father's daughter.'
Antonio had some justification in objecting to this slur since he had not indulged in fighting - just for the hell of it - since his wedding. His wife had taken it on herself to satisfy her perception of her husband's need to fight by abandoning her own anti-violence principles where disputes with Antonio were involved. Their rows were occasional, titanic, both in volume and the destruction of inanimate objects, and again, a source of utter mystery to B'Kor. Why had her formerly passive daughter, whom she had never managed to provoke to any expression of anger more extreme than an exasperated sigh, suddenly become this paragon of Klingon wifehood?
Apart from the symbolic battles with his wife, Antonio had only twice found himself in a situation requiring the application of unusual force to the skulls of some thieving former associates. On both occasions, his wife had intervened to such stunning effect that potential combatants now kept clear of Antonio Torres. He was an awkward customer on his own. Together with his Klingon wife, he was lethal and, as his opponents noted humorously, Mrs Torres was right there with him at all times. Her husband seldom escaped her attention.
His wife and young family always accompanied Antonio as he plied the imperial trade routes with his cargo-ship, the yuQmey chIl SoS'a': Queen of the Lost Worlds. Consequently, the children learned to crew a starship almost before they could read or write, though their mother ensured that they were not lacking in the academic department either, nor in any of the traditional skills associated with Klingon childhoods. While Prabsa firmly discouraged frivolous warlike behaviour in her children, she trained each of them to fight with the traditional weapons, claiming that the self-discipline of martial arts would stand them in good stead. Even her youngest girl, Marta, who was the least Klingon in appearance or demeanour could wield a Bat'leth with deadly effect.
With typical determination and fair-mindedness, Prabsa did not neglect her husband's culture either. Teaching herself first, she instructed all her children so that they were fluent and literate in the two main lingua francas of humans. Reflecting their mother's obsessions, they were also well versed in human and Klingon literature and history, even if they were left with the distinct impression that human culture was less advanced than Klingon.
*******************************
B'Elanna was still preoccupied with memories of her parents when the landing authorisation was transmitted to the Queen. It took her a moment to come back to herself and start the docking sequence. The Queen's landing thrusters burned brightly against the darkening sky before the old girl settled gently into the arms of the docking bay with a mournful sigh as the engines cut their power.
Part 1b
Outside the docking bay, Tom Paris was waiting, pacing, impatient for the airlock doors to open. He was tall and germanic; handsome in a slightly unfocused way. An underlying softness in his features made him appear boyish and undercut the attitude of world weary cynicism that he maintained. He had a galaxy-full of aquaintances, and a very small solar system of good friends, of whom B'Elanna Torres was one. In fact, if it came right down to it she was his best friend and his family, so much so that they often fought like jealous siblings.
*******************
B'Elanna met Tom Paris when she was barely eighteen years of age and serving as a midshipman on his father's flagship. She was in this position because, as with most things in the Torres Family, B'Elanna's inheritance, the command of 'The Queen', had not come to her without argument.
B'Elanna's mother had insisted that her daughter should wait until she reached the Klingon age of consent for her first command. She argued that B'Elanna might know everything there was to know about operating a starship, but a captain was more than just a capable crew member; she was responsible for the lives of her crew and the passengers and they deserved more than an arrogant eighteen year-old who believed that all arguments could be settled by a good right hook. Instead her parents had enrolled B'Elanna with a rival shipping company to receive the command training she needed.
Nine years on, the eldest daughter of the house of Torres shook her head at the memory of the quarrel that followed this dictate, although looking back she was forced to accept that her mother had been right to make her wait a few years. B'Elanna had learnt a great deal while in the employ of the large Paris Shipping and Leisure group.
Old man Paris was a martinet who expected polished perfection and discipline from his officers at all times. It was totally unlike the more relaxed regime on her father's ships. She had hated it but stuck it out for her father's sake. She didn't want to embarrass him in front of one his rivals. As it turned out, Paris' son, Tom, was a far greater embarrassment to the stiff old man than B'Elanna could ever be to Antonio.
Thomas Eugene Paris at the age of twenty was a spoilt brat. To her dismay, B'Elanna found herself in the invidious position of baby-sitting the young fool, covering up his wild escapades and being unwillingly drawn into a world of youthful debauchery. Suddenly she was the responsible one and it sucked. Old Paris had not been fooled in the end and Tom was summarily dismissed from his father's company. Nonetheless the old man had been oddly grateful to B'Elanna for her efforts on behalf of Tom and had rewarded her with rapid career progression. At the end of her four years, he had offered her the captaincy of one of his freighters. Although she turned the offer down unhesitatingly, she was surprised at her sadness when she finally left Paris Shipping to rejoin her father.
She had made many good friends there and gained a surrogate human grandparent in old man Paris and a dissolute older brother in Tom Paris. Her mother often complained that B'Elanna didn't marry young Paris and yet somehow she had gained another worthless son to worry about. Prabsa's complaints died down when Tom actually married Jeri, her second daughter, and really became part of the family. He further endeared himself by his unswerving devotion to Jeri's small daughter, Miral, who is now just three years old.
Tom and Jeri and daughter, live in Khi'Tok where Jeri operates a small but popular hotel, catering to pilots and hauliers and Tom freelances as a pilot and as a part-time agent for Torres Freight Inc. They seem settled and happy. Even Tom's father has mellowed sufficiently to occasionally visit his son although the old man is adamant that this is only for the sake of little Miral whom he adores rather than admitting any affection for his errant son.
**************
At last the airlock lights changed from orange to blue and slid aside, revealing the small half-Klingon standing just inside the Queen. Tom and B'Elanna looked each other over critically.
"Still married Paris?" B'Elanna challenged.
"Still single Torres?" Tom retorted. "Not found any woman fool enough to have you yet?"
They glared at each other and then on some signal that only they could recognise, threw themselves into a bone-crushing hug.
B'Elanna grinned.
"Looks like you got the last foolish woman available in the sector. Don't tell Jeri I said that will you?" she cautioned quickly. Her sister had the Torres temper and a limited sense of humour.
"Your secret's safe for a price!"
She raised her eyebrows.
"Give me a job," he said seriously, "riding escort on the Queen."
"I don't need a shotgun on this next trip Tom. It would cut a big hole in the margins. Anyway why do you need a job? You haven't really fought with Jeri have you?" she asked anxiously. "I don't want to have to go all Klingon on your ass over my little sis!"
"Leave my ass out of this," he objected mildly and chuckled. B'Elanna still looked worried, so he said more reassuringly, "it's nothing like that. I need an excuse to leave Khi'Tok without worrying Jeri."
"Again Tom, I have to ask why?"
His expression closed. "Just trust me," he said stubbornly, "can you do that? Or do you still think I'm the unreliable and worthless son of a grand old man - only now I'm gonna cheat and disappoint my wife too. That's what you think isn't it?"
"Don't be an idiot!" said B'Elanna sounding tired. "I don't have time for this nonsense and neither should you. I just want to know if you're in trouble."
"I told you, there is just something I have to do." He looked sullen and B'Elanna knew there was no point in pursuing her questions.
"I'm planning to leave on the third," she said, "is that soon enough for you?" He grinned triumphantly and she felt compelled to add a warning. "I trust you Tom. Just promise to tell me if you're getting in real trouble."
"Fine." He hugged her. "Come on I'll help you get the Queen unloaded and we can get out of here. Jeri is waiting. She's been longing to see you, so much so she's been cooking up a storm and destroying the kitchen; I had to leave the house; it was getting too dangerous. The kid is hopping up and down for her favourite aunt and her favourite parrot too and I believe Koren's due by later to show off his new girl. It's going to be a real family affair this evening."
B'Elanna smiled a little half-heartedly. Much as she loved her family and close as they all were, sometimes they were over-whelming, especially at family celebrations.
**************************
When his family grew larger, Antonio acquired a bigger vessel and transferred his family home to the new ship. He stubbornly refused to dispose of the old Queen, saying it was part of the family and his first-born's rightful heritage, and true to his word, at twenty-two years of age, B'Elanna Torres became the Queen's captain.
The day her father gave B'Elanna, the command codes of the Queen was a major family event. Smartly garbed in the dark-blue dress uniform of the Torres Freight Company, B'Elanna's father and older siblings formed a guard of honour, escorting the new captain on a symbolic tour of inspection from the engine room to the bridge, where her father solemnly recited the commands giving control of the vessel to his daughter. Then B'Elanna's youngest brother Torg, had to recite a Klingon poem of his own composing, celebrating his sister's transition to adulthood. Protests from the young man about the appropriateness of this task for a young Klingon warrior were rejected by Prabsa with the icy admonition that anyone who believed that Klingon tradition could be reduced to bashing your cousins on the bonce was sadly mistaken or had been spending too much time with their grandmother.
The poetry reading passed off without much incident except for the youngest child's complaints that she too should be allowed to read a poem for Lanna. A compromise was finally struck allowing Marta to sing a short song for her sister. B'Elanna graciously acknowledged the performances of her youngest siblings with vigorous hugs; then, Koren, a small giant and the next eldest of the Torres clan, gave a wild whoop and picked up his relatively tiny big-sister, and threw her in the air. Karnok and Anton, both nearly as large as Koren though two and three years younger respectively, caught her on the way down. 'Put me down you stupid great oafs' she had yelled at them. At which command, the boys immediately jumped to attention and dropped their sister on the ground. 'Yes Captain' they had cried and burst into helpless laughter as she lay winded on the deck of her first command. The rest of the family followed suit, laughing 'til it hurt, apart from Prabsa who gestured impatiently at her husband. Antonio cut the grin and helped the furious young woman back to her feet, the corners of his mouth twitching. She glared angrily at him, daring him to start laughing again; instead he pulled her into a tight hug.
'Much safer,' he whispered in her ear, 'than facing down you and your mother. Congratulations, B'Elanna. I am proud of you.'
His daughter relaxed. She returned the hug fiercely and whispered in his ear, 'Thanks Dad, for everything ... except my brothers,' she qualified.
Her father snorted 'Don't mind them sweetheart, your Mother will deal with them.' True to his words, they heard Prabsa coolly sending the miscreants off to entertain their grandparents, ignoring their vociferous whispered objections that the old couple were boring and impossible to please. Antonio raised his dark head and winked at his daughter. Unable to resist his charm, B'Elanna gave an answering sunlit smile which shone from identical dark eyes and then turned in her father's arms to admire her new command. B'Elanna fell in love with her ship in that moment. The yuQmey chIl SoS'a' may have been a little out-dated but she was fast and fair; the Queen was as much a part of the family as any of the living members of the Torres clan.
At the time B'Elanna took command of the old girl, life had been good to her and her family. And so it had remained except for the usual crises that afflict any family. Karnok and Anton left the family firm and joined the Klingon imperial guard against their mother's explicit wishes. Both boys were doing very well, much to their grandmother's often expressed delight. Jeri, daughter number two, ill-advisedly ran off with an ITEC pilot who soon after abandoned her and her four month-old baby and B'Elanna admitted, to her not very surprised mother, that she rather thought she preferred women to men.
This last revelation only attained the status of family crisis when old B'Kor tried to insist that B'Elanna be sent for immediate psychological treatment since no grand-daughter of hers could possibly swing that way. Prabsa refused to entertain any such notion and recounted the story of the great maraQat, second daughter of Kahless and hero of the defence of Ogat, who had two wives. In any case as she pointed out to her old mother, B'Elanna was an adult and could do as she pleased. Not to be so easily defeated by mythical phooey and personal rights, B'Kor recruited two cousins to abduct B'Elanna and take her forcibly to be treated by a military doctor who specialised in such 'disorders'. There then followed the only armed campaign in which Prabsa had ever deigned to take part, as she rallied her family to pursue and then defeat the abductors in a violent skirmish.
It was several years before either Prabsa or B'Kor would speak to each other and then only in the sad circumstances of the death of old Torg in a pointless dispute with an equally elderly neighbour. Shortly after this his widow came for a short visit with her daughter. The visit had now lasted two years and Antonio had built special quarters on his flagship, Barcelona, to meet B'Kor's exacting standards, though publicly neither Prabsa or her mother would admit that the arrangement had become permanent. B'Kor talked constantly of her imminent return to Qo'Nos. She only stayed, she said, to counteract the influence of her bookish daughter on the extended Torres family. It was her duty as matriarch. The children and grandchildren needed a good Klingon warrior to lead by example.
Prabsa maintained an icy aloofness, ignored her mother's constant interference and ensured the old lady was treated with respect by every member of the Torres clan, including B'Elanna who learned to ignore her grandmother's constant enquiries as to when she was going to get a man. The eldest Torres child usually responded by saying she was too busy for romance of any kind, a claim which wasn't entirely untrue.
B'Elanna had little desire to settle down with anyone and this despite the best efforts of her family to find a girl that they regarded as a suitable mate for the future head of the clan. Since suitable usually seemed to equal frightful or sometimes frightening, B'Elanna had come to dread the fateful words 'We'd like you to meet..." She made a point to never stay anywhere long enough for her family to pin her down to a second meeting with any of the chosen. The side effect of this was that she never stayed long enough to develop any kind of relationship with anyone and her affairs to date consisted of one-night stands with strangers and some longer-term but entirely casual liaisons with women who were more like friends with benefits than lovers. She was looking forward to just such an encounter with an old friend in Khi'Tok if she could just get away from her family but as it turned out, that pleasant opportunity was to be out-of-reach.
*********
After several hours of hard work unloading the Queen and a couple of short scuffles with bureaucracy, B'Elanna reluctantly found herself in the bosom of the Khi'Tok based branch of her family, feeling totally overwhelmed. Every person she knew in the port seemed to have been invited for dinner. Her heart was with Arkoo who squawked with his usual remarkable acuity "Screw this. I'm outta here." True to his word the feathered one then hid in the branches of an indoor plant for the rest of the evening. His owner wasn't so lucky.
"Lanna, I'd like you to meet Tasha," said her sister, after casting a conspiratorial smile at her husband.
B'Elanna barely hid the sigh that rose in her throat. "Hi," she said resignedly. It was going to be a long evening.
TBC
TITLE: The Queen of The Lost Worlds
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: T/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Same characters, different universe. Very different. And perhaps the characters are not all that similar either ...
NOTES: I don't really have an explanation for the genesis of this story, and only a basic idea of where it is going. Less exposition in this part, the story gets going and
Annika Hansen appears. She is not a Borg ...
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 2a
There were few things more frustrating, Ms Hansen decided, than travelling. Everything was conspiring to prevent her rejoining her parents at their holiday home. Yet it should have been so straight-forward, a quick side trip to Khi'Tok to meet up with old friends and then a comfortable journey to Risa on a passenger ship. Now all the scheduled flights in the sector had been disrupted by this annoying war with the Romulans. Her friends were stranded in another sector and she was alone in a strange town, a town with a tough reputation.
She exclaimed against the unfairness of life and only narrowly caught herself before she stamped her foot. Two curious fellow passengers turned to stare at her. A half-smile crossed her attractive face and she muttered aloud 'That's right ladies. Look out! Spoilt, petulant blond at six o'clock.' The smile faded as she considered her position.
'Okay think Annika. If I cannot get on a scheduled flight then I'll have to charter a special and how am I going to do that? I don't even know where to look. I'll probably end up being kidnapped and murdered by pirates.'
As she tried to concentrate, the two women observing her were joined by two men. Spouses or partners she supposed from the manner of their greeting. Seconds after their arrival, the two men spotted the tall blond.
Witnessing their hapless men gawking openly at the gorgeous woman like a pair of hogs spotting a truffle, the girlfriends started to get very restive, pulling at their arms. They were too late. Annika turned a high voltage smile on the two men and sashayed towards them, fashionable clothing clinging to each sway of her hips.
"I wonder if either of you two gentlemen could help me." She turned up the wattage on the smile and added a touch of vulnerability.
Somehow both 'gentlemen' knew that they could help this beautiful creature, no matter what she wanted.
"Do you know where I might charter a ship? I've just arrived here and I have no idea how to set about this," she admitted candidly.
The good fellows nearly fell over each other giving directions for the freight terminal where the private hauliers would be found. They were also full of good advice of how to avoid rogues and find a good captain, what to pay, whom to bribe, the need for insurance and protection, so much so that Annika sighed "It sounds terribly complicated and dangerous. I don't suppose you could take me there?" Helpless blue eyes gazed at them, removing any reservations about any inconvenience that either fellow would experience going so far out of his way.
Annika smiled gratefully into their nodding, earnest faces and then turned her attention to the two women who were both protesting ineffectually.
"Thank you so much for lending me your men. I promise to return them unharmed." The girlfriends did not look convinced. She ignored their surly disbelief.
"Would you please pick up my luggage," she said to one of her rescuers as she slipped her arm through the arm of his younger and better looking friend, leaving him to struggle with her three enormous bags as she launched another devastating smile on her escort. She clutched his arm tightly and said warmly, "I've heard so much about the kindness of people on Khi'Tok. It's obviously all true. Shall we go?"
The little party set off, the luggage carrier and the girlfriends bringing up the disgruntled rear, struggling slightly to keep up with the blond's long strides.
After a short journey by sky-taxi across the crowded thoroughfares above the old city, they touched down in the modern freight terminus.
The two gallants immediately set about trying to impress Ms Hansen, the not so very distressed maiden, by interrogating the harbour master-computer on the various vessels currently docked in the space port. Unfortunately neither gentleman was especially well versed in the Klingon dialect of the computer and a number of nasty misunderstandings resulted in an immediate access ban and harbour security being summoned. Annika waved goodbye to her protesting knights in shining armour as they were escorted from the premises, their girlfriends alternately complaining at the waste of time and crowing that the two men had been made fools of by a pair of pretty eyes and hadn't they warned them.
Alone at last, Annika approached the harbour master-computer access point, read the short list of instructions and the very long list of warnings. She looked amused and cocked her eyebrow.
'State your wishes' barked the computer.
"I wish to hire a vessel for transit to Risa." Annika answered in extremely good Klingon.
'Risa is off limits to civilians,' the computer sneered. 'You must give another destination. P'taq!'
"But I do not wish to go to another destination."
'Then you will not travel. Leave.'
"You are mistaken," Annika snarled. "Listen to me thou psychotic union of a bastard programmer and a travel timetable. You will inform me of all vessels leaving this port for Risa within the next two days or I will permanently terminate your program."
'Ha! Daughter of Kreth'Or the Coward and Kintha the Imbecile, you have neither the wit nor the courage to carry out such a threat. You are a skinny bag of wind.'
Annika smiled, she leaned forward and began entering codes rapidly into the terminal. The computer bellowed in fury and then responded in a normal computer tone.
'Personality sub-routine dis-engaged. Security override accepted. The following vessels are departing for Risa in the next 52 imperial hours: yuQmey chIl SoS'a, Owner: Torres Freight Company, Captain: B. Torres. Leaving today at 04:00 imperial time. There are no other vessels meeting your criteria.
"Transfer details to datapadd and issue a priority one travel visa for the Risa sector in the name of Annika Hansen... and a visitor pass for the freight bays. Then re-engage personality sub-routine."
The computer came back to life with furious snort, 'A human! It is impossible. You speak Klingon in the old form. My algorithms could only be understood by a true Klingon, someone of the purest blood...'
"... or Ma and Pa Hansen who designed the better parts of you." Annika replied drily. "Mom specialises in cultural linguistics and human-computer interfaces, Dad creates artificial intelligences. There isn't a computer in the empire that does not contain some of their inventions." She tapped a few keys, saying as she watched the deletion happen. "However since that information is classified I am afraid I have to remove this conversation from your databanks."
'Are you still here? Be gone pestilential organism.'
The computer sounded somewhat distracted as it experienced for the first time in its existence, the sensation of having forgotten something important.
"If you insist you sorry substitute for an abacus," Annika responded in kind as was expected. The computer did not reply, it just snorted dismissively though Annika fancied there was a touch of approval mixed in.
She checked her travel padd and grinned. "Now all I have to do is find Captain Torres and agree passage with him. Docking bay 8a."
She sauntered out into the loading bays, flashing her security pass and a high gigawatt smile at the guards. No-one thought to question her, as everyone knew that the foul-tempered harbour master-computer would not give a pass to anyone who did not have legitimate reason to be there and sometimes not even then.
After twenty minutes of purposeful wandering, Annika found herself standing in front of docking bay 8a. She looked at the squat freighter with disfavour as she read the name inscribed on the side. "That's one hell of a romantic name for a piece of ancient junk."
"Who the fuck are you" asked an angry dark-haired woman who popped out of a maintenance hatch in the side of the vessel like a groundhog from its burrow, to confront the stranger, "to insult this ship like that?"
Annika surveyed her interlocutor. The engineer or cleaner was dressed in dark overalls bearing the name of the Torres Freight Company. She was smallish, brunette, well put together and fuming. Flashing dark eyes raked the blond from head to foot and clearly didn't like what they saw.
"I'm looking for Captain Torres," said Annika.
"Why?"
"That is between me and Captain Torres" Annika responded with an air of cool superiority.
The brunette was clearly going to speak again when a tall, good-looking blond man in a blue uniform, rounded the corner.
"B'Elanna, the starboard thruster really needs some work. It's badly corroded - have you being flying through acid clouds...Whoa" he exclaimed as he took in Annika Hansen.
She smiled. This would be easy, he was practically salivating.
"Captain Torres," she said warmly and stepped towards him with her hand out.
"Yes... I mean no," the man stammered and then with ghastly slow-motion inevitability he pointed at the small brunette who was now standing with her arms folded, glaring at them. "That's Captain Torres."
Annika winced. This was not so good. She attempted a swift recovery.
"I am so sorry Captain Torres..."
"No apology necessary," B'Elanna Torres spoke calmly yet Ms Hansen could see the storm rising in the dark eyes. "An easy mistake for a tall, blond, human lady. I mean it's obvious to everyone that the tall, blond, male human must be the captain."
Annika who firmly believed that attack was the best form of defence retorted "How would I know... dressed like that... I thought you were a cleaner or an engineer."
"I am all of those things and captain too. Anyway now that you have finished insulting me, my ship and my clothing, what in Kahless's name do you want? On second thoughts I don't care what you want. The answer, and believe it when I say it, is no!"
Annika bit her lip to prevent a retort. As uncomfortable as it was for a self-confessed control freak to admit, the aggressive little woman in front of her held all the cards.
"I really am sorry if I insulted you. It was not intentional."
Captain Torres rolled her eyes and turned her back without replying, and started to climb into the maintenance hatch.
"I am just a little desperate," Annika said hurriedly.
B'Elanna hesitated but didn't turn back. "Not my concern."
"Please listen to me. I really need your help."
B'Elanna's head disappeared. Annika swore under her breath. Bloody Klingons. She looked at Tom who shrugged sheepishly. He obviously wouldn't be any help. She leaned into the hatch and called down into the gloom.
"I can pay. I have money. Ten thousand credits if you can take me to Risa."
B'Elanna's astonished face appeared below her, framed by the narrow walls of the hatchway."
"What are you?" she exclaimed, "An escaped criminal? Any ordinary charter flight will take you there for five hundred."
"There are no charter flights. Everything has been cancelled."
"Well why in Kahless' name do you want to go there then? From what I hear the hotels and resorts are closing their doors even for your sort."
The shock on Annika Hansen's face was not feigned. She frowned down at the Klingon's upturned face which had frozen in an expression of dismay. At another time Annika would have found it funny.
"My sort?" she enquired coldly.
Captain Torres found the grace to look embarrassed by her own words. "No. I mean... your dress... you look... you're very..." Captain Torres was on the back foot now and Annika wasn't about to lose advantage. Angry as she was, Annika saw an opening.
"Are you accusing me of being some kind of pleasure girl?" she asked bluntly. "Are you by any chance judging me by what I wear Captain Torres? I had the impression that that was an unforgivable sin in your book or are you just a hypocrite?"
B'Elanna opened her mouth twice to speak. And then didn't. She started to climb back up the ladder towards Annika. The latter stood back to let B'Elanna scramble out of the ship. The captain and the blond stood at arms length, staring at each other, arms crossed. Tom was still standing watching with his mouth open, looking nervously at each of the protagonists. Both women appeared very angry and he found that scary, a turn-on as well because both were damn good-looking women and anger suited them, but mainly it was scary.
B'Elanna finally broke the silence.
"First Ms Hansen: if your reasons for going are illegal then I am not interested and I don't care how much you offer me; the military and the police are very edgy right now and they shoot first and arrest later. If there's any sign of that sort of trouble then this old heap of junk as you called it, has a perfectly functional airlock. Second: this is not a passenger ship, so no complaints about the accommodation or the food. Third: we are leaving in one hour. If you're one second late, I leave without you. Fourth: the fee is five hundred credits, payment up front. Any questions?"
Annika resisted the urge to grin. She kept her face impassive.
"It is a deal Captain. I can reassure you that my reasons for going to Risa are entirely respectable, I am not on anyone's wanted list. I am grateful that you have agreed to take me and I am ready to leave as soon as your associate collects my luggage from the holding zone."
She held out her luggage reclaim ticket to Tom who looked startled at his new baggage handling duties until Annika turned a smile on him that made him feel he was the only man in the galaxy. He blushed and grinned and took the ticket. Seeing this interaction, B'Elanna groaned to herself. She was already regretting her decision. She really had to stop making hasty decisions especially when guilt or pity were the motivators. She didn't like or trust this blonde woman and now she was also going to have to prevent Tom making a fool of himself.
Annika was not really paying attention to Tom. She was watching B'Elanna again. She was curious.
"I do have one question Captain. Why five hundred when I offered you much more?"
B'Elanna had been wondering that herself. She answered stiffly and a little dishonestly "Profiteering from war is dishonourable. It is not the Klingon way." Annika raised her elegant eyebrow quizzically and B'Elanna bridled at the slight suggestion of disbelief. "I have work to do" she asserted irritably.
"Aren't you at least going to show me where to go?"
"I'd like to," the half-Klingon muttered under her breath. Annika's amusement increased and it showed on her face. B'Elanna felt her temper rise instantly. "Find it yourself. Crew quarters are on the second corridor between the bridge and the engine room, on the port side. Find an empty cabin and it's yours."
"Crew quarters?"
"I told you Ms Hansen, this is not a passenger ship" the captain barked.
"Yes Captain!" Annika replied, resisting the urge to salute. B'Elanna glowered and then stomped off round the dock to inspect the aft of her ship. She hadn't gone far when she distinctly heard Annika Hansen ask Tom.
"Is she always that pompous?"
B'Elanna didn't hear Tom's reply, For a moment she contemplated going back and telling the annoying Ms Hansen to stuff her money and get the hell away from her ship. Her business sense prevailed. It was certainly not okay to back out of a deal simply because the woman was an infuriating pest and anyway the five hundred credits paid for Tom's entirely unnecessary presence on this trip.
Back with Tom, Annika was digesting his reply.
"I didn't mean to insult your friendship... sorry what is your name?"
"Tom Paris."
"Tom. The captain is a fine person I'm sure but she's very Klingon."
Tom looked disapprovingly at her, an expression that did not come naturally to him.
"If you are very lucky Ms Hansen, B'Elanna will one day become your friend. And you will realise that you had not understood friendship until that time." He relented and smiled at the bemused blonde. "In the meantime, I'll get your baggage so you can get settled in."
Part 2b
Tom left Annika alone and feeling uncharacteristically fearful. If she allowed herself to think, she was worried about her Mom and Dad and her friends. The last official newscast she had heard was very positive; the Romulans were losing territory and would soon be gone from the Empire. But who believed official news in wartime? If it was true then why was there no communication allowed with systems like Risa who weren't even supposed to be near the fighting. Why had the planet been almost sealed off?
She wrestled with the urge to cry and chose instead to feel indignant at the behaviour of her host. 'Tom Paris can say what he likes but she is pompous and judgemental. I could see how much she disliked me from the first moment she laid eyes on me. If this ship wasn't my only option I would tell her to take the whole damn ship and shove it up her tight little ass. And it is a stupid name for a creaky old freighter.' she thought as she stepped aboard 'The Queen of the Lost Worlds' for the first time.
Inside the main boarding hatch, the old ship didn't look much more prepossessing. The two corridors leading away from the hatch were gloomy and narrow, weak lighting reflecting off bare dark metallic walls. It was a little cold too which was unusual on Klingon ships. Shivering at the change in temperature from the warm dock, Annika Hansen decided to look for her quarters. Since the captain's curt instructions had been vague she decided on a whim to take the right hand corridor.
Her mood did not improve as she wandered through the semi-darkness. The few doors she tried, either didn't open or slid aside to reveal small storage rooms walled by instrument panels and in one instance an actual broom closet. There was nothing resembling sleeping quarters or even a washroom.
'She probably hangs from a bar like bat, or sleeps standing up in one of those cupboards or doesn't sleep at all but just plugs herself into a socket and recharges,' Annika thought bitterly.
The human was tired, thirsty and needed a bathroom. She was about to give up on this path through the ship's innards when the undistinguished door in front slid open and revealed a large room. Annika had limited experience of starships but even she could recognise the bridge. She would have passed by but she heard a voice coming from inside. Someone who might be able to help her find the way. Annika looked in cautiously but could see no-one. The voice became a little clearer though. Well it would have been clearer if the owner hadn't sounded totally inebriated.
"Damn and blast the scurvy pirates," the voice complained in blurry tones. "Leave me be, just leave me be."
'Oh great, another ill-tempered misfit,' Annika sighed to herself. She stepped through the door and looked around. She still couldn't see anyone. She walked a few paces further in.
"Anyone here?" she said and then nearly leapt out of her skin when a man's voice boomed loudly behind her in Klingon. "Come on boys. Throw the lubber out the airlock."
What the hell?" she shouted and span around to see... no-one.
A loud inhuman shriek answered her own cry and then a much lighter voice shouted "Look at the tits on that."
Finally able to pinpoint the source of the voices Annika realised that there was a small grey bird looking at her from a perch just on the inside of the door and rocking from side to side. "Look at the tits on that," it shrieked again.
"What on earth are you?" Annika said walking slowly towards it.
The bird replied with a repeated chorus of "Show us yer bum, show us yer bum... "
"A parrot?" She had never seen one outside of pictures and old video film.
"What are ye looking at asshole?" queried the parrot as she continued to stare at him.
She began to giggle and and then couldn't stop as the stress of the day released itself in hysteria. "You're amazing," she choked out through her laughter, "amazing."
"Amazing," repeated the parrot in a passable imitation.
This sent Annika into fresh giggles which the parrot also made a fair attempt at. "Totally amazing, but I don't think you're going to be much help to me."
"Butt-breath," replied the parrot nonchalantly. Still laughing Annika made her way off the bridge. Feeling a lot more cheerful she remembered the sparse directions that Captain Torres had given her and made her way to the second corridor after the bridge, Having little idea of which way the port side might be, she had to try first the right and then the left branch. Finally she opened a door into a cabin which was clearly designed for habitation.
The room was totally different from the rest of the ship. It was spacious, furnished in the Klingon manner with heavy wooden furniture, upholstered in black and red but the chairs and divans actually looked comfortable, padded with a liberal number of cushions. Even more unusually for Klingons, the walls were lined with shelves stuffed full of books, ancient and modern, some of which were lined up neatly, while others rested in rough stacks. Between the books, were half a dozen, randomly located and beautifully decorated boxes stuffed full of Klingon scrolls. A modern library computer access device was neatly built into one shelf, sandwiched between two piles of books. The few wall spaces remaining were covered in photographs except for one in which hung a pair of heavy bat'leths. The floor was carpeted from wall to wall in a deep and somewhat intimidating red pile, interrupted and lightened by four large and very well-worn patterned rugs.
Intrigued, Annika moved closer to examine the collection of books and scrolls. They seemed equally divided between human and Klingon and ranged from very academic texts through classical volumes from both cultures to modern poetry, stories and histories as well as a sprinkling of scientific and engineering works from the past five centuries. Waving her hand past the library computer sensors brought up the library indexes, and revealed a similarly heavy emphasis on history, language and literature. She turned her puzzled attention to the photographs. They were mostly family photographs depicting a number of children and young adults who were clearly related to the captain. B'Elanna Torres at various ages figured in many. There were a few images of adult Klingons and humans, including a formal portrait of a very handsome human male and a very imposing klingon woman. Annika realised that the couple were probably B'Elanna's parents.
"See anything you like?" said a cool voice.
Annika span around guiltily to see B'Elanna Torres standing in the doorway.
"Do you normally snoop around other peoples homes?"
"If you had shown me to my cabin I would not have needed to snoop," the blonde retorted.
B'Elanna snorted and shook her head disbelievingly. "This way then," she sneered. "I don't think you'll find your way on that wall."
She stood aside from the door and ushered Annika through with exaggerated courtesy.
"You have an interesting looking family," Annika said politely. Her host ignored her. She marched ahead and stopped at another undistinguished door.
"This should be okay. It was my sister's room." B'Elanna turned and regarded the beautiful blonde with undisguised aggression and Annika wondered what she had done this time. "My sister. Tom's wife," the captain said with emphasis.
Annika's blue eyes looked at her steadily. "Thank you for the warning Captain. I'll remember that when I feel an uncontrollable urge to fuck Mr Paris. Now if you don't mind I'd like to get some rest."
She pushed past the Klingon into her new habitation. The woman's voice followed her.
"Dinner is at twenty hundred, breakfast at seven hundred. Lunch you get for yourself. The galley is down there. There are two bathrooms. Please keep them clean and tidy."
"Thank you Captain but I think we will both be better off staying out of each others way don't you. So I'll get my own food if you don't mind. At least I'll know it's not been poisoned."
A cheerful voice interrupted the hostilities.
"I see B'Elanna's reputation as a chef goes before her."
Tom ignored his sister-in-law's glare of death. He was carrying their guest's three large bags and making surprisingly light work of it although his next words dispelled that illusion. "Is she going in Jeri's? Let me put these in there before my arms are permanently lengthened."
"Fine. Then I want to speak to you Tom."
"I expect she wants to warn you about me Mr Paris. In case I seduce you."
"Amongst other things..." B'Elanna agreed angrily. "Just come and see me Tom."
"Okay. You're the boss." Tom looked after B'Elanna's retreating back. "So you and she are not hitting it off?" He looked puzzled.
"Very observant," Annika replied stiffly. The blonde didn't seem ready to compromise either.
"I'll talk to her."
"Don't bother. We'll only be a few days and I can stay out of her way. I don't think there is anything you could say that would dent her prejudices. Or mine for that matter. But thanks for your concern. I was beginning to think I would have to fall back on the parrot for a friendly word."
Tom laughed. "You've met Arkoo. Was he er..."
"Comprehensively offensive and insulting? Yes he was as remarkably rude as the captain, except at least the bird appreciated my er physical assets which would of course make no impression on his mistress."
"You'd be surprised," Tom muttered under his breath. Annika looked at him strangely, not understanding. Gallantly he decided to try make peace. "Ms Hansen please come to dinner tonight. This ship is too small for holding grudges and we will be together for at least a week, maybe more if the permitted routes are closed."
"Call me Annie," she interrupted and held out her hand.
He took her hand and shook it.
"Okay Annie, I'll do that. Dinner?"
"For you Tom. Anything." She smiled up at him.
"You're flirting again." He grinned.
"So sorry. It's a bad habit I seem to have. Especially around good-looking men. Damn there I go again." They both laughed. A thunderous voice intervened over the ship's intercom.
"Paris! Where are you! I want to speak to you now. We are on a schedule here."
Tom promptly pressed the button on a wall mounted comm device and answered.
"On my way Lanna."
He released the button and shrugged. Annika was looking at the small speaker in horror.
"Oh God. Please don't tell me she wakes everyone up with that thing."
Tom smirked. "O six hundred on the dot. Anyhow I must be gone. See you later."
"Later then."
The door closed behind Tom and Annika took her first proper look at her room. Too much pink and too many flowers was her first reaction. However it seemed clean and the bed looked large and comfortable. 'I'll survive,' she reckoned to herself. 'I'll bet that the captain's quarters don't resemble this.' She wondered what they might be like and realised that she couldn't even guess. B'Elanna Torres was a total mystery to her.
TBC
TITLE: The Queen of The Lost Worlds
AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R
CODE: T/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Same characters, different universe. Very different. And perhaps the characters are not all that similar either ...
NOTES: I don't really have an explanation for the genesis of this story, and only a basic idea of where it is going. The plot thickens a little.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 3a
Tom eased himself unsteadily into his chair and gazed blearily at the chronometer on the console. Almost time. Near enough anyway. He plugged in the scrambler and booted the sub-space comms. At the prompt, he transmitted the initiating sub-space signal. After what seemed like a long time but was in fact only twenty seconds, the viewscreen came to life. Tom wriggled about while he waited for the transmission to begin, trying to get his six foot frame settled in the small chair.
A woman's face formed. The woman smiled confidently at him.
"Are you sitting comfortably now Mr Paris?" she asked, slightly impatient as he continued to shift. Tom took the hint.
"Yep. Of course. Sorry about that."
"Good. Then let's get on with this. I need you to deliver the text of the message I am now transmitting, to our representative on Risa. He should give you an immediate reply and a report. Please see that both are delivered back to me as soon as possible."
Tom nodded as he transferred the incoming message to a padd.
"Seems simple enough," he said.
"Without your help Mr Paris, I doubt this would even be possible let alone simple. We need to disclose what is happening on Risa but without proof soon it'll be too late."
"I'm happy to be able to help Senator."
The woman looked at him for a long moment. Her expression was pleasant. But Tom suddenly got the feeling that she was assessing him, her intelligent blue-gray eyes fixed on his face, watching for something.
"It's amazing good fortune that you managed to find a civilian ship that's permitted to travel..."
"My sister-in-law is the captain... and she agreed to let me go with her."
"Your sister-in-law," the woman repeated slowly. "I seem to remember that your wife's family are Klingon."
"Half-Klingon," Tom corrected.
"Does she know about this?" The woman gestured vaguely with her hands.
"My wife or Captain Torres?" Tom asked, slightly bewildered. His interrogator smiled encouragingly. He shrugged. "I didn't think either of them needed to know. They're not very political," he added hesitantly.
"How do you think they would feel if they did know?"
He laughed. "They'd probably think it was a load of nonsense."
The senator's smile became fixed and her eyes turned a wintry shade of gray. Tom shivered as she agreed coldly.
"Unfortunately that does seem to be the majority view. That's what we have to change Mr Paris, and this is a first step in doing so."
The coldness eased slightly. "I think you've been wise to keep this on the down-low. It should probably stay that way, at least until you have completed your mission."
She warmed up a little more as she took her leave.
"It's been nice speaking to you again but unfortunately I have to go now. Three votes and a trade mission today. Good-bye Mr Paris and safe journey."
"Senator Janeway," Tom acknowledged as the screen went blank.
"Eeek," said Tom aloud. "Not a funny woman."
He checked the chronometer again and smiled to himself. A few key presses later and his wife's face filled the screen but only for a few seconds before she was pushed aside by an over-anxious three year old yelling, "Where Dadda? Where Dadda?"
"Daddy's here sweetheart."
He could hear his wife muttering in the background, "And I wish she were there with you. She's driving me insane."
His step-daughter grinned at him. "Mummy very bad," she asserted. "She don't love Mirry. Not like Dadda. Look. My hand hurt." She held up her small fist so he could see a small cut on one knuckle.
"I'm sorry baby," said Tom concerned.
"Save your sympathy for the other child" said his wife as she finally forced her way back into the picture, holding her squirming daughter on her knee. "The one who lost a tooth. Great-grandmother is beside herself with joy."
Tom's very beautiful wife stopped scowling at her daughter and gazed at him. "I miss you," she said quietly.
"I miss you too baby."
"Bleah! Soppy!" exclaimed Miral in disgust and pushed off her mother's lap while sticking her tongue out and pretending to be sick.
Tom laughed. His wife looked resigned.
"She's impossible; like a tiny blonde version of Lanna. Speaking of blondes, I hope you're not getting into any trouble with that bimbo my sister has been moaning about."
Jeri was trying to look unconcerned but Tom understood his wife's insecurities. He faked a look of fear and looked about nervously.
"Yes I'll say I'm in trouble. It's getting damned dangerous here and I am trying not to get caught in the cross-fire. I made the huge mistake of inviting Ms Hansen to eat with us last night."
"Yeah I heard," said Jeri smirking. "I think the kindest thing Lanna said about you was that she couldn't blame you entirely because of the obvious lobotomy at birth. Is this woman really that bad?"
"Well that's the funny thing. She's not. I can see she's a little spoilt and tends to think that everyone is here for her convenience, but she's actually quite funny and smart. It's true they got off on the wrong foot and I can't tell you how much that understates their mutual hatred. However Annika was trying to make amends last night. B'Elanna would have none of it. The meal was a disaster, short-lived but a disaster. I had to check myself for frostbite and shrapnel wounds afterwards. And then this morning... let's just say Ms Hansen experienced the full early morning crew wake-up call."
"With the siren?"
"With the siren. War has been declared" Tom intoned sonorously.
"Hmm. Interesting" said his wife looking thoughtful.
"What in Kahless' name do you mean? Jeri, there is nothing interesting about this. It's just a week of misery and avoidance and putting my foot in it."
"It's a long time since Lanna reacted this strongly to anyone..."
"Yes and he's still hiding out in dark space!"
"Not a man you idiot, a woman. It's a long time since Lanna has shown such strong feelings for a woman."
Tom snorted. "Nope! Wrong call. There's a boyfriend. Wealthy. Successful. Name of Chakotay."
"The sport's promoter?"
"That's the one. More money than a Ferengi pauper. In the gossip columns every week. This girl is part of the human aristocracy. The sort of girl my father would have liked me to like."
"Your father likes me."
"Correction baby. My father adores you," Tom asserted firmly, "but before you there was always the image of the little social climber that lived inside his head. Anyway the point is, she's straight as a laser beam."
"That's a shame, cause Big Sis always falls for the ones she hates."
"No she doesn't." Tom protested, looking confused. "Most of her girlfriends are really nice and are real friends. She goes to their weddings and everything..."
"Because she doesn't care about them."
"Is that why we keep introducing her to all these horror stories, like the lovely, though psychotic, Tasha? So she'll hate them and fall in love." Tom asked not-so-innocently.
Jeri looked slightly embarrassed, being reminded of Tasha and Tom pressed his point.
"It's a barmy idea. And it hasn't worked before and it certainly won't work this time."
Jeri was stubborn.
"Simply because we haven't found the right one yet. I have only seen B'Elanna fall in love once and she started out loathing the girl."
"I don't remember this," said Tom, feeling hurt. His best friend had been in love and he hadn't known.
"You didn't know her then. Lanna was fourteen. The girl was the daughter of one of Dad's regular crew. It was kind of sad as she moved to another part of the Empire after a few months when her mother died. Lanna was devastated"
"Yeah that was tragic but she was fourteen and I don't think that's evidence for a lifetime's pattern of emotional development."
"You have to get them to spend time together," said Jeri, not listening to her husband's arguments.
"No! Even if your crazy ideas about Lanna are true, we still have to come back to the boyfriend and the straightness. B'Elanna isn't really in the competition."
"You think Lanna isn't good enough for her?"
"I didn't say that." Tom knew he had to back up fast.
"Yes you did. You think that my sister isn't good enough for this stuck up little blonde; that she's no competition for some overweight, over-hyped, stupid human-game organiser."
"Ooh! Mummy angry!" piped up an excited little voice. "Dadda in trouble."
"Miral! Shut-up and go to bed," yelled both parents together.
"Lanna is too good for her," Tom improvised. "This woman isn't right. Not right for her at all. Too light-weight. Stupid I'd say. Not pretty enough either."
"For Kahless' sake, stop interfering Tom! My sister has to make up her own mind. And you have to get them together so she can do that. You have no right to get in the way of this relationship Tom. I'm really surprised at you; I thought you were Lanna's friend."
His wife glared at him until something off-screen caught her attention.
"Miral! Get back inside! Hideous child!" Jeri complained, though she was unable to hide a smirk of pride. "She's out on the balcony again. She's discovered that she can ambush passers-by, which is okay if they're Klingon... at least they think it's funny when they get out of the hospital. Tom, I have to go. Remember what I said. I expect you to make some progress in the next few days: a drink, dancing, word-games, anything! Love you."
The view-screen blanked and Tom sagged back in his chair, shaken to the core. This was serious. Jeri rarely told him what to do but when she did, she meant it. Failure would mean the cold shoulder and possibly a visit to her mother. Not that he disliked his mother-in-law but if she agreed with Jeri then they would both ignore him. And that was a very chilly experience. He shivered.
**********************
Annika Hansen was lying on the bed in her cabin, plotting her revenge on the obnoxious freighter captain. Well not so much plotting as imagining endless scenarios where Captain Torres needed her help, begged for her help and she refused and let the bitch meet her well-deserved fate. So far the awful woman had drowned twice, perished in a freezer, been murdered by pirates and had to walk naked down a busy street while hundreds of people laughed at her.
Every time the blonde managed to calm down, she would remember another of the sarcastic comments from the night before.
"I am not a fucking trophy wife," she snarled aloud at the picture of the Torres family on the wall opposite where a fresh-faced and laughing B'Elanna Torres appeared to be half-strangling a huge young Klingon male.
Finally, angry with herself for wasting so much foolish energy, Annika decided to go for a walk. Tom had said there was a small gym on the ship, which she could use whenever she liked. At this moment she needed to work off some of the adrenaline. She knew there was a risk of meeting the half-Klingon but she was not going to be scared by her either.
The narrow corridors of the yuQmey chIl SoS'a were oppressive to the young human; she hated this cold, dark ship and the thought of spending another five days trapped inside, in silent solitude was almost unbearable. Even her cabin with its flowers and pinkness had been no escape. As she had lain on the bed, she could almost feel, behind the facade of chintz, the dark grey metal structure of the ship pushing against the small room, compressing it, shrinking it.
Annika walked faster, keeping to the middle of the corridor, trying not to touch the cold metal walls. The ceiling was low and she kept expecting to bump her head on the thin bulwarks that jutted from the walls every four or five metres. Her heart pounded unpleasantly and she was sweating. She felt clammy in the chill air. She started to run. One featureless corridor gave way to another and then another that seemed even narrower. Then there was a dead end. A locked hatch. Annika stood and stared at it. Above the sound of her own rough breathing, she could hear thunder, mechanical thunder. She could feel it vibrating in the walls, through the floor, climbing up her spine and jumping along her bones. She tried to slow her breathing but there didn't seem to be enough air. She slowly turned to face the way she had come. All she could see was a string of dim corridor lights stretching away in the darkness, apparently to infinity. Even those lights began to dim and wobble as she slowly sank to her knees. The darkness took her.
Part 3b
Stepping sturdily through the familiar gloom of her ship's inner workings, B'Elanna whistled cheerfully. She stopped for a moment to listen to the dull roar of the warp engines, she could feel the rhythmic pulse, not a murmur out of place, steady and comforting. The old girl sounded good. B'Elanna had fine-tuned the engines in Khi'Tok and rebuilt the warp core. She had also replaced two of the shield generators and overhauled the deflector in readiness for crossing the dense gravity fields of the Hovtay' HoH'egh, a dangerous star formation zone, alive with enormous spinning ion storms and shifting gravity wells. The old girl was as ready as B'Elanna could make her. It was possible to go around the formation zone, but it would add another four days and B'Elanna wasn't sure the permit for Risa would be valid in another week. Anyway it was worth the risk to get rid of her nuisance passenger sooner. The Captain grimaced as she thought back to the previous night.
'I guess I went too far,, she admitted to herself at last.
Her guest's self-assuredness, almost arrogance, had grated on the young captain. She made B'Elanna feel rough and uncouth. It was a common complaint amongst Klingons that some classes of human often behaved with a degree of superiority that was unwarranted by their accomplishments as a species. B'Elanna had only really had limited contact with that group of humans when she was a lieutenant on a passenger liner where the uniform and her job acted as a natural barrier to fraternisation.
'I suppose I should apologise to her though that's usually a bad idea.' B'Elanna flashed back to her last encounter with Jeri's latest protege, Tasha, and the glistening Daqtagh that had narrowly missed her skull. The half-Klingon flinched at the memory. 'That apology nearly cost me an ear. Anyway I doubt I'll see Ms Hansen much now. Not after last night and of course this morning." The evil child inside B'Elanna giggled at the memory of the deafening siren.
She decided to check on the forward engines. As she approached the hatch she could see something on the ground. It looked like a sack or a body. Blonde hair gleamed in the murky light and B'Elanna swore and ran the last few steps. She bent down and shook Annika's shoulders. The woman groaned. B'Elanna took her wrist and felt for a pulse. It seemed strong enough.
"Come on. Get up," she ordered. Clear, blue eyes opened for a few seconds and looked up at her before rolling back. The blonde slumped a little more. "Great!" B'Elanna exclaimed grumpily. "Well I suppose I can't leave her here."
She took the woman's arm and pulled the lifeless body up until she could get her shoulder underneath the body and hoist the dead-weight off the ground. The human was light, despite her height. Though carrying her was awkward, it wasn't especially difficult until Annika recovered consciousness and began to struggle. B'Elanna promptly dropped her.
"Ouch!"
"Sorry about that," B'Elanna said, "but you shouldn't have struggled, you knocked me off balance."
"What are you doing?" Annika complained.
"I found you unconscious in corridor 8a."
"Oh right. I remember sort of... I think I fainted." The human sat up on the deck, rubbing her elbow.
"What were you doing there anyway?" B'Elanna asked in turn.
"Looking for the gym."
"In forward engineering!" The captain cocked her eyebrow in disbelief.
Annika's exasperation flooded over.
"Everywhere looks the same! So when you say 'forward engineering', it means nothing to me. Okay? Aft, port, back, front, up, down. It's all the same. Long, dark creepy corridors and then more long dark creepy corridors. Why can't you get some decent lighting and a few signs?" Annika felt close to tears again.
The Captain was trying unsuccessfully hide her amusement from the frazzled blonde.
"Don't laugh," said Annika. "I know I'm being stupid and pathetic okay but just don't laugh."
"I'm sorry," B'Elanna replied much more gently, "and I won't laugh. Would you like a coffee? To help you recover..."
Annika looked worried.
"Don't worry," B'Elanna reassured her. "I'll be your Indian guide and help you find it."
"There's no need to patronise me," Annika snapped back. "I may be lost but I'm not five years old."
"Didn't say you were."
Dark eyes smiled down at her and Annika felt the deck shift. Her heart seemed to stop and then restart, erratically pounding. For the second time that day she felt faint. Dimly she realised that the Captain was holding out her hand.
"Can you stand?" asked Captain Torres.
Annika nodded and took the offered hand. She felt herself being smoothly pulled upright. It seemed easy just to hang onto that strong hand.
"Okay? Not going to faint again?"
"I don't think so. Maybe..."
Annika staggered slightly and felt the Captain's arm go around her waist to steady her.
"Let's walk. Take it slow."
They had only progressed a few metres when an alarm began to sound.
"Damn," said the Captain. "We have to take a detour. Can you manage?"
"Yeah. I guess. What's wrong?"
"Nothing much. We are here now and I need you to stand right there. Do not move."
Annika watched as B'Elanna braced herself in front of a glowing metal extrusion which she kicked sharply. The captain promptly dropped to the floor and Annika jumped, thinking that she was hurt. She was going to help when a sharp scream emanated from the wall and a brilliant, white-hot jet of plasma ejected from the valve. It narrowly missed the frightened human's head.
Annika screamed.
"I told you not to move" said B'Elanna Torres turning over and gazing up. The plasma floated safely in its containment field.
"You could have warned me!"
"You could have done as you were told!"
"I thought you were hurt."
"Well you nearly lost your head and please don't start crying again. Your make-up will rust."
"Very funny. Just get me back to my cabin and away from this ship of horrors."
"Nope. Come on. I promised you coffee and I don't break promises. Follow me." B'Elanna took a couple of paces until she realised that Annika hadn't moved. She looked back irritated. The blonde appeared nervous.
"I umm... still feel a little unsteady. Could you hold my hand?"
B'Elanna blinked. "Whatever. Yeah. Sure."
A short while after, they were walking down the main corridor hand-in-hand when Tom popped out of the galley. His double-take nearly broke his neck.
"Lanna," he squeaked. She looked at him strangely.
"Is there something wrong with you as well?"
He shook his head dumbly.
"Well then, can you get us some coffee in the family room? Ms Hansen got lost, panicked and fainted."
"Do you have to say it like that?" Annika complained. "You make me sound feeble."
B'Elanna said nothing. She did grin however and waggle her dark eyebrows. She dropped Annika's hand and gestured for her to enter the large room that Annika had seen the previous day.
"Take a seat," B'Elanna said, still grinning.
"You're not going to let me live this down. Are you?" Annika said slowly, a small grin beginning to form on her perfect lips as she sank into a large comfortable chair.
"I seriously doubt it," her persecutor responded. And then they were both laughing.
Tom smiled too as he came in carrying three mugs of coffee.
'Well I'll be... ' he said to himself, 'maybe Jeri is on to something.'
Aloud he said "I hope you are feeling better. What happened."
"I get claustrophobic sometimes," Annika explained sheepishly. "This was one of those times. I just don't like being alone in small dark spaces."
"You like being with someone in small dark spaces." B'Elanna interrupted sounding puzzled. "Wouldn't that make it worse?"
"That depends on the person." As she said this, Annika was looking into the captain's eyes and her heart skipped again. 'What is wrong with me?' she wondered.
"Does the boyfriend like small dark spaces?" Tom asked cheekily.
She felt awkward speaking about Chakotay. She wasn't usually shy or reserved about their relationship. Annika may not have felt that he was her great love - she didn't even believe in great love - but he met all her needs as currently defined and she was fond of him. She had supposed that they might marry one day though neither had been in any hurry. Today for some reason, Chakotay was the last person Annika wanted to consider or discuss.
"Probably not. Chakotay doesn't believe anything should be small" she said stiffly. She changed the subject.
"I am going crazy here with nothing to do. Isn't there anything..."
"As I have told you several times, this isn't a passenger ship; there's no entertainment."
"I didn't mean that. I meant couldn't I help out in some way?"
B'Elanna shook her head. "There's hardly enough work for one of us. We are over-staffed on this trip as it is." She glared at Tom before returning her attention to Annika Hansen. "Do you know about crewing a starship?"
"Not much I guess," Annika admitted "but I could learn something... I could learn to pilot the ship. Then I could help."
"To pilot the ship?" B'Elanna started laughing. Annika became indignant.
"I'm not completely useless Captain Torres. When it comes to computers I am actually pretty good, possibly brilliant. And isn't that what most piloting is about these days? Operating a computer. And anyway if you're so underemployed, you could afford to spend time teaching me."
B'Elanna stopped laughing but she was still obviously very doubtful.
"Piloting a ship is about more than operating a computer. Tell her Tom."
Tom had been thinking fast. He could see his opportunity to meet Jeri's demands and avoid the doghouse.
"I think it's a great idea. I mean you know how bored you get when there's not enough to do."
B'Elanna rolled her eyes at him and shook her head. She didn't say anything for a while. Then she shrugged.
"Alright, I suppose you could teach her, afterall you're the hot-shot pilot. I'll crew the ship and it'll keep you both out of my hair."
"No! No, no, no, no!" he panicked, seeing his cunning plan about to hit the first hurdle. "You should do it. You're the captain. And think about it Lanna... Jeri wouldn't like it."
"What has she got to do with it?"
"Me. Teaching. Her." He whispered the last word and tried to nod his head inconspicuously in Annika's direction. B'Elanna didn't take the hint.
"Oh for crying out loud!" exclaimed Annika. "For someone who was warning me to stay away from him just 24 hours ago, you're being extremely stupid. He is trying to tell you in a not so subtle way that his wife wouldn't like him spending time with the dumb blonde trophy."
B'Elanna was immediately ashamed.
"Look I'm really sorry about that. I treated you really badly yesterday. I don't really think you have any designs on Tom. I honestly don't think there's a problem with him teaching you."
"No!" said Annika and Tom in unison. They looked at each other.
"I find him far too attractive," Annika mumbled, glancing away from Tom's astonished face.
"Me too!" said Tom. "I mean I find her too attractive. Lanna, you do it. It would be much better. No temptation or possible misunderstandings. Much safer."
B'Elanna examined them both suspiciously. "Has anything happened between you two?"
"NO!" Tom yelped nervously. "Nothing! And nothing will. Just trust me on this Lanna."
Annika broke in to back Tom up. "Yes honestly Captain, it would be best if you did it..."
Both blondes were pleading with their eyes. B'Elanna couldn't help feeling as though there was a conspiracy here although she was damned if she could see what they hoped to gain. She caved in.
"Okay, okay. I'll do it but not today; I have some work to do. Your first lesson begins tomorrow. 07:00. Be on time. I should warn you Ms Hansen that I am quite a demanding teacher."
"That's great!" said Annika. "I'll be there. 07 hundred. Prompt. With a pencil." She tried not to break out in a stupid, giddy, shit-eating grin. Even so she noticed that the Captain and Tom were staring at her curiously. Not wanting to appear a complete fool she said the first thing that came into her head to distract them.
"Captain. One other thing. Can we wake-up without the siren tomorrow?"
"That depends on how annoying you are," said B'Elanna casually. Then she winked and smiled mischieviously which nearly undid Annika completely. Her muscles weakened involuntarily and she thanked Kahless she was already sitting down else she knew she would have fallen down.
Tom sat down as the captain left the room. He was still staring at Annika who could no longer contain herself. She sat there, grinning inanely.
"What just happened?" he asked. "And why are we suddenly on the same side? You aren't attracted to me!"
"I just want... to get to know her better," said the blonde candidly. "Seemed like a good way to do it. I would like to do something and it might help us get along. I hate it when people don't like me. I guess I'm not used to it."
"What about Chakotay?"
"Who?" she said absently, staring at a fairly recent picture of B'Elanna with her father.
"Who indeed," agreed Tom happily. It seemed that the impossible was about to happen.
***********************
"You have done what!" yelled Jeri. "Are you insane? Are you trying to make me mad? Are you trying to kill me?"
"You asked me to get them to spend time together. Now they'll spend time."
"Before they kill each other," she screamed. For a few moments, Jeri sat speechless. "Tom. Do I ever cry?" she asked, despair etched in every word.
"No. I mean you can't. Klingons don't have tear ducts."
"Yeah! That's what I thought until I had my first and last piloting lesson with B'Elanna when I was fourteen. She made me howl like a human baby. I love my sister but as a teacher, she is a fucking monster. As a pilot instructor..." Jeri stopped. She had run out of words. She gazed at the image of her hapless husband on the screen.
"Ooooh! Mummy say a naughty word. Mummy very very angry!" chirruped Miral. "Dadda in big trouble."
"Miral! Shut-up and go to bed," yelled both parents together.
"Tom I have to go." Jeri said stiffly. "I'm too angry to speak with you right now. And don't think I'll have gotten over this before you come home either. Love you."
The screen blanked and Tom put his head in his hands. 06.55 said the chronometer. Five minutes to Armageddon.
TBC
SUMMARY: Same characters, different universe. Very different. And perhaps the characters are not all that similar either ...
NOTES: The good news is that this story now has a plan for development rather than just rumbling around.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 4a
Annika stood on the bridge of the yuQmey chIl SoS'a and tried not to get too excited. Or angry with herself for being so juvenile. 'I'm like a geeky teenager with a crush on the most popular girl in school. Which is so ridiculous. People crush on me. I'm the crush-ee not the crush-er. And I'm not a fucking teenager!'
At 06.58 B'Elanna strolled in looking casual and relaxed. Her shirt was open and she had left off her uniform jacket. Her sleeves were rolled up to just below her elbow.
"You're here" she stated as though that was the last thing she would have expected.
Unable to think of an answer, Annika just nodded. She bit her lip to avoid blurting the first thing that her halting brain managed to signal coherently. 'She looks wonderful,' it whimpered.
B'Elanna raised an eyebrow in question. "Are you okay? You look a little pale"
"Fine," Annika managed to squeeze out.
"We'll get started then. Piloting a starship is about two things mainly. Math and gut-feeling."
B'Elanna pointed at the navigational console and gestured to Annika to sit. The half-Klingon pulled up a stool next to her. She observed that the human's hands were shaking.
"Are you sure you're alright? Are you feeling faint again." The Captain took her hand in order to feel the pulse.
Annika jumped and pulled her hand away. She looked abashed. "I'm sorry. I'm fine. It's just a little hot... and a little early... for me. I'm not used to the early mornings." She laughed unconvincingly and B'Elanna could see that her breathing was uneven. The captain looked doubtful.
"Where's the parrot?" Annika asked, trying to change the subject.
"The little pest was driving me crazy, so he's banished to the family room for the day. Are you sure you're alright?"
"Please carry on," Annika entreated. The human managed to concentrate enough to slow her breathing. She tried to smile more normally.
"If you're sure?"
Annika nodded.
"Alright then" said B'Elanna and resumed her lecture.
"You need the math to get you where you are going. Now you could have the computer do all the math. But where's the fun in that and what do you do if your navigation computer isn't working? On this ship we do it the old-fashioned way and then use the nav-comp to check our results."
Annika watched the Captain's face; she couldn't really listen because of the buzzing in her ears, so she settled for watching the play of expression across the strong face.
"Gut-feeling is short-hand for knowing your ship; feeling her engines; sensing her mood. An unexpected ten percent fall-off in the ship's power output and all your navigational cleverness isn't going to help you. And in short-range manoeuvres being able to feel your ship is essential."
Annika was trying to abstract herself from the physical attraction that was sweeping through her. She wanted to pay attention but this was really hard. She'd never reacted to anyone like this before, let alone a woman. and she had no point of reference. She started classifying Captain Torres features into klingon and human to see if she could make sense of the attraction. Full mouth: human. Elegantly chiseled forehead: definitely Klingon. High cheekbones: probably Klingon. Beautiful dark eyes: could be either. Flawless caramel skin: again could be either. Physical strength: definitely Klingon. Even white teeth: definitely human. Wicked humour: Klingon. Skilled hands, powerful and graceful, probably deadly: both. The human shivered as she imagined those hands slipping inside her clothing, straying over her skin.
Shocked, Annika immediately clamped down on the fanciful daydream. 'Dammit, she probably doesn't even like women like that. And I don't either.' Meanwhile B'Elanna was droning on.
"You might think why bother. There are auto-pilots, sensors and motion computers for that kind of thing? And they are great...when they work. But a good pilot has to be able to keep flying safely even if they don't work. So you're going to learn to pilot the Queen without any computers or sensors apart from the front and rear viewscreens and an occasional check on our navigational position. When you can do that to my satisfaction then we will start bringing the artificial aids on line. We should have a lot of fun as we are going to enter the Hovtay' HoH'egh tomorrow night."
"You're kidding." Annika was shocked out of her daze. She dragged her gaze away from studying the play of the smooth muscles visible in B'Elanna's forearm.
"Nope. Not kidding. But we're going to plot a safe route, avoiding the most risky zones." B'Elanna reached under the console and drew out three padds and a star chart generator and then dumped them in front of Annika. "I hope your math is good or this is going to be a long day."
Annika tried not to feel desperate. How could she do math when even basic word formation seemed impossible? She stifled a moan when the captain leaned over her and then guided her hand to their current location on the star-chart. She was dimly aware of the half-Klingon explaining how to triangulate their position, allowing for stellar drift and the curvature of space. She was acutely conscious of the warmth being generated by the body a few inches from her own. If she turned her head a few inches, she could just see the curve of a small breast through the half-open shirt. 'A little more effort and I could touch her. Oh shit! What am I doing?'
"Okay. Now if you've got that I'd like you to repeat the same calculation for this point, this point and then that one."
Annika breathed out slowly. "I'm sorry. I didn't quite get it. Could you explain again."
B'Elanna eyed her irritably. "Are you stupid or are you just not listening?"
"Stupid I guess," Annika said weakly.
"Okay. I'll say it once more. But if you can't do this then we might as well give up now."
Annika forced herself to concentrate. Giving up was not something she wanted to do.
Much later that day
"You have just flown the Queen into a gas giant." B'Elanna walked around her angrily. "Have I just wasted 10 hours of my life? Because that's how it looks to me."
Annika glared at her. "You didn't give me the correct starting data."
"No! That's right!" said B'Elanna in mock disbelief. "I didn't give you the correct data because I am a malfunctioning navigation sensor that you were dumb enough to trust without cross-checking! So now you're going to start again from the beginning."
"I am hungry. I am tired. I want a rest."
"You can't have a rest. Your ship is lost in a dangerous area of space filled with asteroid fields and the uncharted remains of an exploded star. If you rest, you die and all your crewmates with you."
"I don't know why I like you," Annika grumbled as she wearily assembled her earlier calculations from the heap on the floor and prepared to begin again.
"What did you say?"
"I said I don't like you."
B'Elanna didn't reply but a small smile escaped. It disappeared as quickly as it had come. She gestured at the exhausted blonde to get on with her calculations. Apparently there was to be no reprieve.
That night
Anika collapsed into the softness of her bed. She had no final conscious thoughts. Sleep came instantly to her over-stressed mind and body. But not rest. Numbers, star systems, navigation arrays and formula whirled in giant nebulae mixed up crazily with tormented sexy dreams. Four hours and an instant of sleep later, her alarm sounded. She wriggled deeper into the bed.
She floated above a small planet. She could just see a tiny figure walking on the surface. The little figure was waving and gesturing. Annika threw one end of the rope in her hand towards her. The end of the rope slowly uncoiled and floated down towards the distant planet surface. It missed the tiny gesticulating figure. 'Hurry up! Do it again!' screamed the tiny figure. 'And do it right this time.' Annika slowly wound the rope back, coiling it in a huge loop beside her that got bigger and bigger until she had to run around it. Still the rope kept coming, and she kept coiling until it stood taller than herself.
"I would have got it next time," she muttered in her sleep. "I just need the right coefficient." The tiny figurine on the planet screamed angrily and the coil of rope sprang up and swallowed her. Darkness surrounded her.
She was lying on something large and soft, somewhere very dark. Cold blackness pressed in upon her. She felt something stir next to her and fear nipped at her heart. A soft moan. Annika jumped and tried to scream when something touched her. Her fear receded quickly, pushed away by a hot flood of desire as warm fingers trailed lightly over her breasts. Annika gasped. She pulled her companion towards her, burying her face in the smooth skin of her dream-lover's shoulder. Soft lips burned her skin...
"Get up Ms Hansen. You're late. I expect to see you in twenty minutes in deflector control" said the dream-lover bad-temperedly and unexpectedly.
Annika woke up and scowled furiously at the speakerphone on the wall. She threw away the pillow she was hugging.
"Don't be late" warned the uncompromising voice of the speakerphone. There was a pause. "And getting lost is not an acceptable excuse either. I can hardly trust you to navigate the galaxy if you cannot find your way on this small ship."
Annika heaved herself onto one elbow and rubbed her eyes. It couldn't be morning. She'd only just gone to bed...
She sat up sharply as the meaning of the captain's orders sank in. Twenty minutes! Her stomach rumbled. Breakfast or shower? She sank back into the pillows and groaned as she became acutely aware of the wet heat throbbing between her legs. She recalled her dreams, soft lips descending... She swallowed hard. Decision. Shower. Cold.
The cold water effectively jolted Annika out of her lust-induced haze. She began to talk sense to herself. It was so ridiculous, this physical attraction. She wasn't a lesbian. Never had been. She had nothing against lesbians but she certainly wasn't one, so this was just some stupid aberration. And even worse, the object of her unwanted attraction was the most awful, bad-tempered, unreasonable, stiff-necked woman she had ever met. And it was quite clear that B'Elanna Torres despised her too.
Annika leant against the cool wall of the shower. She ran her hand slowly across the soft skin of her stomach. Her nipples stiffened. An unwanted image of her tormentor, sinking to her knees in front of her, licking the water droplets from her skin, invaded her imagination. She abruptly straightened up and dropped her hands.
Maybe she was sick! Coming down with 'flu or something. That would also explain the fainting fit the day before yesterday.
Trying to be satisfied with her explanation Annika dressed, all the while telling herself that she was over her strange ailment now and today she would be back to normal. Everything would be fine.
In the family room
B'Elanna was finishing her breakfast with Tom. They were discussing the latest war news, both official and rumoured. Officially the Romulans had been heavily defeated in battle, however two more planetary systems had been placed under protective quarantine because of 'sneak attacks by the cowardly forces of the enemy'. The unofficial news from other trading vessels was that there were pitched battles across the entire sector of the Empire adjacent to Romulan space. The Empire was gaining the upper hand but at great cost. B'Elanna had put out several messages asking if anyone had news of her brothers' bird of prey; the Imperial Guard were always in the thick of battle so it was to be expected that Karnok and Anton would be involved directly in the fighting. B'Elanna wasn't exactly worried about them - that would be an affront to the two Klingon warriors - but they were her little brothers and she had to watch over them. So far the news was good. The HoS HeghmoH had wreaked destruction in every battle she had fought and casualties were light. There had been no word from either of her brothers. Not surprising as B'Elanna knew neither of them would have the sense to think of sending a message home.
The other rumours circulating amongst the trading ships they encountered, concerned the quarantine of Risa. According to the stories circulating, Risa was not in quarantine because of the Romulans. They had not penetrated that far into Klingon space. Exactly what was happening on that planet was unclear.
"Sounds odd," said B'Elanna. "I hope we're not going to be delayed there."
Tom glanced at her guiltily.
"What?" she queried. "Have you heard something."
"No," he lied. "It's nothing. How is your pupil getting along?"
B'Elanna rubbed her chin and sighed.
"That bad," he said trying to sound sympathetic.
B'Elanna stared at her coffee-cup with a bemused expression.
"Perhaps I ought to describe what she achieved yesterday after fourteen hours. You might not believe me otherwise." The captain slowly traced the rim of her cup with her finger as she listed Annika Hansen's progress. "It took her six attempts to master a simple nav comp. Eight attempts to get the hang of a basic two planet solar system approach. Four attempts to manage a level one manual orbit of a planet."
"Whoa!" exclaimed Tom.
"That was...the morning. In the afternoon we covered level 2 navigational exercises. It took five hours before she could manage them, all of them. In the evening she attempted to chart the Jorath Nebula and plot a course."
"Did she do it?"
"What do you think?"
Tom looked a little stunned.
B'Elanna shook her head and said quietly "I estimate that by the time we arrive at Risa, she will just about have completed basic pilot training, at least the theory. Four days." She grinned at him. "How long did it take you Tom?"
"Seven weeks," he replied. "You?"
"Six and six."
"Who'd have thought it. She's a genius."
"Off the chart I'd say. And she seems almost unaware of it. I can honestly say Tom that I probably learnt as much as she did just watching her rip apart some of the calculations. Obviously she doesn't have any practical experience and I caught her out by playing some really evil tricks, but assuming she can hack the practical aspects, she will make an outstanding pilot."
"Brains and beauty. It's enough to make you sick. What are you going to do today?"
"She needs to start getting to know the mechanics of space ships, so I thought warp engine design and theory and its practical application. In the morning... And then just see how it goes. She should be waiting for me in deflector control now."
"Doesn't she get any breakfast."
"Only if she gets up earlier. She may be a genius but I figure a little discipline will do her the world of good."
"Have you changed your opinion of her?" he asked hopefully. He wanted to pass some good information to Jeri.
"Yeah I guess," said B'Elanna slowly. "Now I think she's a clever, spoilt, rich-kid." She finished her coffee in a gulp. "I'd better get going. Don't want to keep her waiting."
Deflector Control
"Sorry I'm late," Annika started apologising almost before she got through the door, "I couldn't find... I'm sorry... I overslept."
B'Elanna looked up and scowled at her. The scowl was replaced by a confused look when she observed Annika's dumb-struck expression.
"What's the matter?"
"You're... I mean... I..." mumbled Annika in obvious distress.
B'Elanna took pity on the struggling blonde. "Just sit down there and relax. I'm not that angry. Just don't be late again."
"You're wearing a vest," muttered Annika, who by contrast was wearing a hunted expression.
B'Elanna looked puzzled.
"So? It gets hot down here. You might want to take something off too."
"No! I'm just fine," Annika snapped back quickly, smiling unconvincingly. She was already uncomfortably warm but the idea of wearing less clothing was disturbing. A suit of armour would look quite attractive she thought.
"Whatever. Let's get on. We have a lot to cover today. I might even let you take the helm of the Queen this afternoon. We have to pass near a pair of black holes - the gravity is so strong, you'll actually feel her moving against it. It's a good way to start learning to cope with the gravity of a planet without the risk of actually hitting anything. "There's no need to be nervous," B'Elanna said briskly, misinterpreting the blonde's weakening smile. "I'll hold your hand through it. Anyway first we're going to review the controls for the warp engines and the deflector. So I'm afraid we'll be crawling about in the Queen's innards."
Annika silently wailed to herself. This was worse than yesterday. Enclosed spaces, and a half-dressed goddess in close proximity all day. The few hormones she had managed to fool into lying down with promises of no more excitement had jumped back up again and were now doing calisthenics with the other millions.
B'Elanna was explaining the physics of warp flight, a subject Annika knew in theory which was just as well since she was completely unable to concentrate on anything apart from staring at the captain's naked arms and shoulders, the smooth caramel skin, and the light sculpting the motion of her finely delineated muscles everytime the captain turned or pointed at some feature of the deflector.
"I think we should have a look at the warp core now. It doesn't make much difference in practical terms but it's important to understand the machinery that makes it all possible. Without warp drive, we would still be puttering about between a few planets in our own solar systems and even those flights would take years." As she was speaking, B'Elanna lead Annika along a short access tunnel that ran between deflector control and aft engineering where the warp core lived. Following on, Annika realised despairingly that the Captain was wearing a tight pair of shorts rather than her usual uniform trousers and that she had really nice legs and that life was even more unfair than she had previously thought.
B'Elanna climbed up a short ladder inside the warp-core mounting. Annika watched her ascend. The Captain's ass was as fine as her other assets. Annika dragged her gaze away.
'Get a hold of yourself Annika. Do. Not. Look. I feel like some oafish construction worker,' the blonde whined to herself. 'Why don't I just fucking wolf-whistle and get it over with.' Her self-hate session was interrupted by an impatient hand beckoning her to join the captain.
She squeezed inside the mounting and found herself standing pressed up against B'Elanna Torres' side. The captain was staring almost worshipfully at the throbbing core of her ship. 'I wish she'd look at me like that,' thought Annika enviously, painfully aware of every point of contact along their thighs, hips and shoulders, the warmth of her body. 'I wonder if she'd notice if I touched her hand... it's right next to mine.'
"There's something mystical about a warp core; matter and anti-matter imprisoned together," B'Elanna said quietly. "It really is the beating heart of a spaceship." The captain blushed. "I'm sorry. That was truly dorky," she muttered.
'She's so cute when she's serious,' gurgled Annika's inner monologue, then Annika blushed too.
For a long minute they both gazed at the warp core, the blue glow from the core hiding their embarrassment from each other. The light seemed to re-energise the half-Klingon. She delivered a short lecture on the various warp core controls and monitoring equipment. Annika concentrated on not staring too obviously.
"Come on. We have a lot to accomplish today Miss Hansen. Next you're going to learn how to recognise and compensate for misalignments in the deflector and for fluctuation in output from the warp core. It's technical, so you'll have to concentrate." There was a certain steeliness in B'Elanna's voice. Annika started and quickly withdrew her gaze from her helpless study of the Captain's mouth.
"No problem," she said, trying to sound as though she believed it. "I'm looking forward to those er.. fluctuations and er.. other things"
"Misalignments," B'Elanna supplied helpfully. She took the blonde's hand. Annika quickly glanced down into the captain's dark eyes that were a disturbingly short distance away. Her expression must have been a picture of shock because the captain immediately smiled and reassured her.
"Sorry I didn't mean to surprise you, I thought you might need a hand down to the ladder." B'Elanna dropped her pupil's hand only to find it snatched back as Annika stammered incoherently.
"No! That's fine you can hold my hand. Anytime. I mean anytime you need to... Not that that's very likely to happen... much... I guess..." Annika tailed off as she continued to stare into the captain's eyes.
"Is there something wrong Miss Hansen?"
'Yes there is something wrong actually Captain Torres. Very wrong.' she complained silently. She felt exasperated by her own feebleness. 'Right this minute I want to kiss you. My whole body aches for your touch and I spent most of last night dreaming about touching you. How fucking wrong is that!'
For one awful moment Annika believed she might just have spoken aloud. The Captain was looking at her very oddly.
"Are you feeling claustrophobic again?" The captain's tone seemed a little sarcastic to the over-sensitive human. Irritated, and scared that B'Elanna would see through her, Annika decided on a diversionary attack.
"Actually there is something wrong. Could I ask you a favour?"
B'Elanna nodded assent although she didn't seem overly interested which only stoked Annika's irritation.
"Please could you call me Annika or Annie or blondie or bitch or brat or anything except Miss or Ms 'fucking' Hansen! You're driving me totally insane with it."
B'Elanna's eyes narrowed. "I like formality Ms Hansen - officers and men, teachers and pupils, employees and passengers - it stops the lines blurring. I'm sorry if that offends you but that's how I'd like to keep it," she said coolly. She dropped Annika's hand.
Annika was pleasantly surprised to find that anger eased her suffering. She stomped down the narrow ladder hardly noticing the descent.
"I was right about you from the off. You are a pompous, self-righteous bully. I'm going back to my cabin. Class is over Captain Torres."
B'Elanna dropped lightly to the ground beside her.
"Fine. I hope you can find your own way back." She turned her back on the blonde and then turned again to face her. "And for the record, it's apparent that my first impressions were correct also. I knew you wouldn't carry this through. You're a spoilt baby and the minute things don't suit, you chuck in the towel and sulk. You were just looking for a way out because it was too hard."
Annika just looked at her. For a second it appeared that the blonde was going to start crying, her eyes seemed oddly shiny but she didn't cry. She nodded slowly.
"It is too hard," she murmured. She crossed to the exit and disappeared left. B'Elanna could hear her footsteps moving away.
"Ms Hansen," B'Elanna called after her loudly. The footsteps slowed. "Crew decks are the other way." The captain's smirk became open laughter when she heard her former pupil swearing obscenely and with astonishing fluency.
The blonde re-appeared in the exit. "I suppose you think that's funny."
B'Elanna suffocated her hilarity with some difficulty. "Well it was. Actually I'm impressed. I have heard Klingons who swear more imaginatively than that but not many."
Still infuriated, Annika snapped "Well I don't suppose many people have had to spend 24 hours up close and personal with you! Effective profanity just needs the right motivation." She waited for B'Elanna to bite back but it wasn't to be. The half-Klingon had obviously recovered her calm and her sense of humour.
"That's me, a great motivator," B'Elanna responded cheekily and grinned again. Annika's ill-temper began to fade also. Reluctantly she felt the corners of her mouth turning up.
"Are you over your tantrum?"
The captain's smile took the sting out of her words and Annika couldn't help smiling back and it quickly became a joyous smile when B'Elanna added "So can we get back to work now... Ani."
B'Elanna pronounced her name in the Klingon form. In that instant, if B'Elanna had asked her to clean out the imperial guard latrines with a toothbrush Annika would have done it with that same smile plastered to her face.
"Fluctuations and misalignments," she said happily. "But what happened to all that professional distance?"
"I think hearing my parentage compared to the union of a Bajoran whore and a Romulan soldier by way of various members of the lower animal orders rather diminishes the possibility of formality. Your knowledge of Klingon idiom is amazing."
Annika looked embarrassed. "It's useful sometimes," she hedged.
"Yeah I guess... if you're ordering drinks in a brothel on Kundara anyway. All those stories you hear about the education of wealthy human children must have some truth."
"Not all of them..." Annika drawled slowly looking into B'Elanna's eyes. The latter looked disconcerted and Annika smirked feeling she had at last gained some control. A feeling which lasted all of two seconds.
"You'll have tell me more over dinner tonight. But for now - warp speed navigation awaits."
"Dinner," repeated Annika breathily. "Sure."
After class
"Hi stranger!" Tom greeted an exhausted Annika Hansen as she struggled back to her cabin carrying a mountain of preparation for the next day. "How's it going?"
"I'm too tired to know," she moaned. "You're boss is monstrous."
"From what I hear you're doing pretty well."
Annika perked up. "Really! Did she say that?"
Tom nodded and Annika beamed at him, so much that Tom had to resist the impulse to pat her on the head like an over-enthusiastic puppy.
"Tom... can I ask you something about the captain?" Tom didn't say no and he looked quite benevolent, so Annika pushed ahead.
"Does she have a partner... like a husband or... a wife?" She looked up at him anxiously. "I'm just curious..."
"No she doesn't. No-one special that I know of. Why do you ask?"
"No reason. Just curious."
Before dinner
Annika stared in turn at every item from her considerable wardrobe. They covered every surface in her cabin. She sighed unhappily.
'Why am I doing this to myself? I could wear a space-suit and she wouldn't notice or she'd make some crack.
'But this is my chance to make her notice.'
'Why should she notice - I don't even know if she likes women and even of she does, then what Annika? Where is this going?'
'I don't know. There's no harm in looking my best. If she's not interested then it won't make any difference. If she is... then I'll...'
'I'll what?'
'I don't know.'
Dinner
Annika entered the family room wearing a dress the colour of her eyes. Her make-up was perfect; her shoes were perfect; her hair was perfect; her scent was so wonderful, it verged on the illegal. She looked beautiful and she knew it but for once it made no difference to her. She was terrified.
Tom looked her way first. His mouth fell open and his jaw would have been on the floor.
"Wow," he said. "You look..."
"A buxom beauty!" shouted the parrot from his perch in the corner. Annika would have laughed at both Tom and the parrot if she hadn't been so focused on the captain.
B'Elanna looked up from her book. Nothing. If her eyes widened slightly, it could have been a trick of the light. She immediately turned her attention to Tom who was still burbling on.
"Shut up Tom. You'll embarrass the woman. Is everyone ready to eat? I'm afraid Ani that Tom's cooking tonight so I hope you have a strong stomach."
Annika hid her disappointment behind a dazzling smile. It took her a good five seconds to find the resources but she did it.
"I'm sure I'll enjoy it," she said. She wondered if she would be able to eat at all. B'Elanna was offering her a drink and fittingly for a Klingon ship there was a good selection of lethal beverages, some milder ones and a few that were downright repellent. Annika settled on a mild beer and found herself on the receiving end of raised eyebrows.
"What's wrong?" she enquired
"That seems a little erm ordinary for you."
"You think I only drink exotic cocktails and champagne..." Annika took a swig from the bottle and smirked.
"They would fit with the dress."
"What dress? Oh you mean this old thing."
"It matches your eyes. So when did you become a beer drinker?"
Still back at the point where B'Elanna had noticed the colour of her eyes, Annika was saved from having to answer by Arkoo's intervention.
"Drunken sot!" screamed the parrot. "Like your father!" "Like your father!" "Like your father! Daddy's girl!"
"Damned noisy bird," B'Elanna said irritably. Annika was astonished by Arkoo's outburst.
"How does it manage to always be so... inappropriately appropriate?"
"Visual cues and dumb luck I think. He is always getting me into trouble. For example the beer you're drinking probably set him off. It was the drink of choice of a woman passenger a few years back. She drank maybe twenty, thirty a day. She wasn't sober in five days. Her husband spent the whole voyage yelling at her that she was like her father." B'Elanna took a sip from her own drink and glanced sideways at Annika before continuing with her story.
"On the sixth day the woman disembowelled her husband with a broken beer bottle, just like that one. She wrote 'Daddy's girl loved her father' in his blood across the walls of their cabin. At the trial she claimed the final straw for her was the parrot screaming 'Daddy's girl!' every time he laid eyes on her."
"Oh my god! That's terrible." Annika stared at the bottle in her hand as though slightly worried that the madness might be catching. "Which cabin?" she asked apprehensively.
B'Elanna looked away, her expression very serious. "Of course we cleaned the walls and the deck of the cabin very carefully."
"You're going to tell me it was mine aren't you..."
B'Elanna grinned wickedly. Annika narrowed her eyes at the teasing and then allowed a small smile to appear. If they were going to repeat stories then she was not without ammunition.
Later on the bridge
B'Elanna was studying the readouts from the sensors. She had to make a choice of routes and wasn't sure which way to go. There were several readings that indicated possible ion blizzards across the main route through the Hovtay' HoH'egh yet avoiding them would mean grazing the edge of a huge area of star formation that emiitted massive radiation bursts. At high warp these were potentially dangerous.
Tom lounged against the console waiting for her decision. He wasn't overly concerned either way.
"You should ask Annie to calculate the probabilities," he said casually.
"Not a bad idea," agreed B'Elanna as she chewed the nail on her index finger.
"She likes you."
"Think so?"
"Lanna, you know what I'm talking about. She really likes you."
"I know."
"You do!"
"Tom, at the risk of sounding arrogant, she wouldn't be the first woman to show an interest. I do know the signs."
"You mean the drooling..."
"Shut up. She's not that bad."
"Are you interested?"
"Nope."
"Why not? She's smart, funny and beautiful. What's not to like."
"She's not my type. She's too..." B'Elanna mimed being flirtatious until Tom gave her a shove. "And she's extremely straight. B'Elanna Torres is not a holiday home for vacationing straight girls."
"You're not going to hurt her."
"She'll be gone from this ship in 36 hours. I don't intend to do or say anything that would give her the slightest encouragement. Beyond that I can't do much. If she wants to waste her time then that's up to her."
"What is your type, Lanna? We've been friends for nearly ten years and I don't have a clue what kind of woman you would like."
"Yes you do. You know most of my girlfriends."
"Lanna, you have a woman in every port, nice women too, but they aren't girlfriends, they're fuck buddies and then friends. They marry other people. You go to their weddings and they make you SoS tIDev to their children. I have never seen you in love."
"You're just jealous. Don't get at me because you gave up your freedom."
"I'm not jealous Lanna. I worry about you. You need someone apart from a bloody parrot."
"Maybe but I don't need Annika Hansen. Okay I think we'll go with the ion storms. They don't look too bad."
Annika leaned against the wall outside the bridge and tried not to cry or even care. B'Elanna Torres was right. She would be gone soon and this would be over. She would be okay again. But right this second it hurt more than anything she had ever experienced.
TBC
TITLE: The Queen of The Lost Worlds AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R CODE: T/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Same characters, different universe. Very different. And perhaps the characters are not all that similar either ...
NOTES: A very unexpected encounter throws the crew and passengers of the yuQmey chIl SoS'a' into a strange adventure.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Previously...
"I'm not jealous Lanna. I worry about you. You need someone apart from a bloody parrot."
"Maybe but I don't need Annika Hansen. Okay I think we'll go with the ion storms. They don't look too bad."
Annika leaned against the wall outside the bridge and tried not to cry or even care. B'Elanna Torres was right. She would be gone soon and this would be over. She would be okay again. But right this second it hurt more than anything she had ever experienced.
Part 5a
Annika awoke from an unhappy fitful sleep to the sound of the emergency alarm. At least she assumed it must be because it was such godawful noise. Then almost immediately there came a loud banging on her door. She became aware of the ship trembling and creaking.
"Ani! Wake up!" The banging started again.
"Okay! Coming." Annika half fell out of bed and staggered to the door to unlock it. As the door opened she started screaming. A bulky figure in a full black spacesuit stood on the other side. The identity of the wearer was hidden by reflective dark glass in the helmet.
"For Kahless' sake stop yowling, It's only me," said the spacesuit crabbily.
"B'Elanna?" Annika panted anxiously. The Captain was revealed looking none too happy as her face mask slid aside.
"Yes. Now put this on!"
The figure thrust a large spacesuit at the surprised human.
"What?"
"Just do it quickly. I need you on the bridge."
"In a spacesuit..." Annika was finding it hard to understand.
"Don't argue. Just get dressed and hurry." Annika took the suit and laid it on the bed. She started to take off her pajamas. B'Elanna turned around to give the human some privacy.
"The ion storms are a lot worse than we thought and the Queen's taking damage. There are some small cracks appearing in her hull. There's just a slight possibility of a breach - hence the spacesuits as a precaution. Tom and I have to go outside on the hull to patch the cracks before they leak."
"Outside!" Annika squeaked.
"We'll cut the warp engines, then Tom and I will get out there and fix her up while you helm the ship."
"Me!" Annika squeaked, even higher than before.
"Would you stop squealing? You're going to damage my eardrums. It won't be difficult and it shouldn't take more than an hour. You just fly her in a straight line like you did yesterday, unless there's an obstacle and then you avoid the obstacle, like you did yesterday. You'll be fine."
Annika swallowed her protest and the little scream that would have accompanied it. She stayed silent for a few moments and concentrated on her struggle with the giant spacesuit.
Hearing the sounds of struggle, B'Elanna impatiently turned to see the blonde hopping on one leg. She was struck by how truly attractive Annika Hansen was. Wearing only a light t-shirt and pants, with her hair down and no make-up, for once the woman was totally unaware of her appearance and she was just as beautiful.
"Aren't you ready yet?" the captain asked brusquely, trying to hide the completely unexpected attraction.
"I don't know how to put this on," Annika replied miserably, feeling she had failed the first test already.
"I'll help."
After a few moments of them both writhing, tugging, exchanging terse instructions and curses, Annika found herself imprisoned in the clumsy suit. It was enormous. The leggings hung in billowing folds on her legs and she had to keep pulling up the sleeves so that her hands stayed in the gloves. When she turned, it felt as though the suit followed a second later.
"It belongs to one of my brothers - Anton. He's the smallest but still a lot bigger than you." There was a suspicion of a laugh in B'Elanna's voice and Annika glared at her.
"Put your helmet on," was the only response. "It's safer."
Annika wedged the helmet on and felt some pressure on the back of her neck as B'Elanna activated the pressurised seals. Silence. Even the loud creaking of the ship faded to a muffled moaning. She could see B'Elanna tapping something on the left side of her helmet. Annika lifted her left arm, hitched up the sleeve to get her hand back in the glove which had escaped several inches away and tried to feel for some kind of control on the side of her helmet. There seemed to be a button. She pressed it and her face mask flew open.
"The comm control is on the other side," B'Elanna said in a voice that was not too patient. "And don't forget to close the mask. You need to be careful with that if we lose hull integrity."
Annika complied with the instructions without argument but before she turned on the suit communicator she allowed herself some quality cursing about the obviously demented designer of this so-called safety garment.
Finally ready and fully encased, Annika - loosely accompanied by her spacesuit - found herself following the captain to the bridge. Her progress was less than graceful due to the constant necessity of holding up the leggings to stop them pooling around her ankles. Walking was more of a wading action anyway since her boots were at least 4 sizes too large.
On the bridge, Tom was engaged in some quality invective too as he tried and failed to catch Arkoo. The parrot was taking short flights around the room staying just out of the reach of the spacesuited human lumbering ungracefully after him.
"Haven't you got him in that box yet?" B'Elanna said impatiently. "Here let me. Come here you damned nuisance" she cried as she lunged for the feathered one. The parrot squawked defiance and flew to land on the nav comp.
"Okay well, you'll just have to take your chances then!" snarled the irrascible captain. "We don't have time for this. Just don't cry to me if you're eviscerated by a vacuum."
"Loser," yelled the parrot, crazily rocking from side to side.
B'Elanna ignored it. "Come on Tom. We'd better get on. Some of those cracks are getting a little too big."
"Doesn't the ship maintain a structural integrity field around the skin?" Annika inquired nervously.
"That's a bit new-fangled for The Queen" said B'Elanna. Her voice sounded a little regretful and she added protectively "But she has a triple-skin reinforced hull."
"Which is breaching..." Tom inserted nastily.
B'Elanna was obviously annoyed by this disloyalty to her beloved Queen but she didn't choose to retaliate. "Yeah, well let's get out there and fix it before we all die a lonely death or perhaps you'd rather stay here and carp."
She turned to Annika. "Cut the warp engines on my signal. Keep her steady at half-impulse until we get back. Watch the sensors and look out for any really big ion waves. If you see one coming, turn the Queen into it, let her ride it out and then resume the previous course."
"What! I have no idea what you are talking about. I can't do this..." Inside the stifling confines of her helmet Annika felt herself starting to panic.
B'Elanna opened her own face mask and took Annika's hand. She lifted her hand to press the button that opened the blonde's mask also. Dark eyes stared steadily into frightened blue.
"Yes you do Ani. You can do this. Hey you beat the simulator yesterday. You're a natural."
"B'Elanna, we spent twenty minutes on it. What happens if I get it wrong..."
"Well...Tom and I probably die." Annika paled even further and swayed unsteadily. B'Elanna held her hands tighter and said quickly, "But nothing like that is going to happen because you will be great. I trust you and we're probably safer with you than Tom. He likes to ride the wave a little too much." B'Elanna winked confidently. "Just don't trip over your feet." She gestured at the overly large boots on the unfortunate blonde's feet.
Figting off tears, Annika sniffled "You gave me this suit deliberately to embarrass me, didn't you?."
B'Elanna simply grinned. Annika awkwardly threw her arms around the smaller woman and hugged her as best she could. "Don't you dare die on me, 'cause I am going to get you back B'Elanna Torres."
"I'm so scared," mocked the eldest daughter of the house of Torres. A loud creak from the Queen put an end to the ribbing. Annika let go of the captain.
"Come on Tom."
Tom looked disappointed.
"Don't I get a hug from the pilot."
Annika blew him a kiss and B'Elanna rolled her eyes.
"By the way Ani, I'm clipping you in..." said the captain as she attached a tether on the side of Annika's suit to a point on the helm, "...just in case we lose gravity."
Ignoring the shocked expression on Annika's face and the beginning of the inevitable protest, B'Elanna gave the blonde one last smile and then closed her mask. Tom followed suit. They waved cheerfully to the now very nervous blonde and departed as quickly as their heavy suits allowed. As they left the parrot bawled "Throw the sinners overboard. Throw them overboard. Let the deep black void have their souls."
Annika nearly broke and went after them until she heard Tom's voice over the internal communications speaker in her helmet.
"Wow that bird really knows how to bear a grudge!"
"He doesn't like to be chased for sure." B'Elanna replied. "Ani can you hear us?"
Annika smiled despite her fear. B'Elanna's voice seemed to bounce round her helmet, leaving her ears ringing.
"Yes Captain. Loud and painfully clearly."
"Are you saying I'm shouting?" her leader queried at a more moderate volume.
"Fine now."
"Okay. We're at the airlock. Cut warp engines now."
Annika eased two sliders smoothly backwards. The warp engine output fell to zero, the deflector field shrank to nothing and the schematic representing the warp bubble that surrounded the ship collapsed to a point on the monitor in front of her.
"We've left warp," she reported. Her voice trembled despite her best efforts to control it.
"Good. Inner airlock door is open. We're in the airlock. Inner door closed. Outer door opening. We're going outside."
A few seconds passed and Annika tried to ignore the overwhelming need to talk to fill the silence. She concentrated on studying the various outputs from the sensors, looking for ion wave patterns. It was hard given the prevailing high levels of ion distortions that were buffeting 'The Queen'. She focused on applying the filters in a sequence designed to identify patterns hidden within the background noise assaulting the sensors from all directions.
"I'm in position," said Tom suddenly. Annika nearly jumped out of her skin. "Now secure."
"I'm nearly there too," B'Elanna responded.
Something caught Annika's eye. She took a sharp breath. B'Elanna caught it immediately.
"Ani what's wrong?"
"Something's coming."
"An ion wave?"
"No. I don't think so. It's faster. It's coming straight for us. It's massive! Some kind of huge sub-space distortion."
"Can we outrun it?"
"No it's moving at warp four point six."
"We have to go to warp then."
"You won't have time to get inside. The radiation... you'll fry."
"Turn into it. Tom and I will secure ourselves and take shelter."
"Kahless B'Elanna! Hurry!" Annika yelled. "Twelve seconds to impact."
Annika's hands flew over the helm controls. Like a fly drowning in treacle, The Queen slowly turned to face the oncoming onslaught. Tears streaming down her face, Annika watched the wall of light and energy filling the forward view screen until nothing else was visible. The light seemed to fill the whole of the bridge. Arkoo was squawking and shrieking. Annika fell to her knees and hid her face. And then nothing.
Part 5b
Arkoo whistled and shrieked, "Damn your eyes."
Annika slumped forward on to her knees and dimly wondered where the helm had gone. She could hear voices.
"What the hell is that thing?" a strange voice exclaimed.
"That's a parrot," Annika mumbled automatically. "His name is Arkoo. He's rude. And he bites."
"Are you alright?" a woman's voice was asking. Annika wasn't sure. She pushed herself up on her hands and tried to look around. Her eyes were still aching from the light and bright spots of orange and red whirled in her vision. She wasn't on the bridge of the yuQmey chIl SoS'a'. That much was certain. It seemed to be a large room with brightly lit wall panels. She was on some kind of platform. Fear washed through her - maybe this was the afterlife though it didn't look much like Stovokor or Paradise as she had imagined them. Then she remembered what had happened.
"B'Elanna, Tom" she mumbled and tried to stand but tripped, entangled in a loose fold of her space suit. She found herself back on her knees. A pair of arms went round her, steadying her and the voice said.
"Don't try to stand. We will look after you. Doctor can you get here quicker. They don't look good."
Annika's vision was clearing. Assisted now by at least two pair of hands, she managed to lurch to her feet and stay upright.
A woman was standing in front of her, dressed in a red and black uniform that Annika didn't recognise but she did recognise the woman.
"Hello. I'm..."
"Senator Janeway!" Annika exclaimed.
The woman looked a little puzzled. "...Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager."
A tall dark man was standing next to Janeway. He was dressed in the same uniform.
"You are human. Then this is the Alpha quadrant" he stated earnestly.
Annika peered at him and would have fallen backwards if it hadn't been for the hands holding her up.
"Chakotay! What! What is going on? Where am I? I'm dead. I know it. I'm dead! But why are you dead as well? It doesn't make any sense. And why is she here?"
Janeway and Chakotay glanced at each other.
"It's okay. You're safe..." Chakotay said reassuringly.
"...and you are certainly not dead. I think we can be reasonable reassured of that by the amount of noise you're making" asserted a balding man who had just entered the room. She didn't recognise him which was oddly more reassuring than anything else that had happened thus far. He was wearing a blue variation of the same unfamiliar uniform and carrying a small box which he proceeded to hold up and wave along the length of her body. "She's fine," he pronounced. He stepped past her and knelt down. Annika twisted her head to try and see what he was looking at. Out of the corner of her helmet she could just make out a leg lying on the floor.
"B'Elanna" she whispered.
The bald man spoke again. "This one's bad. Severe radiation burns and numerous impact injuries. We need to get her to sick-bay. This one too. Also very badly burnt. I have to say that space-walking in an ion storm does not seem like a very good idea."
Annika had managed to turn around by this time and could see the fallen bodies of her two companions. She had grasped that the bald man was some kind of medic and that B'Elanna and Tom were not dead. The knowledge gave her strength and something to fight for.
"Are they going to be alright?" she demanded trying to clutch the medic's arm.
"If you let me get on with my job then... yes I see no reason why not." The man disengaged her hand from his arm and addressed Janeway. "Captain I have to get them to sick-bay. Tom can treat the lady in the very baggy suit. She needs treatment for minor contusions and poor tailoring. Even Mr Paris should be able to cope."
The bald man smirked at his own sarcasm and tapped the shiny badge he was wearing on his chest. "Two to transport to sickbay." An instant later the two bodies of her friends vanished into thin air together with the smirking medic. Annika screamed.
"What have you done to them?"
"It's okay" soothed Janeway. "We have just transported them to sick-bay. They'll be fine. The EMH knows what he is doing or so he tells me." The small red-head smiled winningly and Annika relaxed a little though she knew she must be dreaming or hallucinating. Maybe she had bumped her head.
"Why don't you take off your helmet,"Janeway suggested. "It might be a little easier for you and I'd like to ask you some questions..."
"Captain!" said a strong voice, interrupting. A tall blonde woman entered the room dressed in a tight figure-hugging bodysuit and heels that Annika would have been proud to own. The blonde seemed sort of familiar too. Annika peered at her through her, now totally misted-up, face mask.
"Seven," said Janeway. "Have we contacted the Federation?"
"No we have not. I have detected a problem Captain."
"A problem?" said the smaller woman who was still smiling. "We're here in the Alpha quadrant Seven after eight years. I'm sure any kind of problem is surmountable."
"It is the Alpha quadrant Captain," said the tall blonde slowly. Her mannered delivery had slowed even further and although the voice was not very emotional, Annika could detect some trepidation or hesitancy. The speaker clearly had bad news. The two crew members who had been supporting Annika at last managed to free the helmet and were lifting it off her head as the tall blonde said slowly. "It is the Alpha quadrant but it is not our universe. There is no Federation."
Silence.
Shaking her hair out slowly Annika lifted her confused eyes to gaze into the face of the blonde woman and found herself looking into the face of Annika Hansen.
Annika screamed again and began to struggle. The surprised crewmen supporting her, dropped their hands and stepped back. This was unfortunate as Annika then tried to step back too and promptly fell over as her huge boots tangled with her ankles and she landed on her backside on the floor.
Seven of Nine raised her occular implant and her blue eyes widened as she stared down into the equally blue eyes of her doppelganger, who was now sitting on the floor of the transporter pad trying to escape from the deadly embrace of her voluminous space-suit.
"Not our universe," repeated Janeway as she too gazed at the figure on the floor.
"Not our universe!" screamed Arkoo who had taken refuge on a a small ledge jutting from the ceiling of the transporter chamber.
The Captain of the Starship Voyager closed her eyes and murmured in a disappointment soaked voice.
"I feel a headache coming on. Multiple Universes. Worse than time travel and you know how much I enjoy that concept."
The tall blonde said nothing. She clasped her hands behind her back. Chakotay also stayed quiet though he hunted for answers in the faces of his companions, taking in Janeway's rigidly impassive glare and the terror of the blonde stranger with Seven's face.
It was at this moment that Tom Paris breezed into the transporter bay and looked around.
"I'm thinking this is not a good time," he said cautiously, acknowledging the expressions on the faces around him that ran the gamut of emotions from ghastly to grim by way of gloomy.
"You could say that Mr Paris." Janeway was looking very pained. She pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to release the building pressure.
"Sorry Captain. The Doc sent me down to look at one our visitors."
Tom glanced down at the transporter pad and grinned. "Seven what are you doing down there?" Then he remembered seeing Seven as he came in. His head whipped back to take in the statuesque Seven of Nine still standing alongside him, with her hands clasped behind her back, and then back again to take in the prone figure of the blonde, shivering on the floor of the transporter pad. His gaze fluttered wildly back and forth.
"What the bloody hell? Sorry Captain!"
Janeway shrugged. "I think 'What the bloody hell?' sums it up nicely."
"Tom," whimpered Annika. "Please tell me it's you."
"Well it's certainly me," said the pilot. "Question is, who are you?"
Annika sank her head in her arms and began to sob quietly.
"It's alright Ms Hansen. It is Ms Hansen isn't it?" Janeway said comfortingly. "I think that you will be fine. We appear to be the ones in the wrong place. I'm sure you're quite safe."
The captain's communicator chirruped.
"Captain, EMH here." Even over the communicator, the doctor's shock and disbelief were clearly audible. "Are you aware of what's going on? These people I have in my sick-bay... they appear to be Tom and B'Elanna."
Kathryn Janeway closed her eyes. It was going to be that kind of day. Voyager's Tom Paris's was now looking totally confused. The Captain's explanation was terse.
"Right quadrant, wrong universe. And the first people we seem to be meeting are ourselves. Seven has a theory I hope which I am looking forward to hearing..."
"On the contrary I have no adequate theory about our predicament," corrected the steely blonde. "Yet." she added, responding to Janeway's obvious disappointment.
Janeway sighed. "Sounds like we will be seeing doubles of ourselves for a while yet Doctor. I'll come and visit your new patients soon. Look after them, Captain out."
"But Captain...another Tom Paris," wailed the EMH before the comm link could be cut.
"Captain out" Janeway reiterated firmly.
Recovering swiftly, inured after years of such shocks (you can't devolve to a lizard and then fornicate with the captain without developing a sense of fatalism and the recovery characteristics of a velocity disk) Tom gave a friendly smile to the stunned refugee who was still sitting on the transporter pad. Annika did not return the smile. She was not used to time travel, alternate universes, traversing the galaxy, being pursued by homicidal hordes or waking up to meet copies of yourself.
"Let me take you up to sick-bay Ms Hansen and get you checked out. And then I would like to meet my double - you can introduce me: he's a handsome guy I bet - but first I'll help you out of that erm...costume." Tom winked.
Amused despite the migraine inducing situtation, Janeway rolled her eyes at the pilot. She turned her attention to their unexpected guest, bending to take her hand. "I'd like speak to you again Ms Hansen as soon as you're feeling more settled. I'll ask the Doctor to let me know when you're up to it. In the meantime I expect you'll want to see your friends,"
Janeway was warm, sympathetic and genuine. She squeezed the blonde's hand gently. Annika immediately felt safer. She soon saw the other side of the Captain Janeway.
"Chakotay. I want to see you and all the other senior crew in my ready room in thirty minutes. I want answers, theories or even just your best guess. How did this happen, and how do we get back. And would one of you please catch that damned parrot before it makes a mess on my ship?"
Janeway departed briskly, Chakotay trailing behind her, leaving Tom, Seven and Annika and the two obviously junior crew members in the transporter room. Annika was glad that Chakotay had left - his presence made her feel guilty for some reason even apart from the general weirdness of her new situation.
"It's okay," said Tom to the security crew. "I'll take care of her."
"Sir? The Captain..."
"...will blame me if anything goes wrong" Tom asserted.
"Sir. We will accompany you to sickbay as we were ordered," said the ensign stubbornly.
"You were also ordered to catch the parrot and he looks feisty and cunning." As if agreeing with the argument, Arkoo clambered higher up the wall and hung there, swaying and watching the humans suspiciously. Tom grinned.
"I think your skills are needed here ensign. I'm sure I can manage to walk Ms Hansen to sick bay now that we've freed her from the clutches of that... er... suit."
"I will accompany Lieutenant Paris and Miss Hansen also," said Seven. "I am returning to Astrometrics. It is on the way," she explained in answer to the small lift of Tom's eyebrow. The security men seemed a little more relaxed when Seven volunteered and they both retired to the back of the transporter pad to try and capture the errant Arkoo.
Seven peered curiously at the huge space-suit lying crumpled on the deck of the transporter pad. "Do you normally wear this garment when you are travelling?" Seven asked her counterpart.
"No. It was an emergency. A loan." Annika said tightly, feeling foolish though the questioner did not seem to be mocking her. "Can I see my friends now please?"
"Sure." Tom prodded the huge boots lying on the transported pad with his toe. "Wow! Those must belong to a very big guy."
"Captain Torres' brother."
"B'Elanna Torres?"
Annika nodded.
"So it really is her in sick bay."
Annika nodded again before asking "You know B'Elanna? In your world I mean."
"I'll say." Tom smiled broadly. "I'm married to her."
"Married!" Annika yelped and shook her head in shocked disbelief. Tom didn't pick up on her genuine astonishment. He summoned the turbo-lift. "Yes we're married and we have a daughter." He continued to chatter, trying to put the frightened stranger at ease, observing "You know you have bare feet. I can fit you for some shoes in sickbay if you like." He changed the subject again, "So your Tom and B'Elanna are not married yet?"
Annika was saved from having to think of a tactful answer to either question by the arrival of the turbolift.
"Sickbay." Tom instructed the lift. "I never knew she had a brother," he mused lightly, still surprised that Lanna had never mentioned a brother.
"She has four, and two sisters as well I think."
"What? I don't think she can be the same B'Elanna Torres."
"Well she's not really. I mean none of us are the same exactly," Annika hesitated but since neither Tom nor Seven seemed to disagree, she continued, "I know Seven looks like me. That's not my name but Janeway calls you that, right?" Seven nodded in confirmation. "It's a strange kind of name and you have those metal decorations on your face? I mean... you're not Annika Hansen."
"I am or at least I was," Seven countered calmly. "My birth name was Annika Hansen. I was taken by the Borg when I was a child and given the designation Seven of Nine. I do not remember being Annika Hansen."
Seven did not appear to be upset at this recollection. Annika on the other hand was appalled which was indicated by her high-pitched squeal. "Taken! What happened to Mom and Dad?"
The turbolift doors opened and they turned into the corridor. Annika didn't really notice their surroundings. She was too curious and overwhelmed by her double's strange life. Seven was explaining her parent's history and for the first time she seemed a little more emotional, almost irritated. "They were scientists studying the Borg. They became careless and we were captured and assimilated by the collective. I believe my father is dead now. My mother's whereabouts are unknown."
"Oh," said Annika, not really understanding and not sure if she should feel sad or not - they weren't her parents after all - and Seven had recounted the story very stoically.
"I don't think I've ever heard of the Borg. Are they a pirate species of some sort?"
"Not exactly," Tom replied.
They stopped by the doors to sickbay.
"I will leave you here," said Seven, "though I should like to come back and talk further. Our encounter is intriguing and there are a number of inconsistencies in my knowledge about our current circumstance which you may be able to help me with."
Annika looked around. "You mean me? Help you! I would love to be able to but I have no idea what has happened to you and I probably won't understand your technology. It seem to be more advanced than ours."
Seven looked a little disappointed for some reason. "You have no interest in science."
"Yes I do... I did... but... I'm not very talented or so my parents tell me. But I'm happy to try and help if I can."
The ex-Borg inclined her head. She didn't exactly smile but to Annika she seemed friendly. "I will leave you to rest. I will return in four hours."
The overawed human version smiled her farewell as best she could. Annika felt oddly lonely again. "This is a big ship isn't it?"she stated as she watched Seven disappear around the bend of the long broad corridor.
Tom shrugged and disagreed easily "Not very. Not when you've been on it for eight years."
"It's funny," Annika exclaimed suddenly. "You're like our Tom but somehow you're not. Older perhaps though I'm not sure exactly. Not yet anyway."
Tom grinned at her then, looking exactly like her Tom except for the uniform. "Tell me when you work it out. I love to talk about myself"
"I will." She smiled more cheerfully.
The doors into sickbay opened and Annika could see the bald medic she had encountered earlier, leaning over a bed which had someone lying on it. Her shock at the extraordinary circumstances had now faded enough into the background to allow her anxiety about what had happened to her friends to rise up full-force: apart from her own mixed up feelings for B'Elanna, she had also become very fond of Tom. She tried to put aside her dread. They needed her now even if it was only to take back news of their deaths to their families, to report their courage so that it could be recorded in the family annals. A good death was important to both Klingons and Humans.
The EMH looked up and started at the sight of Annika Hansen.
"Seven?"
"Annika" she said, forcing a smile. "See, no metal bits."
She moved nearer the bed but could make nothing out. The occupant was completely hidden inside a full body length enclosure. A second enclosure rested on the neighbouring bed.
"Are they dead?" she asked making herself accept the possibility.
"No, of course not!" said the doctor. "They are recovering well. The burning was extensive and had we arrived later then they would certainly have both died. Probably within minutes."
"Will their injuries permit... Will I have to kill either of them?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"The rite of passage!"
"What are you talking about?" said Tom. The EMH was gasping unnecessarily for air.
"Any citizen of the empire can demand the rite of passage if they believe that their lives will be unworthy. And since I'm the only person here who knows them, it would fall to me to perform the rite."
The EMH was outraged. "There will be no euthanasia or mercy killing or whatever ghastly euphemism you like to use in my sickbay."
It was clear that there were going to be more differences with these intruders in her universe than she had realised. The two men were clearly coming to the same conclusion. Both were looking much less sympathetic. Annika made one last effort to explain.
"I don't think you understand. It would not be my choice. They are my friends, in a way, and it is their choice that I must respect."
Lucky me, she added in her head. Annika felt sick at the prospect - wealthy young humans were not normally in the position where they were the only people around who could send a friend to Stovokor. However it was the sacred duty of a friend and an honour. She would have no choice if either one asked it of her.
The EMH was staring at her with an expression of total distaste. "I am happy to say that such an eventuality is unlikely. They will both make a full recovery."
Annika's smile lit up the room. If either of the Voyager crew had had any doubts about her feelings for the two injured companions, the doubts would not have survived that moment. They both relaxed.
"How many months will they be like that?" she asked.
"Months?" said the EMH. "Our new and hopefully improved Ms Torres should be stomping about in approximately 3 hours and 23 minutes, while, daunting as it may seem, the other Mr Paris will be fully mobile again in 3 hours and 42 minutes." He raised his eyebrow in a comic sneer. " I can hardly wait."
"That's impossible," Annika breathed.
The EMH smiled at her obvious wonder and said with a flourish "Then I shall perform the impossible and I hope that the Captain will be impressed at last. Though I fear the impossible is what she has come to expect. No more and no less. Has Mr Paris treated your injuries?"
Annika shook her head. "I'm fine doctor. Some minor cuts and a few bruises. They'll be gone in a week."
"They'll be gone in a minute. Mr Paris, I hope you did not intend allowing your patient to wander about untreated for much longer. It is my reputation that is at stake."
"On it Doc. Your reputation is safe with me."
Tom approached her with what looked like a glowing torch. He brought it close to an abrasion on her hand. Her skin began to tickle and itch. So much that she would have pulled it away if Tom had not been hanging on to her tightly. A second later, he was moving on to the next small cut further up her arm. Annika stared at the skin on her hand. The cut had disappeared leaving no sign it had ever existed. After ten minutes of this treatment not a mark remained on her.
Tom smiled at her obvious confusion and amazement. "An artist," he said surveying his handiwork. The EMH snorted scornfully as he was poring over the panel of lights on the side of one of the treatment centres. "And now for shoes," said Tom. "Choose a design from the pattern buffer while I measure your feet. I'm afraid there isn't much choice." Tom was using the small medical device to study her feet that Annika had seen the doctor use when examining her earlier.
"Nothing beats a medical tricorder for taking accurate measurements for fittings." The EMH snorted again. Tom took no notice. "Have you chosen anything yet."
Annika stopped paging through the padd. "They're fairly terrible."
"That's Starfleet. Home of the sensible shoe."
She pointed. "Okay those are least like what my great grandmother would wear."
Annika followed Tom over to a hollow in the wall. He punched some buttons into a control panel, fed in a few numbers. The hollow space lit up and in front of Annika's astonished gaze a pair of fairly plain shoes appeared from thin air.
"How by Feklir's white beard do you do that?"
"Replicators are similar technology to the transporter. Only instead of dismantling and storing a few human patterns in the buffer and then immediately transferring them elsewhere, inanimate objects are deconstructed into patterns and held permanently by the computer. They are then re-created on demand in conjunction with whatever parameters you supply. Food, water, clothing, anything really."
"That's amazing. I'd really like to have one of these at home - only with a better choice of clothes of course."
Annika tried on the shoes and grimaced. Tom raised an inquisitorial eyebrow.
"Don't they fit?"
"Perfectly. So I have no excuse to change them."
Tom smiled at the assumed petulance in her voice.
"What happened to The Queen?" Annika asked suddenly and seriously.
"The Queen?"
"Our ship."
"We caught it in a tractor beam and attached her to our rear docking bay. It was a little too large to take inside the shuttle bay. Harry scanned it and reported that it is repairable."
"Harry?"
"Yes. Harry Kim. Do you know him?."
"No, I don't think so." But Annika wanted to hug the unknown saviour. She knew how much B'Elanna Torres loved her ship and had not been looking forward to telling her it was destroyed.
Annika was thinking again. "You transferred Tom and B'Elanna to sickbay using your transporter technology. Is that how you rescued us from the Queen?"
"Absolutely correct," Tom said admiring her powers of deduction. "We snatched every lifeform aboard just before the energy wave hit you. Hence the parrot."
"Thank you," Annika said simply and turned her most devastating smile on him. "You saved our lives. We are in your debt. By Kahless' sacred oath, our families will do everything to repay that debt."
"No need," said Tom, slightly embarrassed and breathless now that the full Hansen charm had been turned on him. "You owe us nothing."
Annika frowned. "Are you refusing a blood promise? That's not very polite."
"A blood promise!" uttered a familiar and not very friendly voice behind them. "That's very Klingon."
Annika turned around to gaze into a pair of cynical brown eyes.
"B'Elanna..." muttered Annika, studying the image of the woman for whom she had recently developed such a strong crush. She was overwhelmed for what felt like the hundredth time that day. She tried to collect herself. "I'm...I'm Annika."
"Yes I heard. Annika Hansen. Two ice-princesses. I'm sure the male crew are going to be delighted." The speaker's tone made it quite clear that she didn't share any pleasure in the thought of another Annika Hansen on board.
Annika flinched and tried not to sigh. Well at least one thing remained constant. B'Elanna Torres didn't like Annika Hansen in either universe.
TBC
TITLE: The Queen of The Lost Worlds AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R CODE: T/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Same characters, different universe. Very different. And perhaps the characters are not all that similar either ...
NOTES: A very unexpected encounter throws the crew and passengers of the yuQmey chIl SoS'a' into a strange adventure.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Previously...
"I'm...I'm Annika."
"Yes I heard. Annika Hansen. Two ice-princesses. I'm sure the male crew are going to be delighted." The speaker's tone made it quite clear that she didn't share any pleasure in the thought of another Annika Hansen on board.
Annika flinched and tried not to sigh. Well at least one thing remained constant. B'Elanna Torres didn't like Annika Hansen in either universe.
==Part 6a==
Annika sat on a biobed swinging her feet and trying not to notice her 'comfy shoes' as she had come to think of them with withering hatred. The EMH was pottering around by one of the IC units that encased her companions.
Annika was thinking about her encounter with Voyager's B'Elanna Torres, brief though it had been. The Chief of Engineering had been business-like. She wanted some information on the Queen's computer systems. A glorified PADD she had called it. Annika had helped as much as she was able - the computer systems were the one part of the Queen's systems she did know something about - though Annika had not acquitted herself too well in the conversation as she spent most of the encounter looking at Voyager's B'Elanna Torres, trying to identify similarities and differences with her own B'Elanna Torres.
She felt depressed at that last thought - B'Elanna Torres was not hers in either universe. Anyway Annika had been unable to discern much difference in the physical appearance except Voyager's B'Elanna had longer hair and seemed older. Annika had asked her age of the EMH after the slightly exasperated Chief of Engineering had departed from sick-bay. She had been surprised to find that it was exactly the same as The Queen's B'Elanna.
Annika jumped when the EMH suddenly broke the silence.
"I am going to have a look at our Ms Torres now. You might like to avert your eyes. It won't be pretty."
"I thought you said they would be fully recovered."
"And so they will in a couple of hours. But we still have several layers of skin to regrow. I need to check their progress."
Annika did not look away as the upper half of the ICU lifted away. She resisted the urge to gag as what appeared to be a lump of raw meat was exposed.
"May Kahless' Sword protect them" she exclaimed.
"I fail to see what use a sword would be in these circumstances." The EMH was painting a thick goo on the exposed flesh as he talked. "Actually Ms Hansen I am curious..."
"Call me Annika."
"Annika," the doctor smiled. "As Lieutenant Torres said you do seem to be very Klingon."
"I don't think Captain Torres would agree with you." Annika shrugged, genuinely uncomprehending. "I speak Klingon well I suppose."
"Relations between humans and Klingons must be very different here. In our Alpha quadrant it is a very uneasy alliance or so I understand. I have no direct experience."
Annika shrugged again: "Human rights have advanced a lot in the last hundred years, though I suppose we still don't have much say in how the Empire is run. I guess it's much different where you come from. No human would be allowed to command a vessel like this."
The EMH snapped the lid of the ICU back to cover its occupant again and moved his other patient. "The Federation is greatly influenced by humans - some would say too much."
"You talk as though you are not a human" Annika noted.
"Human. I sincerely hope not!" The EMH sounded contemptuous. "I am the emergency medical hologram. I was activated when we were marooned in the delta quadrant."
"A hologram! I don't believe it. You're solid and much too intelligent to be artificial."
Annika was genuinely disbelieving - her parents were some of the most innovative scientists working on artificial intelligence in the Empire and Annika knew there was nothing even remotely advanced as the EMH appeared to be. Nothing as advanced had even been theorised, let alone built - it was the stuff of science fiction.
"Apart from the insult implicit in that statement I would thank you for the compliment."
"I didn't mean that there is anything inherently wrong or inferior in an artificial being - I'm just amazed by your technology... amazed by you." Annika smiled winningly at the EMH.
"That's... umm... very..." stammered the EMH, clearly flustered. Annika was amused to realise that her charm seemed equally as effective with the hologram as any human male. He didn't finish his sentence and instead hunched over his patient mumbling about needing to examine the new grown sub-epidermis on Tom Paris' shoulders, carefully rotating the pilot's body in the ICU stasis field. The underlying muscle was clearly visible. Annika shuddered.
"It seems to be progressing as it should," said the Doctor.
The whoosh of the sickbay doors announced the admittance of Captain Janeway.
"Captain?" enquired the EMH. The captain was a rare visitor to sick-bay.
"How are your patients?" she asked. Janeway grimaced slightly when the Doctor gestured at the pink and red mass of flesh.
"Very satisfactory as you can see," he replied.
The captain cut off any further comment from the EMH saying, "Good to see you looking so well Ms Hansen."
The slight but somehow significant woman smiled at Annika. It was a friendly enough smile. Annika relaxed.
"All thanks to you and Voyager. Tom explained to me how you rescued us. This is an incredible ship. We're lucky you stumbled into our universe - no vessel from this Universe could have pulled off such a feat in time."
Janeway's face became thoughtful and there was something there that Annika couldn't quite get.
"Doesn't it seem odd to you that we should meet?" said the Captain slowly. "We fall into another universe and immediately bump into three people who have their doubles on this ship. That's odd isn't it? An entirely new and apparently very different universe and we meet you."
Distrust. It was obvious now though the captain had not raised her voice.
"Yes it is odd," Annika agreed carefully. She smiled wistfully. "I keep thinking that I must be dead or dying or dreaming and that you and this ship are my imagination. It's like a dream isn't it? Lots of people that I know but not where they should be."
"Coincidence maybe," suggested the Captain of Voyager but her expression and vocal inflection implied she did not believe her own suggestion.
"What are you trying to say Captain?" Annika asked carefully.
"Voyager has been subject to several 'experiments' by powerful beings who wanted to study us, use us, play with us. It has crossed my mind Ms Hansen that this is just such a 'game'."
Annika opened her mouth to make a smart reply and then closed it. She didn't think the small captain would appreciate a joke. "I'm not sure there is anything I can say to reassure you Captain. I too find it mystifying."
"This universe appears to be very different to our own. I have been studying the databases from your ship. I do not understand how you could even exist."
"What do you mean?" said Annika. Her nervous smile had faded and left her just nervous.
"Everyone is aware of the most common theories about parallel universes, infinitely branching possibilities from an infinity of points in time. We might expect to find that versions of some crew members existed in Universes that had branched from a point in time close to us but your universe seems to have parted company with our history hundreds of years ago. How is it possible that B'Elanna Torres, Tom Paris and Annika Hansen exist here, exact physical duplicates even though your political and family histories are so different? It stretches the boundaries of my credulity Ms Hansen."
"Perhaps your theories are incomplete or wrong," Annika snapped.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps you would like to tell me who you really are and what you want with us."
Annika stared at her helplessly. The cold grey stare proved too much and Annika had to look away towards where her companions lay in their chambers. The EMH was standing still, watching and listening to her exchange with captain. He too looked suspicious. A jolt of fear shook Annika's mind from its paralysis. These people might be unforgiving and vengeful towards their surprise guests; she knew suspected spies would get short shrift on an Imperial ship. She had to speak.
"I am Annika Hansen and they are Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres. You may not believe me but I cannot tell you anything else. You have every right to be suspicious but so do I Captain. This cuts both ways. For all I know you may be Romulan, Bajoran or Ferengi spies, sent to infiltrate the empire, genetically engineered to resemble real citizens of the empire. You'd have an interest in tracking us down. Or perhaps you have created duplicates based on us after we were captured."
Janeway folded her arms as Annika was speaking. The Captain was clearly losing patience. Annika speeded up.
"My point is that neither of us can prove our identities, so we might as well take our situation at face value until events prove otherwise. Okay you could kill us now to be on the safe side but if I were a very powerful being that would just piss me off Captain Janeway. And then if it turns out that we are who we say then you would have all the guilt and you'd have to explain it to my parents not to mention Lanna's parents who are Klingon. Tom's got a wife and child. They're Klingons too. You know about Klingon vengeance oaths - the entire family is obliged to fulfil the oath." Annika paused uncertainly. "Maybe you don't know about Klingon vengeance oaths. Actually that's another point: you're stuck here for a time, you'll need friends and guides. It doesn't make sense to start out in a new universe by killing people you hardly know. I guess in a way you do know us but as you said yourself we are very different...maybe we're not the same at all. Is it normal to attack strangers in your universe just in case they are all-powerful beings...and perhaps we are good all-powerful beings."
Janeway was starting to smile. "I could put you in the brig just to be safe."
"Well that's better than an airlock" Annika said eagerly, feeling she had plea-bargained her way down from a certain death sentence. "Our families probably wouldn't mind that too much."
"So I could expect to avoid the vengeance oath then," queried Janeway trying not to laugh.
"I'm certain I could promise that," Annika said seriously, then she noticed Janeway's broadening grin. She felt angry for just a moment until her sense of humour came to the rescue. "I don't always babble like this Captain - it's a little stressful for me right now." She smiled crookedly, "though I'm guessing you've lost faith in the all-powerful game-player theory."
Janeway laughed openly. "Let's say I am re-assessing it though you have to admit that it makes more sense than believing that this very different universe is coincidentally so similar to ours in certain respects."
"Why?" said a cool voice. Seven of Nine was standing in the door (looking fabulous Annika noted with pleasure) as the ex-Borg added, "infinitely many Universes would include one such as this Captain. Human minds struggle with infinity." Seven of Nine left the clear impression that she did not share such limitations.
Janeway smiled at the former Borg with real affection, Annika might almost have called the captain's expression adoring. The captain certainly did not seem put out by the slur on the mental capacity of humans.
"Seven," said Janeway warmly. "I'm glad you're here."
Somehow Annika felt that Captain Janeway didn't just mean she was pleased Seven had joined them in sick-bay.
"Any progress in understanding how we got here Seven? Assuming of course that our guests are not members of the Q-continuum." Janeway smiled at Annika. The smile was genuine, reaching all the way to her blue-grey eyes, the distrust had gone. Annika had convinced Captain Janeway that she was telling the truth. It occurred to Annika to wonder if the captain was predisposed to believe her because of her resemblance to Seven of Nine.
"There are some theoretical possibilities Captain," Seven replied. "I wish to borrow Ms Hansen for a while to discuss the options."
"Me," squeaked Annika. She cringed inside - for some reason she did not seem to be able to utter a word without losing her dignity - she felt very alone again - a silly young socialite having an adventure with the grown-ups she thought bitterly.
Seven of Nine arched the little piece of metal that stood in for her eyebrow. "You may have useful information. I have theorised that we may be able to return to our universe by recreating the end conditions of the anomaly at the exact moment in time that we arrived. You witnessed this event from your vessel did you not?"
Annika nodded.
"Then it would indeed be helpful to review your observations that is if the Doctor has no objections."
"By all means," said the EMH. "Take her if only to stop her asking after her friends' welfare every five minutes."
Annika grinned and hopped off the biobed. She suddenly felt less useless. Her counterpart did not give the impression that she thought Annika was either too stupid or too ignorant - Tom and the EMH had rather left her with the idea that her universe was so far behind theirs in scientific understanding that Annika could not hope to understand anything. Annika decided that she liked the other woman. She smiled conspiratorially at Seven. "He'll miss me when I've gone."
Seven arched her brow even higher and it was her turn to look confused.
Annika winked. "I'll tell you on the way. Where are we going?"
"Astrometrics."
"Could we get something to eat first? I'm starving."
"I do not require nutrition but I will accompany you to the mess-hall if you wish."
"Great. I could eat an Altarian steak with all the trimmings. Lead the way Seven of Nine. I'll be back soon Doc to see Lanna and Tom."
She followed Seven out the door and Janeway and the EMH could hear her chattering to Seven.
"Do you see these shoes they've given me? Could they be any uglier? Why are your shoes not available? You look fabulous by the way..."
The door slid shut behind them and Janeway started laughing. "I believe Seven has found a friend. I don't think anyone has ever attempted to discuss fashion with Seven."
"Very touching Captain," commented the EMH drily. "Now if you don't mind I think our new friends here need a little more basting."
==Part 6b==
Annika's mouth fell open as she entered Astrometrics. She stood gaping at the huge view-screen with what she recognised as beautiful graphical representations of the Hovtay' HoH'egh overlaid with navigation schematics. She had never seen anything like this room on any bird of prey or ITEC vessel.
Seven had already taken up position at a console and was entering data at some speed.
"I am attempting to model the conditions at the moment we left our Universe and entered yours."
The view-screen split in two. There were two images.
"The left-hand image is our universe, the right is yours. We actually entered the alpha quadrant in our universe 0.02 milliseconds before crossing into this one. Enough time for the sensors to have taken this image. As you can see we are physically in the same location."
"It is not exactly the same," Annika observed.
"You are correct," said Seven elevating her eyepiece a small distance. "How did you know?"
"There are variations in these two sections." Annika pointed at two small areas on the viewscreen. Seven's faux eyebrow lifted a little more.
"Impressive."
"Party trick," Annika said dismissively. "I have a photographic memory and I can simply lay one image over the other."
"You have a perfect memory?"
"Pretty nearly."
"My memory is also perfect. I had assumed that it was a Borg enhancement."
"No. It runs in the family. Mom's side anyway. Dad can't remember where he left his hat, or his gloves, or his pen or his dog or his child. You get the idea."
"Your father's memory is deficient."
"Rather he's an absent-minded genius and it's beneath him to have think about mundane things. He takes his role as genius very seriously. He doesn't forget anything he cares about: math, physics, chemistry, biology, several languages...sorry I'm rambling. What are you trying to do again?"
"I need to accurately map the exact location of Voyager before and after the instant of transition so we can find the point of intersection between the two universes."
"Intersection between universes? I haven't heard of such a thing."
"Each universe occupies its own space and time. They are not next to each other or above or below or in front or behind but, like lines and planes in our three dimensional space, space-time continuums can intersect. I have hypothesised that Voyager was diverted at just such a point of intersection when it entered the alpha quadrant in my universe: a singularity in the wall of the universe that we fell into. It may have been opened or activated by the sub-space energy beam that was carrying Voyager from the Delta Quadrant."
"Energy beam?" repeated Annika stupidly. Seven did not appear to think her stupid however.
"We met a being in the Delta quadrant, similar to the one who originally abducted the ship, who agreed to transport us back. As we understood it the method was not dissimilar to our transporter technology but requiring vastly more energy."
"And how exactly can I help?"
"You were on the bridge of your vessel as Voyager entered this Universe. I wish to reconstruct the sensor readings at that moment. I have tried to obtain this information from your ship's data-banks but the sensor systems were badly damaged and much key data appears lost. You may be able to assist me in retrieving this data."
Annika nodded her understanding. This was something she could do. "Do you have something I could write with?"
"Write?" Seven appeared at a loss.
"You know - a pen, pencil, paper, touchpad, data-entry system."
"I have this."
Seven offered her a hand-held padd. Annika took it and stared at it. There did not appear to be any method for entering data.
"How does it work?"
"Each point in the touch sensitive area is equivalent to a standard Federation symbol. There are two thousand symbols allowing the entry of data in any of the Federation's five million official languages..."
Annika grinned weakly, "I don't think I have time to learn five million languages. Can I have one of the touch-pads from the 'Queen' or pen and paper will do?"
"I do not understand what you intend to do."
"I am going to write down the sensor readings as I remember them and I need to get on with it quickly as I won't remember them perfectly forever. They are fresh at the moment so I should be accurate for a few hours. You need to give me the correct time parameters as there are about a thousand readings per second."
"You can remember a thousand items of data per second?"
Annika shook her head. "I can visualise the screens of data in exactly the same way that I could visualise your chart. And there is great deal more data on that chart than on any sensor screen 'The Queen' can produce." Annika felt slightly embarrassed, Seven was scrutinising her with obvious wonder. "It's just a good party trick Seven - I was studying those screens hard, trying to pick up ion waves. If there was any data collected that might help you then I would have seen it and it's in here." She tapped the side of her head. "It will be down to you to say whether any of it is of any use."
"I will have your data entry devices brought here."
"Why don't we go do this on 'The Queen'? I think it will help me if I am in a familiar environment. Is that possible?"
"I believe so. Lieutenant Torres has restored life-support."
For the next two hours, Seven and Annika worked aboard the Queen. Annika transferred her memories and Seven analysed them for useful data. There was one glitch when it became apparent that the Klingon script that Annika was using to record the data was not known to the Starfleet systems. Seven consulted B'Elanna Torres and the two Voyager crew overcame the problem with great ingenuity although it was clear that nothing less was expected of them. Annika knew this because several other Voyager crew including Captain Janeway commented on the minor miracle so carelessly - such achievements were obviously commonplace on the Federation vessel. The relationship between Seven of Nine and the chief engineer of Voyager interested Annika because of her own situation. On the whole she felt that it wasn't encouraging as Seven and Lieutenant Torres clearly disliked each other though they worked very efficiently. Lieutenant Torres completely ignored Annika except to ask her to keep out of the way. She seemed much harsher than this universe's B'Elanna Torres. There was one other noticeable difference - Annika did not feel any physical attraction to Lieutenant Torres let alone the overwhelming lust that had been distracting her for the last two days on 'The Queen'.
Annika found it harder and harder to concentrate as the time crawled towards the appointed time when the EMH would wake up her B'Elanna Torres. Annika knew the Doctor seemed very confident about his patients but she still could not believe that the raw slabs of meat she had seen earlier could become B'Elanna and Tom. The Doctor had welcomed her insistence that she be there when they recovered consciousness given the unexpectedness of their surroundings and the circumstances. So Annika leapt to her feet when at last Seven said "It is time to return to sickbay."
"Oh thank Kahless. I thought I was going to explode."
"You have been restless," said Seven understating the sighing and fidgeting that had been distracting her for the last twenty minutes. Annika smiled apologetically.
Seven didn't exactly smile in return, Annika had quickly realised that the tall woman did not emote quite as freely as anyone else, but there was warmth in the matching blue eyes that met hers and amusement was evident in the slightly quirked eyebrow.
"Would you mind if I accompany you?" Seven asked politely. "I am curious about your crewmates."
"Sure!" Annika responded eagerly. "They'll love you."
Seven regarded her strangely.
"They will have only just met me. Love seems improbable."
"In Tom's case it will be instant," Annika giggled. "I mean you're female and beautiful. B'Elanna might take a little longer. She's more reticent but once she realises that you're not an idiot like me then you'll be fine. I really did not hit it off with her at our first meeting or the second or third for that matter."
"You are friends now?" Seven asked curiously.
"I think so though she treats me like a younger stupider sister." Annika shrugged and smiled rather unconvincingly as a small lash of sadness cut into her. Seven did not notice or was too polite to say anything.
"Lieutenant Torres and I have never succeeded in becoming friends. She does not trust me."
I'm sorry..."
"Unnecessary. I do not like her either. She is irrational and pointlessly antagonistic."
Annika could see and hear the anger in the ex-drone's calm statement. She felt suddenly concerned that Seven and her B'Elanna might not get on either.
"Maybe it's Lieutenant Torres manner. My B'Elanna Torres often talks to me as though I am half-witted. She's very Klingon."
Seven frowned. "Then she has poor judgement as you are far from half-witted."
Annika beamed. Regardless of what anyone else thought she did love Seven already.
"We should go. The Doctor is not known for his patience."
Annika followed Seven out the door. The ex-drone had an extremely beautiful body. Annika was suddenly acutely aware of her new appreciation of the female form and more than slightly disturbed at finding her double physically attractive at least in some degree. She shrugged off the feeling as just one more uncomfortable aspect of this side-trip from hell.
The EMH was looking particularly self-satisfied when they entered sickbay.
"You're here at last. I thought they might get over-cooked."
"Proceed Doctor," Seven ordered.
"The Captain asked me to wait...ah here she is and Mr Paris and Lieutenant Torres too. A full house."
Captain Janeway, Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres had appeared in the doorway.
The EMH eyed them dubiously. "I think it would be best if we kept the shock to the minimum. I would suggest that Mr Paris and Lieutenant Torres stay back until our guests have had a chance to acclimatise to the idea of meeting their long lost twins."
"Agreed," said Janeway briskly. "Tom. B'Elanna. Could you wait outside?"
"Yes Captain," said B'Elanna Torres looking slightly relieved. Tom Paris was more reluctant but he followed his spouse out of sick bay without protest.
Annika could barely contain herself. If she had possessed a Batleth she would have had it pressed against the preening Doctor's throat by this time.
The Doctor, unaware of the murderous thoughts directed at him, was circling the bio-bed containing B'Elanna Torres and proclaiming at his own ingenuity and skill in the face of difficulties that were outside the comprehension of non-medical mortals. Annika noticed Captain Janeway's fists clenching. Clearly Annika was not the only one on edge.
At last the EMH punched a few buttons and the lid of the bio-bed raised itself revealing the prone person inside. Annika slowly opened her eyes wide. She had closed them nearly shut fearing what she might see but she relaxed as she observed the normal coffee-coloured skin of B'Elanna Torres's back. The EMH moved in and turned B'Elanna on her back. Annika gasped and bit her lip. The still unconscious freighter captain was stark naked and she was every bit as beautiful as Annika's fevered imagination had promised. The EMH seemed unaffected by the perfection of the body he was examining carefully.
"Perfect," he muttered. "Probably better than before. She will have lost any scars that she may have had before the incident. I'll bring her around."
"Clothing," Annika sputtered. "She should be covered."
"She has nothing that I haven't seen before but if you think it is important." The EMH threw a sheet over the sleeping half-Klingon. He plunged a hypo into her neck. The figure under the sheet shuddered.
There was silence in the room as all those present waited.
"Ow!" said the body. "I feel as though I have been spit-roasted."
Annika pushed forward.
"B'Elanna! Are you alright?"
"Ani! Where am I? I can't see!"
Annika grabbed the EMH by the shoulder.
"Her sight will take a few more seconds," he reassured.
"It's okay. The doctor says your sight will come back soon." Annika grasped B'Elanna's hand and squeezed hard.
"Ow!" said B'Elanna Torres again.
"Sorry. I've been so frightened."
"Where are we?" asked B'Elanna.
"You are aboard the Federation Starship Voyager," said Captain Janeway.
"What in Kahless's name is the Federation Starship Voyager and who by Feklir's beard are you?"
"I am Captain Janeway."
"Janeway? I know that name and I know that voice. Aren't you some sort of politician?"
"I believe that my counterpart in this universe is a politician but I think Annika had better explain this situation to you."
"Ani what is going on...actually I think I can see something now...where are we again?"
B'Elanna tried to push herself up to look around and as she did so, the sheet slid down her body, revealing her breasts. The EMH who was standing on the far side of the bed made an unwise grab for the material and missed, instead pinching B'Elanna's left nipple. She retaliated instantly and the EMH found himself flying across the bio-bed and rolling onto the floor.
B'Elanna meanwhile was yelling in Klingon and struggling to get out of the bed but her efforts were short-lived as Seven stepped into the melee between the freighter captain and the bed-sheet, grasping her wrists and without too much effort pinned the half-Klingon back on the bio-bed, leaning over her to prevent a comeback.
"Do not struggle B'Elanna Torres. You are not yet physically fully recovered and may injure yourself."
The EMH had hauled himself off the floor. "Huh! And I thought that Lieutenant Torres was ill-behaved. It would appear that as usual my patient is not grateful for my life-saving skills."
B'Elanna had ceased to struggle after several impotent seconds. She was staring up at the face only inches from her own.
"Ani?"
"I am not Annika Hansen. My designation is Seven of Nine."
"But..."
"She is telling the truth B'Elanna," said Annika who was still standing next to the bio-bed.
B'Elanna turned her head towards the voice and then looked quickly back at the woman holding her down.
"Wha.."
"I can explain. They are from an alternate universe. They got here by accident and saved our lives."
"What the fuck are you talking about. Who are these people?"
B'Elanna started to struggle again but in vain as Seven held her still.
"You're not human," B'Elanna yelled at her, convulsing helplessly as she tried to throw Seven off. "You're some kind of copy or robot."
"Captain Torres stop struggling. Your efforts are futile and will only result in injury. Annika Hansen has explained the situation to you and we mean you no harm. We are from an alternate universe to this one. My designation is Seven of Nine."
"Where's my ship and Tom?" B'Elanna yelled still trying to get free.
"Your ship is safe and your companion is safe too although he is receiving treatment for his burn injuries."
B'Elanna looked at her own arms suddenly and then at Annika. She fell back against her bed. "Ani. I remember I was on fire… my skin was melting… how long have we been here?"
Annika shrugged helplessly at the disbelief on B'Elanna's face. "You have been here less than half a day - B'Elanna they have technology like nothing I have ever seen. The doctor has treated your burns…Tom was slightly worse but he should be awake soon too."
Seven released Captain Torres and stepped back. She neatly drew the dislodged sheet back over the semi-naked woman. B'Elanna gaped at her.
"You must be extremely disorientated," said Seven politely. "I apologise if I have hurt you."
The freighter captain stared at the tall blonde and there were several seconds of silence before she lifted her hand and gazed again on completely unmarked skin, turning it to examine the front and the back.
"I don't understand any of this but if you have saved us then I must thank you and swear blood loyalty but if this is a Romulan or Bajoran plot then we will not co-operate in any way."
"I really don't think they are lying B'ELanna," Annika interjected. "The Romulans and the Bajorans have nothing like this ship or this medical technology. If they did the Empire would be in ruins already. They can dematerialise objects and then transport and re-materialise them somewhere else. That's how they saved us. Even Arkoo."
"Make my day, Ani. I was hoping that pest had got his," B'Elanna grumbled but her expression had lightened. "Can I see Tom now? Jeri will kill me if anything has happened to him, worthless as he is."
The EMH was feeling neglected as he immediately hustled back into the centre of the action. "Your Mr Paris, of whom you are obviously nearly as fond as I am of ours, is about ready. I think we should give him another few minutes and someone else can have the pleasure of being within smacking distance when he wakes. Perhaps I should give our Mr Paris that privilege."
"Your Mr Paris, our Mr Paris?" parroted B'Elanna sounding exactly like the unloved Arkoo. "Don't tell me.."
Janeway intervened.
"Captain Torres let me introduce myself again now that you are fully conscious. I am Captain Kathryn Janeway of the Federation Starship Voyager. I am sorry that this has been so traumatic and I'm afraid there are some additional surprises. As your companion has tried to explain, we are from another universe and somewhat improbably we appear to have a number of crewmen including Seven and myself whom you already know from this Universe. I'm afraid that includes yourself and Mr Paris."
"That is ridiculous." B'Elanna scoffed.
"I quite agree," said Janeway drily. "Ms Hansen found it quite difficult to persuade me that you were not mischievous or malevolent aliens. However stranger things have happened although not many in my experience…" She shrugged and tapped a little badge on her chest. "B'Elanna, Tom, can you join us now?"
Three seconds later the doors of the sickbay whooshed open and two people entered.
Captain B'Elanna Torres peered at her counterpart who stared back with an equal lack of trust or belief.
"Kahless, it's true," said Captain Torres. "Though she is not a particularly good copy of me. She's smaller and weedier."
Lieutenant Torres glared at her. "I'm quite large enough thank you."
"Actually you are identical in height though the Captain is a little heftier," piped up the EMH.
"Fatter, " suggested Voyager's Torres.
"Stronger," countered the other immediately.
"Equally competitive however and I think you should all leave now before Mr Paris is roused and to give our new guest some breathing space. This is a sickbay and not a circus freak show," grumbled the EMH as two fierce Klingon brows beetled identically and exactly similar angry glares bore down on him.
"I agree with the doctor. Everybody out," ordered Janeway. "Though I expect Miss Hansen will want to stay with her friends and try and reassure them that they are in no danger from us. Everyone else I want an update on Voyager and our situation in ten minutes."
Annika nodded happily. "Can Seven stay? She can back me up with the scientific explanation."
"As you wish but I want Seven's report soon as she is able. I too would be quite grateful for a scientific explanation and a plan." Captain Janeway smiled at Seven and Annika could again see the obvious affection.
The EMH nodded. "And I need her to back me up if Miss Torres gets a little too feisty."
Janeway ignored him. "I expect to see our guests for dinner. If you need anything just let the EMH know." Captain Janeway left sick bay but Tom Paris hung back despite his wife trying to usher him out.
"Miss Torres," he said. "I'm Tom Paris. But I guess you know that."
"Captain Torres," B'Elanna corrected him.
Voyager's Torres snorted loudly. "Does that space pod actually need a captain?"
Annika and Seven just managed to get a hold of Captain Torres. "You miserable little landlubber," exclaimed Captain Torres, still trying to get out of the bio-bed. Those were the last words that any of the Voyager crew understood for twenty seconds as B'ELanna launched into very idiomatic Klingon.
Lieutenant Torres just sneered "Typical Klingon but it's wasted on me - I never learnt more than a dozen phrases. It's a crude language. Come on Tom I have to get back to engineering."
Tom shrugged and mouthed 'sorry' as his wife towed him out.
"In Kahless name, what a p'taq! She has the manners of a Romulan farmer." B'Elanna shook off Annika and Seven as they relaxed their grip on her shoulder.
"Notoriously rude to guests and lacks style and courage," Annika explained to Seven who had raised a quizzical eyebrow.
"Lieutenant Torres does not lack courage but she is unwelcoming," Seven acknowledged.
Captain Torres turned her full attention to Seven of Nine.
"You understand what has happened here?"
"I have developed a theory with Annika's help which accounts for the known facts. But it is only a hypothesis at this stage."
"You know that I still do not believe a word of this. You could easily be spies tricking us into revealing information."
"I'm just glad they came along when they did or we would all be dead by now," Annika explained.
"Perhaps not. The wave you encountered was generated by the rift between the two universes. If we had not arrived then you would probably not have experienced such adverse conditions and not been in any danger." Seven said candidly. Annika bit her lip and waited. She had hoped that B'Elanna would like Seven as much as she did.
"Huh!" B'Elanna exclaimed but she did not launch into a tirade as Annika feared.
The EMH bustled over.
"Mr Paris is ready. Shall I do the deed?"
B'Elanna scowled at him. "Let's get it over with."
The IC unit lid was removed by the EMH and he injected the stimulant into Tom's neck. There was a groan followed by a couple of mild expletives and then a querulous voice asking.
"Where the hell am I?"
"Here we go again," said Annika. "Wish me luck, though explaining everything to Tom can't be worse than it was with B'Elanna."
"Hey" protested B'Elanna.
Annika just grinned and turned her attention to Tom Paris as a groggy pair of blue eyes tried to focus on her.
TITLE: The Queen of The Lost Worlds AUTHOR: halfofone
RATING: R CODE: T/7
FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome.
SUMMARY: Same characters, different universe. Very different. And perhaps the characters are not all that similar either ...
NOTES: A very unexpected encounter throws the crew and passengers of the yuQmey chIl SoS'a' into a strange adventure.
ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Part 7
By chance or by some unacknowledged and mutual psychological force, the main protagonists in Voyager's latest strange adventure, had each seated themselves around the meeting table as far from their dopplegangers as could be achieved in the fairly small room. The exceptions to this were Annika Hansen and Seven of Nine who sat down unselfconsciously next to each other at the head of the table. The consequence of this most un-random seating arrangement was that the Toms and B'Elannas could see the Annikas side by side while avoiding looking at their own counterparts. Janeway, walking up and down while thinking aloud, could see everyone in turn and it was not helping her thought process at all. She found herself constantly trying to compare each of the newly twinned crew and watching their individual reactions; there were strong similarities but also very noticeable differences. The way they were seated made the compare and contrast exercise more difficult and Janeway momentarily toyed with the idea of making each pair sit next to each other so she could continue her study without getting whiplash.
Both B'Elannas started the meeting with their arms tightly folded, leaning back in their chairs with comically similar expressions of suspicion but it wasn't lost on the Captain that guest-B'Elanna was the quicker to relax and begin to take part, introducing herself and her crew and giving a little background information about their journey. There was some excitement when Commander Tuvok entered the room and Captain Torres immediately launched herself to her feet yelling something about Romulan spies before Janeway and Seven of Nine intervened. That the local crew had never heard of Vulcans, reminded everyone of how alien this Universe was and Tuvok himself was plainly disquieted.
Attending the meeting wasn't all plain sailing for Annika. She was very uncomfortable around Commander Chakotay and had to work quite hard to avoid looking at him. He in turn seemed quite fascinated with her now that B'Elanna had let the cat out of the bag and disclosed that Annika had a very close relationship with the Chakotay of this Universe. Her discomfort wasn't eased by Harry Kim (the Voyager science officer) and the EMH who both stared at her and then back at Seven as though they were watching a 'miracle of Kahless'. They were evidently both besotted with Seven of Nine, so Annika supposed that she shouldn't be too surprised by their 'interest' in her.
Annika wondered about any relationships the crew of Voyager had before Seven joined them in the delta quadrant. The captain and most of the senior crew were apparently crushing hard on her and Annika could understand a little now why Voyager-Torres had not been pleased to see another Annika Hansen. An evil little flirting person inside the human couldn't help but be impressed by her own powers until Annika squashed the flirtatious imp with the reminder that awesome powers of seduction weren't much use if the one you wanted wasn't swayed.
The only person who was quite unconcerned by the awkward group dynamics was Seven of Nine. Seven had bigger concerns.
She was expounding her theories on the intersecting Universes and explaining the analysis that she had undertaken with Annika's help. Annika blushed when Seven had attested that without Annika she could not have achieved her present level of understanding. Voyager-B'Elanna had snorted at this and muttered something to Voyager-Tom who looked uncomfortable. Guest-B'Elanna, gifted with Klingon hearing, scowled and said aloud that her crew were not here to be insulted and that Annika was better at math than anyone she knew which of course made Annika blush harder, both at the compliment and at being defended by B'Elanna as a part of her crew. Voyager-B'Elanna muttered something about ingratitude and even the Toms were starting to glare. Janeway told them all to focus on the problem and not on differences, the irony of which command was not lost on the Captain as she yet again scanned each face to assess the varying reaction. To her surprise guest-B'Elanna was definitely approving when Janeway took command and firmly called a halt to the bickering.
Seven was obviously also grateful for the intervention as she was getting to the crux of her proposal.
"We will need to generate the necessary power to replicate the conditions for transition back to our universe. The point of intersection would need to be expanded sufficiently to form a portal allowing the passage of Voyager."
"How much power?" Janeway asked.
"Equivalent to five percent of the power generated by the being who returned us to the Alpha quadrant. Approximately eight trillion…"
"That's just impossible!" Voyager-B'Elanna exclaimed. "If Voyager could generate one tenth of that kind of power we could have used a slipstream drive and got home years ago. If that's the best…we're wasting our time here."
Seven of Nine glared at the engineer. "Power generation of that order is not impossible for short periods; Borg ships are able to develop that degree of output using an amplification technology they acquired from species 7829 and they can then focus the energy, enabling ships to open local time portals."
"Why have you not mentioned this before Seven," Janeway asked unhappily. "We might have been able to use something like that."
"It is of value only if you wish to travel in time or cross to another Universe and were able to find a point of intersection Captain. Neither we or the Borg could use the technology for traversing normal space. I did not think you approved of time travel."
"I still wish you had mentioned it."
"I am aware of 2,853,412 technologies that the Borg have assimilated. Do you wish me to explain them all Captain?"
Anyone else being this insubordinate would have been slapped down but Janeway half-grinned and said "Perhaps some other time Seven." Seven inclined her head while Voyager-B'Elanna scowled at yet more evidence of favouritism by the Captain.
Seven, still intent on delivering her plan, then casually dropped another bombshell.
"But Lieutenant Torres is correct about one matter; Voyager could not perform this task and escape through the portal. It will be necessary to have a second vessel."
The chief engineer threw up her hands. "And where are we going to find a ship that can do any of this in this backwater universe?"
"I believe we have one."
Everyone stared at the former drone. Seven did not blink until Voyager-Torres exploded.
"You are not talking about that broken down rusting death-trap we're towing about. It's less capable than a mark 1 shuttle. Much less capable."
Guest-B'Elanna narrowed her eyes as her beloved ship was disparaged but she did not say anything - she was rather enjoying watching the Seven of Nine show and in fairness, now that she had had a tour of Voyager, she could see how the crew of this wonderful starship might regard the old Queen, so it fell to Seven of Nine to defend the old lady.
"It would be an adequate platform for the device. It is sufficiently large to accommodate the necessary equipment; it has a warp drive and a deflector which can both be enhanced to meet our requirements," she responded confidently. "We would construct a deflector focusing device, with an amplifier that would enable the enhanced warp drive to power the deflector directly. The modified vessel would focus the deflector on the existing singularity at the intersection of our Universe with this one, using a short but massive burst of energy to warp the singularity and open a portal, 150 metres in diameter for 0.65 seconds. Voyager would then fly into the portal. It will require precise navigation and velocity as Voyager must pass through the exact centre at the instant the portal is open and at a sufficient speed to pass the entire length of the ship through the portal before it closes. Since we could not use the warp drive in the vicinity of the portal I have calculated that Voyager must travel at 150% of maximum impulse power. The impulse engines will be modified to make this possible." Seven paused. "And it will be necessary to install better shields and a structural integrity field on the platform ship to enable her crew to survive the resulting energy wave exactly like the one we created on entering this Universe, or to survive a potential collision with Voyager or her remains should we miss the portal opening."
There was absolute silence after Seven finished. Even the guests looked shocked and they understood much less of what was being proposed.
"It's impossible," exclaimed the chief engineer. "Captain, even the simplest part of that plan is impossible and I don't even know that there is a simple part. It is completely unworkable. I don't think the Princess of Borg has thought this one out."
Seven of Nine flushed a little and her voice was tense.
"I have considered every option Lieutenant and the only workable alternative is to remain here. Based on our current knowledge and levels of technology I am aware of no other possible means to return to our Universe. And we may have limited time even for this as the singularity is likely to drift from its current position and we have no means to follow it and no guarantee that we would ever find it again in our lifetimes."
"How long before that happens?" Janeway asked anxiously, the idea of being unable to return home after coming so close was unbearable.
"Unknowable." Seven said baldly. "We will only know that it has gone when the energy signature changes. It may remain here for weeks or months or just hours."
Voyager-Tom wasn't laughing either but he was still back on the piloting requirements. "So you want me to fly Voyager through a hole with only a couple of metres to spare at 1.5 times maximum impulse speed. And that hole is open only for a few tenths of a second. I know I'm good…"
Chakotay grinned malevolently as he interrupted Tom's rant. "Maybe we'll find out whether all that boasting has some truth Ensign."
Janeway held up her hand to forestall further argument between her senior team.
"Enough." She glanced at Captain Torres who was leaning back and looking quite at ease. "Are you prepared to allow us to use your ship in this way, Captain Torres?"
Captain Torres shrugged. "You saved our lives Captain Janeway. This will go some way to meeting our blood debt and from what I can understand you are going to put a state of the art structural integrity field generator in the old girl that I could never have afforded otherwise."
"I will not hold you to any perceived debt Captain Torres. There is some real risk to your ship. You are quite free to go at any time if you think the risk is too great. We can of course take you somewhere safer before..."
"I will not leave my ship and the risk will go a little further in repaying our debt," Captain Torres said firmly. "It is not our way to disregard blood oaths." She looked pointedly at both Tom and Annika who solemnly nodded their agreement with their captain even though Annika was wide-eyed with apprehension and Tom wasn't much taken with the plan either.
"I see. Thank you," said Janeway stiffly. She was not happy about taking advantage of some strange local Klingon honour code and not sure if the crew of the Queen understood the risks they might face but Voyager needed their help and Janeway had learnt the hard way that she had to put her ship and crew first. Getting them home was her priority and they were not going to fail now. "Seven, you, Harry and B'Elanna will work together and refine the plan; I want engineering feasibility reports on my desk by sixteen hundred today. Chakotay I want that anomaly monitored round the clock. Use whatever resources you require. We will reconvene at Eighteen hundred. Dismissed."
~~~
Thirty minutes later Seven, Voyager-B'Elanna, Voyager-Tom, Harry Kim and the crew of the yuQmey chIl SoS'a' were standing on the bridge of the little ship. Voyager's engineering crew had done their usual professional work and the bridge looked like new. There were still repairs ongoing to the old freighter but in this section at least they had finished. B'Elanna felt close to tears as she looked around her - her baby was having the total refit she had always deserved but that had never been possible given the tightly stretched resources of her father's company. The captain of the little ship tried to hide her emotional response but Annika who had developed quite an acute sensitivity to B'Elanna in the few days she had known her, ostentatiously ran her finger along the surface of a console, held it up to show it was completely clean. She grinned cheekily at her captain.
"Do you have a point to make Ani," growled B'Elanna scowling at the implied insult even as she was perversely cheered by the interaction.
"No," said the human grinning harder. "Just admiring our hosts' thoroughness. It's almost like being on a passenger ship."
B'Elanna narrowed her eyes and bit back on the temptation to bounce Annika out the door and into the corridor. She noticed that both Toms were grinning and that bloody chief engineer had a really annoying and superior expression plastered on her stupid face too and what really bit was that it was her own stupid face. She focused on the one person who was not smirking.
"What do you need to do?" she asked Seven bluntly.
Seven proceeded to explain what was required for the modifications. There followed a scene that was not unusual on Voyager where Seven and Chief Engineer Torres wrangled their way to a conclusion. Lieutenant Torres grudgingly accepted Seven's theoretical superiority while insisting on her own understanding of the engineering requirements. Voyager-Tom and Harry Kim largely let them get on with it only making the odd comment or suggestion. Captain Torres was impressed in spite of herself. These people really understood their craft and while Seven of Nine and B'Elanna's ill-tempered twin obviously disliked each other they managed to get results remarkably quickly.
Captain Torres had her own views and she knew her ship inside out, so despite struggling to understand some of what was being proposed she did add a number of suggestions and managed not to lose her temper when the chief engineer sneered a little too obviously. The contrast between Voyager-B'Elanna's attitude and Seven of Nine who treated each of B'Elanna's suggestions with respect even when she discounted them, made a deep impression on the young Klingon captain.
"Okay," Voyager-B'Elanna said finally. " We have a plan of sorts but we still won't be able to make the amplification unit. We can't construct the resonance component without using an alloy of gorillium and that requires gorillium. The only alternative is replication and it would take an experienced replicator engineer weeks to program the buffer patterns to create the alloy from scratch."
"Perhaps we can find it round here," said Voyager-Tom.
"Yeah that's likely," scoffed Voyager-B'Elanna. "Did I say gorillium was non-naturally occurring - it really has to be synthesised, plus we also need a bunch of other raw materials - common enough but do we have time to mine and refine them? Anyway why don't all of you, apart from Harry, go away and try to work those problems out while I get this scow spaceworthy."
"I would rather stay with my ship, engineer," growled B'Elanna.
"If you want," Voyager-B'Elanna replied sourly because she couldn't think of any reason to keep her counterpart off her own vessel. "But I don't want a lot of other people in my way."
"Well I need to program the holodeck to simulate flying Voyager through the eye of a needle, a needle which exists for one tenth of the time it takes the Captain to say 'do it'," said Voyager-Tom.
"And I shall go to Astrometrics and attempt to scan for sources of materials to create the necessary compounds," announced Seven of Nine.
Annika and Tom looked at each other feeling distinctly useless. Seven noticed. "You may accompany me to Astrometrics if you wish Annika Hansen. Your knowledge of the sector may be useful."
Voyager-Tom also took pity on his own counterpart. "I could use an extra pair of pilot hands," he lied.
Annika and Tom both realised that their hosts were being polite but on the other hand…
"I would certainly like to help if I can," Annika replied first. "As B'Elanna said we owe you a lot, and I would really appreciate another visit to your beautiful Astrometrics lab."
"Yeah and count me in on the simulator - I'll show you what an old-fashioned pilot can do," Tom said pluckily.
"Just go," snorted Voyager-B'Elanna irritably. Seven and Voyager-Tom followed her order, calling for transport. Moments later Voyager's transporters whisked both Annikas and both Toms away from the bridge of the Queen and deposited them on the Voyager transport platform.
~~~
"Thank God," muttered Voyager-B'Elanna. "I don't think I could have taken much more of Seven of Nine."
"Why?" asked B'Elanna bluntly. "You appear to work well together."
"She's an arrogant know-it-all."
"Well she certainly knows a lot," B'Elanna noted evenly.
"Too much for her good or ours. Anyway I can't stand here gossiping. I have to fix your ship for you."
"No," B'Elanna corrected firmly. "You have to fix my ship because those are your orders. And remember this is my ship and I expect all crew working on my ship, whether permanent or seconded, to act professionally."
Voyager-B'Elanna scowled furiously at her and Harry Kim took a nervous step back.
"So where do we begin Chief Engineer?" B'Elanna asked, determined not to lose the upper hand.
"Well Captain Torres," Voyager-B'Elanna said, still scowling and exaggerating the word 'captain', "We need to reinforce her feeble hull first."
"Good. Let's get to it."
~~~
In the number one holodeck, Voyager-Tom was standing at a console, still programming parameters for his simulation. Tom Paris was sat on a chair (that to his loud amazement the holodeck created on command) watching his double curiously.
"You know this is weird?"
"You don't have to tell me that," Voyager-Tom replied. He glanced up and smiled. "I have been in weirder situations but not many."
"So B'Elanna…she's your wife…and you have a kid with the same name as mine. That's…very…well I can't think of anything else to say…weird!"
"Why? Is that so surprising?"
"It's not really…I guess I mean…clearly they're not quite the same. Your B'Elanna and my B'Elanna."
"How is that?"
Tom Paris suddenly felt a little cautious after all he was talking about the guy's wife and his own best friend; he didn't want to be rude or disloyal. "Nothing really. Your B'Elanna just seems a little more stressed."
Voyager-Tom shrugged. "That's the Seven of Nine effect. She really grates on B'Elanna. So you and Captain Torres have nothing going on."
Tom grinned. "I value my life. B'Elanna would impale me on her Batleth first. Anyway I'm married to her sister Jeri, and she would impale me on her Batleth too. Very keen on Batleths, the Torres girls." Tom explained a little of his history and how he met the Torres family and when he got to his estrangement from his own father, Voyager-Tom exclaimed.
"Ha! We share the good opinion of our fathers then. Mine hates me too."
"Hate's a strong word, mine just can't stand being in the same room."
"I disgraced the name of Paris."
"Hey me too," said Tom grinning broadly. The two Toms bonded at that moment.
"I think we're ready to go," said Voyager-Tom. "Wanna come crash a starship and then do it again and again and again?"
"Can think of nothing better," responded Tom Paris enthusiastically.
~~~
Back on the Queen, B'Elanna was with her counterpart in the crew quarters where work was needed on a relay that passed behind the family room.
"Would you like a Klingon coffee," she asked the Chief Engineer as the latter tutted over the burnt out device and made notes on a padd.
Voyager-B'Elanna looked surprised and not aggressive for once.
"Actually I wouldn't mind. Haven't had that in years…"
"It's very strong," warned B'Elanna "and may be different from your Universe."
"I'll risk it."
"Okay. Back in a few minutes."
B'Elanna left her guest and disappeared off to the galley. When she returned with the coffee, she found Voyager-B'Elanna looking at the family pictures on the wall.
"Ugly lot," B'Elanna joked. Those are my brothers and that's my sister Jeri with Tom and their kid, Miral."
"That's my daughter's name," Voyager-B'Elanna said with some surprise, "but I don't have any brothers or sisters."
"I often wish I didn't. A bloody nuisance all of them."
"That's your Mom and Dad," Voyager-B'Elanna stated pointing at the picture of the happy couple after their wedding. "My Mom had one just like it - I only saw it once when she was throwing out some old junk. I mean the clothes were different but they looked just the same."
"You mean Dad looking shifty and Mom glaring at him," laughed B'Elanna. "Why didn't yours have more kids?"
"I don't even remember him," Voyager-B'Elanna replied quietly. "He left when I was a baby."
B'Elanna stared at her wide-eyed. "I can't believe that Dad would ever leave Mom, murder her maybe but…"
"Well I guess they are different even if they look the same. He was a drunken loser and Mom threw him out." Voyager-B'Elanna sniffed and then tasted the coffee, her mouth twisting at the bitterness. "This is good coffee just like I remember - some things are the same here."
For a few seconds both women sipped at the scalding coffee.
"So you and Tom have a daughter."
For the first time Voyager-B'Elanna didn't look annoyed or impatient. "Yes she's one year old, she's talking a little and trying to walk. How about you?"
"No marriage or kids for me. I like variety - a girl in every port."
Voyager-B'Elanna's head jerked up and any friendliness had disappeared from her dark eyes quicker than a pirate fleeing a Bird of Prey. She was angry again. Angry and something else that B'Elanna could not understand until her counterpart said harshly "You should keep quiet about that sort of relationship on this ship. It's disgusting and I'm not the only one who thinks so." She glared furiously at B'Elanna who glared equally furiously back.
"Fucking Kahless, you sound like my grandmother. What the hell does my private life have to do with you or any of your fucking crew?"
"Nothing. And I don't want to know anymore about it or about you." Voyager-B'Elanna slapped her communicator badge. "Vorik, get up here now. I don't care what you are doing. I don't want to have to repeat myself."
B'Elanna just stared at her. "What by Kahless' thirteen toes do you think I am going to do? Are you afraid of me?"
Voyager-B'Elanna avoided her eyes and sneered "Hardly. I just don't like your sort." Any further argument was halted when Vorik trotted into the room. B'Elanna glared at him fiercely - another Romulan-look-alike, Voyager-B'Elanna glared at B'Elanna and Vorik wished that he could summon up the wherewithal to glare at anything.
~~~
A 3D representation of a stable gorillium molecule spun in one corner of the enormous view-screen while the long-range sensors stretched and strained to find evidence of that molecule in an area of space equivalent to a thousand light years in every direction, though as Seven herself admitted, identification of sources beyond a hundred light years was largely irrelevant as it would take months to reach and return.
Annika tried to focus on the readings she had been given to analyse but her attention kept returning to the spinning molecule.
"I just think I have seen something like this before," she said again.
"Unlikely," Seven responded with a touch of impatience. "It is an advanced compound molecule that requires complex synthesis. Our contact with your technology indicates nothing that would suggest that capacity."
Annika continued to stare at it. And then her eyes widened.
"Seven can you focus the sensors close range?"
"Of course."
"Can you focus on the Queen?"
"For what purpose?"
"Just humour me." Seven looked at her and Annika definitely could see the ex-Borg's good opinion fading. "It would only take a moment. I have just remembered where I have seen this image."
"There are no such compounds…"
"Please Seven just humour me."
Seven quickly entered some commands into the computer. "Computer analyse findings."
A few seconds passed.
MOLECULE 3425-RTH67 HAS BEEN IDENTIFIED AT LOCATION Alpha Alpha 763 Theta 0. AMOUNT 0.1 MILLIGRAM.
Seven's head jerked up, her blue eyes wide with disbelief, she bent to check the readings and her eyepiece shot up. "That is a location on your ship."
"Thank Kahless," Annika said with some relief as she really hadn't wanted to look a fool in front of Seven.
"It is an insignificant quantity and the purity appears to be compromised…"
"It's my lipstick," Annika exclaimed excitedly. She smiled triumphantly at Seven and launched into a rapid explanation. "Some years ago a military research chemist discovered a whole new class of molecules pretty much by accident but there was no military use for it so the Empire halted the research - pure science is not that popular with the Empire - but a human scientist got a hold of the findings and discovered that compounds of the molecule could be added to lipstick and that basically it meant the lipstick just stays perfect until it's removed with a simple wipe. And that was just the start. It's added to many other cosmetics too although it is incredibly expensive. Point your scanners at this location." Annika pointed at a section of the star-charts some three light years distant.
Seven did so this time without hesitation. And the analysis immediately began to run off the scale.
Annika smirked at Seven's expression. "It's made on a planet in that sector and exported to the rest of the empire."
Seven continued to stare at the readings. "This is…extremely fortuitous. Are you certain that you are not a member of the Q-continuum?" she asked Annika quite seriously now. "The probability of accidentally synthesising such a molecule is low - finding it so easily would support Captain Janeway's original hypothesis that we are in a simulation or game."
"Unless the Q-whatever is a sorority, I'm certain. I just love cosmetics and a couple of years ago that was the big new thing. I remember that Dad was totally outraged at such a frivolous use for 'a whole new chemistry' as he called it; he even raised a petition amongst the leading human scientists protesting the closure of the original research, which was of course totally ignored by the powers that be. Anyway the fashion magazines went berserk and there were pictures of the molecule on the front covers for months."
"Magazines," Seven echoed without comprehension.
"I guess you don't read them, though you're beautiful enough to be in one." Annika noted immodestly. "I'll lend you some."
"I—Thank you." Seven said awkwardly, remembering her manners although she did not really understand why humans thank each other for receiving things they do not require.
"You know what," Annika said quietly, staring at the spinning simulation of the molecule. "We can just buy it at wholesale auction. It's that easy. B'Elanna's a trader and she has access to the trading rooms. All we have to do is fly 'The Queen' to the nearest trade centre."
~~~
After a two hours of hard work, the Toms had completed their first set of simulations and Voyager-Tom decided they needed a break. Since they were in the holodeck it was a matter of moments to start the Sandrine's holo-program and order a coffee. Tom was astonished, especially by the human simulations, and it took him some time to settle. He kept trying to touch the waiters to test their reactions. Voyager-Tom had to ask the computer to intervene to stop the holo-waiters from throwing Tom out of the bar.
Voyager-Tom was reviewing the output of his tests.
"So the good news is that it is possible to fly Voyager through a 150 metre portal in a fraction of a second but the bad news is that I failed in 75% of attempts. We arrived too fast, too slow or off centre and then usually Voyager collided with the Queen that is if it hadn't been destroyed first. Based on the calculations that Seven provided, the speed at which the portal opens is too variable."
"Sums it up," said Tom. "One chance out of four is not good odds."
Voyager-Tom's communicator beeped.
"Mr Paris," said the communicator tinnily. "I require your presence in Astrometrics."
"Funny you should say that Seven as I require your presence in the holodeck."
There was a moments silence.
"I will see you in 3.24 minutes. Is Captain Torres with you?"
"No…"
"She is also required. Summon her."
The communicator cut off.
"Wow," commented Tom. "She knows her mind."
"Welcome to the ship with two captains," Voyager-Tom griped. He slapped his communicator. "Hey Lanna, is Captain B with you?"
"No. Try Vorik." In only three words Voyager-Tom understood enough to know that his wife and Captain Torres had not got on together. He did not ask anything further instead he contacted Vorik who agreed to escort Captain Torres to the holodeck.
~~~
B'Elanna thought about the plan. She sipped her cold beer. She took a long drag from the tall glass. It didn't help. There was one glaring hole that she could see.
"How would we pay for all that gorillium? You need to buy three tons of it. That's more than I'd make in ten years. The auction house would call in ITEC the moment I started to bid."
"So how much is that? I mean what do you make in ten years?" Annika blushed as she realised how rude that sounded. "Sorry I mean how much would three tons of gorillium cost?"
B'Elanna swallowed her ire and pride. "Two to three million credits depending on the market."
Annika brightened. "I could find that amount - you could bid and say that we are in business together." B'Elanna's mouth dropped open. She knew that Annika was wealthy but to offer three million credits…Tom just whistled. Voyager-Tom, Seven of Nine and Harry Kim were not obviously impressed but then cash had no real meaning for the Voyager crew.
"You could get all that without alerting anyone?"
Annika wasn't sure of that at all. "My dad's financial manager might tell my parents and it might take a few weeks to clear," she admitted crestfallen. "But I could pretend it's mine when you pay for it. Then they wouldn't involve ITEC."
"But I don't have that kind of money Ani so I couldn't pay even if we could justify it."
"What would you require for a trade of equivalent value?" Seven asked. "Perhaps Voyager could replicate something which you could trade."
"Apart from illegal goods and weapons…?" B'Elanna tugged at her earlobe. "The Queen can carry 5000 cubic metres of cargo but most of my cargo is ruined and wouldn't be worth a thousandth of what you need in any case. Also I couldn't suddenly arrive with hundreds of tons of high value cargo - someone would notice - too much of any one thing would be noticed too and might cause the price to drop. And can you replicate those kind of volumes anyway?"
"It would take time," Seven admitted. "And we could only create items already held in the pattern buffers or with minor variations. Completely new items would require extensive programming time."
"Cosmetics, medicines and jewellery," Annika declared suddenly. "Not shoes though. I have been browsing your database, trying stuff out. You have lots of really good cosmetics not that anyone seems to use them round here of course. Trading cosmetics fits with wanting to buy gorillium and going into business with me. I like some of the jewellery too - really different styles - and I'm guessing that the medicines you could supply would be amazing. I'm sure I could find private buyers easily who would trade gorillium directly to us and Chakotay has loads of contacts too. All off the official trade record…" Annika trailed off as she realised everyone was staring at her.
B'Elanna scowled. "No wonder humans are so wealthy. It's another damn world."
Voyager-Tom was shaking his head. "The captain wouldn't let us sell superior technology…"
"…But if the technology is not superior just differently applied." Seven countered.
"Then I guess that would be okay."
"We could install a replicator on your vessel and I could manufacture the products for which you have identified a purchaser." Seven added unexpectedly. Voyager-Tom stared at her now. The Hansen women were on form today and the combination was impressive.
"I didn't know you understood about trading Seven."
"It appears to be a simple transactional arrangement based on inequities of availability and usage of materials. There does not appear to be much to understand. We are able to exploit our superior technology to supply items that are required."
Annika gazed adoringly at Seven of Nine. (Not adoring in a creepy stalker way she reassured herself. Creepy stalker adoration was reserved for B'Elanna.) She just felt so damn proud of Seven, like having an all-knowing older sister who can do everything.
B'Elanna too was admiring. She had also realised that Seven of Nine would be spending more time with her if they followed this plan and that would not be at all unwelcome.
~~~
Eight hours later the Queen of the Lost Worlds set sail amongst the stars again. B'Elanna could hardly believe the transformation of her old girl. The Queen bore no marks of the storm and in the engine room a brand new structural integrity generator murmured gently as it wove a net of protective force-fields into the structure of the hull. Never again would she have to fear careless dockside equipment handlers clumsily punching holes in the Queen's hull. The warp generator was now ten percent more efficient, top speed had increased to warp 6.8 and on the cargo deck Seven was finishing installing a high capacity replicator although Janeway had made it clear that replicator technology was not going to be given to them permanently.
B'Elanna smiled as she watched Annika set their course. The human was concentrating, lightly chewing her lower lip but B'Elanna had already checked the calculation and though she had not told Annika, it was a 3 percent faster plot than she could have managed herself even with their new top speed. The freighter captain was concerned that they might have difficulty explaining Seven of Nine's presence if they were inspected but Ani's story of going off the normal route to collect her twin sister from a mining ship might be good enough and would explain their lost time and who would believe the truth?
B'Elanna had already contacted her father and given a version of that story, with the mythical mining ship standing in for Voyager as their port in the storm. Her Dad had been very relieved to hear from her; there had been reports of severe storms in the area. He was very intrigued to hear about her new business partner too. B'Elanna lost her smile as she remembered the none too subtle questions about their non-business relationship. From her Dad's smirk she knew that he did not believe the business only angle.
Tom was helping Seven of Nine in the cargo bay, fetching and carrying. He was cheerful but seemed almost disappointed that they were going to Risa after all. B'Elanna had decided that it was still the best trading port for their plan despite the continuing rumours about the planet; she still had a permit and she didn't want to arouse suspicion by going elsewhere. Seven was replicating B'Elanna's original cargo as nearly as possible so that she could land with the same manifest. The new 'cargo' would be replicated after they had docked and unloaded the official cargo and then sold privately or exchanged for gorillium. Ani had been communicating (on the completely overhauled sub-space system with enhanced security and range) with what seemed like dozens of people in the sector and already had three major buyers lined up for their array of goods, with more promising to look at the samples.
B'Elanna had found herself taking an unexpected interest in Annika's long conversation with Chakotay. And she found that she did not like him and specifically the manner in which he addressed Annika. Too damned proprietorial and condescending. No Klingon male would ever speak to a female like that - he wouldn't dare - and that was another thing. What the hell was Ani doing letting him get away with it? She glared at Annika and hardly spoke to her for the rest of the day.
All in all it seemed their plan to obtain the gorillium would succeed. They would dock in Risa in twenty two hours, but first came dinner with their guest. B'Elanna was surprised by the tension she felt at the idea. A pleasant excitement she had not experienced for many years.
TBC
Unacceptable Losses by halfofone Pairing: T/7 Genre: Star Trek: Voyager Rating: Over 18 Description: Tragedy strikes the Star Ship Voyager and the crew have to adjust to a very different world. Feedback: Constructive feedback welcome. Archiving: If you want ... I would quite like to know where. Disclaimer: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't. Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further. Status: Complete
Unacceptable Losses by halfofone
Part 1:
Date added: 2000-07-01 Rating of this chapter: R
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
She was woken by the sleeping woman beside her, who stirred and murmured in her dreams. Reaching across the pillow she touched the blonde hair and tentatively stroked the loose strands from the pale face. She smiled as the sleeper wrinkled her nose in protest. The lines of strain and tiredness that were noticeable sometimes when her lover was awake were entirely absent now; an expression of peace had relaxed the narrow face until she looked younger even than when they first met. The elegant grey metal implant that adorned the beloved face carried no echoes of its sinister origin. As she watched Annika sleep, the lights in the Captain's quarters turned up to one half in the 5.30 a.m. pre-shift routine.
"God nearly time to get up." she muttered and lifting herself up on one elbow bent over her lover and kissed her lips gently, not meaning to wake her. After the last few weeks her partner needed sleep. The Doctor had been quite clear that Borg or not, no one could survive the punishing pace that Annika had set herself. Crisis over she was to remain off duty for at least twenty-four hours. "Somehow I don't see that happening my love," she thought ruefully. No one could make the former drone hold back, not even her partner of almost ten years. Unable to resist she kissed her sweet Borg again and felt guilty as the sleeper was clearly disturbed but then a beatific smile spread over the perfect features.
"Kathryn?" breathed the dreamer.
B'Elanna sat up too quickly; a stiletto of pain plunging through her chest and she clenched her fists.
'Goddamit why after all this time?' she thought bitterly. But she knew why, and even expected it; defying death, surviving again, always seemed to resurrect the ghost of the former Captain.
'You still love her don't you BangwI?' she thought gazing down at her lover. 'I cannot fight her, I don't even want to fight her, but her ghost walks between us. Oh Kahless Torres! Enough of the Klingon hyperbole. Get up and do something.'
B'Elanna swung her legs out of the bed and walked naked across the clothes strewn carpet to the bathroom. She half-smiled in spite of the oppressive sadness in her heart. They had been in a hurry last night, need had outweighed Nika's normal obsessive tidiness. She splashed water in her face to wake herself up and was about to start the sonic shower when she heard a voice from the bedroom. B'Elanna walked back in to find Nika sitting up in bed. The ex-drone dropped the sheet she had been clutching and held out her hands.
"Come back to bed B'Elanna."
B'Elanna ignored the pull of the gorgeous body.
"I must get ready BangwI, my shift starts in an hour and I wanted to get in early."
"For a little while, hold me." Love kicked away her defences and B'Elanna folded the blonde in her arms and gently rocked her. She tried not to notice how painfully tightly Seven was holding her or the slight shaking in strong shoulders.
After her shift B'Elanna swung by the holodeck, she had booked a slot to run an old Klingon story, which she rather liked, it gave her body a good work out and her temper some release which was definitely needed.
Twenty minutes and four kills into the story a pause in the frenetic plot allowed her a few minutes rest in a half-deserted camp. She sat down by the campfire and one of the holo characters began to sing an old Klingon song about lost friends. She tried to resist but the old memories began to replay inexorably and when the next phase of her holo-story was started with a sudden attack on the camp by a rival clan she decided to give the memories their own way.
"Computer delete all holo-characters." The yelling warriors vanished and silence fell on the holodeck. Too much silence.
"Computer reinstate Klingon singer." The singer reappeared and started to sing his sad song again. B'Elanna resumed her seat by the fire waiting for the playback of history to resume.
Ten years earlier
The chief engineer whistled tunelessly as she retuned the malfunctioning deflector array. A quick diagnostic showed that there was still a small variance from the correct frequency. She scowled. It had never worked properly since the Borg 'enhancements' had been stripped away from Voyager's hull after the war with species 8472 two years earlier. Why she didn't know. Some of the Borg technology had remained in Voyager's systems, deemed beneficial to overall efficiency, but it still caused some unexplained side effects. Unresolved incompatibilities. 'And that's just my relationship to Seven of Nine,' she joked to herself.
The cold blonde was serving a stint in engineering and driving her insane. You must learn to resolve conflict without resorting to screaming matches Chakotay had told her after the most recent spat with the Ice Borg. Easy for him to say she thought. He didn't have Miss Perfect criticising his decisions and ignoring his orders.
Her communicator chirruped and a slightly distant voice said "Janeway to Torres, meet me in my ready room in ten minutes."
"Yes Captain". B'Elanna sighed and hoped Janeway was not going to get involved in the argument. Why can't she let Seven fight her own battles? The Captain didn't intervene in any other personnel conflicts, she left that to Chakotay. But if Seven of Nine was a party then the rules changed. No wonder most of the crew resented the blatant favouritism; there was open season on rumours about the exact nature of the relationship between the blonde Borg and the leader of Voyager.
A few minutes later in the captain's ready room B'Elanna and Seven stood in front of the small red-haired Captain.
"I am tired of hearing reports of your quarrelling and I want you to explain to me why you can't work together like civilised beings." said Janeway in her dangerously level, rasping voice.
"A civilised Borg. Gotta love it!" the engineer sniggered under her breath.
Seven looked at her sharply her hearing better than the human. Unfortunately the captain had heard something. Janeway slowly turned to look at her and B'Elanna felt the bravado drain from her body.
"Lieutenant no more childish asides. I don't enjoy having to speak to my senior officers in this manner and I don't wish to be reminded of their immaturity and probable unfitness for their position."
The Klingon felt as though she had been slapped and barely held her temper in check "Yes Ma'am" she gritted out. She could have sworn that Seven was almost smiling in that 'superior being amused by inferior being' kind of way. It didn't help.
"I am still waiting for an explanation of your behaviour Lieutenant," said Janeway implacably.
"Seven of Nine consistently undermines my authority in engineering by questioning my judgement in front of my staff."
"Do you agree with that Seven?" asked the Captain.
"I have queried the Lieutenant's judgement when I believe it to be incorrect and against the interests of Voyager. Should I allow her errors to pass without comment?"
"My 'errors' are simply your opinion Seven." B'Elanna's voice rose.
"No they are errors," said the Borg arrogantly.
A harsh tremor passed through the floor under their feet and the three women were quiet, immediately alert.
"The engines have stopped," the Engineer said with a certainty born of six years experience and knowing the ship and its engines like an extension of herself. The Captain was on her feet and on the way out of the ready room. B'Elanna and Seven fell into step behind their leader.
"Report," demanded the captain as she entered the bridge.
"We seem to run into some kind of energy field Captain," answered Chakotay. "The warp engines have shut down and we have no impulse power either."
"On screen" said the Captain calmly.
They stared into total blackness; no stars were visible anywhere. The view screen rotated but there was nothing visible in any direction.
"It didn't appear on any of our sensors Captain all readings were normal until the moment this happened. Then there was a surge of energy and now .... " Harry Kim's voice trailed off.
"And now what do sensors read Harry?"
"Nothing Captain, nothing at all. No matter, no anti matter, no particles of any kind, no gravity, no radiation. Nothing."
"Perhaps our sensors are malfunctioning. Launch a class 2 probe Tuvok. Let's see what is out there."
"Aye Captain ..... probe launched" said the imperturbable security officer. Another few seconds passed and then Tuvok spoke.
"The probe has disappeared, it vanished in the instant it left Voyager." The Vulcan's face expressed no surprise to the casual eye but Janeway had known him for years. She grinned to herself when she realised that she couldn't detect any emotion either.
"All senior staff to meet in the briefing room in one hour. I want full reports about every aspect of Voyager's condition and the events both before and after we entered this place. I want to know what has happened."
The bridge crew were shaken but Kathryn Janeway appeared confident and in command of the situation. The tone of her voice snapped the crew back to their duties and the normal bridge chatter and noise recommenced.
"I should get back to engineering Captain," said B'Elanna conscious that the Captain had not formally dismissed either her or Seven.
Janeway eyed her coldly. "You certainly should Lieutenant and take Seven with you. I don't want to hear of any more incidents between you is that clear? Dismissed."
Unbelievably to B'Elanna the Borg decided to argue with the Captain.
"Captain I should go to Astrometrics and endeavour to scan our surroundings."
Conscious of B'Elanna watching her, Captain Janeway was in no mood to tolerate argument. "Seven I want you both working on the engines. They are the only systems that have actually shut down and I want to know why. Harry will handle the sensors."
The Borg recognised the Captain was not going to budge and reluctantly decided to comply although she had no desire to return to engineering with the aggressive little half-caste. She nodded and Janeway suppressed a sigh of relief as the tall Blonde turned and strode from the bridge, the small dark Klingon at her heels trying desperately not to look as though she was having to run to keep up with the drone's long strides.
As the bridge doors closed the Captain could hear B'Elanna asking "How does it feel not to get your own way then Seven." Janeway shut her eyes and counted slowly.
Chakotay smiled at her.
"Awkward little brats aren't they? They compete for your attention Kathryn, it's classic sibling rivalry."
She smiled in return and he felt his heart turn at the warmth in the slate blue eyes.
'I love her still and yet she shows no signs of even being aware of my feelings. Just a good friend but my time will come, when we get home I will make my feelings plain.' He didn't allow himself to consider how long that might take.
The briefing room a while later.
The staff filed in one by one. Nobody spoke much and there was little noise until Seven and B'Elanna arrived together and tried to squeeze through the door at the same time. B'Elanna won this round and forced her way into the room first and they were still arguing.
"Seven it is not your job to make the report - I will tell the Captain." The pair both looked unwillingly at the last two remaining seats and then sat next to each other.
"Ah it's the happy couple" joked Tom Paris and then swallowed his tongue as murder looked his way projected from B'Elanna's eyes.
"Settle down everyone" said Janeway, feeling her headache come back. "Report."
"Captain I think we have something!" Given the optimism of her words B'Elanna's voice sounded oddly subdued as though she was excited but also fearful. Very different from her normal straightforward ebullience.
"Go on" said Janeway when B'Elanna hesitated.
Seven piped up to fill the silence, ignoring B'Elanna's gasp of annoyance, "The engines did not fail Captain, they were deliberately deactivated by command as we entered this place." B'Elanna poked the Borg hard with her elbow as she interrupted and took over the narrative.
"Seven and I accessed the sensor logs in astrometrics and at the moment of entry the ship was apparently flooded with unknown radiation. Then the official logs report nothing more about the incident. Sensors show nothing, there are no further official reports of any sort. Less than a second later the engines shut down."
"When you say deactivated you mean someone or something switched them off. Are you suggesting someone on Voyager deactivated the ship's sensors and then shut down its engines? How do you know this?"
"Aside from the fact Captain that they won't start there is nothing wrong with the engines. They are in perfect working order. The main computer is ignoring our commands to restart the engines."
Tuvok raised an eyebrow "I am curious about your assessment Lieutenant, I have received no security reports that indicate the main computer is malfunctioning. Or any reports of illegal access."
"Apart from routine reports and logs have any of you received any critical computer logs since we got here. I would be willing to bet that you were all going to report that all systems are functioning normally except engines." B'Elanna looked triumphantly round the room at each of her colleagues.
Without warning B'Elanna lifted her hand-phaser, pointed it at the wall and fired.
"What the hell do you think you're doing Lieutenant?" yelled Chakotay.
Janeway looked furious and then her expression changed to puzzlement. "No warning - unauthorised phaser fire should have set off a warning alert. Computer report on weapons fire in Briefing Room."
NO WEAPONS FIRE HAS BEEN DETECTED
Janeway took a breath before speaking.
"So the main computer is malfunctioning but what makes you think this is deliberate B'Elanna?"
B'Elanna looked a little cagey again.
"I have log readings which show an engine shutdown command sequence immediately after the radiation surge. It also shows a sequence of lockout codes and security traps being set on the main computer. I think we are simply hanging in normal space, if we just opened a 'door' we would be able to see it. The sensors are lying to us. I think the whole incident is a fake."
"But you have just said there were no sensor logs." Chakotay was now looking desperately confused.
"The engineering sensors ..." said B'Elanna quietly.
"I'm sorry I don't understand, there are no engineering sensors" he replied. B'Elanna could see Janeway glaring at her and she shut her eyes for a moment to get up her courage.
"Okay I rigged up a separate internal sensor array to detect whenever Seven was interfering with any of the ship's systems. Look it was fairly common practice in the Maquis if you suspected there might be a traitor on board."
Kathryn Janeway didn't know how she prevented herself hitting B'Elanna. Her mood was not aided by the openly admiring looks the engineer was receiving from Tom and Harry.
Seeing the Captain's look of outrage Seven of Nine decided she should help the Klingon out.
"I am not offended Captain I detected the Lieutenant's system several months ago and have successfully evaded detection ever since. I can also confirm the Lieutenant's data since the astrometric sensors report the same information."
In answer to the now very pained expressions worn by the Captain and her first officer, Seven added with a little less confidence. "I modified the astrometric sensors to allow internal scans and to avoid detection by the main computer - I did not want the Lieutenant to know which areas I was examining."
Janeway exploded.
"Is there any part of this ship which still conforms to Starfleet design protocols? Or indeed any system, which has not, been modified to assist your ludicrous feud? Once this little drama is over you may both expect to face disciplinary action is that clear?"
"Clear Captain," B'Elanna replied smartly. She knew better than Seven that they had both hugely overstepped the mark even if the current situation was resolved because of their insubordination.
The Captain tried to ignore her irritation and concentrate on the immediate problem.
"Let me see the logs B'Elanna." The engineer silently handed her a padd and she read the log. "These commands were each issued from different areas of the ship. In each case a different command code was used." She blanched but kept her voice steady, "looks like a conspiracy but by whom and for what purpose."
Chakotay said thoughtfully "the conspirators wanted to hide something at least for a period, perhaps to cover up someone's arrival or ... someone's departure."
Janeway "Tuvok, find the Equinox crew members. I want the ship searched visually, a complete crew register and I want to know how anyone obtained access to command codes allowing this. The rest of you; we have to regain control of the main computer."
Engineering
Lieutenant Torres famous temper was hopelessly frayed by mounting frustration as she worked on the re-intialisation of the main computer. Every time they thought they had covered all the angles a new barrier was thrown up and the computer refused to shut down. She would have liked to rip the head off whoever had done this while at the same time she had to admit a grudging professional admiration for the thorough workmanship.
"Let's give it another shot Seven" she said over the open comm link. Seven and Harry Kim were monitoring the close down from astrometrics. "Computer initiate close down."
UNABLE TO COMPLY. SENSORS INDICATE A MALFUNCTION IN ENGINEERING SUBNET. DATA LOSS WOULD RESULT.
"Damn I thought we had covered that. Seven where is it coming from? I thought you had found all of those - not very efficient."
"Clearly I had not" said the Borg shortly. After a few moments the drone reported "A false sensor reading is being generated by an emitter in Jeffries tube eleven. It is embedded in the communication circuit."
"I'll get up there and remove it" said B'Elanna.
She was prevented from going by Janeway's hand on her shoulder. "I'll go Lieutenant, as soon as it is out try the shutdown again. I want to get after them a soon as we can. They have a twelve-hour jump on us. Another hour and we'll lose them and the Flyer."
B'Elanna grimaced, without any engineering staff, running the engine room with just her and Seven was going to be a push but Tuvok was holding all her staff for questioning. He had identified the source of the stolen command codes as Engineering and until the thieves were found the Captain had deemed it to be too dangerous to allow any of the engineering crew back to work.
The Captain gave her a wave and climbed into the Jeffries Tube. It would take her about five minutes to reach the circuit and then about five to ten minutes to remove the emitter assuming it was like all the other ones.
B'Elanna waited and listened to Seven guiding the Captain to the source of the false sensor readings. After a few minutes the Captain started removing the emitter, following the calm instructions from the drone and B'Elanna noted resentfully the gentle familiar tone the Captain used. In some way she felt like an eavesdropper although neither had said anything that was even remotely personal. She thought it was just as well other crew could not hear them.
She was jolted from her thoughts by a thunderous crackle on the communicator and then the Captain was screaming. Seven's voice could be heard shouting at Harry.
"Transport her out now!"
B'Elanna ran to the entrance of the Jeffries tube and looked in horror as smoke began to trickle through the hatch. She grabbed a portable extinguisher and swung the hatch open. A choking cloud of smoke belched out and drove her back.
Then came Harry's voice audibly trembling, "Emergency transport Jeffries Tube eleven to sick bay. Locked on. Transporting now."
Cursing with relief B'Elanna heard Harry say, "transport successful." She could still hear the Captain crying and begging for help over her open comm link and then there was silence.
Thanking God that the Doctor now had her and clumsy with fear B'Elanna manually activated the fire control systems in the tube. Force fields went up and oxygen was sucked from the closed area. As the fire came under control she leaned against the wall shaking.
"Torres to sickbay. Is the Captain all right?" There was no answer. She repeated her request and still no reply. Get a grip Torres they are just too busy to talk to you. She stared round the empty engineering room and at the silent darkened warp core. Unable to bear the solitude she ran to the exit and bumped into a young ensign wandering in the corridor outside. He looked at her with a strange vacant expression, his voice thin and childlike.
"There's been an accident Lieutenant, they say the Captain's dead."
"No!" and she pushed the unfortunate boy against the wall. Getting in the turbolift she sagged against the side mumbling "Sickbay." The lift closed and an eternity later the doors opened on the corridor leading to sickbay. B'Elanna walked towards it through the same eerie quietness, as though the ship had closed down and been abandoned by its crew. When the doors of the sickbay opened she glimpsed the EMH hunched over a figure on a biobed taking readings. Another figure lay still and prone in the adjacent bed. Tom Paris was covering the figure with a blanket and when he turned round she gasped, he looked like an old man, all the life gone out of him and tears streaming down his face.
"B'Elanna" he whispered and held his arms out to her.
The person being attended by the Doc turned to look at her and she stared into the hate filled eyes of Seven of Nine. "It should have been you. Why was it not you?" The drone spoke the words in an even Borg monotone and continued to repeat "it should have been you" until the Doctor pressed another hypo of sedative into her neck.
The Shuttle bay
The crew of Voyager stood silently as Chakotay read the Starfleet funeral service rites. His voice steady and soothing, the words indescribably sad. Then he stepped aside for Tuvok the Vulcan security officer who would deliver the eulogy. Some of the crew thought this was inappropriate, as a Vulcan could not understand their feelings.
In the event they found the Vulcan understood them rather better than they thought and the cool, logical account of their lost Captain was more moving than another more sentimental assessment could have been. Tuvok had known the Captain longer than any other member of the crew and probably understood her better as well. He made them laugh retelling stories of a much younger more rebellious Janeway that echoed their own experience of the determined and fearless Captain. And he made them cry when he talked of how much the crew meant to her, and how much it meant to get them home. But he finished with a warning.
"Captain Janeway's dearest hope was that this ship and its crew should return home safely. But she was not prepared to do this at any cost and certainly not at the expense of Starfleet ideals and codes of conduct. She always adhered to those ideals and she would expect the crew of Voyager to continue to do so after she was gone. She will never return home but I sincerely hope that we will not break with her trust in our efforts to do so."
He signalled to the ensign at the torpedo controls. The adapted torpedo containing the Captain's body quietly slipped out of the shuttle bay into endless space, its targeting thrusters fired and the slim capsule turned towards the nearby blue giant. A moment later the torpedo disappeared from view although the ship's sensors tracked it all the way to its destination and final destruction in the fiery outer rim of the star.
Seven of Nine did not attend the funeral. She remained heavily sedated in sickbay and in restraints. The Doctor was of the view that although she was unlikely to attack Lieutenant Torres having accepted that the Lieutenant was not actually responsible for her Captain's death she certainly would kill the four conspirators whose actions had caused the tragedy.
The Delta Flyer and the runaways had been recovered and the latter were being held in the brig together with a junior lieutenant from engineering who had helped them to override the security systems. The three former members of the Equinox crew gave as their reason for running away, the level of antagonism they had faced from Voyager's crew. The Starfleet lieutenant simply had a grudge because she thought she was a talented engineer and her skills were not recognised.
One of the hardest things B'Elanna had ever done was returning to the engine room with Harry Kim in the immediate aftermath of the Captain's death, completing the shut down of the main computer and restarting the engines. The smoke from the fire was still strong in her nostrils but the warrior inside her knew that this was their only chance to recover the people who had done this and bring them to justice. And she wanted justice.
Back to the Future
B'Elanna leaned back away from the fire and closed her eyes. Even ten years later she could not remember the events around the Captain's death without thinking Seven was right: 'it should have been me'.
Grimly she sat up and straightened her back. The Klingon singer was still wailing the same dirge.
"Don't you know any other songs?" She grumbled.
He thought for a second and then said "No." And began to sing again.
"Remind me to reprogram your repertoire."
But the music lulled her away from the present and she slipped back towards the bad days following the funeral. An old Klingon proverb had it that 'Change was a time for the strong'. Well that had certainly been true back then ....
Unacceptable Losses by halfofone
Part 2:
Date added: 2000-10-31 Rating of this chapter: R
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Ten Years earlier - The briefing Room
The first senior staff meeting after the Captain's funeral had a full agenda. A number of issues required urgent resolution. Not least what to do with Seven of Nine.
"Can she be released Doctor?" asked Tuvok
The Doctor's face was troubled. "I am not sure. My expertise in Borg psychology is sadly lacking. She seems much calmer, too calm even. She has refused to consider looking at the Captain's last message to her. She says it is irrelevant now." He paused before saying "And to be honest I'm not sure she should see it."
B'Elanna had some sympathy for that view. The Captain had left final messages for all of her senior staff. Hers had not been easy viewing. The Captain full of life and vigour, and obviously with no intention of dying, had recorded these messages some years before, as was expected of the Captain. She had scarcely known B'Elanna at the time and the slightly strained words seemed as though from a stranger. She had spoken of her faith in B'Elanna's abilities and her hope that the Klingon would have a successful career as Chief of Engineering. There was no hint of their subsequent closeness and nothing to release her grief. B'Elanna deleted the recording after watching it once. She knew that several of the others had a similar experience.
The Doctor agreed to keep Seven under observation for another week and report back.
The next problem was the four renegades in the brig.
"We must decide on the charges to be brought, the conduct of any trial and any likely sanctions. We are not equipped for long term detentions and I do not believe that detaining the prisoners for any length of time will benefit crew morale" said Tuvok
Tom Paris butted in, his eyes slightly bloodshot and puffy, "I agree with Tuvok. We should just set the bastards down on the nearest planet. They wanted to leave Voyager. Well let 'em I say."
"I was not aware Mr Paris that I had recommended any such course of action. Captain what do you wish me to do" asked Tuvok.
There was a gasp and outraged glances from Harry and Tom. By tacit agreement no one had yet called Chakotay captain. It seemed wrong, presumptuous, as though their captain could be replaced after only a couple of weeks. And it contradicted their futile hope that they might all wake from this nightmare and the Captain would arrive for the meeting, certain and brave, carrying all before her.
Chakotay hadn't spoken at all at the meeting. For the last two weeks he had kept Voyager running as it had for the previous six years. He had organised the funeral, comforted distressed crewmen and gone without sleep as Voyager painfully adjusted. The Doctor had been a little concerned about his behaviour at the funeral when he seemed distracted and remote but there were so many demands on the Doctor's attention that he had not spoken to the new Captain at length.
When Tuvok addressed him Chakotay glanced around behind and looked at the door, his handsome face looked confused. "The Captain is not here Tuvok but I will ask her for instructions when I see her. Kathryn will know what to do."
The officers looked at each other nonplussed.
"Chakotay" said B'Elanna none too gently "Captain Janeway is not coming back."
"Don't be silly B'Elanna, my Kathryn would never leave us." He smiled at her as though talking to a particularly stupid ensign. The Lieutenant did not reply but she could not disguise the mixture of fear and pity surging over her face.
Neelix carefully touched the First Officer's arm. The gentle Talaxian, who had seen so much tragedy in his life, now found himself the unofficial ship's bereavement counsellor.
"Commander I think you should get some rest, I'm sure the strain of the funeral.."
"Yes a very fine officer, sad to lose him." said Chakotay looking appropriately solemn. "I will write a letter to his family."
"Who do you think has died Commander?" asked the Doctor quietly.
"What do you mean Doctor, you were at the funeral. A good officer. Sad to lose him." The big man was becoming distressed. "Where is the Captain? She is never late."
"A fine officer Commander," said the Doctor soothingly, "we are finished here now I hope Mister Tuvok." And the EMH looked significantly at the security officer who nodded.
"Now it occurs to me Commander Chakotay that you are due for a routine check up. Neelix would you accompany the commander to his quarters? I will meet you there."
Chakotay looked as though he might refuse but Neelix patted his shoulder again and smiled comfortingly.
"Why certainly Doctor. One always knows the good officers Commander, they have to be dragged to sick bay. But I think the Doctor is going to insist this time so we should both surrender gracefully."
Chakotay smiled uncertainly and stood up from his chair. Then he and Neelix left the room, the small Talaxian chattering away to cover the deafening quiet of the briefing room.
The Doctor, who remained behind, addressed Tuvok. "As the chief medical officer I am relieving Commander Chakotay of his duties which I suppose makes you Captain for the moment." The Doctor looked troubled as though the thought of Tuvok as Captain was somehow disturbing. "I will do my best to get him back on duty Commander. Are you going to tell ..."
Tuvok broke in quickly "Thank you Doctor. Please report on Commander Chakotay's condition when you have formed an opinion. I will then decide what to tell the crew." Tuvok did not seem any more affected than if receiving a normal security report. But his next words did reveal his discomfort with the situation.
"What you have witnessed here should go no further. For the time I will assume command. If there are any questions about Captain Chakotay then you are to say he is reviewing the current situation and is not to be interrupted."
"Yes Commander," mumbled the assembled officers barely in unison. The EMH nodded his agreement and left the room without further discussion - which was strange enough in itself.
B'Elanna put her head in her hands and released the breath she had not realised she was holding. Tom and Harry looked at each other, also not quite able to believe what had happened.
"Kahless! And all because some junior saboteur crossed her bloody wires."
"I concur Lieutenant, the Captain's death was an accident" said Tuvok.
B'Elanna snorted "In the strict sense yeah, that excuse for an engineer mis-wired the device and when the Captain disconnected it the whole circuit exploded, but if the evil sons of pigs hadn't started this ....."
She trailed off overwhelmed by helpless fury. A haggard and distraught Harry Kim picked up the attack.
"They should pay for her death with their own, for the betrayal of their comrades. Nothing can make this right except their deaths. And remember Tuvok they left us hanging helpless in space. Anyone could have attacked us."
B'Elanna could never have imagined Harry like this. In the period since the Captain's death something had changed in him. Bitterness and hopelessness had replaced his habitual optimism as though the Captain's death had somehow defeated all of them and they could not atone for the failure.
Tuvok was implacably reasonable. "Undoubtedly the Captain's death was a consequence of the actions of the renegades Ensign, nonetheless it was an accident. They will be charged with sabotage, behaviour unbecoming an officer and theft of Starfleet property."
Tom Paris shook his head and stood up slamming his fists on the conference table. "It's not right Tuvok. Charge them with mutiny or manslaughter."
"Such charges would not be sustainable Ensign. If they are found guilty then they will receive the appropriate punishment for their crimes. Security will require four weeks to prepare the court martial. In the meantime the accused will remain in the brig under guard."
"For their own safety I suppose." sneered Tom Paris.
"That is correct Mr Paris." He hesitated for a moment before continuing "It is now my duty to report a matter which may have unfortunate significance in the current situation." The Vulcan looked almost embarrassed which was unsettling.
"What the hell else can be wrong Tuvok? Have we left someone else behind?" needled Tom.
Tuvok looked at him with a strange expression. "We have been in the Delta Quadrant a significant number of years" he said evasively. "More than six years." He then paused as though unable to put his thoughts into words.
Gloomy certainty clutched B'Elanna's heart as she sat up to look him in the face. "Pon Farr, you are to enter Pon Farr". She lay back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. Tuvok was almost satisfied that someone had guessed. It was hard for a Vulcan to even admit the existence of Pon Farr to non-Vulcans, it was easier not to say the words.
"Indeed Lieutenant. It is not an immediate risk but it is highly unlikely that I will be able to command Voyager for an extended period. It is imperative that Commander Chakotay be able to resume his duties."
"With our luck! What an optimist .... " Tom's voice trailed off as B'Elanna glared at him. "What? It's true. I'm a betting man and I don't rate our chances."
Tuvok ignored the ensign.
"For the moment we shall carry on our duties within the current command structure. I will act as captain until Commander Chakotay recovers from his affliction. Dismissed."
Sandrines
One evening a few days later, B'Elanna sat alone in the bar after her shift, nursing a beer and worrying about the future. Not natural even for a part Klingon. Engineering was not a happy home and team morale was low. Guilt by association. Several of the engineers blamed themselves for not noticing the sabotage. But B'Elanna knew it was futile, Lieutenant Thatcher had made the amendments over a considerable period and always as part of the routine maintenance work she was assigned. It had simply never occurred to any of the crew that after six years in the Delta quadrant they would be betrayed by one of their own. Tuvok had not really helped the situation by ordering tighter security. The result was a much more obvious security presence in key areas. A mood of suspicion and fear hung over the ship.
There were a hundred stories circulating about Chakotay's condition and surely Tuvok wouldn't keep the truth from the crew for much longer. 'He should tell them' she thought. Nothing good could come of this deceit and the wild rumours and gossip. But Tuvok seemed determined to give the Commander as much time as he could to recover without disclosing the truth of his condition.
The Doctor was trying his best but Chakotay's illness was hard to treat even with 24th century medicine. The Commander had retreated into his own reality, his mind refusing to acknowledge the truth about Captain Janeway's death.
Remembering him as the strong independent Maquis commander and seeing him now, B'Elanna could hardly bear to be near him but she made herself visit him everyday and despised herself as her heart shrivelled inside her when he asked her in. Sitting in his quarters, talking to him B'Elanna found his gentle insistence on consulting the dead Captain unnerving. Any attempt to contradict the illusion sent the normally unflappable officer into a rage or even worse made him cry like a frightened child.
B'Elanna would talk to him about Voyager and engineering and he would advise her gently and persuasively as he had always done, and sometimes she would almost forget that he was ill, until inevitably he would say "Ask the Captain" or "I'll speak to the Captain".
Imperceptibly the behaviour of the crew had begun to change. They were not as smart, not so thorough. B'Elanna had had to reprimand two of her staff for not turning up for their shifts.
She tried to tell Chakotay about her fears and how much harder everything seemed.
"Why don't you ask Seven to help you in Engineering?" He said. "She could take some of the load and I'm sure the Captain wouldn't mind. She thinks so much of Seven and of you, she would be pleased to see you work together, very pleased." He stopped speaking as he listened to his Captain. "Yes Kathryn I'm sure that would work" he replied.
B'Elanna felt chill fear and revulsion grip her stomach and quickly rose up to leave thanking him for his advice, unable to stay any longer. When she got outside his quarters she leaned against the wall and felt the bile rise in her throat. She stood and breathed deeply until the nausea subsided. She had never needed a drink so much in her young life and that is how she found herself in Sandrines staring into a beer and worrying about what was to come.
Chakotay's advice about Seven came back to her and she surprised herself by considering it seriously. Seven was still being monitored by the Doc but perhaps it would help her to have some work to return to and Seven could certainly assist B'Elanna with her current problems. Feeling a little better B'Elanna got to her feet chugged the last of her beer and set off for sick bay.
Sick Bay
The Doc was fussing around annoying Tom Paris who looked very relieved at B'Elanna's entrance.
"B'Elanna! Just the woman. Sorry Doc, have to go I need to discuss an engineering problem." The pilot winked at B'Elanna.
The Doctor raised his eyebrows and looked most cynical "I have no doubt Mr Paris that there is an urgent need to discuss your latest trick pool shot but these patient notes must be updated now."
"Sorry Tom I came by to see Seven" said B'Elanna. She smirked at the disappointed pout.
"Where is she?" The drone was not lying on the usual biobed.
"I released her 30 minutes ago Lieutenant. She has returned to cargo bay 2 to regenerate. Why do you want to speak to her?" The EMH was curious as to why the Lieutenant would want to speak to Seven.
Hearing the news B'Elanna felt her spirits lift, "Is she fit for duty Doc?"
The Doctor spoke a little doubtfully.
"In my opinion she is not a danger to anyone but she is still somewhat withdrawn and sitting in sick bay all day was not helping. Returning to duty may be beneficial but she should not do too much at least for the first few days."
B'Elanna hummed to herself as she walked to cargo bay 2. I've missed the arguments and the bickering she thought. I'm actually looking forward to seeing that superior expression. "Your methods are inefficient Lieutenant" she mimicked out loud and grinned broadly at two surprised ensigns.
The engineer entered the cargo bay with a welcome feeling of optimism. She stopped puzzled. "Seven?" The regeneration alcove was empty "Seven are you here?"
"Lieutenant Torres" said a supercilious voice behind her and B'Elanna turned round to see the ex-drone entering the cargo bay.
"Sorry I was expecting to find you here already." She carefully appraised the Borg and was relieved that Seven appeared as normal. Unemotional, calm, tall, blonde, gorgeous ...... B'Elanna mentally shook herself as the adjectives ran away with her and tried to concentrate on the ex-drone's words.
"I attended to some matters in Astrometrics first." she said without inflection and walked past the engineer and prepared to step into her alcove.
B'Elanna paused, she had never asked the Borg for help before. "How are you feeling Seven?"
"I am functioning with..."
"... within normal parameters, I know. But how are you feeling?"
Seven didn't answer and B'Elanna tried again. "Are you up to a stint in engineering. I could use the help." Seven flinched and something like pain washed over her face.
"I do not think engineering would be ... suitable. We do not work well together." The blond avoided B'Elanna's eyes. "I do not wish to return to engineering."
"Seven you are not the only one who misses the Captain but we have to move on. Voyager needs you and the crew need you." said B'Elanna harshly.
Seven's expression hardened and in a chilly voice she replied "You are mistaken Lieutenant no one needs me. I am aware that apart from Captain Janeway, I was an unwelcome addition to this crew."
B'Elanna abruptly lost patience "Seven this is self pity and whatever our differences I never expected to hear you whine like a miserable p'taq. You will report to engineering tomorrow for the alpha shift."
"No"
Trying not to shout and against her better judgement B'Elanna tried reason again. "Listen I know how you felt about her and I am truly sorry but she would be horrified at your behaviour. Seven this is hard, but this ship, this collective is falling apart and it needs us to try and hold it together. In your heart you know Kathryn would want us to save her ship and her crew regardless of the cost to ourselves and our own feelings."
That got a reaction from Seven who stepped towards the engineer with rage in her clear blue eyes. "You know nothing of my feelings Lieutenant Torres. And now that Captain Janeway is dead her opinion is irrelevant also." Her voice rose sharply as she said this and she folded her arms across her chest tightly.
B'Elanna swallowed the insult that rose to her lips and stuck to the argument.
"You know that is not true Seven. Okay you loved her and she died. Many people I loved in the Maquis are now dead but I moved on. The ones you love don't want you to die with them."
The ex-drone replied angrily "I recall Lieutenant that you did not handle that news well and you did not 'move on' before trying to kill yourself repeatedly."
"Hell's bells I was not trying to kill myself" B'Elanna roared losing control for a moment and then with a supreme effort calmed herself to continue through clenched teeth "but it's true I needed help, now let me help you. Have you talked about your feelings to anyone, cried for her?"
"Borg do not cry." said Seven shortly.
"Nor do Klingons, we have no tear ducts, but I am not all Klingon and you are not all Borg, and perhaps it is time to learn to cry. This evening," said the Chief Engineer determinedly, "we are going to mourn her properly. I will invite Tom and Harry. Neither is in much better shape than you."
"I do not think ... "
"Seven, don't think just comply."
For a small eternity Seven stared at her and then nodded "I will comply - but on condition that Mr Paris and Mr Kim do not attend."
B'Elanna exhaled slowly and nodded and promptly wondered what the hell she had gotten herself into. Sometimes she wished she were more Klingon with a ritual for everything. Songs, pain, inedible food, deadly quantities of blood wine, bloody tales of death and everyone goes home feeling better or at least dead drunk.
'But I know nothing about all this emotional stuff,' she thought in a panic, 'I'll have to improvise - I'm good at that but what the hell am I going to do with her?'
B'Elanna's quarters
At eleven p.m. sharp Seven sounded the door entry of B'Elanna's quarters and when the door opened she almost turned on her heel and left. The lieutenant's rooms were dark and unfamiliar tinny music assailed her ears. The smell of smoke and alcohol continued the assault on her senses. She was about to sound the fire alarm when Lieutenant Torres emerged from the gloom.
"Quick Seven get inside before the sensors detect the smoke. I have disabled them in here."
Seven acquiesced, crossed the threshold and the door hissed shut. She looked doubtfully round in the gloom. "Why have you set fire to your room Lieutenant?"
"I haven't, it is cigarette smoke and burning incense." B'Elanna felt foolish. The idea had been to replicate an informal, less antiseptic environment than the norm on Voyager. Usually she would have used the holodeck but both were fully booked for the evening so she had made do with some replicated Trill cigarillos and burning Vulcan meditation oils. The latter were widely used by non-Vulcans for their mood enhancing properties.
"For what purpose?" asked Seven dispassionately which did nothing to ease B'Elanna's sense of absurdity.
"Atmosphere" she answered too sharply. "Atmosphere which is rapidly dissipating in all senses so no more questions Seven, I want you to stop dissecting everything and relax" and muttered to herself "if we are both to come out of this alive."
"Relaxation will be difficult in a room where 10.4 percent of the air contains unbreathable or toxic gases."
B'Elanna ignored the jibe "Would you like a drink Seven and please don't tell me you don't require it at this time?" she said quickly as Seven started to make the automatic response.
"What are you drinking Lieutenant?" Seven asked politely but awkwardly.
"Scotch whisky. Probably too strong for you."
Seven's chin went up "I will have the same Lieutenant. I have adjusted my implants to remove synthehol toxins more thoroughly."
"If you insist but I'll make it a small one." B'Elanna did not want to manage a blind drunk grieving Borg.
"How do you propose we proceed Lieutenant?" Seven asked as B'Elanna handed her a small glass of amber-coloured alcohol. It was replicated but was a reasonable imitation.
"I am beginning to wonder myself, since you won't let me invite anyone else it is going to make things more difficult with just two of us."
"What would we have done with the additional personnel?"
"Er, we would have drunk and eaten together and everyone would have shared stories of the Captain both good and bad, we would have argued, fought and perhaps cried. And then we would all fall into bed drunk and emotionally exhausted and wake up tomorrow with hangovers and maybe we would start to leave the grief behind. That's the theory behind a wake - probably doesn't work but there it is."
"Why do we require more than two people for this purpose?" Since Seven said this in the same way she would when considering a not very interesting sensor procedure B'Elanna wondered again what insane impulse had made her even consider this.
She hesitated before thinking of a reply. "Well neither of us is much good at expressing our feelings. A couple of humans might make it go with more of a swing." Seven lifted her implant very slightly and B'Elanna added with a slight grin "Humans are altogether too good at expressing emotion."
"We will not require their assistance Lieutenant." Seven was firm and B'Elanna felt oddly honoured at being included in a collective of two by the Borg.
Seven took a sip of her whisky and her face twisted at the taste and the burning feeling as she swallowed. "You drink this for pleasure?"
"It is an acquired taste Seven. Some of the best things are - and for a few hours it will make the world seem like a better place."
B'Elanna immediately regretted saying that as Seven promptly tipped up her whisky glass and swallowed the lot. 'Oh stop fussing Torres' said a smirking inner voice 'she is not an infant and getting a little drunk was part of the plan wasn't it?'
Seven was coughing a little but held out her glass for a refill without hesitation.
B'Elanna poured a small shot into the proffered glass. "Sit over there Seven and I'll get you something to eat with your drink." She returned with a bowl of Kelva nuts. Famous for two reasons - their almost fluorescent green colour and the mellowing effect widely valued by partygoers across the Delta quadrant.
Neelix had served them once on yet another Talaxian holiday. The effect on the crew had been dramatic enough for the Captain to ban them from all future celebrations. The sight of half of her command crew holding hands and crooning was unnerving and somehow not very Starfleet. The EMH had assured the Captain that aftereffects were minimal and the nuts were not chemically addictive. This had not altered the Captain's traditionalist mind, which found the idea of chemical pleasure without consequence even more disturbing. The nuts had immediately become a necessary, if illegal, staple at private parties.
Seven looked at the green glowing, cherry-like nuts incuriously. She knew what they were. The Borg had assimilated many cultures that knew how to have a good time. She took three and consumed them in quick succession.
"Hey there's no rush. We have all night." B'Elanna suppressed another twinge of apprehension. The ex-Borg seemed calm. She was sipping her whisky and staring at nothing in particular. B'Elanna took the chance to look at her carefully and noticed a very slight trembling in the hand holding the whisky glass. And she was too pale, drained of blood much like the drone she had once been.
B'Elanna then had the strange impression that Seven was looking at something after all, her expression altering minutely as some event played in her mind.
The half-Klingon cursed under her breath as she realised with a stab of insight that for Seven the events of the last week would never be forgotten. For the alpha quadrant crew time would erode the memories and the pain but Seven had immediate and complete access to everything she had experienced since becoming Borg. Except now there was no Borg collective to filter out the 'irrelevant' emotions. Perhaps chemically lowering Seven's self control was a really lousy idea.
"Seven" she said gently, trying to interrupt the ex-Borg's thoughts.
"I could have done nothing differently" said Seven unexpectedly placing her glass on the floor. "There is nothing to be learned from this, nothing I could change." The lovely face contorted and she folded her arms tightly around herself shrinking back into her seat.
"That's true." B'Elanna spoke carefully, unsure where this was going.
Seven continued to mutter like someone repeating a mantra. "It was 'bad luck'. It could have happened to anyone." She curled herself into a smaller package than her two-metre frame should allow.
"Why her?" she whispered.
B'Elanna was a little freaked. Either Seven had swallowed a book of platitudes to comfort those in distress or the EMH had a lot to answer for. And it was obvious that she wasn't comforted in the least.
"Seven .... I don't know the reason the Captain died and not someone else. I don't think there is one. We live a dangerous life ...."
"No" said Seven. "Why do I love her? Why could I not love Ensign Kim or Tuvok or you?" Seven of Nine began to cry painfully and awkwardly.
The turn of conversation was too much for B'Elanna. She gulped her drink. She had expected stilted and polite conversation or argument from the ex-drone not hearts-on-sleeve confessions and tears.
B'Elanna knelt down by the sobbing woman. "Seven I'm sorry." She stroked the fair hair and murmured "It will be okay, I'll look after you. Don't cry. Don't cry ...." Seven uncurled enough to allow B'Elanna put her arm around the narrow shoulders.
"... unless you need to" she amended and cursed herself equally for being so inadequate and for getting into this in the first place. On impulse she leant down and kissed one tear-stained eye and then the other. Her lips brushed the cortical implant over Seven's left eye.
She felt Seven withdraw slightly and pulled away somewhat to meet her gaze. In a few achingly slow seconds B'Elanna Torres lost both her hearts to the pain-darkened blue eyes. She buried her fingers in the soft hair and slowly bent to kiss grief-reddened lips.
Strong hands placed on her shoulders held her back. Distressed B'Elanna tried to stand. But the same hands held her still.
"I'm sorry Seven. I shouldn't have done that." she muttered staring hard at a point just over Seven's shoulder.
"You are attracted to me" Seven stated. Her voice shook but B'Elanna was unable to discern whether it was fury, amusement or too much drink. B'Elanna was embarrassed beyond any measure. And she was uncomfortable at how easily Seven was restraining her. It was disturbing to find herself so much weaker than someone else. She was accustomed to being amongst the strongest on the ship.
"Let me go. I said I was sorry."
Seven gave no sign of hearing her and her grip tightened until it hurt.
"Captain Janeway did not want me. She preferred a non-sentient hologram to a reclaimed Borg." Seven slurred her words fractionally and regarded her with an expression that B'Elanna could only describe as speculative. "Do you want me Lieutenant?"
"Look it was wrong for me to take advantage and it won't happen again. Okay? So release me." B'Elanna twisted her body in an attempt to free herself. Seven barely seemed to notice.
"Lieutenant Torres I asked you a question. Do you want me?" Seven gripped her even harder and shook her slightly. B'Elanna opted for blunt truth.
"Yes. I want you" she yelled. B'Elanna was angry and humiliated, her inner Klingon screaming at the indignity. "Now let me go or I'll hurt you Dammit...."
"You may have me, if you wish" Seven said quietly. Seeing the disbelief in the half-Klingon's wide eyes a hint of desperation played over the beautiful face. She released her hold on the struggling woman's shoulders and wrapped her arms around B'Elanna's small form and, taking advantage of B'Elanna's shock Seven kissed her mouth swiftly, gently. B'Elanna jerked her head away.
Seven's fragile composure collapsed.
"Lieutenant Torres. Please, " begged the ex-drone. "I am....lonely. I would expect nothing but I cannot be alone any more."
Her anger vapourised by pity, B'Elanna ceased to struggle within the powerful arms that held her and relaxed against the lean body. Seven moaned and then began to kiss her in earnest. A tide of desire caught B'Elanna by surprise, flooding her nerve-endings. But she clung to reason.
"Seven this is a really bad idea. Neither of us is ready for this. It's too fast" she argued although her body was busy asserting that it was ready, more than ready.
Logic screamed that this was lust, created by grief-fuelled loneliness and given release by alcohol. 'Oh to hell with logic.' snorted her inner voice. 'You are a Klingon hybrid not a snivelling Vulcan. And where in Kahless' name did she learn to kiss like this?'
Her train of thought derailed completely as she felt Seven's hands slide under her Starfleet issue tee-shirt and move against her skin. Klingon blood thundering through her veins, B'Elanna Torres ceased to be a passive participant. She smiled fiercely as Seven's head went back gasping. Perhaps this would help after all and it was too late to stop now. Much too late ....
Unacceptable Losses by halfofone
Part 3:
Date added: 2000-10-31 Rating of this chapter: R
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
The past - B'Elanna's Quarters
The yellow-alert sounded and B'Elanna rolled over in her bed groaning as the room and her stomach both slowly flipped over. She wrinkled her nose 'I smell smoke?' she thought hazily. And then more urgently 'maybe there's a fire!'
She sat up quickly. "Computer. Time?"
THE TIME IS 5.08 AM replied the computer.
She heard a cool voice behind her saying "We are required in the briefing room Lieutenant." The events of last night tumbled back into her consciousness.
"Seven" she squeaked before pulling herself together and resuming speaking two octaves deeper.
"Seven what is happening?"
"I do not know" replied the tall ex-Borg who was dressed already, the breathtaking body covered by a mesh biosuit.
B'Elanna grinned, now fully aware of the circumstances and her own body, as she swung her legs over the side of the bed. 'Aching for all the right reasons' she thought smugly. Awake enough now to pay attention to her companion, B'Elanna noticed Seven's distant manner. She was studiously avoiding looking at the naked half-Klingon.
"Does Tuvok know you spent the night here?" B'Elanna smiled up at the tall blonde trying to gauge her mood.
"Apparently so" said Seven not returning her gaze but staring determinedly at the floor.
"Hmm." said B'Elanna. She was surprised at how little the thought of other people knowing about her night with Seven of Nine, ex-Borg drone, disturbed her. But she was now concerned about Seven's state of mind. "Come here Seven and say good morning properly."
"I cannot. I must leave now. I am sorry Lieutenant." Her voice cold as the void of space, Seven of Nine walked to the door in three long strides and left B'Elanna's quarters without another word and without looking back.
"What the hell?" Torres was too stunned for a moment to react and then hot anger swept over her and she jumped to her feet and rushed the nearly closing doors, which parted in front of her. She skidded to a halt in the corridor seeing Seven turn the corner at the far end.
"You god-damn drone, how fucking dare you leave me like this?" She screamed at the retreating figure who did not even hesitate. B'Elanna stood there clenching her fists watching the empty space as her heart went into a slow anguished free-fall. She slammed her fist into the wall hard enough to break bones. The pain brought her back to herself and slowly she became aware that there were several horrified crewmen in the corridor and that she was still buck-naked.
"Ten thousand plagues on your house" she roared after the retreating figure. And turned to glare at an unfortunate gawking crewman.
"Is there a problem ensign?" She asked furiously offended by his gaze as though seeing a naked screaming senior officer should be a matter of no note.
He shook his head terrified.
"Don't stand about gasping for air - get to your post. Am I the only one who realises there's a yellow alert?" And with that she swept back into her quarters. The frozen cameo in the corridor disintegrated as the shocked crewmen suddenly remembered where they were going.
B'Elanna dressed herself as quickly as she could concentrating on the pain in her shattered knuckles in order to distract herself from the pain and humiliation of Seven's desertion. In two minutes she was on her way to the briefing room.
The Briefing Room
Tuvok stood at the end of the conference table, flanked on one side by a Bolian security officer called Krathie and on the other by Neelix. Harry, Tom and Seven were seated at the far end in silence. Harry was sitting with his head in his hands and only Tom looked up as she came in.
"Hey Lanna" said Tom breezily. "Come to see the latest screw-up." Seven did not look at her and B'Elanna clenched her fists, wincing at the pain.
"Lieutenant?" queried the acting Captain. And frowned as he observed her swollen hand.
"An accident Commander." The look on her face dared anyone to ask any more questions.
Tuvok arched an eyebrow in a gesture of extreme Vulcan disbelief but allowed the matter to pass. The security officer and Tom smirked and B'Elanna scowled. More grist to the rumour mill about Klingon mating habits.
"What's happened Tuvok?" asked the engineer wearily, wondering what new misfortune the day could bring.
"The four prisoners were murdered last night." Tuvok spoke very evenly which made the words even more incongruous. B'Elanna took a full second to understand what he had said.
"What? Sweet Kahless what is happening to this ship?" she said with a disbelieving grimace. Ill temper then made her add "Not that they didn't have it coming." Tuvok stared at her and she clearly sensed his disapproval.
"I do not think the prisoners deserved this" he said and gestured to the view screen behind her. B'Elanna followed his gaze.
B'Elanna was no delicate little flower but she felt her stomach heave and was grateful that she had not eaten in the last few hours. The decapitated corpses of the prisoners lay on the floor of their cell, and their severed heads were lined up on a bench in the holding cell, faces to the wall. Blood from the corpses had flowed over the floor in patterns matching the slight variations in Voyager's artificial gravity field. Footprints were clear in the gore although the prints did not extend beyond the immediate area of the crime."
"Transported" guessed Tom out loud. "The killer must have been covered in blood but there is none outside the cell."
"Who did this Tuvok?" Asked B'Elanna. Much as she despised the four renegades Torres was revolted by the brutality of their deaths.
"The murderer has not yet been identified Lieutenant."
"You mean you don't know?" Harry was almost sneering. "What about the guards and the security sensors? Let me guess, sensors were not functioning again, the guards were unconscious and the murder was committed by the invisible man."
"Damn useless Starfleet security" exclaimed B'Elanna. "I'm gonna rebuild this ship's internal systems so not even the Captain can flick a switch without being observed and not even Kahless himself could override the sensors. Ye gods Maquis security was so much better" she fumed.
Tuvok interrupted her rant. "The brig sensors functioned perfectly. We know how the murder was committed but not the identity of the person responsible. Computer replay sensor log 56277.5."
The view screen picture of the murder scene cleared and came to life focused on an earlier scene in the brig. The log chronometer showed 4:03:37 am. Two guards were seated. After a few seconds one got up to examine a console. On the soundtrack gentle snoring could be heard from the cells. The main corridor doors hissed open and a large man in Starfleet science uniform entered. He looked familiar but B'Elanna couldn't place him. Tom gasped and she supposed it was recognition. But he said nothing as the replay continued.
The guards looked puzzled and could be heard asking his identity. The man lifted his arm and threw a small object at the feet of the security officer. It shattered and the security man fell to his knees instantly. The second officer shouted and managed to clear her phaser from its holster before she too fell down and lay absolutely still.
Shouting from the cells indicated that the prisoners had woken. The sensor view shifted to the cells. The intruder was deactivating the cell force field. The occupants collapsed almost immediately as the contaminated air from outside flooded the cells. They lay on the ground twitching helplessly. The intruder entered the cell, put down his case, opened it and withdrew a smallish but lethal looking axe. He lifted up one of the paralysed prisoners effortlessly and held her head on one of the sleeping benches, exposing the neck and then with a single stroke cut off her head. He placed the head carefully on the bench and repeated his actions methodically with the remaining prisoners, slipping once or twice in the blood streaming from his victims' clean-cut veins and arteries.
When he had finished, he unhurriedly laid the red-stained weapon on the floor and stood up. The watching officers could see his blue uniform jacket was dark where the victims' blood had spurted. Reaching for what looked like a badge on his chest the killer tapped out a short sequence and vanished. The badge fell to the floor where after a few seconds it ignited and burned fiercely. Before it had finished burning, security officers in breathing masks entered the room.
Tuvok stopped the playback. The sensor clock read 4:05:23. The whole crime had taken less than two minutes.
"Are you going to tell us Tuvok that you don't know who this crewman is?" asked B'Elanna.
"He's not a crewman," said Tom Paris in a dull voice. "The killer is Michael Sullivan, a hologram from the Fair Haven programme."
"But that is not possible. There are no holo-emitters in the brig." White-faced, Harry was almost shouting. "And how in hell would he get there?"
The others stared at the Ensign.
"Take it easy Starfleet" said B'Elanna and put her hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off and put his head in his hands again.
"Sorry Commander" he mumbled.
"It would appear that the hologram was equipped with a portable emitter Mr Kim. The discarded object although badly burned was identifiable as such. Preliminary examination suggests it is a primitive version of the EMH portable emitter. Sufficient perhaps to maintain a simple hologram with a single task."
"Are you are saying someone on this ship designed and made this thing with the idea of remotely killing those traitors. Clever" said Tom.
Feeling sick with comprehension, B'Elanna interrupted Tom.
"Two of the gamma shift engineers, Sung and Pike have been working for several months on a prototype project to design a simple portable holo-emitter. We knew we could not duplicate the Doc's 29th century device but the intention was to allow us to develop a holo-emitter that could maintain simple holograms that could be used to do some of the more tedious or dangerous engineering tasks. The prototype was designed using the Michael Sullivan matrix - it was a joke."
Tuvok quirked his eyebrow inquisitively.
"As a surprise for the Captain, you know. A toy the Captain could take home with her." Seven looked at her for the first time. Her expression was stony and B'Elanna became defensive.
"When I found out I put a stop to the Sullivan thing okay? But the project continued - they did a lot of off duty hours. Obviously they were further along than I knew."
Tuvok addressed his security officer. "Find Pike and Sung and bring them here. Their quarters are to be searched."
B'Elanna intervened. "Tuvok I cannot believe either of them is capable of something like this. They are good engineers, not killers."
Tuvok was unmoved. "Whomever is responsible we will undoubtedly be disconcerted by their identity Lieutenant."
Arriving home from engineering that evening B'Elanna could not understand what was happening. Her world was falling apart. The Captain was dead and her best friend, Chakotay, lost to reality and now several of her team were under suspicion of murder. As if that was not enough Seven was avoiding her. She had received a curt message saying that Seven was unavailable for duty in engineering.
Involuntarily her mind flashed back to the night before and images of making love, the feel of the sensual mouth and rough velvet tongue on her breasts, the urgent strength of long delicate looking fingers. Her lover's strangely beautiful body. Perfect alabaster skin traced with living grey metal. Borg implants just visible below the skin and in some places breaking the silk smooth surface of the skin, strange inorganic jewellery growing from her body or running in unyielding alien lines across the very human frame.
The unbelievable skill. She had jokingly quizzed Seven about her experience and knowledge. The former drone was unsmiling as she offered the chilling explanation.
"The Collective considered the sexual practices of assimilated cultures to be relevant knowledge . Relevant to the construction and delivery of biological weapons."
B'Elanna damned her own insensitivity and she worked hard to erase the troubled expression from her lover's sweet face and reaped the reward when Seven cried out her name. It felt so right afterwards. She had fallen asleep in Seven's arms, resting her head on Seven's perfect breasts, listening to the slow, strong beat of her lover's heart, idly tracing the path of the shallow metal ridges across her abdomen, and wondering how she had come into such good fortune.
But all that was a distant memory. As she entered her quarters the detritus of last night's affair met her eyes and the room mocked her inadequacy. Angrily she ended her reverie.
'Torres are you some pathetic craven worm crawling on your belly that you allow her to treat you this way?' About-facing she headed out of her quarters and nearly collided with an impassive Seven of Nine who was standing outside her door.
B'Elanna was taken aback but didn't let it throw her off. She stepped back into her room and indicated that Seven should follow her. Seven entered the room and as the door closed B'Elanna said "I want an explanation."
Seven didn't bother to prevaricate. "Last night was a mistake. Clearly I had not adequately adjusted for the effects of the alcohol and Kelva nuts. I am sorry if I have inconvenienced you."
B'Elanna was livid but with heroic self-control she mirrored the ex-Borg's icy inconsequence
"Well I suppose you could call being used and discarded inconvenient but it would not be my first choice of words. I did not expect undying love Seven but at least a polite good morning and goodbye."
"It was not my intention to copulate with you Lieutenant. I have come to apologise for my behaviour." At last the woman met her gaze, her eyes, the cold unyielding blue of arctic seas. B'Elanna didn't flinch.
"What was your intention Seven? To humiliate me? To cut the first notch on the wall of your regeneration chamber?"
Seven was mystified by the reference but the first crack in her composure appeared. "I ... I betrayed her..."
"You betrayed me and I am not dead." said B'Elanna cruelly and regretted it immediately as Seven's eyes opened wide with hurt. She wondered at the regret. Angry as she was hurting Seven was too much like hurting herself. Hardly able to believe her own maturity B'Elanna bit back bitter words.
"Seven, we are getting no where with this. I didn't really want to argue over last night" she lied. "We are going to have to work together. I am your commanding officer and I need you in engineering. To head up the gamma shift. So you won't have to see me very often if that's what is bothering you. They are short of staff and morale is poor. I want them reorganised and their efficiency improved."
Seven of Nine studied her quietly for three point four seconds before acquiescing. "I will report at 2200 hours for duty Lieutenant."
"Carey will be relieved, he has been covering beta and gamma shifts for over a week. Report to me tomorrow morning at the end of your shift. I want a full assessment and proposal for reorganisation."
"Yes Lieutenant."
Seven left without another word. B'Elanna still felt rather pleased with her self-control. 'Chakotay will be amazed' she chortled before remembering the depressing reality of his condition. And then she also remembered that she would probably never again feel the length of Seven's body against her own and the marginal improvement in her mood vanished.
Three weeks later the crew of Voyager was still reeling from the disasters. Nothing had been fully resolved and suspicion and fear permeated the ship, rotting the fabric of their small society. Old animosities and mistrust returned between the Starfleet crew and the Maquis. Chakotay's condition had at last been disclosed to the crew but many Starfleet officers hinted they would be unwilling to accept his command even if he recovered. The Maquis responded by complaining about Tuvok and his methods. Matters were not helped when Tuvok promoted Harry Kim to Lieutenant and made him first officer. The Maquis crew thought B'Elanna should have been first officer unaware that she and Tuvok had decided she was more useful to Voyager as chief engineer than in the essentially administrative role of first officer.
Sung and Pike were released without being charged. The prototype holo-emitter project had been moth balled several weeks before the Captain's accident due to lack of time. The emitter had been stored in engineering but any crew member could have taken it. The project, while not high profile, had not been a secret. Tuvok's team was unable to trace any evidence linking the emitter to any particular member of the crew and the trail had gone cold. It had also proved impossible to trace the hologram's route to the brig and hence it's likely starting point. The only other piece of evidence was the murder weapon but that turned out to be even less helpful. The killing hologram had simply taken a fire axe from an emergency store close to the brig. The enquiry was losing its way and Captain Tuvok did not have sufficient time to pursue the case with his normal vigour.
B'Elanna went early to the mess hall for breakfast, the only meal she ate there at the moment. There were several other alpha shift crew in the mess including Tuvok. Neelix was fussing around trying to encourage the crew to try whatever concoction he had produced that morning but he knew better than to interfere with B'Elanna at this time of day and she sat in relative solitude. Seven and Carey were due to meet her for their normal engineering breakfast meeting in ten minutes. A routine that the three officers had fallen into.
She could hear Neelix talking to Tuvok, trying to persuade the Commander to have a bit more breakfast.
"It's really very good Commander and will build strong bones and teeth. Have a little more. I realise that the first mouthful may seem a little strong tasting but it becomes less challenging after the first swallow."
"Thank you Mr Neelix but I require no further food or drink. I am finished." Tuvok had that oddly harassed appearance, completely at odds with his Vulcan temperament, which he often seemed to show around Neelix.
"Mr Tuvok I think you should be setting a better example to your crew. As Captain they look to you...."
Neelix's words were lost in a howl of rage and the stocky little Talaxian was knocked two metres backward propelled by a Vulcan right hook. Tuvok was on his feet glowering "Do not presume to question my behaviour runt."
The occupants of the mess hall sat in utter silence. Tuvok glanced around with a comical look of dismay. B'Elanna nearly laughed, in the last twenty seconds she had seen more emotion from Tuvok than in the last six years. The sound of Neelix groaning brought her to her senses.
"What in Kahless name are you doing Tuvok?"
The Vulcan was perspiring heavily and struggling to regain some control.
"I do not know" he said shakily. "Mr Neelix do you require assistance."
"No I'm fine." Neelix got to his feet without help from the proffered hand. Even though his nose was bleeding and he was more than a little scared, the small man was determinedly light-hearted "I never realised you were such a vehement food critic Mr Tuvok."
The joke did not alleviate the Vulcan's distress. It was clearly visible which in a Vulcan was unnerving.
"I must see the Doctor" muttered Tuvok in a pained undertone. "Lieutenant Torres. You will accompany me."
B'Elanna followed Tuvok to the door and briefly considered issuing a gagging order to the remaining crew. She dismissed the idea. This would be impossible to keep under wraps and showing too much concern would only increase the rumour's momentum.
They met Seven in the corridor leading to the mess hall along with Lieutenant Carey. B'Elanna shook her head at them. "Meeting's cancelled" she said tersely not stopping. Seven and Carey stared after them as they entered the turbolift.
"Sickbay" said Torres. She watched her companion, concerned by the all too obvious struggle for control as he slouched against the wall of the lift.
"Do not stare at me Lieutenant" he growled and his hands balled into fists, he straightened himself to loom over her. He grimaced and subsided equally quickly muttering "I am very sorry Lieutenant." He closed his eyes and began reciting Vulcan meditation chants under his breath.
"It has started hasn't it ... ? Pon Farr ..."
He didn't answer but his eyes opened and she could see the primitive rage within. It was a distinct relief when they had arrived at their destination. Sickbay was empty and quiet, the EMH not active.
"Computer activate EMH" barked Torres. The volume of the bark reflecting her tension.
"Please state the nature of the medical emergency" said the materialising EMH. Taking one look at the anger-clouded face of the Vulcan he said "No need. I see that my latest potion was ineffective." He picked up a hypospray from the counter and pressed it into the Vulcan's neck. Tuvok immediately relaxed and his face regained its hallmark impassivity.
"Thank you Doctor."
"You knew it had begun?" said B'Elanna.
"Lieutenant it did not require a brain-surgeon to work it out. Although of course I am rather a good brain surgeon." He smirked.
B'Elanna remained stone-faced and the Doc lost the smile.
"Vulcans experience Pon Farr regularly every seven years give or take a few weeks. We have been in the Delta quadrant for more than six years. I discussed the situation with Mr Tuvok some months ago and with his permission I have been endeavouring to find some way of bypassing the crisis. We have had some success controlling the symptoms but I have been unable to defer the onset."
"I fear Doctor that we will have to adopt the fall-back plan." said Tuvok in a tortured whisper. The effect of the hypospray was already diminishing.
"Are you sure Captain? There are other things we could try."
"No!" shouted Tuvok. "No" he repeated more quietly. "There is no time. I pray that my wife adopts the same strategy before it is too late."
"And what strategy is that?" queried B'Elanna.
"I am going to place the Commander in a deep cryogenic suspension. Effectively we are going to freeze him at this moment in time. We contacted Starfleet with the details of the plan and Tuvok's family on Vulcan is preparing his wife for the same process. When we get back to the Alpha quadrant they can both be unfrozen and it will be as though the intervening time had not passed." The EMH was looking rather pleased at his solution.
"But that may be as much as forty years" she exclaimed. "Can't I just beat him up as I did with Vorik?"
"Lieutenant Torres, I am bonded to my wife T'Pel and without her I cannot resolve my Pon Farr nor she without me. I will die and my wife also." He paused, breathing carefully.
"And what the hell are we going to do in the meantime. Who is going to captain Voyager?" She stopped appalled at her own selfishness. The panic and grief making her whine like a coward.
The EMH had not considered the politics and said pensively. "Of course when we discussed the plan we had not anticipated losing Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay."
Tuvok was grimly hanging onto his wilting self-control. He steadied himself to speak.
"Please summon the senior officers to meet here and we will decide what can be done about my successor" he commanded shakily.
"Quickly Lieutenant, there is little time." He began chanting again, quietly, desperately fighting the fever he could feel burning away his logic and intellect, animal emotions sweeping through his soul to take revenge for seven years of suppression and slavery.
Torres slapped her comm badge. "Kim, Ayala, Paris, Neelix, Seven of Nine and Nicoletti to sickbay. Now." (Ayala and Nicoletti had been promoted as acting department heads of security and ops respectively to cover the changes in senior staffing.)
Hearing the Chief Engineer's brusque order the six officers stopped what they were doing and tried to kill the overly familiar sense of dread that gripped them.
"What now" mumbled Tom Paris. He smiled weakly at the ensign who stepped up to take his place at the helm. Tom was not like himself. The cocky young flyboy had aged and seemed almost nervous except when he was at the helm of Voyager. B'Elanna knew there was something upsetting Tom but when she had questioned him he fell silent or tried to distract her by talking of things he knew annoyed her.
Harry on the other hand had taken to the new role assigned to him as to the manor born. He had recovered from his anguish over Captain Janeway, the youthful uncertainty was gone and a confident Mr Kim was proving to be a good first officer. More cynical than anyone might have expected but then everyone had suffered some damage.
When the senior officers arrived the EMH filled them in on the situation and waited for the expected torrent of questions.
"Well I guess that makes Harry captain" said Ayala at last. Tom choked and started to cough. The EMH banged heartily him on the back.
"Under normal circumstances that would be correct" said Tuvok. The Vulcan's face was shining with perspiration as he struggled to keep his raging emotions in hand. "But these circumstances are not normal. Lieutenant Torres is the most experienced senior officer remaining and is the logical choice as captain"
"Many of the Starfleet crew would find it difficult to serve under a Maquis captain" pondered Neelix out loud.
"Mr Neelix firstly such considerations are unworkable on this ship. We must all work as one crew. And secondly this is not a democracy. The crew does not elect the captain. What is your opinion Mr Kim?"
Harry Kim was very collected when he spoke "I would be honoured to command Voyager but I accept that B'Elanna has more experience. I am prepared to accept your decision Captain."
"What about you Lieutenant Torres?"
B'Elanna swallowed hard. She would rather not be captain of Voyager but it looked like she didn't have a lot of choice. "I know I have more experience commanding small ships but I have no more experience of commanding a big starship than Harry. Slightly less in fact - at least he has trained in a command role on the gamma shift." She grinned at the Lieutenant who was trying hard to look cool. He smiled back.
Her grin faded when she looked at Tom. Inexplicably he was white-faced and frightened, her Klingon nose could smell the fear. But he said nothing and avoided her eyes. B'Elanna swore she was going to find out what was bugging the normally flamboyant Captain Proton so badly.
"I see" said Tuvok. "Does anyone else have anything to add?"
Seven of Nine avoided B'Elanna's eyes as she said quietly "Lieutenant Torres is the best officer available for the task. Both in terms of experience and abilities."
"From the limited choice on offer" joked Tom. He shut up quickly as three pairs of eyes turned on him angrily. Harry was transparently disappointed by the ex-drone's unemotional assessment.
Tuvok thought for a moment before speaking again. "Lieutenant Torres is promoted to the rank of acting Captain until such time as Commander Chakotay recovers from his illness. Mr Kim will remain as first officer. Computer transfer all of my command codes to Lieutenant Torres - authorisation Tuvok alpha alpha three five pi."
COMMAND CODES TRANSFERRED replied the computer for the third time in only a few weeks.
"Congratulations Captain Torres. I trust you will remember your duty to uphold Starfleet and Federation laws as well as your duty to Voyager and your crew. I have found serving with this crew to be satisfactory and it is with regret that I find myself unable to continue. Doctor, it is now time." The Vulcan's bloodshot eyes and twitching muscles confirmed his words.
The Doctor gently took his arm and led him to a biobed. He injected a hypospray of muscle relaxants and sedatives and Tuvok subsided on to the bed. "Live long and prosper." he murmured as he staggered into unconsciousness.
"Good" said the Doc. "The adapted stasis chamber is ready so if you will assist me Mr Paris we can begin the cryogenic freezing process. The rest of you can clear out of my sickbay. The meeting is over."
The new captain looked at her senior officers.
"Meeting in the briefing room in one hour. Seven could you ask Carey to attend. We will have to reorganise engineering. But the main topic will be how we inform the crew."
"Aye sir" they chorused.
B'Elanna followed Ayala and Nicoletti down the corridor.
"If our luck keeps up," she heard the new chief of security say to Nicoletti, "by the end of the week I should be captain and you first officer. I must brush up on my command protocols." B'Elanna grinned at his gallows humour.
"Be careful what you wish for Ayala." she called from behind.
"Sorry Captain" he returned smartly.
B'Elanna stopped as the meaning of what he said sank in. Captain. Captain of Voyager.
She looked around her at the familiar walls of her ship. And felt such a press of responsibilities that she felt physically weighed down. 'In Kahless name what am I going to do? I'm not ready for this. He's making jokes about command protocols. I'm going to have to actually learn this stuff.' She walked slowly back to her quarters.
With ease born of too much practice B'Elanna pushed the day's events out of her mind and tried to think of other things. The only problem was then she thought about Seven and that was worse. She forced herself to think about the one area of the ship where she was truly comfortable. Engineering.
Seven had been very thorough since joining main engineering and had already made significant improvements to the operation of the eight members of the gamma shift team. 'I wonder if she would do as well as chief of engineering' B'Elanna wondered to herself.
It had amused B'Elanna when Carey reported that the gamma shift was very protective of their new chief. Disparaging comments and name calling from other engineering shift team members had almost start fights in Sandrines. There was some initial grumbling from the gamma shift about having a Borg in charge but after a few days it stopped to be replaced by sincere admiration. It had been a long time since the gamma shift had received any attention from a senior officer as capable as Seven of Nine and in a startling display of loyalty the engineers had started to use the jokey Borg designations given them by the other shifts.
Seven had been slightly mystified by this as the designations were not used in any manner which would increase efficiency but she recognised the change in her relationship to her staff and she also started using the silly nicknames they had adopted. There was something rather touching about Seven seriously addressing one of her crew as Three's A Crowd. B'Elanna wondered how the gamma shift would feel at surrendering their boss so soon after she had started. All this constant change was not good for morale.
Seven and Torres had seen each other regularly at the engineering breakfast meetings where they discussed the work requirements for each of the three shifts. The ex-drone had been cool and professional.
No further mention was made of their abortive affair but B'Elanna had been unable to prevent herself thinking about the beautiful blonde. 'Close but not close enough Torres.' If the engineer was honest then she admitted that the loss still hurt. She was uncomfortably aware that if Seven wished to resume any relationship her Klingon pride might not save her from making the same mistake.
'There's no time for any of this now. I will have my hands full learning a new job and making sure Voyager doesn't suffer in the process.'
Checking her chronometer she groaned. Time to meet with the Senior Staff for the third new start in how many weeks was it? Five or six. She was no longer sure. It seemed like a lifetime.
The announcement of the latest disaster to befall Voyager and her crew had gone down like the proverbial lead balloon. There had even been heckling. Torres was well liked but the crew did not see her as Captain material. Not yet anyway.
"Who's going to change your diapers Captain?" yelled one anonymous wag. B'Elanna had kept her cool with difficulty.
"It's only to be expected" said Harry to B'Elanna afterward. "The poor bastards know their chances of getting home haven't got any better."
"How do you figure that Harry?" She was slightly hurt by his tone.
"Without Janeway or Chakotay? Gotta say the odds have worsened B'Elanna."
"A touch negative if you don't mind my saying Starfleet" she said feeling her Klingon rising.
"Just being realistic. Don't get me wrong B'Elanna I know you're going to try and make this work but much as I love you you're no Janeway. We are going to have to be a lot more careful and take fewer risks."
"That doesn't sound like the ensign who tried to lead us through the slipstream in the flyer."
"Older and wiser B'Elanna. Older and wiser."
He smiled and B'Elanna felt a little uneasy. Harry's black eyes were colder and less affectionate than usual. Then she thought that perhaps Harry was trying to set a slightly more captainly distance between them. Sad but probably necessary.
She hardened her tone. "Drop the speculation Commander and lets get going. We have a lot to do before we sleep. And Harry we are going to make this work."
NB: Credit for the picture of Captain Torres goes to Maggie Heaslip
Unacceptable Losses by halfofone
Part 4:
Date added: 2000-10-31 Rating of this chapter: R
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Still The Past - Two months later
Captain B'Elanna Torres of the Starship Voyager had finally caught up with Tom Paris. He was off duty and drinking in Sandrines.
"B'Elanna!" he cried. "Just the woman. Have you come to make up with me? I always knew you would come back."
"In your dreams Tom." she joked back. She had ended their relationship more than eight months previously and somehow remained good friends with the pilot despite Tom still carrying a torch for her. Something he never failed to remind her of, even now she was Captain.
"You seem in a better mood Tom."
"Well there is nothing like a glass of whiskey or is it five glasses? ....I'm not sure but it certainly dulls the pain."
"What's wrong Tom. You were an hour late for your shift yesterday. That's the third time this month. This can't go on. I'm going to have to bust you Tom if you don't shape up."
"Ah Captain. Well you know how it is, girl trouble, boss trouble, no friends, family failure. Take your pick. I am as ever a hopeless loser. Only now I'm a hopeless loser without a girl or a friend I can trust. Barkeep! Barkeep! Another drink please and one for the lady."
"Forget the drink Tom. I'm here as the Captain. And what do you mean without a friend you can trust? Have you fought with Harry?"
Tom lowered his voice and the shadow of fear came back. "I can't say." He looked around with big scared blue eyes.
"Tom for Kahless sake tell me what has been eating you for the last few months and I will try to help."
"Not here. In my quarters" he whispered. "Make it look like you and I are going for a cuddle."
"Not possible Tom. I am not one of your simpering girly ensigns. Now spit it out."
"No cuddle. No talk. I mean it B'Elanna I won't talk here. It's not safe" and he managed to look serious for a few moments until a stray thought crossed his brain. "Do Captains cuddle?"
She scowled at him.
"Not with low life like you. I'll come back to your quarters Tom Paris but if this is some lame-brain trick to get me into bed you are going to need more than the EMH to help you."
"A little more affection please B'Elanna. If this is going to convince anyone." He smiled at her endearingly and squeezed her affectionately. Around the bar B'Elanna could see people staring and sniggering. Quite a few looked surprised and disappointed.
"Come on oh beloved Capitano. Let's go snuggle." He said this loud enough to cause three of the engineers drinking behind to splutter on their beers.
"Tom! I may have to kill you anyway" growled the angry Captain in an undertone. Aloud she said "I will escort you to your quarters Ensign where you will remain until I decide otherwise."
Tom took her arm as they headed for the exit. He caught her by surprise when pausing on the way to the door, he bent down and lightly kissed her on the mouth at exactly the second that Seven of Nine entered the bar looking for one of her engineers.
"Captain." said the ex-Borg without expression.
"Seven! Umm yeah. I can explain. I mean Mr Paris and I were ...."
"Kissing is I believe the correct designation for the activity Captain. Explanation is unnecessary."
Tom was watching the exchange with growing interest. B'Elanna was flushed and obviously extremely uncomfortable at the Borg seeing them together. Seven was ... well she was Seven and even less emotional than a Vulcan. Who knew what she was thinking?
Seven switched her attention away from B'Elanna to the three engineers sitting at a table.
"Eight Bells you will be late for your assessment in four point two minutes. Do not disappoint me."
Seven left Sandrines amid roars of affectionate laughter. The promotion to Chief Engineer had changed Seven's status aboard Voyager. And she was popular with her staff. Sometimes it made B'Elanna quite jealous to realise how completely her engineering team had shifted their loyalty to the former Borg drone. It was dumb she knew. Given the chance Seven had shown herself to be a born leader and as Captain it made B'Elanna's life much easier if the department heads were good managers. She wished they were all as good.
B'Elanna's eyes followed Seven out the door. A fact not lost on Tom Paris. She dragged her eyes away to look questioningly at the object of Seven' visit to Sandrines. Eight Bells, a big shy guy, stood up looking sheepish and not a little love struck.
"Promotion assessment. I thought she woulda forgotten, set this up months ago, before she even became the Chief. I shoulda known better. The boss forgets nothing." He followed in his leader's footsteps.
Tom shook his head. "You know the things one sees today. I'm going to have a few questions for you Captain of mine or is it Captain of Nine." B'Elanna glared at him but the alcoholic haze protected him from her righteous anger and he hugged her affectionately.
"Let's get this over Tom and get out of here." They left the bar and B'Elanna felt immediate relief away from all the curious eyes.
"Always so hasty Capitano. Tell me do you make a habit of adjusting Seven's implants or was that a one-time thing." he guessed.
"Lay off the Seven quips and stop calling me Capitano you lush." B'Elanna was genuinely angry now as well as upset about Seven seeing Tom kissing her. Rationally she knew it did not matter. Seven didn't care either way.
"Okay, Okay." said Tom backing down. Then the bone-head surprised her as he often did. "It's not a bad match you and the Borg. Yeah I can definitely see it." He hugged her. "I want to see you happy B'Elanna."
"Tom shut up. There is no me and the Borg. Seven has no interest in me." Tom noticed the phrasing and was pleased at his own insight.
Entering his quarters B'Elanna was struck by the untidiness and the smell of drink. It served to remind her of why she was here and to drive Seven from her thoughts for a while.
"Tom now tell me what's wrong with you. Obnoxious as you are for some reason I still care about you and you are not doing well."
He poured two drinks and offered her one.
"No thanks Tom."
He shrugged and then swigged her drink himself settling down in a chair with the remaining glass.
"He did it."
"Who did what?"
Tom looked away from her out of the porthole at the star field. "He knows that I know. I don't rate my chances. Do you?"
"Tom what are you talking about?"
"I am talking about our esteemed first officer. Mr 'Pure as the driven snow' Kim."
"What has Harry done?"
"He killed them. Remember 'them'. Our friendly neighbourhood traitors."
"Tom you're nuts."
"I have high hopes of going nuts. Preferably before I take a long walk outside the ship without benefit of a safety rope or suit. Chilly and airless so I'm told."
"Tom be serious. Tell me what the hell you are saying and why. Harry is not only a good officer but also our friend. If this is a serious accusation then it had better be good."
"Do you remember the stolen holo-emitter. Harry had it two days before the murder.... in his room. It fell out his closet at my feet when he opened the door. I asked him what it was and he said that it was a science project and very boring. I didn't think any more about it until Tuvok showed it to us after the murder or rather what was left of it."
"Why didn't you tell Tuvok?"
"Because Harry was my friend. My best friend Lanna. The best friend I ever had. I loved him. How could I finger him for doing what every person on the ship wanted to do, including you and me babe? And then as time passed and I thought about it, I realised that it was too late to say anything. How could I explain not having said anything sooner?" Tom slumped down in a chair.
"So why the regrets this late in the day Tom? Seems like you made a decision. Why tell me now?"
"Because I keep dreaming about those bloody headless corpses and god-damn bodiless heads. And he's changed Lanna. He doesn't care. Yeah. it shook him to the core actually seeing the killing but now he doesn't care anymore. He thinks it was okay. Justifiable. Necessary."
"How do you know?"
"Because we talked about it. I told him right off that I knew and that I would stand by him. He cried, said that he didn't know what came over him and asked me how he could go on with that on his conscience. He was going to confess but he didn't and the next time we talked he said it was best for everyone if I just forgot all about it. Said that they had it coming and that if I were a good friend I would keep my mouth shut. You've seen what he is like now. There's nothing on his conscience Lanna. Now he's Super Starfleet again." Tom paused to take another drink.
"I tried to see him today and you know what. He threw me out. Said he didn't want a drunk like me on his ship and I'd better sober up and watch what I said or there would be one less on the passage home. Which is funny really when you think about it, I am the drunk he should be. Like I got his conscience."
B'Elanna was angry but not sure whom she was angry with.
"Let me get this clear. You are telling me that my right hand man and good friend is a psychopathic murderer and that as the only witness to his crime he has threatened your life." Tom nodded.
"What do you think I am going to do now Tom? Bring him to justice? Perhaps I should just kill him and then put myself in the brig. That sounds quite appealing."
Unexpectedly Torres started to laugh. "It's getting to be like the fucking Marie Celeste. The crew is disappearing, the twist is they are going one by one. Ayala was right, hang around long enough on this ship and you make Captain."
Tom was laughing now. Both holding on to each other, laughing as the door opened and Harry Kim appeared.
"Can I laugh too? What's the joke?"
"Oh nothing really. Just something that happened in Sandrines" said B'Elanna calming down. "You had to be there."
She looked into cold black eyes past the superficial smile and realised that he knew exactly what had been said. Poor stupid Tom. The room was bugged. Of course it was. No sane psychopath was going to leave the only witness to his crime without surveillance even if he was his best friend and now she was in it too.
"What brings you this way Harry? Tom tells me you are less than sympathetic to his problems."
"Cut the crap B'Elanna" snapped the first officer of Voyager. "The drunken arse has ratted on me. I knew it would happen one day."
Tom shrank away.
"Strong words for a godfearing officer like you Starfleet. If these walls had ears - Oh I forgot, they have" she said sarcastically.
Harry smiled unpleasantly. "So, what are you going to do now Captain Torres?"
B'Elanna was silent and Tom was cowering in the corner. Harry Kim looked at them almost affectionately.
"Okay let me lay out your options Captain. You can accuse me, and we can have a full Starfleet trial. Your evidence: the uncorroborated word of the ship's drunk against the word of the highly respected first officer. Or you can ignore the whole issue and leave this already unhappy crew with some kind of peace. A difficult decision for an honourable officer like yourself I realise."
"The crew are not at peace Harry. The murder still hangs over them all. Why did you do it? I know you were angry, so was I. I could certainly have used an hour alone with them. But killing like that - it goes against everything you believe. They should have been fairly tried for their crimes.
His dark eyes glittered with hatred and contempt but his voice was calm as he trotted out the justifications he had been rehearsing for so many months.
"B'Elanna, keeping them alive would have been detrimental to Voyager. Detrimental to our chances of success. They would have been a constant drain on our resources, and how long do you think they would have stayed in the brig B'Elanna? How long before it was decided enough was enough? And then they would have been out, mixing with the crew, spreading their corruption. I couldn't allow that."
"So are you trying to tell me that you killed the poor bastards because they were responsible for Janeway's death or because you thought they diminished your chances of getting home?"
"Both. Now you put it that way Captain. Both" he said in a voice pitched high with tension. Captain Janeway did not deserve to die like that. They betrayed us all."
She could see that for Harry the self-righteous anger and the fear had barely faded at all.
"Without her we will never return home B'Elanna? She was our only hope. Look at the last two months - barely 150 light years closer to home. We have had to divert to avoid three different star systems."
"What are you talking about?" B'Elanna was getting exasperated. Those species were not to be trusted. The whole sector was a war zone with added bounty hunters."
"There don't you see. You won't take the same kind of risks as Captain Janeway. She would have found a way through."
B'Elanna threw up her hands. "For Heaven's sake Harry, Janeway was a good captain, sometimes a great captain but she was not a god. She had plenty enough setbacks. We can't give up because of some perverted sort of hero-worship. I can just imagine what she would say to that." B'Elanna stopped to draw a deep breath.
"You had no right Harry just as I have no right to collude with their killer for the sake of a quiet life.
"So that's your decision?" His face and voice had relaxed and he seemed resigned. Perhaps even pleased.
"Yes that's my decision." Inwardly B'Elanna was sick. She didn't want to do this.
"As you wish. Your word against mine then. A true Klingon at heart aren't you B'Elanna. Courageous, strong, honourable and smart. Quite the combination. I'm going to have my work cut out but so are you. I hope you think the fight is worth it."
He was about to leave when B'Elanna said quietly. "Starfleet there is an alternative. ... Confess."
"And why would I do that Captain Torres?"
"To spare your ship and crew" she looked him straight in the eye.
He hesitated and then grinned boyishly, reminding her of the innocent young ensign she had first met. "Nice try B'Elanna but I don't think so. Thirty years in the brig...." he shrugged still smiling.
She grinned back at him. "I'll give you forty eight hours to reconsider Starfleet." He shook his head regretfully and walked out.
Tom rose to his feet, shaking. "B'Elanna much as I love you wasn't that a tiny bit stupid? You have just given him time to organise our premature deaths."
"He has had two months to prepare for this. I don't think a couple of days will make any difference. And to be honest I don't think Harry would hurt either of us."
RED ALERT - ALL CREW TO REPORT TO STATIONS
"Oh hell what now? She tapped her badge. "On my way to the bridge. Torres out."
"Are you fit for duty Tom?"
"I feel curiously sober my dear. The prospect of an untimely death has that effect."
"Well come on let's get to the bridge then. Hurry" she said as Voyager was rocked by some unknown impact.
Unacceptable Losses by halfofone
Part 5:
Date added: 2000-10-31 Rating of this chapter: R
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
An hour later chaos reigned on the bridge. A direct hit had taken out most of the command consoles although the helm was still functional. Any crew not directly engaged in the fight were carrying the injured to sickbay. 29 tiny ships were chasing around the battered Starfleet vessel.
B'Elanna shouted at Harry above the din of exploding electrical circuits "Re-route all non helm controls to engineering and send a team down there to man them. I want phasers and shields operational before they make another pass. Do you have helm control Tom?"
"The old girl is still flying, sweet as candy. But no warp engines yet Captain."
Concerned B'Elanna yelled back over the din. "We have to make a run for it. We need warp engines. There are too many to fight."
His hands flew over the console. "Seven estimates repairs to warp engines complete in one point eight minutes." B'Elanna rolled her eyes at the unnecessary precision.
INTRUDER ALERT reported the computer.
"We've been boarded Captain" bawled Ensign Delaney covering ops. "Ten life-forms have entered Engineering."
"If they take engineering we are lost. It may be all over B'Elanna" said Harry. "We should consider negotiating a surrender."
B'Elanna took one look at him. 'It's as though he wants us to lose. To prove himself right.' She ignored him "Security send three teams to engineering now! And prepare to repel boarders. Delaney re-route power to whatever shields we can muster. We don't want any more of the little ticks on board."
"Security teams on the way Commander." And for a few moments there was relative quiet as the remaining bridge crew waited for reports.
The hiatus was broken by Tom yelling in triumph. "Warp engines are on line."
Wondering how the hell Seven had managed to repair the engines with a bunch of intruders in the way B'Elanna thundered "Get us out of here Tom. Quick as you like."
Gleefully Tom Paris attacked the helm and Voyager seemed to gather herself for a moment before the warp engines hurled the screaming hull into distant space, away from her persecutors.
"Seven report. Have you secured engineering?" There was silence before the cool voice of Seven of Nine was heard on the fight damaged crackling communication system. "The intruders are holding three of my team hostage Captain and they have set an explosive device. They are demanding we return to location of their battle fleet and surrender."
"I'll be right down Seven. Keep them talking. Tom you have the bridge. Just keep flying as fast you can away from that battle fleet. Harry you're with me."
B'Elanna and Harry ran most of the way to engineering. Lifts were only functional between decks one and eleven after that it was a rapid descent down the Jeffries tubes. They arrived eight minutes later. Ayala met her just inside the door and held his finger to his lips.
"What is happening?" she whispered crouching beside him.
"There are six of them left. We got four. They have three of our people captive on the walkway above and behind the impulse engine plasma intake valve. Only one way up there, through Jeffries tube three, and they have that well covered. The explosive device is just inside the tube access door with the operator. From what we can tell it's got an explosive power equivalent to a couple of photon torpedoes. We tried to lock on transporters but there's some kind of interference."
B'Elanna made a move to stand up but Ayala clutched her arm. "Wait there's more. Seven is up on the walkway about five metres from where they are holed up. She is injured but we don't know how badly. She stopped responding five minutes ago."
Ayala stepped back at the look on his Captain's face. 'My God Klingon rising!' he thought.
"Ayala I want to speak to them. Patch a comm signal to that section."
"Aye sir." One of his aides crawled across the floor to a comms console. B'Elanna suddenly realised why they were being so cautious as a flash of blue plasma ripped through the air above their heads and vaped a section of wall behind them.
"No tricks human scum" a thin voice screamed.
Ayala whistled as he looked at the one metre hole. "We could use some of their weaponry but I don't think trade is their top priority."
B'Elanna got the nod from the security man at the comms console. "This is Captain Torres of the Starship Voyager. You have committed an act of piracy and we demand your immediate surrender."
Her comm badge crackled. "You can demand nothing Captain Torres. You entered the Forest of Shining Leaves and your ship is ours by right. Return us to our battle fleet and surrender your ship. We will not wait forever."
"Not possible" she said shortly.
"Then we will all die." The voice sounded mournful. "Please reconsider Captain."
B'Elanna was faintly surprised by the conciliatory tone of the request. "Who are you?"
"Guardians of the forest." said the voice with unmistakable pride.
Ayala muttered crossly "What is this forest shit? We are in deep space not some bloody woodland."
"One of my officers is injured. Can we at least recover her and get her treated while you and I discuss this further."
"NO! Captain we cannot allow you to approach and there is nothing to discuss. You will comply with our terms."
"We can transport her without approaching your position...."
"Permission denied - any attempt and we will have to hurt one of the hostages. In any case I believe she will be okay."
Ayala nodded his head and said very quietly. "Life signs are still strong."
"I will consider your proposal Guardian."
"Not too long Captain or I will be forced to assume you are plotting a rescue." The alien made a noise that almost sounded like a giggle.
B'Elanna closed the link. "Ayala what happened to the other four intruders?"
"One badly injured in sick bay and three captured Captain. They are not very prepossessing Captain. Like mini-Cardassians with big heads and droopy noses and when I say mini, think one metre high. Physically weak but damn good guns and very quick."
"Bring them here."
"I kept them close - knew you would want a chat."
The three tiny invaders stood bedraggled in a row. "We will tell you nothing" one of them insisted.
B'Elanna ignored him and directed her questions at one of the other two. "I don't have much time so tell me why you attacked my ship."
"You entered the forest" replied the small and possibly female alien. Her proboscis nose quivered. Possibly with fear.
"The forest?"
"Our homeland. It's ours and you're not allowed."
"How the hell were we supposed to know that. Don't you warn people before fighting with them?" She shouted losing patience. "We are peaceful travellers trying to get home. What is it with the Delta quadrant?"
The three small beings began to snuffle and their little noses shook in obvious distress. "We were told not to talk to strangers."
"You were told not to talk to strangers. Oh my God" she exploded. "They are children. I have fifteen officers in sick bay, my chief engineer may be dying, our ship has nearly been taken apart and all this by a bunch of children."
"You wait until I speak to your parents." At her words the three small souls burst into racking sobs and spluttered an unpleasant looking mucus from their noses. "What's your leaders name?"
"Dusty miss." snivelled the smallest.
Angry, B'Elanna stalked out of the room and returned to main engineering. A plasma bolt passed her head and another hole appeared in the wall.
"All right you little fools put your weapons down this instant and come out here. We are extremely annoyed with you. We want to speak to your parents." Another plasma bolt zipped into the decking at her feet.
"Don't care." came the shouted reply.
Harry grabbed her wrist saying "for God's sake B'Elanna be more careful. They may be children but they are very dangerous and that bomb will destroy the ship."
"Transport me up there" she snapped at the security officer. She materialised seconds later on the walkway and ducked a blast from the slightly opened Jeffries Tube hatch.
She knelt by the prone figure of Seven of Nine, relieved to see her breathing.
"Our families are gone stranger. No one can stop us." called the children's leader.
B'Elanna felt slight sympathy stir. "What happened to them Dusty?"
"They've gone to visit my aunty in galaxy 53842."
B'Elanna swore. An old Klingon curse of great depth and profundity which the Universal translator duly converted with clinical accuracy.
"You said something naughty." chorused the kids from behind the hatch.
Seven stirred. B'Elanna took her hand and squeezed gently. "Hang on there Chief."
"The E'vha. Where are they?" Seven opened her blue eyes and struggled to rise.
B'Elanna held her back,"Easy. You know these little dears?"
"Species 5" said Seven. "Never assimilated, inter-galactic drives, bolt quantum plasma weapon technology similar to species 8472, chronometric/gravimetric shields. Peaceful explorers and scientists from galaxy H2343. The Borg expended many resources trying to capture and assimilate the E'vha. These children appear to be of school age."
"You knew they were children. Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried but my communicator failed when I was hit. This behaviour is untypical of the E'vha."
"I think we are dealing with a bad case of naughty children. Heavily armed ones."
"Dusty" she called to the ring leader. "This has got to stop. We have several wounded men and women and one of your friends is in our sick bay also badly hurt. This is not a game."
"I don't believe you. You're just trying to make us give up."
B'Elanna tapped her comm badge. "Doc what is the name of the child you have in sick bay?"
"He says his name is Torrie. And he is a very bad patient. Also he has lost blood. We need donors from his people B'Elanna. I may be able to synthesise some but it will take too much time."
"Did you hear that Dusty. Your little pal Torrie is hurt bad and needs help. Now be a good little boy and come out of there."
"I'm a girl and I won't."
"Well I'm coming in." B'Elanna stood up and ignored the plasma flying past her head.
"Be careful B'Elanna," said Seven. B'Elanna looked at her amazed. "That is the first time you've used my name since......" Another plasma bolt careered past her right ear and thundered into a bulkhead recalling the distracted Captain to what she was doing.
She marched decisively to the hatch and pulled the door open wide. Four small frightened faces stared out at her. Behind them she could see the three Starfleet officers with two more of the E'vha children holding guns on them.
"All of you out. I have had enough of this nonsense."
At the sight of the angry Klingon two of the children started crying. B'Elanna held out her hand to one of the children and helped her out of the Jeffries tube. The other children put down their weapons and together with the captured engineers filed out in turn leaving one very angry looking E'vha kid crouching at the back of the exit trying to open a small black box which B'Elanna guessed was the bomb. B'Elanna leaned in lightning fast and to the child's fury picked her up and lifted her out easily holding the struggling, kicking kid in front of her. "And you, I suppose, are Dusty. You are in a lot of trouble kiddo."
Still holding the fighting mad child at arms length B'Elanna ordered "Now we are all going to see the Doctor. Computer. Eleven for emergency transport to sick bay."
The Doc's eyes popped a little when he saw them materialise. "I wish you would warn me B'Elanna when you're bringing a party."
B'Elanna handed the child to one of the Starfleet engineers. "Hold on to her and do not put her down. Doc, Seven is hurt badly" B'Elanna bent down and lifted the injured woman as gently as she could although it took some effort. Six foot of implant packed ex-Borg was hefty even for a Klingon. "Where do I put her?" she gasped.
"Well I was going to say, before you decided to play knight in shining armour, that we have no beds left and to leave her where she was." B'Elanna glared at him. "Okay. Okay. Ensign help me move Ensign Prokov over here. She's walking wounded now. Sorry Ensign your bed is needed."
B'Elanna carried a stoic Seven to the vacated bed and set her down trying not to look to relieved. "How is she Doc? Will she be okay?"
The EMH pushed her back out of his way and ignored her. He proceeded to examine Seven with a tricorder.
The children were watching fascinated, tears forgotten. "He's going to cut her open" whispered one. "That's what my mummy said these primitive peoples do when you are sick."
"There is no need for that" said the Doc with a flourish. "I will simply cut off her arm with my rusty saw and apply a few leeches to the bleeding stump."
The children responded with a cacophony of noises indicating both disgust and glee.
"When you have quite finished entertaining the prisoners Doc....." At the sound of her voice the children fell silent and started looking scared again.
"She will be fine. It appears she took a heavy stun blast from some kind of plasma based weapon. It has caused minor burns and a great deal of internal bruising. There is some internal damage but her nanoprobes are well on the way to healing it. She needn't stay any longer than it takes to pass a dermal regenerator over those burns."
B'Elanna could not disguise her relief. She grinned at the Doctor and then remembered she was supposed to be Captain. "Is anyone seriously hurt?"
"There are some reasonably bad injuries but nothing I can't fix. The child is one of the worst - he fell 5 metres off the walkway and suffered internal bleeding. I have patched his injuries but he lost a lot of blood."
"There are your donors. We have three more on the way. Can I talk to Seven?" The EMH smirked. The one night affair between the Captain and Chief of Engineering was common knowledge and B'Elanna growled irritably.
"She knows about this species Doc. We have to get these kids back where they belong before their parents get the wrong idea."
He smiled knowingly and ushered her towards the bio bed. He took the children over to other side of sick bay where their companion was lying on a bed. The ring leader was still being carried by the large engineer but she had stopped struggling and now had her arm around her captors neck and was hanging on firmly.
Seven watched the children curiously. "It would appear that Eight Bells has made a friend."
She turned her attention to B'Elanna and the Captain's heart stopped as the ex-drone smiled at her, well not exactly smiled, Seven didn't smile, but the sky-blue eyes were warm and the full mouth quirked in amusement. She hadn't seen Seven look like that for months. Now she came to think of it Seven had never looked at her like that, ever.
"Thank you Captain for rescuing me."
B'Elanna struggled to find words. "It was nothing. Just, you know, my job." Feeling stupid she decided to get back to business.
"We have to find the parents or families of these children. Have you any idea where we should start?"
"There is a more immediate problem than that Captain. The E'vha have technology that would render the Borg nearly invincible in this galaxy as well as giving them access to other galaxies. The Borg maintain a high state of readiness where the E'vha are concerned. Capturing E'vha vessels and personnel is still one of the collective's highest priorities. "
"The battle fleet." B'Elanna swore again. "These bloody children. What the hell are their people thinking letting them wander off like that? Eight Bells," she called loudly ignoring the EMH's scowl, "Come here and bring Miss Muffet with you."
Eight Bells carried the cringing kid over And gave her a reassuring hug before setting her down in front the Captain.
"How many other children are there in your fleet Dusty?"
"Nineteen."
"But there were twenty nine vessels."
"Yeah one each - are you stupid? It's no fun to share."
"Well who is flying yours now you are here?"
"Duh. The autopilot. Is she really Captain cos she's pretty dumb?" the kid asked Eight Bells, her little proboscis nose shook as she giggled in amusement.
Grinding her teeth B'Elanna stamped on her rising temper. "Where are your parents? We need to find them."
The kid was stubborn. "We don't need them. We are okay on our own."
Seven interjected "We are concerned that the Borg will target your companions and their vessels."
The child looked cockier than ever. "There are no Borg in his sector. We scanned for them. We're not stupid like her" and she jerked her thumb at B'Elanna.
B'Elanna was close to exploding and snarled angrily "I've had enough of you brat. Tell us how to contact your parents or I will sling you in the brig and leave you there."
The child shrank away, close to tears, but her jaw jutted out stubbornly and she kept silent.
Seven said calmly. "The Borg are aware of your scanning technology and maintain a disguised presence in all sectors waiting for just such an event as this. Overconfidence was identified as a tactical weakness of the E'vha. Your presence will certainly have been detected."
"I think you are making that up blonde lady?" said the kid a little less confidently.
Seven looked her impassively and then extended her hand with the implants. Assimilation tubules wiggled from the back of her hand and the kid backed into Eight Bells screaming and hiding her face against his leg. "I am Borg" said Seven in her best collective monotone. "Resistance is futile."
"I want my mummy" howled the terrified child.
Eight Bells hoisted her aloft. "Boss," he said disapprovingly, hugging the weeping girl, "she's only a kid."
B'Elanna was grinning evilly "Yeah but now she's a co-operative kid. Okay Dusty how do we contact Mummy."
"I have to find my ship. I can call Mummy from there. She is staying with my aunt in another galaxy so we can't use subspace communication."
B'Elanna tapped her comm badge. "Helm set a course back to where we met that fleet. Warp nine. Dusty can we contact your fleet and ask them to meet us halfway?"
The kid nodded slowly.
"Come on then. This won't take long. We've only been travelling away from them for about an hour. By the way why didn't they follow? For intergalactic travellers I wouldn't have thought chasing us would be a problem."
"I told them not to. They had to stay and guard the forest while we captured the dragon."
"The dragon?" queried Seven of Nine.
"Your ship."
B'Elanna shrugged her shoulders in disbelief but then noticed the complete puzzlement on Seven's face and biting her lip to avoid laughing said laconically "Oh yeah. The dragon. Of course."
Eight Bells carried the kid to a comms console and started to show her what to do. The child listened for about fifteen seconds before her hands started to fly over the console. "White Knight to Guardians please respond."
After a few seconds a thin panic laden voice replied. "Dusty help us. The Borg are here."
"Breadhead you've got to make a run for it. Head for the co-ordinates I'm transmitting. The dragon is going to help us. Has anyone been captured?"
"Not yet. But they are getting very close. Two ships damaged and riding piggy-back. Fleet now heading for your co-ordinates at warp ten. See you soon Dusty."
"Dusty! Ask how many Borg." said B'Elanna urgently.
"Hey Breadhead how many Borg?"
"1 cube in pursuit. We called for help - time to arrival three rotations."
"Dusty why can't they just get out of the galaxy? We can hide you until your folks arrive."
The kid was derisive. "You are dumb do you think they let little kids have inter-galactic drives. Those things are valuable. Our mother ship is in this quadrant looking for us. We sneaked off and hid in a nebula so we could go exploring."
B'Elanna took one look at Seven. "Computer - Ship wide broadcast. All hands to battle stations. We have less than thirty minutes to prepare to engage the Borg. Shields, weapons and engines are the top priority."
"Torres to Harry Kim. Harry get to the bridge and do your best to reorganise it. I am going to engineering. We'll set up an ops centre there. And get the Flyer ready for launch."
Seven heaved herself out of bed and grimaced. "I'm going back to engineering with you." B'Elanna did not bother arguing - she needed Seven. Recovery would have to wait. She fell in step with the ex-Borg signalling to Eight Bells to bring the E'vha child along also.
"I hope these weapons of yours are as good as they look Dusty. We are going to need everything we can throw at them if they get on board Voyager."
Twenty nine tiny vessels shaped like crescent moons fled through the Delta quadrant at the theoretical maximum warp speed. Four of the little ships had joined together to form a bigger craft which flew in the centre of the shoal. Behind them and in hot pursuit, only slightly slower, was a Borg cube.
The larger bulk of the USS Voyager, damaged and slow, lumbered towards them at the relatively stately speed of warp 8.5, the maximum allowed by Federation engine design and the damage sustained. The Borg paid it little attention concentrating on the bigger prize.
On Voyager B'Elanna Torres was debating possible tactics with her senior crew. A small alien girl sat on a large male human's lap and listened to the conversation. B'Elanna was acutely aware that this was her first real challenge as Captain. And possibly her last.
"How long now until their mother ship arrives."
"Thirty minutes at most."
"Dusty when your fleet arrive you and the other children are to transport back to your ships and head at maximum speed for the rendezvous with your mother ship. We will try to delay the Borg but we are unlikely to hold them back for long." The small girl was playing with the Ensign's beard and only reluctantly acknowledged the Captain's instructions after some prodding.
B'Elanna stifled her annoyance with the little brat. "Seven thinks that if we hit this section of the cube with a full spread of quantum torpedoes we may be able to take their warp engines off line for five to ten minutes. Enough time to give you and us a head start."
Harry was doubtful. "We can't directly engage a Borg cube in our current condition. Even if Voyager was undamaged we wouldn't last more than half an hour in a conflict with a cube."
"We need a different approach then. Can you think of one Mr Kim? I am open to better suggestions if you can make one." B'Elanna was finding it hard to talk civilly to her first officer.
"We could avoid them altogether" he said coldly. "Captain these kids are better equipped to dodge the Borg until their families arrive than we are. It seems to me they are keeping two steps ahead of the Borg without our help."
"Well I want to increase the odds in their favour Mr Kim." Harry hesitated and then decided not to answer. The discussion round the table turned to considering detailed tactics.
Unacceptable Losses by halfofone
Part 6:
Date added: 2000-10-31 Rating of this chapter: R
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
48 hours later
The greenish glow typical of a Borg vessel suffused the corridor on deck 10. Sweating in the high humidity and temperature B'Elanna followed Seven down to deflector control horribly aware of the sound of her own breathing and the drum of her heartbeats. Hard as she tried she couldn't seem to control the noise. Seven crouched at the corner of the corridor and peeked round. She sat back quickly and held up two fingers. Two they could manage.
B'Elanna gave Seven a nod and they both threw themselves around the corner. The two drones looked their way and started towards them. B'Elanna dropped to one knee, lifted her disruptor and fired once. The plasma bolt removed the lead Borg's head. She was about to fire on the other, when she saw the remains of a blue, science officer uniform jacket and recognised the drone as Lieutenant Dewer. One of the eighteen crew assimilated so far. She hesitated and the drone came nearer.
"It's one of ours Seven." Seven nodded and sidestepped the drone before delivering a crushing blow to the drone's head with the sledgehammer she was carrying. The drone dropped to its knees and Seven leant over it to disconnect the neural processor, deactivating the drone's connection to the collective. She attached a remote transporter device and the drone dematerialised.
"Good." said B'Elanna in a whisper. "Six down and twelve to go."
The door of deflector control slid open and the one-eyed red-eyed glow of at least six drones was visible in the gloom. Not liking the odds B'Elanna tapped Seven on the shoulder and they backed away. B'Elanna was unwilling to shoot for fear of killing any erstwhile colleagues. Two more Borg emerged from the corridor on their right.
"Run" yelled the Captain her voice echoing in the creepy quietness. They turned and sprinted along the darkened corridor. Turning the corner and opening a maintenance access hatch, they crawled inside and slammed the hatch-door shut. B'Elanna threw the lock.
"Seven quick. Up into the ventilation crawl-way." Seven flipped open a trap door above their heads and hoisted herself up and then gave B'Elanna a hand, pulling her up bodily into the even smaller deck ventilation shaft. They crawled and wriggled on their bellies with painful rapidity towards a vertical upshaft fifty metres away and took refuge in the tiny, dusty workspace at the junction of the shafts.
"Think they can follow us here?" B'Elanna asked.
"Unlikely. Borg armour would not fit in these spaces. We should wait five minutes and then approach from a different angle. The drones will resume their tasks without any immediate threat. A direct assault against our superior forces has obviously been deemed futile. They are waiting for reinforcements."
B'Elanna sat back wearily against the wall. Her body sore from all the scrapes and bruises acquired in five hours of drone dodging.
"Well so far the day is not going well. I suppose the main plan was a success."
"The cube's warp engines were off line for twenty point four minutes. When the cube resumed its pursuit sensors indicated that the children could not be intercepted before their rendezvous with the mother ship."
"It's just a shame our engines went down as well. Kahless if it hadn't been for Tom and the 'Flyer we would have been caught completely. We would have had five hundred drones on board instead of twenty." The memory of the near miss was frightening even in retrospect.
"I am sorry the warp engines failed." Seven sounded miserable and was miserable. Failure was not something she could take lightly.
"Seven I didn't mean it like that. God knows how you kept Voyager flying at all in the last twenty-four hours. I couldn't have done any better." B'Elanna took her hand and tried to ignore the way their bodies were in contact in the tiny space which was really only large enough for one person. "And if you hadn't got them up again so quickly, we would have been a sitting duck." A long minute passed in silent hand holding and over-acute awareness.
"Seven I want to know why you backed out on me that night. Something must have been said or done?"
The ex-drone carefully detached her hand and apparently attempted to create some space between them by shrinking her six-foot frame against the far side of the work area.
She stared blankly at the wall opposite. "I was ashamed. I used you. My behaviour was not honourable."
"We used each other. I knew what I was doing Seven. You should have trusted me."
Seven of Nine stared even harder at the plain grey wall before saying in low choked tones. "There is more Captain." She stopped and bit her lip. "I accessed Captain Janeway's final message to me before you woke." Seven dropped her head in her hands. "She loved me B'Elanna and I had betrayed her with you."
B'Elanna felt her two Klingon hearts twist painfully in her chest. "Tell me what she said Seven?"
Seven accessed the memory and repeated the Captain's words verbatim. As she listened B'Elanna knew the Captain had not expected to die when she recorded this message. Even mediated through Seven's slightly stiff monotone, these were probably the most heartfelt words she had ever heard Janeway say. As though the dead captain was taking the opportunity to rehearse what she didn't dare say to Seven's face. Seven running out now made a whole lot of sense.
The ex-drone was struggling not to cry again and B'Elanna put her arm around the woman's shoulders and hugged her tightly. Seven buried her face in her Captain's shoulder. "I'm sorry - I made love to you and I loved her. How is this possible?"
"Damn" said the half-Klingon quietly as she gently stroked away the still falling tears from Seven's cheeks. "I can't deal with this now, we have to make a move but when this is over we talk."
B'Elanna withdrew her arm and returned to the business of surviving, forcing away the overwhelming emotions that loomed over her.
"We need to clear the two Borg from the comms area before we tackle the ones in deflector control" she said determinedly.
Seven raised her head and awkwardly wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
"Agreed Captain." Her voice was shaky and B'Elanna gently squeezed her shoulder.
"Come on, we still have friends to save."
They crawled through to the next juncture and exited the vent system into the main Jeffries tube and then back out onto deck 10.
Removing the two drones from the comms area turned out to be easier than expected as the Borg conveniently lined themselves up so a single plasma bolt took them both, but after that it became much more complicated and dangerous.
B'Elanna shuddered when she remembered just how close she had come to being assimilated. Seven with strength born of desperation had decapitated a drone at the precise moment it raised fully extended assimilation tubules to B'Elanna's neck. In thirty minutes they killed five drones and salvaged another crewman. The borrowed E'vha plasma disruptors made the killing easier as the Borg could not adapt their shielding although Voyager took a lot of collateral damage from stray blasts. Capturing ex-crewmates was much more risky than killing them.
"Neelix" B'Elanna whispered into her comm badge. "Deck 10 secure."
"Congratulations Captain. Only two more decks to go. Ayala and his team are entering deck 8 now. If you take 9 you should all be able to meet for tea. We count three Borg on deck 9 and two on deck 8."
"How many of our crew have we recovered Neelix?"
"You got seven and Ayala got five. We can confirm three dead Captain, so that leaves three more crewmen at most. The Doctor has his hands full operating on the survivors. We are keeping them sedated while he works through them."
B'Elanna and Seven made their way up to deck 9 and started to search for the three Borg. They found them assimilating the main phasers. With a jolt B'Elanna realised that all three were former members of her crew including Harry Kim.
Harry was a hero. He had sacrificed himself to allow Naomi Wildman and her mother to escape capture. In the opening minutes of the Borg assault he had thrown himself unarmed against several drones, fighting suicidally to give the Wildmans time to get to safety in the maintenance tunnels. B'Elanna remembered her cold despair after a tearful Sam Wildman reported his probable death or assimilation. Whatever had happened recently he had been her first friend from the Starfleet crew.
The three drones had observed their arrival and lurched stiff-legged towards them. B'Elanna called the retreat.
"Seven out of here. We can't do this alone. We need help or we will have to kill them." The two women ran for cover but surprisingly the drones seemed uninterested in pursuit and gave up after a few metres.
Her comm badge bleeped. "Captain", it was Neelix. "We have visitors. A transwarp conduit is opening half a light year from our position. Twenty minutes to intercept."
"Damn and damn again. Status Neelix!"
"Engines on-line, shields on-line, structural integrity 83 percent, phasers off-line, quantum torpedoes - 3 left. Ayala reports deck 8 cleared, he is on his way to meet you."
"Evasive manoeuvres Neelix. Try and keep Voyager out of the way. And tell Ayala to hurry but he is not to kill any of the drones. They're all ours."
Fifteen minutes and three close shaves later the lost drones were in sick bay being heavily sedated with enough tranquiliser to kill a horse as the EMH kept saying. It was hard to keep the drones under as their nanoprobes fought to remove the tranquilising agents from their Borg blood streams faster than the drips could feed more into their veins.
B'Elanna was back on her bridge and watching the rear view screen as the Borg cube steadily gained on the tired vessel. "Ideas anyone? Any convenient spatial anomalies, dark matter nebulas?"
"Sorry Captain. This is a peculiarly boring and empty bit of space" said Nicoletti.
"Okay Susan." Unconsciously B'Elanna rose to her feet. "All hands. Battle Stations. Prepare to engage the Borg. Is anyone else getting bored hearing me say that" she joked feebly but was pleased to see faint grins on the tired faces of her bridge crew.
"One minute to intercept Captain." reported the operations officer.
"Arm torpedoes and fire at propulsion section on my command. We may get lucky and hit something vital."
"They have got us in a tractor beam Captain."
"Cut warp engines Tom. Full power to shields, try and throw them off. Fire torpedoes."
"Torpedoes away" said Nicoletti. "Full impact. No real damage, sorry Captain."
"We've cut the tractor beam." Ayala yelled, overexcited. "No it's back."
B'Elanna sighed. This was not getting easier. "Okay we are down to the last resort people. Nicoletti reinforce the shields, keep them up as long as possible. Seven - when they drop their shields and try to board, transport our little present from the E'vha."
"They've dropped their shields Captain."
"Transporting E'vha bomb now." said Seven coolly.
"Big explosion in central area of cube Captain. It worked. The tractor beam has collapsed."
"Get us out of here Tom. Now!"
"Aye sir. Cube is pursuing. They're gaining. Hey they must be really pissed at us" he grumbled cheerfully. Voyager might be in mortal danger but flying her at the limits was what he did best and he could not help enjoying it.
"Captain there is a huge disturbance in subspace, bearing 3489, five hundred thousand kilometres" reported Nicoletti.
"Transwarp conduit?"
"No. Much bigger. The rift is two hundred thousand kilometres across."
"Head straight for it Lieutenant, there's nothing for us here. Forward view-screen."
A boiling cloud had appeared and even the hardened Voyager crew was awed by the sheer size.
Tom whooped loudly. "It's the cavalry" he shouted to the puzzlement of the rest of the bridge crew. "Our rescuers" he explained.
In the centre of the vast cloud sensors detected a ship. At ops Nicoletti was disturbed but didn't quite know how to break the news.
"Report Lieutenant" said B'Elanna.
"Sensors detect a single vessel moving towards us at warp ten. The configuration is E'vha. But Captain it is tiny, hardly bigger than a Starfleet shuttle. Perhaps there are more to follow" she added hopefully. "Time to intercept 58 seconds."
Behind the small vessel the rip in space closed and the fiery cloud dissipated along with the hope of rescue. A blast from Borg phaser cannon rocked Voyager and then another. The shields were losing strength with every hit.
Reasoning that two targets were better than one B'Elanna decided to keep heading for a rendezvous with the E'vha ship hoping that it was the first of many. She ignored the reports from her crew about the failing shields, the collapsing integrity field and willed her ship to extract every possible additional fraction of speed from its warp drive. As they reached the oncoming vessel, the E'vha flew straight past them towards the chasing Borg cube. The Borg fired at the new target and the little vessel's shields glowed red. The small ship returned fire. A solid stream of super-heated blue ion plasma bolts strafed the side of the cube. The bolts seemed to pass right through the cube separating it neatly into two wedges along the line of the plasma cut. For a brief moment in time the two wedges of the cube travelled together until one half exploded and knocked its fellow off the original trajectory in a violent and rapid spin. The E'vha fired a single torpedo at the remaining wedge. It disintegrated into a thousand pieces.
The E'vha ship threw itself into an exuberant and wholly unnecessary roll. Tom felt immediate kinship with the pilot. If only Starfleet rules permitted .... "See I was right it was the cavalry or at least the lone ranger."
"The E'vha ship is hailing us Captain" said a gleeful Nicoletti.
"On screen."
"Hi there." said a very large and very wrinkled grey adult E'vha. "Glad to see you are still in one piece. Sorry forgetting my manners here, my name is Jerry and this is Jeffers my co-pilot."
"Hi" said his companion and waved.
"B'Elanna Torres, Captain of Voyager. Thanks for the help. Very impressive." said B'Elanna amused by the informality of the E'vha.
"Our pleasure B'Elanna. Thanks for helping out our kids and for putting up with them. The little tykes are grounded for several lifetimes" replied the lead pilot.
"Well I don't think we'll be volunteering for babysitting again" she said bitterly thinking of her lost crewmen.
The two E'vha snorted noisily through their one metre long nasal appendages. "Thank you anyway B'Elanna Torres. We would like to offer some assistance. Our laws forbid us offering technology to less advanced species but we are transmitting to you the location of several useful wormholes. They won't take you all the way but they should cut your journey to about ten to twelve of your years. Well we've got to be gone, Good luck and great flying." The E'vha cut the transmission.
B'Elanna saw the look of elation on the crew faces and briefly she shared the same joy until she remembered the cost. She felt the full weight of her new responsibilities for the first time. She had made a decision that cost three crewmen their lives and left several others with permanent damage. She had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being rewarded for their sacrifice. Perhaps Harry had been right when he had expressed the opinion that the E'vha children would have been okay without Voyager putting herself at risk.
'Playing the knight in shining armour again Torres' she thought. 'I'll have to watch that compulsion. A captain can't afford it.'
"Wormhole data received Captain" said Nicoletti.
The E'vha vessel was speeding away at maximum warp, starting to glow. The glow rapidly expanded until it filled the view screen and then the small ship had vanished. The fiery inter-dimensional rift collapsed and vanished.
"Nice to have met you, nicer to see you go" muttered Nicoletti aloud. "Sorry Captain" she said flushing.
"Forget it Susan. You said it for all of us. Get us away from here Tom. Evasive pattern until we're sure there are no more Borg around. Susan, full sensor sweeps for any signs of the Borg, Astrometrics are to find a suitable, uninhabited, planet for rest and repairs. All section heads - full damage reports please. I'm going up to sickbay. Seven come with me."
B'Elanna was half way to the bridge doors when Seven spoke.
"I should return to engineering Captain" she said.
B'Elanna stopped and looked at her. The Borg was looking stubborn and B'Elanna didn't know whether to be pleased or irritated. Seven being difficult was normal and strangely that made B'Elanna cheerful. But she couldn't let Seven win.
"The Doc may need your help with the assimilated crewmen, engineering will cope without you for a little bit longer."
"As you wish Captain but I will speak to Carey first" said the ex-drone with customary arrogance.
B'Elanna stomped on her rising temper "Okay but I expect you in sickbay in ten minutes. Understood." The Captain hurried from the bridge before the bloody woman could argue any more.
"Understood Captain." said Seven looking after the Captain with something approaching a smile.
Unacceptable Losses by halfofone
Part 7:
Date added: 2000-10-31 Rating of this chapter: R
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Sickbay
The EMH was completely overwhelmed and if an emergency medical hologram could suffer from burnout then he would have had to retire to the holo-rest-home for clapped-out holoprograms two days ago.
There were drones everywhere in various stages of reverse assimilation. Numerous crewmen had been drafted in to sick bay to help with the operation:the techniques learnt on Seven of Nine being applied in an industrial de-assimilation production line.
Some of the assimilated crew who had passed through part one of the process were already sitting up talking to visiting friends. Many would be in and out of sick bay for months for limb replacements and deep implant removals.
The slightly hellish scene jarred B'Elanna. Limbs and sections of Borg armour were piled on the floor. The EMH had even rigged up a servo-arm from a Borg medical drone to assist in some of the operations. It moved over the prone figure on the operating table with mechanical precision slicing through the armour fixings. Process completed, the body was lifted onto the next table for further processing and another took its place.
She spotted the EMH bent over a figure on an operating table. Approaching she realised the figure on the table was Harry Kim.
"How's he doing Doc?"
"Mr Kim will require some re-constructive surgery but he is not too badly affected. The Borg did not have time or the resources to fully adapt many of the crew. Only four have suffered major reconfiguration." Seeing the ill-concealed anxiety on her face the EMH was reassuring. "Don't worry B'Elanna I can put them all back together again. Although it may take some time."
"That's not going to help the dead though is it Captain?" said an angry female voice. B'Elanna turned to look up into the furious face of very good-looking tall ensign, whom she recognised as an old friend of Tom. With a sickening lurch B'Elanna remembered that she was married to one of the dead crew.
"Nik I am very sorry for your loss. Helena was a fine officer."
"No," said the woman balling her fists, "she was only an average officer but she was a fine person Torres. The best." Nik's voice cracked a little. "But I hear we are going to get home in ten years so that's all right then isn't it Captain Torres? Worth the sacrifice of a few red-shirts?"
Junior Starfleet ensigns no longer wore red shirts and hadn't done so for over a hundred years but the phrase remained part of Starfleet slang meaning expendable cannon fodder. A reputation as a Captain who didn't care about your red-shirts was a great insult. B'Elanna felt a surge of anger.
"Wade you're relieved from duty. From now you start an immediate one month compassionate leave. Go back to your quarters."
"I do not wish to be relieved Captain Torres" said the ensign and stepped closer until she was only inches away.
B'Elanna pushed Wade back and set her jaw. "Ensign do you have a problem with me?" she asked, knowing that this was not the right time or place for argument. Someone less angry and in less agony than Ensign Wade would have backed off. The stormy look on the Captain's face more than enough incentive. But Ensign Wade was not going to back down.
"Oh I think quite a few of us have problems with you, at least as captain, Captain." The next moment B'Elanna was staring at the wrong end of a hand phaser held by the distraught Nik Wade. At least she was until Seven of Nine appeared silently behind the woman and grabbed her arm, taking the phaser so quickly that the ensign did not even have time to turn her head.
Seven crushed the phaser in her enhanced hand. Despairing, the ensign threw herself at B'Elanna screaming. B'Elanna had difficulty holding off the raging human without hurting her. Seven had no such qualms. She gripped the woman's arms from behind and pulled her away from B'Elanna holding her fast.
"You will desist" stated the ex-Borg. "I will not permit you to attack Captain Torres. Is that clear?"
Wade just cursed and tried to break free.
B'Elanna looked at the half-mad woman struggling in Seven's arms and felt a weird mixture of human compassion for her grief and Klingon admiration for her passionate attempt at revenge. The security guards summoned by the EMH arrived and relieved Seven of her prisoner, holding her steady as the EMH pressed a hypospray sedative into her neck. Wade sagged against her captors still fighting and mumbling abuse and then she passed into unconsciousness.
"Take her to her quarters and keep her there. Someone is to remain with her at all times is that understood. Call the Doctor when she recovers consciousness." The security guards carried the ensign away.
B'Elanna tapped her comm badge. "Captain to Tom Paris, Tom could you visit Nik Wade ..."
"Of course B'Elanna" interrupted the helmsman. "It's very sad about Helena, but I will do what I can for her."
"Thanks Tom. She attacked me and I've confined her to quarters. I couldn't think of anything better at the moment. Whatever you need Tom, Torres out." A wave of exhaustion and guilt swamped her. Looking round sickbay and the remains of several of her comrades she knew Wade was right she should never have been captain. It was ridiculous - everyone must see that.
Seven watched B'Elanna with concern. The half-Klingon was plainly devastated. She stood with her hands hanging loosely by her sides glancing helplessly about the outer ring of hell that sick bay now closely resembled. The Borg was at a loss but she was acutely aware of how much she wanted to comfort the small woman if only she knew how.
The EMH with his usual lack of insight was inappropriately cheerful. "Captain. I think there is someone here who would like to talk to you."
B'Elanna steeled herself for another round of accusations from her crew. Harry Kim was trying to lift himself up, his face half covered in what looked like a helmet but was actually a gel medicap.
"No need to rise Commander," said the Doc. "The Captain can forego the military niceties in the circumstances." Harry relaxed back onto the bed.
What little of Harry's face that was visible was sallow looking and pinched. She could see part of his skull, totally bald, the once thick black hair completely gone. He seemed to have lost some weight and his ribs were visible where the Borg body armour had been stripped from his chest.
"B'Elanna, Seven" he said slowly drawing out the syllables.
"Starfleet."
Thank you" he tried a smile but only some of his face muscles were now operational so it was lopsided. He spoke slowly pausing to get his breath from his labouring human lungs "She's wrong ... not many Captains .... risk ... try to save drones. B'Elanna .... my forty-eight hours ..... is finished." He had to stop, every breath whistling in his throat.
Her tired brain took several seconds to make sense of his words.
"Harry this can wait. There is no need to think about it at the moment."
"I.... must. I might die before I can speak again."
He levered himself up on one arm and half saluted with the other "Captain Torres I must confess ..." He stopped to inhale another tortured mouthful of air, "to the murder of four of my fellow officers." He rushed this out quickly as though uncertain he would be able to start again if he didn't keep going. Those crewmen close enough to hear his admission gasped.
B'Elanna gently pushed him down. "Thank you Commander Kim. Now get some sleep Harry. I'll speak to you tomorrow, Good night Starfleet."
The EMH was, for once, speechless.
"Great work Doc. If you need any help I'll be on the bridge." Torres left sickbay with Seven at her heels.
When they entered the turbolift Seven decided she would try and help the Captain. Although she had some doubts about her own skills in such an emotional situation.
"You do not seem surprised by Commander Kim's confession?" queried the ex-drone.
"It had come to my attention." B'Elanna didn't look at her. "Yeah, just another one of those things that I don't know how to handle. Like how to apologise to my crew for killing their friends in pointless missions. I don't think satisfying the Captain's ego counts as a good explanation."
B'Elanna knew she was being self-pitying as well as sarcastic but couldn't seem to help it. She turned away.
Seven caught her wrist and pulled her round and before B'Elanna could protest she found herself being awkwardly hugged and patted on the back.
"This is comforting is it not?" asked Seven after a moment, trying to confirm that her behaviour was appropriate.
B'Elanna smiled in spite of herself and then couldn't help enjoying the feeling of strong arms and a warm breath on her ear. She was forlorn when Seven released her to speak.
"Captain Janeway would have done the same B'Elanna. She would not have left those children to fend for themselves."
"And I would have been one of the first to criticise her decision" said B'Elanna with cynical self-knowledge.
"Those without the responsibility have that freedom." replied Seven. "You made the decision, you balanced the risk to Voyager against protecting the children and the not insignificant consequences of allowing the Borg to obtain their technology." Seven sounded typically certain. It was funny, thought B'Elanna, that Borg certainty used to annoy her so much. Now she found it reassuring and she wished Seven would hold her again...
The lift doors opened as they arrived at the bridge and B'Elanna stepped out. Seven did not follow her. "I must return to engineering. When do you wish to see me again ..." Seven shifted uncomfortably, ".... to discuss repairs."
Conscious of the bridge crew listening B'Elanna tried to be formal. "That will depend Chief on how soon we find a safe port. I want a report by tonight on all priority repairs." Seven dipped her head in acknowledgement and the lift doors closed. B'Elanna looked at the shut doors for a moment before turning to face the demands of Voyager.
Unacceptable Losses by halfofone
Part 8:
Date added: 2000-10-31 Rating of this chapter: R
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
The Surface of an M-class planet (somewhere in the Delta Quadrant.)
Neelix let his weight rest on the trunk of a tree and watched Chakotay spread a blanket on the ground. He placed a number of small, decorated stones on the earth around him.
"What are you doing Chakotay?"
The big man smiled at him tolerantly "I am preparing to speak to my animal guide."
Neelix leant back and looked at the dark blue evening sky. Stars were just becoming visible. The single sun had sunk below the horizon. The planet was similar to Talax but no intelligent species had evolved. The mineral resources were plentiful and most of the requirements for restocking the ship could be met here while engineering carried out repairs. Voyager was in poor shape and so were her crew.
Neelix was pleased with the native plant life - several new recipes were promised. A promise greeted with pleasure only by the Bolian contingent on the crew. But the little Talaxian had endeared himself to B'Elanna by volunteering to escort Chakotay to the surface. It was reasonably safe for shore leave and a grateful crew had jumped at the opportunity for some R&R.
Chakotay had accepted the story of being part of a science away team. It had become increasingly difficult finding reasons for him to stay away from the bridge. He became very agitated if he saw B'Elanna in a red command tunic and four pips and would demand explanations for her masquerading as Captain. Tom had excelled at developing highly ingenious stories to explain all the changes without disturbing Chakotay, although the EMH had been dubious about playing along with Chakotay's delusions. Unfortunately the alternative seemed to be heavy sedation since any attempt to make him accept the truth made him hysterical, even violent.
He was in his element now, in the untrodden wilderness, and was delighted when he was told the Captain was giving him one week of shore leave. He taught Neelix how to track animals, fish, build fires and a hundred other wilderness skills. All of which the good little fellow undertook with grace and cheer. The Talaxian was greatly enjoying the experience but would have preferred to sleep in a warm bed rather than a cold hammock.
Chakotay was now sitting on the blanket looking worried.
"Anything wrong?" asked Neelix.
"My animal guide will not speak to me. I can see it peering at me from behind that rock but it will not speak. I thought that here, away from Voyager, it would be different."
Neelix glanced over towards the rock half expecting to see something. "This is not the first time your guide has refused to speak to you?" he guessed.
Chakotay stood up and gazed into the distance towards the horizon where the last salmon pink traces of the sunset could still be seen.
"It has not spoken to me since .... " he stopped speaking.
"Since when Chakotay?" Neelix experienced a sudden conviction that this was important.
Chakotay didn't answer the question. "I should build up the fire for the night. There are a few large beasts down here which I wouldn't like to wake up to."
"Just enough to make it interesting" teased Neelix. Chakotay had tried to explain to the Talaxian city dweller the spiritual importance of predators within the animal world. They were being chased by a particularly large and toothsome specimen at that moment and Neelix remained to be convinced of the necessity for such fierce beasts.
The big man laughed and his tension disappeared. Neelix wasn't sure if this was good or bad. He shrugged mentally and rose to his feet to help Chakotay secure the campsite for the night. The air was already cold, the clear night skies were sucking the accumulated heat of the day from the planet surface. Neelix shivered and wondered what the crew on Voyager was doing. Working he supposed, or sleeping if they were lucky. He yawned. This time on the planet was a luxury. An hour later he was asleep in his hammock curled up against the cold.
Chakotay still sat by the fire waiting for his animal guide to overcome its fear and speak. He dozed off sitting up. When he woke to the warmth of the early morning sun the first thing he saw was a small lizard-like creature basking half-in and half-out of a small pool of water. The red-pink animal hauled itself out of the water and moved nearer and Chakotay kept very still. It didn't occur to him to regard the creature as a potential threat. Some kind of salamander he surmised and then smiled when he remembered that Kathryn's animal guide was a salamander. Something that rather disappointed her he suspected, she would have preferred an eagle or a wolf. He wished she were here.
Neelix was woken by a bloodcurdling howl and sat bolt upright, thinking the camp was under attack from a wild beast. He promptly fell out of the hammock. Cursing mildly he struggled to disentangle his leg from the hammock rope while frantically seeking a weapon. The sudden silence made him stop struggling and he surveyed the surroundings fearing the worst.
Chakotay was huddled in a little ball. For an awful moment Neelix thought he was dead. He stumbled towards him and shook his arm gently.
"Chakotay are you hurt?"
"She's gone." he howled and Neelix felt his heart break again. Kneeling down he lifted the dark head onto his lap and stroked the black hair. Chakotay did not cry although his body shuddered convulsively. And occasionally he would howl Kathryn's name.
"Neelix to EMH and Captain Torres. I need you here. Commander Chakotay has suffered some kind of breakdown."
The two officers acknowledged the request and minutes later materialised close by. Neelix rapidly recounted what had happened. He continued comforting the officer while the EMH examined him.
"Commander did you manage to speak to your spirit guide?" Neelix was very earnest.
Chakotay said nothing and his body continued to shake.
Neelix spoke quietly aside to B'Elanna.
"I rather hoped it was the key. The Commander is a very spiritual person. To be alienated from the spiritual world left him without an anchor. I had hoped that if he could break that barrier then the others would fall also. But acknowledging Captain Janeway's death is a good sign."
The EMH was unimpressed.
"Of course far be it from me to throw a spoke into all that mumbo-jumbo but it could be the change of medication or even the change of surroundings. And we still do not know if this is the road to recovery or another stage in his illness. He is hardly the picture of mental health." He gestured at the Commander who was curled in a tight ball at their feet.
Neelix, ever the optimist, disagreed. "Grief, Doctor, is normal. Now he has accepted the truth I see no reason why he should not recover."
B'Elanna could see the doctor starting to swell with injured professional pride.
"Enough" said B'Elanna. "Neelix take the Commander back to Voyager. Doctor you had better get back to your Borg."
A voice from the ground halted the discussion. "I do not wish to return to Voyager. Not yet." Chakotay had uncurled a little. "I would like to remain here for awhile."
B'Elanna was dubious but Neelix nodded his head at her vigorously.
"Okay" she said. "Neelix would you stay with the Commander?"
"Certainly Captain." He bit his lip at the slip and they all looked at Chakotay anxiously.
"Captain?" he echoed, perplexed.
She sighed "There have been a lot of changes Chakotay. Neelix will bring you up to date. Come on Doctor we must get back."
As she dematerialised the last thought she had on the planet was that her stint as Captain was nearly over. Her first feeling as she rematerialised on Voyager was a sense of loss.
Over the next few weeks B'Elanna was too busy to think. Chakotay certainly wasn't yet fit enough to return to duty. He was still down on the planet. The news of his recovery spread faster than the tirellian flu and before long he had a stream of well wishers turn up at his camp. According to Neelix many of the crew wanted to talk to the former first officer and it often seemed as though he was comforting them.
They had been in orbit around the planet for two weeks and B'Elanna was getting impatient. She wanted to head for the first of the four wormholes for which they had received co-ordinates from the E'vha. It was some six months distant and time was pressing as the wormhole entrance travelled about the delta quadrant. If they didn't get there in the next eight months the entrance would have moved to a location on the other side of the Delta quadrant and wouldn't return to the correct location for another four years. If they couldn't reach it in time it would add another five years to their journey or they would have to hang about in the locality for four years. Neither prospect appealed.
She decided that come hell or high water they would leave in forty-eight hours. Her command crew groaned but accepted the logic. All personnel, except Chakotay and Neelix and a small team of miners, returned to the ship and for two days the crew worked to complete Voyager's refit. B'Elanna worked harder than anyone. On schedule Voyager left orbit, her refit completed and her captain and crew exhausted.
The Captain's ready room
B'Elanna fell onto the chair in her ready room and leaned her head on her desk exhausted. She had been awake for nearly forty-two hours of which the last two were the worst. Reading endless reports and recommendations and requests for priority. The EMH had ordered her off duty for the sixth time and she was finally too tired to resist. "And you are to stay in bed for at least twelve hours by order of the Chief Medical Officer" were his parting words.
A knock at the door made her bellow "Come in and breathe your last."
The door slid open and she opened her frazzled eyes. She lurched upright.
"Tom! What do you want? Can't it wait?"
"I thought the Doc had ordered you off duty."
She looked at him almost too fatigued to even speak.
"Thank you Ensign now get out and turn out the damn lights on your way out." She sat back and considered giving in to the Doctor's orders until she remembered something she had not done. Damn the EMH and damn his orders. Staggering to her feet she lurched onto the bridge doing a passable impression of the Borg two-step.
Tom watched her lumber out of the ready room and exchanged an exasperated look with Ayala.
She slumped into her command chair and mumbled "Computer I want a report on the ...." Her voice dropped to a whisper and her breathing became heavy.
CANNOT REPLY REQUEST IS INCOMPLETE said the computer after a few seconds of silence had elapsed.
"I'll fix you, B'Elanna Torres" Tom sniggered under his breath. "Seven of Nine," he whispered into his communicator, "the captain needs you on the bridge" .
"Acknowledged Ensign Paris" said Seven of Nine.
B'Elanna slowly became aware of someone shaking her awake.
"Captain."
"Oh Kahless, Seven what the hell are you doing?" she squealed as the ex-drone slipped her arms under her torso and lifted her effortlessly.
"I am taking you to bed Captain."
"What!"
An explosion of laughter echoed around the bridge. Humiliated B'Elanna realised she had dropped off to sleep in her chair.
"You fell asleep at your post and are clearly unfit for duty. The EMH ordered you off the bridge and you ignored him. You are confined to your quarters until you have recovered. It is inefficient to have sick officers sleeping on the bridge."
"How dare you, you blasted drone?" B'Elanna struggled against her helplessly, tired Klingon muscle no match for Borg metal. "I can walk damn you."
"I am aware of that Captain" said Seven calmly as she carried B'Elanna into the lift. "Captain's quarters" she instructed.
"I can't leave. Someone has to supervise the final test flight." She was feeling annoyingly secure in Seven's arms.
"I have just completed eight hours of regeneration and am in perfect health. Ayala is also fully functional. We will be enough and certainly more adequate than a snoring Captain."
"Why are you doing this?" wailed an increasingly helpless Captain Torres.
"Strangely there were no other volunteers. It was suggested that you were less likely to succeed in killing me." Seven almost smiled.
"Seven you are making a fool of me" B'Elanna gritted through closed teeth.
"I think you managed that alone Captain." She became more serious. "B'Elanna you have made yourself ill. There is no need for you to be present twenty four hours a day. We are safe, long-range scans reveal no unusual anomalies. The next major civilisation is peaceful according to Mr Neelix The test flights have proceeded smoothly and your remaining injured crew are recovering well."
B'Elanna knew Seven was right but guilt and overwork had over developed her sense of responsibility. The thought of relaxing seemed almost inconceivable. "If you put me down, I will walk to my quarters and stay there" she bargained.
"Swear on your Mother's house."
B'Elanna narrowed her eyes and said nothing.
"Swear Captain or I carry you home."
"I swear......... on my Mothers House." she added the latter as Seven gripped her tighter and became more forbidding.
Slowly Seven set her down. Her knees buckled and Seven rapidly supported her again before she could fall. "I'll be all right. Let me go."
Seven let go, and B'Elanna leaned against the wall as the lift door opened. Two ensigns waited politely outside for their Captain to exit. Humiliated B'Elanna realised she was too weak to stand unaided. "Give me your arm Seven" she snarled furiously. She took the proffered arm ungratefully. "Let's go."
Holding tight to her engineer's arm she was supported back to her quarters. Seven helped her inside. She felt the ex-drone stiffen as they entered the room and guessed at the reason.
B'Elanna had only recently moved into the Captain's quarters and Seven had never visited her there. It had changed very little since Janeway had died. B'Elanna was not much for interior decorating, nor was Janeway. The rooms were much as they had been when Voyager left Utopia Planetia, as they were when Seven had last visited Captain Janeway. Janeway's few belongings had been packed away and B'Elanna's even smaller collection installed in their place.
Seven broke the silence. "What do you intend to do with Harry Kim? He cannot remain confined to his quarters for the rest of the journey."
The sudden change of subject startled B'Elanna and took her fogged mind off the fact that Seven had picked her up again and was carrying her through to the bedroom.
"True but I can't allow a self-confessed murderer to roam the ship without comment." she said as Seven set her on the bed.
"You do not know what to do?" guessed Seven and started to unbutton B'Elanna's jacket. The Captain's breath caught as one pale slender hand brushed her breast while removing the jacket.
Trying to concentrate on her Harry problem B'Elanna said "It's not simple. Severe punishment may be bad for morale. Many of the crew sympathise with Harry." Seven pulled off her left boot. "Hell, I sympathise with Harry."
Seven started on the other boot. And B'Elanna continued to think out loud.
"On the other hand not adequately disciplining him may also be bad for morale and discipline. He didn't give those poor bastards a chance at Federation justice. This is a Starfleet ship and I can't think of a worse betrayal of the Captain."
"Is the death penalty a possibility?" said Seven bending to unfasten the waistband on her Captain's trousers.
"Seven" exclaimed B'Elanna.
"Will you execute him?" said Seven fiercely ignoring the shock on B'Elanna's face and pulling the Captain's Starfleet issue trousers down so quickly that B'Elanna had no time to object but did receive a slight friction burn.
"Ow! Of course I'm not going to execute him" she yelped.
"I am relieved to know that" said Seven straight-faced and lifted B'Elanna into a sitting position and raised the Captain's arms over her head. "So let me understand this. You are not going to release him or execute him, you cannot hold him in the brig or his quarters for any extended period. But you must punish him adequately for his crimes." She lifted the Starfleet issue tee shirt over the Captain's head.
"It seems to me you have only one recourse." She gently lifted B'Elanna off the bed with one arm and pulled back the covers. "Keel hauling."
"What are you talking about Seven?"
The ex-drone said nothing but slid her burden back into the bed, covering the half naked body with the blanket and gazing into dark eyes, heavy and flushed with fever and lust. She bent to stroke the elegant forehead ridges.
The half-Klingon surprised Seven by speaking quite thoughtfully. "There'll have to be a trial but since he's confessed that shouldn't take long. I'm going to bust him to ensign, any prison sentence can wait until we get home. It'll be up to Starfleet to decide what further punishment is required." Her voice drifted off. "Poor Harry - the longest serving ensign in Starfleet."
Seven spoke very softly and sounded a little disappointed, "Keel hauling is more traditional on Klingon vessels Captain, your solution is less colourful but it will suffice." She traced her fingers down the cute little nose.
"So glad you approve Borg." B'Elanna smiled sleepily. "But don't think I have forgiven you just because I let you undress me or kiss me." Seven took her cue and lightly kissed the red lips. B'Elanna closed her eyes.
"EMH to the Captain's quarters." Seven murmured.
The EMH materialised. "About time. Why on earth did it take you so long to get here. Oh I see." Which he did. Seven sat on the bed holding one hand and caressing the drowsy Captain's face.
"The Captain needed help undressing" said Seven dreamily.
"Yes, of course I have no experience of undressing patients. Well I see Mr Paris was right. You were the right woman for this job Seven."
"He's a dead man" groaned a strangled voice from the direction of the bed.
"I will let him know Captain. And now Seven if you will allow me to examine the incredible non-sleeping, non-eating Captain Torres. I will determine how long she is to remain here. It may be helpful if you stay with her for a while."
"What do you mean 'for a while'?" growled the indomitable half-Klingon. "S'not leaving me again. That's an order."
Seven ran her fingers through the dark hair.
"Yes Captain. Understood."
Epilogue
Ten years later
B'Elanna was jerked back from her memories by the sudden termination of the Klingon singer.
"Why are you here B'Elanna?" asked her lover. "You are supposed to be meeting with Chakotay - he is worried about you."
"I was remembering some old stuff. You know what a sentimental old Klingon I am."
"What have I done?" asked Seven of Nine. "You only ever listen to Klingon music when I have upset you."
"Nothing. You have done nothing."
Nika arched her implant nearly to the top of her forehead and stepped forward to put her arms round the small Captain. "Liar."
"Seven you know I do not lie." growled B'Elanna fiercely and pushed Seven away.
The expression of elegant disbelief deepened. "My sweet Captain there is no-one here to impress... Please tell me." The entreaty broke down B'Elanna's resistance.
"You called her name in your sleep. This is nearly the tenth anniversary. I thought you were still ....."
"Still what." Seven became icy. "Ten years and you don't believe in me. A newsflash B'Elanna. She died ten years ago and I have loved you nearly as long. If I called her name it was in a dream but believe me it is only you I think of when I am awake. You are the one who cannot forget."
The still perfect body stalked dangerously to the door of the holodeck.
"We will arrive at Deep Space Four in eighteen hours. I have work to complete. No Starfleet engineer will find fault with Voyager."
Most wouldn't recognise half the components was B'Elanna's unspoken thought. Aloud she said "Nika. I am sorry. I know it's crazy but I still get jealous."
"Then why can't you stay and throw things like any self respecting Klingon spouse? Instead you come here and brood like some feeble p'taq."
"I'm a lousy Klingon. You'll have to trade me in for a better model."
She could see Nika weakening. "I think not. Full Klingons are too hairy. It appears I will have to tolerate you. I will be in main engineering if you require me."
As Seven left the holodeck B'Elanna called after her "And I love you too Dammit. Hey get back here you're supposed to be off duty." Seven ignored her.
Two crewmen passed the open holodeck door and grinned broadly at their Captain. B'Elanna swore furiously. That damn Borg never failed to embarrass her.
Still grumpy B'Elanna changed back into her uniform and decided to do a quick inspection tour before heading back to her quarters for a short rest. She was due back on duty in just a few hours for a double shift that would complete their triumphant return to the Alpha quadrant and probably be her last night as Captain but as usual there was no time to celebrate the occasion. Starfleet wanted them home quickly - their contact with the Delta quadrant an invaluable tool to the increasingly paranoid Federation.
The fact she was still Captain came down to a blunt refusal by Chakotay to accept the position of Captain or even first officer Even after ten years he rarely if ever went on the bridge. Instead he had become advisor and confidant to the Captain. He accepted duties as ship's counsellor, anthropologist and ambassador and he always volunteered for away team duty but he spent most of his off duty time with Neelix cooking up new recipes and trading tales. Which meant a big improvement in meals for the human crew and a downturn for the Bolians. They shared most of their other duties as well. It was a profound, if strange, friendship.
The passage to the Delta Quadrant pioneered by Voyager had revealed a number of threats as well as opportunities and the Federation wanted to ensure that no second front could be opened up. The war against the Dominion had never entirely finished and there was continued low level skirmishing and jockeying for power within the affected systems punctuated by ill-tempered peace treaties. The Dominion was not the power it had once been but it was still very strong and determined to extend its influence by stealth if not by force.
B'Elanna had been a little shocked by the highly militarised perimeter of the Federation. Apparently enormous resources had been poured into reinforcing the Federation's borders. This was not the Federation she remembered. The starships were huge and heavily armed. The officers she had met seemed aggressive and suspicious. She tried to reason that this was a dangerous border and they were right to be careful. An opinion that was reinforced when Voyager was attacked the previous day by local insurgents.
It was now the middle of the graveyard shift and very few crewmen were moving about. As she walked about the ship she considered the changes they had undergone. The crew had largely survived. 135 remained of the original 152. They had even added a few. Tom Paris and Megan Delaney were now the proud parents of twin boys, Harry had followed in Tom's wake and married Jennifer Delaney. They now had twin girls. Several other crewmen also had children.
Seven was making noises about starting a family. Arguments to the contrary B'Elanna had resigned herself - if Nika wanted it then in the end she would have it. That was the family rule. The ex-drone was already considering the mechanics and B'Elanna had an awful feeling that any day now a forty seven page proposal complete with appendices and diagrams would land on her desk.
In addition to births Voyager had also acquired a small contingent of Delta quadrant natives, fleeing wars, governments or just their families. The ship was full to the gunnels and cargo bay 2 had been converted to crew quarters. A total of 164 persons arrived in the Alpha quadrant and 163 entered Federation space.
But they were missing one. Tuvok had been transferred in his stasis tube to a Vulcan transport for conveyance back to Vulcan. The vessel met them several days before, outside Federation boundaries. The Vulcan transport's Captain had further alerted B'Elanna to the changes in the Federation when he let slip that Vulcan was seriously considering resigning from the Federation.
She worried about what Harry would face. The communications she had had with Starfleet Legal were not promising. He was more resigned to his fate but B'Elanna knew Jennifer was not.
She also worried about the reception of her delta quadrant crewmen. The old Federation would have welcomed them openly. The new Federation talked of resettlement and attaining refugee status. They also seemed overly interested in Seven of Nine. Any mention of Nika's human origins was brushed aside. The fact that fifteen other members of the crew retained some Borg components also caused excitement.
Voyager herself was of great interest. The numerous Delta quadrant technologies that they had acquired or adapted had greatly changed the internal layout of the old lady. Not least the significant quantities of Borg technology.
Surprisingly the old Maquis members were not an issue for Starfleet. Starfleet had unhesitatingly issued a blanket pardon. The Maquis had achieved a heroic status after their elimination, as the standard bearers in the war against the Cardassians and the Dominion. As one Starfleet officer had said to her, it was amazing how many people turned out to be Maquis sympathisers once they no longer existed as a credible force.
But heroism aside it was made very clear to B'Elanna that none of the non-Starfleet crew should expect commissions in Starfleet. Only Academy graduates would be considered and even then all returning crew would be reassessed for their suitability.
'So in a few hours I will be just plain B'Elanna Torres, half-Klingon with my ex-Borg girlfriend. The Alpha quadrant is going to love us.' B'Elanna knew she was going to miss Voyager. And she had no idea what she or Seven would do with themselves. Nika had brushed these concerns aside saying brusquely "Our skills will be required, the Alpha quadrant is not a tranquil place. And we can always return to the Delta Quadrant if we don't like it here."
Approaching Deep Space Four
"On screen" snapped the Captain. Deep Space Four lay in front of them glistening in the light of the nearby star system. The bridge crew cheered.
The view screen changed to reveal a small Ferengi in Starfleet uniform.
"Good evening Voyager." he said.
"Since when have the Ferengi been allowed to join Starfleet" sniggered Ayala under his breath.
"I am Commander Nog. I welcome you to Deep Space Four." And the little guy suddenly dropped the serious expression and formal manner and grinned. The crew felt their spirits lift. At least some Starfleet officers had retained a lighter touch.
"I am B'Elanna Torres, Captain of Voyager. Nice to be back Commander Nog."
The Ferengi peered at his view screen. Seven of Nine and Neelix were standing right behind her. "Interesting looking crew you have there Captain. I look forward to entertaining you all aboard the station tomorrow tonight. We have a real celebration planned."
"What about the Federation welcoming committee?"
"Oh that won't arrive for another couple of days. They seem to have your arrival date confused. He grinned even more broadly and then seemed to remember that he had official business. "We have a docking berth ready for you at gateway 5. Please proceed. Nog out."
Senses tuned by years of survival in the Delta quadrant were humming. B'Elanna exchanged looks with her bridge crew.
"What do you think?"
"He is lying" said Seven shortly and placed her hand on B'Elanna's shoulder.
"I'm not sure. He seemed more mischievous than malicious" said Harry Kim in the First Officer's chair.
B'Elanna nodded. "It may be nothing but we will be cautious. Inform the crew to implement condition Blue. Be careful all of you. Tom, proceed to the dock, one-quarter impulse. Take her in."
The Starship Voyager glided gracefully towards the space station through the throng of Starfleet vessels. Many of the Captains observing her arrival felt a jab of nostalgia. She seemed a throwback to a more gracious and elegant past, when curiosity and science drove Starfleet to explore the stars. Only ten years ago, but it was another era, gone forever it seemed. Most of the commanders had served as ensigns on such ships and not a few had to stifle an impulse to warn the captain of the little ship. But no warning was sent.
A few minutes later Voyager settled into the berth and the sound of the docking bolts clamping her in place resounded through the ship. They were home.
The End
TITLE: Unhappy Returns AUTHOR: halfofone RATING: 18 and over CODE: T/7 FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome. EMAILADDY: halfofone@iname.com SUMMARY: A sequel to Unacceptable Losses. The newly returned crew of Voyager must face up to a Federation that is not the same as they remember. This episode carries story forward into the present but also recounts some of Voyager's earlier adventures with Captain Torres and her burgeoning relationship with Seven of Nine. NOTES: In the earlier story, still stuck in the delta quadrant and following a series of tragic incidents, B'Elanna Torres became the Captain of Voyager. Some ten years later Voyager has returned home to an uneasy welcome. ARCHIVING: If you want ... I would quite like to know where. The latest version will always be on this website. DISCLAIMER: TPTB are Paramount/Viacom. In a perfect world I would own Star Trek but it's not and I don't.
A sequel to Unacceptable Losses. The newly returned crew of
Voyager must face up to a Federation that is not the same as they remember.
This episode carries story forward into the present but also recounts some of Voyager's earlier adventures with Captain Torres and her burgeoning relationship with Seven of Nine.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
Deep space four was a modern Starfleet base, a towering complex of docks, administration and communication facilities, science, research labs and repair installations. Several small, independent civilian cities were incorporated within its giant structures to provide the nineteen thousand Starfleet personnel with culturally contrasting places to live with their families. It hung in space, a massive horseshoe, self-sufficient and powerful, with every utility and convenience that life in the 24th century could provide, and yet it was possibly the least popular posting in Starfleet.
Most of the other deep space bases boasted at least half a dozen planets within a couple of days travel but DS4 was really in deep space, its nearest heavenly companion a dead star, five days journey at warp 8. Starfleet had recognised DS4 syndrome (or deep space cabin fever as one medical report described it) as a serious problem and made efforts to encourage non-Starfleet personnel to set up homes and businesses on the base, unfortunately without much success except for the proprietors and staff of the numerous gambling and vice clubs that spawned throughout the complex wherever any small piece of real estate became available. Starfleet command might not have approved of these seedy little establishments but reluctantly recognised their value in maintaining the morale of the troops.
B'Elanna Torres, Captain of the Starship Voyager, at least for the remainder of this day, scowled as two ensigns tumbled out into the corridor in front of her, expelled from just such a dubious establishment. Ten hours back in Starfleet space and some of her crew were in trouble already it seemed.
"Ensign Tripp," she yelled in the ear of one of the sprawling men. "Are you insane?"
The ensign sat up slowly and looked sheepish.
"I expected more of my crew" she said more moderately.
"Sir!" Ensign Tripp loudly acknowledged his captain, trying to come to attention while still on his backside.
B'Elanna narrowed her eyes. "We don't brawl with Starfleet, ensign. This is not some backwater planet on the way to nowhere."
"But Captain he insulted Voyager," explained the ensign. "He said we were a useless bunch of renegade Klingons and Borg lovers."
"And then what?" asked the captain icily.
"I told him we had survived seventeen years alone and there wasn't a ship or crew to match us in the alpha or delta quadrant."
"And?" she prompted.
"He said we weren't a crew any more and that Voyager was as good as scrap so I knocked half his teeth out." As he spoke, Ensign Tripp, Eight Bells to his friends, hauled himself to his very sizeable feet. He looked a bit uncomfortable under the captain's stony glare.
The Starfleet ensign was also coming round slowly and B'Elanna moved to offer him her hand. Bloodshot eyes took in the very old style Starfleet uniforms. "You mad Voyager bastards, you're all going to be locked up. We don't allow mongrel crews like you anymore."
B'Elanna Torres looked down at the Starfleet ensign as though examining a bug she had stepped on and withdrew her hand. The ensign cringed nervously, suddenly realising whom he had insulted. The half-Klingon captain had a reputation that had preceded her by several light years but she just turned away from him to address her errant engineer.
"Tripp. Get back to Voyager and get cleaned up. I expect every member of the crew to be ready for this evening's celebration dinner."
Eight Bells backed off reluctantly. "Yessir," he mumbled and shambled off. B'Elanna returned her attention to the ensign who was still on the ground. He was touching his swollen nose and wincing, blood trickling from his mouth. Eight Bells throws a fine punch, Captain Torres noted with some satisfaction.
"You there, crawling on the floor like a worm, get up," she ordered. The ensign scrambled to get up and away but was detained by an iron grip. "Name and ship," insisted B'Elanna, while pinioning the man's arms behind his back. When he hesitated she twisted her grip tighter. "Name and ship ensign" she repeated calmly but with unmistakable menace.
"Ensign Michael Pesci, USS Resolute."
B'Elanna dumped him roughly back to earth. "As you were Ensign. I will be speaking to your commanding officer. And if I were you, I'd keep away from any other members of my crew for the duration of our stay here; Ensign Tripp is both tolerant and gentle by comparison." B'Elanna resisted the urge to kick the cowering ensign and resumed her walking tour of the massive station.
She had been experiencing a clinging disquiet since arriving at DS4 earlier that day and this had expressed itself as bad-tempered irritability with the crew. Nika had quietly suggested that B'Elanna might like to have a look round DS4 while she, Annika, prepared Voyager for inspection by Starfleet. So far no Starfleet personnel had been allowed aboard the old ship; B'Elanna had managed to convince the station commander, a ferengi called Nog, to wait for the official welcoming party to arrive from Earth.
Another conflict with Starfleet was also stirring up the emotions of the captain: the crew of Voyager wanted to return to Earth as a functioning unit; Starfleet wanted to put their own people on Voyager as soon as possible and transport the Voyager crew back to Earth as passengers. B'Elanna had left the endlessly patient Chakotay negotiating the final return to Earth, with strict instructions not to give way to Starfleet's demands; she then set out to reconnoitre the space station.
B'Elanna concluded that she did not like DS4. It reminded her of too many of the disreputable space ports that Voyager had visited and at least some of those had exhibited a certain amount of grubby charm. DS4 was very clean, almost sterile, yet the atmosphere exuded corruption and malice. This particular corridor was apparently a major centre of R&R. Hundreds of Starfleet personnel milled up and down the wide corridor, sliding shiftily through doors with discreet view-screens previewing the delights within. The bright lighting did nothing to disperse the shady nature of much of the activity.
B'Elanna was not certain why she had such a bad feeling about this place and consequent doubts about allowing her own crew to roam the station freely. It wasn't that she was particularly disturbed by the thought of her own crew indulging in the drinking and gambling and other vices on offer. There was something else about this place. For one thing she was being followed. A human dressed in the uniform of Starfleet Medical had been tailing her since she left Voyager, pretending to look at the holographic displays outside the bars and casinos whenever she glanced his way. The security wasn't unexpected but why not just have her accompanied by a member of the station security team, a precaution she would have understood; the underhand surveillance seemed at odds with the ethical Starfleet she remembered; and there was also the general behaviour of the Starfleet personnel: she felt as though she was under a microscope, being studied by each passer-by, like an unusual and exotic insect of repellent appearance. The glances she received, ranged from cold through to hostile, and once she thought she overheard a murmured 'Borg lover' as she passed. It seemed that the views expressed by Eight-Bells' victim were not uncommon.
Then it struck her. The thing that jarred so badly. There were many species walking the corridors of DS4, a wide variety of representatives of the Alpha quadrant, yet there was no mixing: pairs, threesomes, groups, were all homogeneous.
Alerted, she began observing more carefully, and realised that the segregation extended to the establishments visited. Humans entered and left certain doors but not others; a pattern repeated by Bolians, Crepaths, Chings, Risans and any of the dozen other species she observed. Some species were conspicuous by their absence. Vulcans, of whom there had been many in Starfleet, were wholly absent; an absence she might have explained on its own - the Vulcan temperament not requiring the delights of a red light sector such as this - however she had seen no Katarians either; again, common in Starfleet, the Katarian's were great lovers of drinking and gambling; their total absence was unaccountable.
The changes in the Federation were obviously much more wide-ranging than she had imagined. B'Elanna had been disillusioned with Starfleet and the Federation when she joined the Maquis as a teenager nearly twenty years ago; seventeen years aboard Voyager, lost in the delta quadrant on a Starfleet ship, had softened her recollection of the mighty Federation. She had come to respect her Starfleet colleagues' sense of duty, their tolerance and belief in the value of diversity. It crossed her mind that perhaps the last wormhole had deposited Voyager in a mirror Universe, as had happened with one of the previous wormholes they had used. She dismissed the idea. Seven had checked each time they passed through a wormhole since and had been adamant that this universe was the correct one. Assuming that was so, then many of her crew were going to be unpleasantly surprised by the Federation they had returned to.
Someone collided with her and she felt a sharp pain in her left thigh. She grabbed her leg; there was nothing. She looked up quickly, in time to see the Starfleet medic who had been following her earlier, walking away rapidly and putting something in his pocket. Then her surroundings began to take on a blurry appearance and a loud roaring noise assailed her ears. She swayed and staggered, collapsing to her knees.
"Half-breed drunk!" exclaimed a voice near to her ear.
"Make space there, let her breathe," interrupted another voice, male this time. Someone leaned over her and through the swirling darkness she could just discern the serious face of the man who had been following her. She began to struggle but her efforts didn't last long. The full effects of whatever drug she had been injected with, overtook her and she sank into unconsciousness.
Some nine years earlier than part 1. Voyager is approaching the first of the four wormholes whose locations were given to them by the Ev'Ha in 'Unacceptable Losses'.
TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
9 YEARS EARLIER
"Leave."
"I didn't mean it."
"Nonetheless you said it. How many times will you say things you do not mean? And how should I know if you mean it or not?" An awkward silence followed. "We are not compatible."
"But I love you..."
"It would appear that love is not enough. Please leave now."
B'Elanna tried to find the words to contradict her sometime lover. They wouldn't come. Seven was right. They were not compatible. All they had in common was a shared feeling of not-belonging, comradeship on a ship lost in a vast and unfamiliar space, and physical attraction. They agreed on nothing and fought about everything, fights which too often became bitter and hurtful. Six months of quarrelling and yet the half-Klingon captain could not quite give up.
"You're right I know...but sometimes it's okay and sometimes between us, it's wonderful..."
Pained blue eyes locked with hers. "Eighteen hours and forty-three minutes in six months is not an acceptable ratio."
"Who knew you were counting..."
CAPTAIN TO THE BRIDGE. WE ARE BEING HAILED BY AN ALIEN VESSEL.
"On my way," B'Elanna responded quickly. She still held Seven's gaze.
"This isn't over Seven."
Seven broke the eye contact.
"Yes it is. I will be in engineering. There are still some tasks to be completed before Voyager is fit for a wormhole traverse."
B'Elanna watched helplessly as the slim ex-drone uncoiled herself to her full six foot height and strode to the door. It slid open, Seven hesitated on the threshold.
"I will miss you," she whispered.
The door closed behind her with a dismissive hiss.
"Not compatible," repeated B'Elanna aloud, trying to convince herself. "She's right of course, she's always right. I hate that she's always right. And she's arrogant, uptight, humourless and self-righteous. An arrogant prig."
The captain of Voyager, a title she still found strange after ten months in the role, sighed miserably. Seven of Nine had not fully stated the case. B'Elanna would miss the ex-drone too, all six-feet of arrogant priggishness.
She sighed again. Today of all days, B'Elanna had to put aside any personal woes. Today Voyager would traverse the first of the four wormholes whose location had been supplied by the E'vha. Of course it was possible that the wormhole had travelled away from this part of space. The end was not fixed and the E'vha had been vague about the exact time at which the wormhole entrance would disappear. There were some incompatibilities in space/time calculations between Voyager and the information provided. She knew the time-frame was tight - possibly only one or two days before the transition. The other information they had about the wormhole was also a little mysterious: there was some implication that it was guarded or occupied. She could only hope that the guardians were friendly.
B'Elanna marched onto the bridge of her ship. Even though nine months had passed since the captain's death she still had to suppress the expectant glance towards the captain's chair where Janeway would have been slouched waiting for her report. Instead it was the young half-Klingon herself who barked "Report!"
"We've been hailed by a warship commanded by a race of people known as the Lintai," said Harry Kim who had been on duty overnight as operations officer. "They claim this area of space as theirs and they want to know what we are doing here."
Harry still bore some visible scars and marks from his brief assimilation by the Borg although his hair had grown back now. It had not proved possible to entirely remove all of the Borg additions from some of the affected crew members despite many operations. In the end the EMH had settled for making the implants safe and bypassing them unless the original organ was irreparably damaged or assimilated. Harry did look older. His physical scars were not nearly as significant as the mental ones that had resulted from Janeway's death and his own subsequent actions. The attitude of Voyager's crew towards him was neatly divided between those who felt he had crossed a line no Starfleet officer should cross and those who sympathised with his desperate anger and grief. The former much outnumbered the latter and even the sympathisers were not friends; socially, Harry was alone except for Tom Paris who had stubbornly stuck by his old friend. Tom needed to be stubborn: Harry had rejected his friendship for months; refusing to talk with Tom or sit with him at meal-times. Most of the time Harry stayed in his quarters away from the critical eyes of his crewmates, imposing an effective solitary confinement on himself. B'Elanna was aware of Harry's self-imposed exile but the young Captain had too many pressures of her own to contend with so she was grateful when it appeared that Tom's determination was paying off and Harry started to take the occasional meal in the mess-hall. Professionally, Harry was everything he should be, perhaps better than ever because he seemed more dependable, more grown-up. B'Elanna was happy to leave him effectively in charge on the bridge during the Gamma shift though some of the crew resented his command.
"Hail them," B'Elanna ordered.
The view-screen flickered for a moment and then the picture cleared to reveal a thin-as-a-stick though clearly humanoid alien glaring at them aggressively. Probably aggressively. The Voyager crew had made enough first encounters to know that you shouldn't assume anything about such encounters. "Who are you?" the alien hissed in a manner that did not dispel the first impression.
"I'm Captain B'Elanna Torres of the Starship Voyager."
"What do you want here. This is Lintai space."
"We are peaceful explorers on our way home to a distant quadrant. We have been told that there is a wormhole in this area that will take us part of the way home and shave a few years off our journey."
The alien put its head on one side and blinked its very dark eyes. It stared very hard at B'Elanna.
"We're being scanned Captain," Harry said.
A long silence ensued until suddenly the alien inclined its narrow head.
"I believe you," it said with the same sibilant intonation. "You may pass - we will guide you to the wormhole entrance though you will need to hurry: the wormhole will transition in less than two hours. Also I should warn you that the area is extremely busy with shipping at the moment because of the imminent transition."
B'Elanna managed to disguise her surprise barely. To meet a polite and un-aggressive race hardly seemed credible. She had been expecting arguments, threats and injunctions: the Delta quadrant norm.
"Thank you," she said hardly able to believe their luck. "Sorry your name is...?"
"Lord Ting. Follow us Voyager. You can complete the paperwork en-route. Is your destination Harsing or Lintai-Shar?"
"We do not know your names for the sector we are travelling to. Basically it's the other end of the wormhole."
"Harsing. You will need to apply for an exit Visa from the wormhole from the Chow-Wing before you try and leave the wormhole or the Harsing defence grid will destroy you when you enter their space..."
"What or whom is the Chow-Wing?"
"It is the border between ourselves and Harsing. It is a diplomatic station at the midpoint of the wormhole."
B'Elanna was puzzled. "Then where is Lintai-Shar? How can there be an alternative destination in a wormhole."
"Lintai-Shar is the sector where this end of the wormhole completes its transition. If you wish to travel there then I can issue you with a visa now. Of course you would not be able to return here for four years so I hope you have left your affairs in this sector in order."
"Where are we now?"
"Lintai-Nu."
"Captain," interrupted Harry quietly. "I am detecting a vast number of ships. About 4 parsecs distant."
"How many is vast Harry?"
"Several hundred thousand! They seem to be converging on a single point."
"What?" B'Elanna yelped. "Umm Lord Ting. Our sensors have detected many thousands of ships. Is there anything wrong?"
"The time of transition is a time of migration for many Lintai. Many are travelling to see family from whom they have been parted for four years; even more are on pilgrimage to holy places in the Lintai-Shar; and some just wish for a fresh start. There is naturally much excitement and overcrowding within the wormhole as it transitions. It will be necessary for you to be extremely vigilant to avoid collisions at least until you reach Chow-Wing station. After that point it will be quiet. No Lintai will enter Harsing space."
B'Elanna filed that away under the heading of things she would think about later; several of her crew had exchanged glances too after overhearing Lord Ting's throw away comment. She did not ask for clarification; it often paid in the Delta quadrant to not know too much, the odds might seem too great. She lost her opportunity to ask anything further when Lord Ting cut communications without further formality. Though seeming friendly, the Lintai were a brusque race and not interested in niceties.
Tom Paris appeared on the bridge summoned by Harry Kim; given the extreme density of ships they were about to join, Voyager would need her best pilot. B'Elanna was pleased - one of the major reasons she had kept Harry in a senior role was his ability in taking the initiative - Susan Nicoletti might be first officer in name but Harry easily assumed command when needed. In general the crew were working well together and had adapted to the changes in leadership. She was proud of them although they had not been severely tested since their last encounter with the Borg and the Ev'ha.
Tom dropped into his seat and whistled when he saw the slew of warnings from the navigation systems.
"Wow!" he exclaimed, "and I thought the traffic around Risa was bad." He picked up the signal from the Lintai ship guiding them and proceeded to follow.
"Dammit!" he yelled and Voyager sheered sharply.
"Should we raise shields captain?" asked her security chief, Lieutenant Ayala.
"No, the Lintai might mistake it for an aggressive act and so far they seem well-disposed towards us. We'll just have to trust Tom to get us through."
A not very muffled curse came from the pilot. "Some of these guys should get a licence for those buckets. Actually some of them shouldn't be allowed anywhere near a starship - look at that idiot" he grumbled.
"Just take it steady Tom. We only have to keep up - it's not a race."
"Tell that to our guide. They're increasing speed to full impulse."
"Match course and speed Tom."
"Aye captain."
B'Elanna didn't trouble her pilot further. Tom needed all his concentration to weave between the myriads of vessels, small and large that seemed to be converging into a tighter and tighter channel.
"Wormhole dead ahead captain," warned Harry.
"On screen," she ordered, hoping the rising excitement she felt was not audible in her voice.
The wormhole was open. Surrounded by a glowing circle of high energy particles, its broad mouth gaped darkly like a whale as thousands of shiny little fish swam willingly into its jaws and the depths of its throat.
TITLE: The L Word AUTHOR: halfofone RATING: Various up to 18/NC17 CODE: Bette/Helena FEEDBACK: Constructive feedback welcome. EMAILADDY: halfofone@iname.com SUMMARY: This is set after season three. STATUS: On-going
Post season 3. Nothing much happens. Bette, Helena and Alice meet, drink and say things, most of which they then wish they hadn't.
All the characters and locations belong to Showtime and Ilene Chaiken. I am merely taking them out for a quick polish. TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
====== A Night at the Planet ======
Even though it was early by clubbing standards, the crowd was building up for one of those evenings of music that Kit insisted on holding every few months at the Planet generating an uneasy mix of customers. There was the usual crowd of WeHo lesbians and gays, many of whom were more than a little overawed by the infinitely hipper crew of interlopers who had been drawn to the Planet by the promise of music cool enough to chill the smouldering LA night. Kit drowned out the protests from her manager Billy about the evening's entertainment, saying 'I know this isn't playin' to my 'core' 'audience' but damn at least occasionally they should listen to something decent'.
Three such musically-challenged lesbians sat back in their usual place, a quietish spot some way from the stage, and watched the swirl of people jockeying for space. The music hadn't started yet and it was still possible to hear yourself and more importantly to reach the bar but it looked like these three were taking no chances as a lineup of cocktail glasses already stood at attention shouldering their umbrellas and olive sticks. One of the two brunettes at the table shifted to watch her companion.
"Did you speak to Tina today?" she asked tentatively. Her accent marked her as not from around these parts by several thousand miles.
"Yeah," replied the other brunette at the table. She didn't take her dark eyes from the crowd.
"And..." persisted her companion.
"We didn't talk for long but she is going to give me some visitation rights. No adoption but she may let Angelica visit and even stay with me sometimes."
The blonde woman who had been slouching opposite sat up, nearly knocking over her extravagantly tall cocktail and shrieked.
"Wow! Why didn't you tell me? Bette, that is just the greatest." Taking in the slight frown on her old friend's face Alice moderated her enthusiasm "Okay not so good about the adoption. But I mean...how? Last I heard Tina's lawyers were going to banish you from the western seaboard."
Bette's frown deepened. "You'll have to ask Helena."
Alice turned to stare at the Briton. "What? How? Have you got contacts in the Mafia that owe you big? Did you offer to pay Angie's college fees."
Helena was still watching Bette. The recently appointed Dean of Los Angeles Art School downed a vodka-martini in one. Helena took her gaze away and smiled warmly at Alice.
"I spoke to Tina. Reasoned with her."
Bette smiled too but it wasn't gentle or affectionate. It was bitter like prussic acid. "And of course she listened to you rather than talk to her partner of eight years."
Helena lost her smile and a little patience.
"I'm her friend Bette and I am outside this. She is much more likely to listen to me - after all I didn't take her baby daughter on a road-trip that was suspiciously like a kidnapping."
"I did not fucking kidnap Angelica. I just needed time to think. And she's my daughter too remember. I had every right.."
"Do not say that to Tina!" Helena interrupted Bette's rant, "unless you want to unpick everything we have managed to stitch together from this mess. I'm going to the bar. Do you want anything?"
Both her companions accepted. The tall Briton pushed her way to the bar ignoring the dozens of eyes that swivelled to watch her graceful progress.
Alice turned in her chair and watched her too. "She is amazing."
"Why is she doing it?" growled Bette, her gaze also following Helena's slender form as it insinuated itself between the ill-assorted lezzies and gangstas.
"Whoa there sheriff!" exclaimed Alice turning back to face Bette. "Don't quibble with her motives Bette. She has just pulled your stubborn ass out of the biggest tar pit you have ever been in."
"I know it Alice," Bette sighed and some of the irritation had left her voice, "but I just can't quite believe it. She loathes me and you won't be surprised to know that I really don't like her either. I mean she is half the reason I am in this mess."
"I don't think so Bette. You and Tina were well on the way to relationship hell long before Helena showed up. You're re-writing history."
"Bull shit Al" said Bette rejecting Alice's argument. "Helena was on a mission to destroy. She wasn't content with just seducing and fucking my girlfriend; she pursued me into the CAC, persecuted me almost daily and then lost me my job. The financial strain didn't help us you know."
"You don't know for sure that she had you fired and in any case she gave Tina a job thus neatly pulling you out of penury. It's not her fault that Tina couldn't stand being the bread-winner. I mean who knew?"
Alice picked up a stray cocktail stick and began unconsciously stirring the contents of Bette's slippery nipple spoiling the beautiful arrangement of layers. Bette sighed and took the drink away from the fidgeting fingers.
"Don't be too rough on her Bette, she took a hard hit over that woman she was with and then what with Peggy cutting her off."
"Now I'm supposed to feel sorry for her! Alice I tolerate Helena because, for some reason which I can't quite fathom, you and she are friends and she is obviously trying in her own heavy-handed way to fit in. That said I find it hard to trust her."
"Of course you're right in one way," Alice mused. "Helena seems like a different person from when we first knew her. Do you remember what an arrogant overbearing little shit she was?"
"Umm Alice," warned Bette.
"She's behind me isn't she," whimpered Alice, mortified.
"Darling Alice I am indeed behind you." Helena set the drinks on the table and then bent to kiss Alice on the neck. "Of course I'm still an arrogant overbearing little shit."
"I didn't mean..."
"I take it that Ms Porter distrusts my motives." Helena pushed her chair back and took her seat, leaning back on it to get a better view of both her companions. "It's not that complicated. I fight for my team and God help me, you two are on my team. What Tina was trying to do, taking away Angelica, was inexcusable, as of course was your behaviour Bette."
Bette raise an eyebrow at the criticism.
"Didn't you and Winnie or, as you still refer to her, 'that Succubus', which is actually more appropriate as a name for Tina now I that think about it...I may borrow it..."
Helena snorted in her drink and Alice looked mystified. "Female demon who seduces men," whispered Helena aside. Bette ignored the interruption.
"Anyway didn't you and Winnie sue each other for sole custody of Wilson and Jun Ying? What makes you the exception, or do our world's moral rules not apply to Peabodys?"
"Well as a 'fucking vampire and scourge of the universe', of course not," Helena agreed sweetly. Bette rolled her eyes. "Seriously I do regret my behaviour with Winnie but that's what I am trying to emphasise Bette. You're in the middle of a divorce and all the relationship shit is flying about; you can't see what is obvious to everyone else. Fighting for custody like two dogs over a bone is not going to work. You and Tina are going to have bring up Angelica with each other for at least another twenty years."
Bette stared at her as though that revelation was news. Helena resisted rolling her eyes.
"My mother put an end to the fighting with Winnie. She did for me what I am trying to do for you. I know it's not perfect and that you wanted more but for the moment it has to be enough."
Bette looked down at her hands, defeated temporarily at least.
Alice was still wildly curious.
"But I still don't see how you did it!," she demanded. "Tina was like a crazy lady just three days ago. I mean I thought she was going to pursue sole custody of me, Jenny and Shane too let alone Angie. She threatened I had to choose between seeing Bette or seeing her."
"I discussed some of her fears," Helena offered and then smirked when she saw Bette stiffen. Even now Porter obviously did not like the idea of anyone messing with her Tina. "Tina is as worried as you that she won't be able to meet Angelica's needs as a biracial child. Whatever you think of her Bette, she loves her daughter."
"I know that, but where does it leave me."
"Well at the moment you are the designated person to guide and protect Angelica from the cruelty and unfairness of this racially conscious world. Bette please try and be moderate; if you piss Tina off too badly then she is quite capable of going out and finding herself a nice black or biracial hunk to meet her baby's needs. So don't give her an excuse. Let everything calm down. Build co-operation. I convinced her that serving the papers was the result of a misunderstanding between you and your lawyers and that skipping out in the night with Angelica was a typical Bette Porter reaction to her threats - heartfelt and spontaneous were my words - overwrought and nutsoid were hers."
Bette downed another drink and then another.
Helena scrutinised her anxiously and decided that was enough nagging for one night.
"See Alice I am still arrogant and over-bearing. You're just used to me now."
Looking around, Helena accidentally made eye-contact with a particularly large black man sporting a sharp white suit and enough gold jewellery that it constituted a suit of armour. He grinned at her and two fine gold front-teeth caught the light. Helena hurriedly looked away.
"Alice, explain to me again why we came here tonight?"
Alice was still staring at Helena with an expression akin to hero-worship. Not only did the big H stand up to Bette but she had slain the Tina-dragon. It took her a few seconds to latch onto what Helena was asking. She blinked.
"To support Kit and to prowl. We are three fine single women and only the coolest hottest dykes come to Kit Porter's fabulous musical soirees!"
"I'm having a hard time seeing anything, much less prowling lesbians, amongst that wall of testosterone and bling," Bette observed.
"It'll be easier when people start dancing," Alice assured her, sounding too confident. "Just avoid anyone whose pants bulge."
"I can't wait," Helena murmured cynically. That got her a small shove from Alice which didn't seem to worry her unduly. "Not to worry Alice, I have always dreamt of becoming some gangster's moll," she added, deflecting Alice's ire with a charming grin.
A brief interlude in the conversation followed as all three women sipped their drinks and glanced about them. The crowd had become much denser and the noise heavier.
"Howya doing baby-girl?" Kit yelled bending down to wrap her arms around her sister and hugging hard. Bette twisted in her chair to return the hug and smiled affectionately up at her big sister.
"I'm doing okay Kit."
Both her companions noted that it was Bette's first real smile of the evening and envied Kit Porter's easy claim on her sister's love.
"Helena. Alice." Kit acknowledged them politely. "We are going to have some great music tonight," she exclaimed exuberantly, her eyes all lit up and dancing. Running a club was one thing and Kit enjoyed it but music was her passion.
"Lets hope you don't get raided by the police, Bette joked, though there was a hint of real concern in her voice. "Some of these guys look as though they might be closely acquainted with LA's finest."
"Don't you worry baby girl. These are my friends and they go nowhere without their lawyers." Kit laughed aloud. "We are well protected. And there won't be no-one troubling you three ladies tonight unless you want them to. My dear friend Aloysius has seen to that. Kit raised her fruit juice in salute to the big guy with the gold teeth who grinned and waved back at her."
"I did wonder how we managed to sit here for an hour and no-one came over."
"Worried you'd lost your touch?" her sister teased.
Bette shrugged and smiled weakly.
"Bette's had some good news today," Alice prompted. Kit looked expectantly at her sister whose smile had become forced.
"Tina is going to let me see Angelica. We haven't worked out the details yet." Bette's voice cracked a little. Kit knew to reassure her younger sister.
"That's good Bette. That's really good. At least you're talking." She put her arm around Bette's shoulders again while Alice and Helena both looked away; Bette's pain at the loss of her daughter was still raw.
"I know but it's been five weeks Kit...she'll forget me."
"She isn't going to forget her Mama B."
"She will if fucking Henry has anything to say about it."
"He doesn't," says Helena unexpectedly. "Henry is gone, back to the bourgeois 'burbs where he belongs. Apparently his bigotry was too much even for Tina. I think her exact words were 'I don't know where he gets off thinking he can reduce eight years of my life to a sad illness for which he is the only known cure'." Seeing what could be hope on Bette's face Helena added quickly "Don't get too excited Bette - she's still looking for a man." Bette lost the satisfied grin leaving only contempt twisting her fine features.
"I don't want her back. I wouldn't take Tina back under any circumstances that I can imagine. That ship sank to the bottom of the ocean when she fucked him in my house, with my daughter in the next room, however it makes me fucking ecstatic to know that racist pig isn't anywhere near Angelica anymore." Brooding anger filled the expressive dark eyes as her strong hands gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles whitening. Alice and Helena glanced at each other. If someone didn't intervene soon Bette would be lost for the evening.
"Soooo Helena," Alice improvised, "how's poverty suiting you or is that not a new two thousand dollar suit I see before me?"
Helena winked. "Mummy may have cut me off but her idea of me living in poverty didn't extend to freezing my assets."
"Odd that," muttered Bette absently. "Peggy usually pays a great deal of attention to detail."
Helena suddenly looked less confident. Bette was right - Peggy Peabody didn't forget things or omit instructions despite her scatty billionairess routine.
"Has she said anything?"
"She wouldn't discuss you with me." Bette's dark expression hadn't changed though her tone said 'don't you know your own mother even that well'. Helena made a mental note to talk to her lawyer in the morning and scowled at Bette whose face was still fixed in a preoccupied daze.
Kit and Alice exchanged nervous glances. The atmosphere at the table was spiralling downwards again and Kit had better places to be. Ignoring Alice's imploring face, clearly pleading not to be left alone with an ever more morose Bette and an aggressively anxious Helena, Kit excused herself: "Listen girls I have to go mix, see you later and enjoy yourselves." Alice shook her fist after the departing Diva.
"Thanks a lot Kit, just leave me with Mopey and Dopey and where the hell are Shane and Jenny when you need them?" she said aloud.
"What are you talking about Alice?" snapped Helena torn from an unpleasant daydream involving nylon aprons and Chicky Chucky Nuggets. Bette didn't even look up.
"I'm talking about the fun we are not having," said Alice. She suddenly grasped the nearest hand from each of her companions. They both jumped but Alice held on tightly. "Lets just leave the misery at home where you know I can be miserable all alone. I mean hey I do miserable as well as the next person but just for tonight lets not. I propose that we drink to Bette's new job, Helena's new suit, my recently renewed singleness and to never having to go to another lezzie wedding as long as we live."
Alice raised her martini and waited. Helena was the first to crack.
"You're right Alice. I'm sorry." She lifted her glass in reply to the toast. "Come on Bette. Drink with us."
Bette stared at her, still obviously distracted. Slowly she came back to them and lifted her glass with her free hand.
"Okay. Alice, Helena, here's to our new lives and to hell with the past."
"To hell with the past," echoed Alice.
Three drinks sank quickly towards oblivion and they put their glasses back on the table. Bette stood, gestured at the empty glasses and the bar which was nearly clear. Alice and Helena nodded and Bette swept off to the bar to restock with martinis. Bette's drinking buddies were amused to note a sudden flocking of nearly every unattached lesbian in The Planet who considered themselves even remotely eligible. The previously empty bar area was soon adorned with women trying to arrange themselves in suitably engaging poses to catch the eye of the newly available Bette Porter. The woman herself looked rather irritated at having to negotiate her way through a bevy of women introducing themselves. The noise in the club had increased in volume and Helena leaned over to say in Alice's ear, "Do you think Bette could do with a hand?" as the soon-to-be Dean of a prestigious art school was temporarily submerged in a pool of gay ladies.
"Nah. It's good for her to remember how she totally ruled the skool."
"She doesn't look too pleased," said Helena doubtfully watching Bette swimming back to their table through her shoals of admirers.
"Jesus! What is wrong with all these people?" Bette huffed as she set down three new vodka martinis.
"My you are rusty Porter," Alice mocked. "Was the time when you would have collected a dozen phone numbers in that crowd most of them on underwear."
"Alice I'm not twenty-five any more. I'm more than happy to leave the field open to you and Shane."
"Are you trying to tell me that not one of those women registered even slightly on the Porter meter of hotness."
"Give it up Alice."
"No. I want to know who you think is the hottest woman here."
Bette looked away and deliberately picked up her drink.
"Aw come on. Helena, you go first."
"You mean apart from you Alice?"
"Funny. Yes apart from me. Who, in your opinion, is the hottest woman in the Planet?"
"Bette."
"Come on Helena don't be such a pussy, give me an answer."
"I have. Bette is the hottest woman here," Helena stated firmly. Alice's mouth dropped open and Bette swivelled her head to stare at the Brit. Helena laughed at the two horror-struck faces. "I didn't say I wanted to shag her. Just that on an objective assessment, Bette is the most beautiful woman in the room."
"That was unexpected," Alice said, swigging from her drink. Helena threw her arm around Alice's shoulders and hugged her enthusiastically if sloppily.
"Ali, you did exclude yourself darling. You know I love you. You're my friend. My bestest friend. I think your my bestest friend ever."
Bette smirked. "Do I detect a little inebriation Helena dear?"
"Maybe. But I'm not too drunk to know that you are criminally and annoyingly gorgeous. You know who first told me you were gorgeous? My mother, your biggest fan. Gee Bette if she were twenty years younger she'd go gay for you. She told me that herself after you first met. 'Why can't you bring home a woman like that darling, beautiful, passionate and successful, instead of a parade of dishearteningly inadequate strays.'" Helena's imitation of her mother was pitch perfect.
"Bette has that effect on mothers," Alice agreed. "Lenore couldn't get over her. Kept asking if Bette really was my girlfriend or if I had hired her. She worked up this crazy fantasy that Bette was an unsuccessful actress working for an escort agency."
"I never knew you and Bette had dated."
"For six whole weeks until Bette decided to agree with my mother that a relationship with me was unthinkable."
"Alice it wasn't like that."
"It was exactly like that."
Bette shook her head but she had obviously been thinking about Helena's earlier disclosures. "So you knew of me before I came to see you about the Peabody grant."
"Yes," Helena replied tersely. She didn't seem to be going to elaborate. Bette's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"You didn't make that clear at the time."
"It didn't seem relevant."
"It seems relevant to me."
"Helena! Bette! To hell with the past! Remember? Jeez I don't know who is the biggest pain in the ass. Alright Bette it's your turn now we've picked up our jaws off the floor. Who do you think is the hottest woman here?"
Bette gave in and surveyed the room for a couple of seconds. "Over there by the door. Blonde just came in with a man."
"Damn right! Yep she's definitely sizzling and I don't know her."
Helena looked at the blonde critically. "She's straight."
"Are you sure?"
On cue the blonde draped her arms around her male companion.
"She's curious," Bette stated.
"How on earth can you know that?"
"Situational evidence."
Bette's companions did not seem any wiser.
"I don't think that two middle-class white people fresh from OC came here tonight for the music, so one of them wanted to see the inside of a lesbian club. Furthermore she looks nervous, so unless you believe she's hanging all over the boyfriend in order to protect him from the dangerous advances of a bunch of dykes then either she doesn't want to clue in Mr America that she's considering switch-hitting or she's afraid a big scary lesbian might call her bluff."
Helena laughed. "That is utterly preposterous! It's just as likely that hubby has persuaded her to come inside because he fantasises about having a threesome and thinks they might find a willing woman here."
Bette shook her head. "Would you like proof?"
"How much have you had to drink Porter?"
"Just enough Alice."
Bette removed her jacket, revealing her staggeringly beautiful arms and shoulders. She handed the jacket to Alice and stood up. As she did, the blonde across the room caught the movement and looked their way. Bette met the woman's glance and smiled. The unfortunate woman all but swooned. Her male friend appeared flustered too.
"Okay you've proved your point Sherlock," Helena admitted grudgingly but Bette didn't hear since she was already three steps away, zeroing in on the target. "You never know when to stop," murmured the Briton, watching Bette stalk her petrified prey. A muffled sob from beside her brought Helena's attention back to the table.
"This is all wrong," Alice whined, her eyes filling with tears. "It should be Tina. I can't watch this. It hurts." She clutched at Helena hiding her face against the Briton's shoulder, pressing into the perfectly tailored cloth.
Helena held her. "It's okay love, don't cry, especially not on the suit. You said yourself she had to get back on the horse."
"Yes but that doesn't mean she has to gallop off into the sunset with the first straight blonde to fall at her feet. It's all so fucked up: Dana, Shane, Bette and Tina, Me, all fucked up."
Helena was still watching Bette over the top of Alice's head. The confident sinuous advance abruptly stopped and Bette stood uncertainly, her hands clenching. Since there seemed to be no external reason for the halt, Helena concluded that Bette must be having second thoughts. Her deduction was apparently correct as Bette turned around on a dime and headed back towards the table.
"Hey Ali," Helena shook Alice gently and whispered in her ear. "You can stop grieving, Porter has returned to us." Alice lifted a teary face for a moment and then put it back on the Brit's shoulder.
"'m comfortable here," she slurred.
Helena smiled and kissed the top of Alice's head.
"A bad idea on so many levels" Bette muttered as she flopped back in her chair.
"Thanks."
"I don't mean you. That." She jerked her head in the direction of the now offended looking blonde woman. "The last person I need is another confused bisexual. Actually I am probably the last person she needs either."
"Probably. I might introduce myself later if she stays around though."
"Be my guest and thank you."
Helena raised her eyebrows in question.
"For helping me and for being a good friend to Alice. God knows she needs one."
"You think I helped you because of Alice."
"I can't think of another reason; by the way, hurt her and I'll come looking for you."
"I'm not going to hurt Alice."
"Tha's gooj to know," mumbled Alice. "I'm still here you guys." Her head lolled precariously on Helena's shoulder until the Briton shifted slightly to hold her more comfortably. Alice snorted happily and snuggled deeper.
"She's getting a crush on you," Bette mouthed almost silently.
"Just a little one," said Helena gently and ruffled the blonde hair eliciting a sleepy grunt. She added very quietly "I won't let it go too far. In any case I think Lara is the one for her once they have had some time apart. It's all too raw at the moment."
Bette shook her head. "Lara? That's a little too weird even for lesbians."
"Maybe...at least it'll give Alice plenty of material for her show. I didn't entirely help you because of Alice you know. I had other reasons. As I said Tina has no business to keep you from your daughter; less honourably I'll admit to wanting a little pay back for my own sake - Tina played us both last year; more importantly Bette, much as I hate to admit this, I misjudged you and wronged you and I owe you a lot more than just an apology."
Bette didn't look as though she was going to disagree with that statement. Helena sipped her martini.
"Can I ask you something Helena?"
"Of course."
"Why were you so set against me? You acted as though you wanted to ruin my life."
Helena took a deep breath before admitting "I did. I really did. I wanted to destroy you."
"Well I guess that's honest," Bette said, obviously shaken by the confession. Helena passed a hand through her dark hair as she looked into the distance past Bette.
"How did I hate thee. Let me count the ways. Do you really want me to count the ways Bette?"
"Go for it. It's always interesting to find out why someone whom I'd hardly met hated my guts enough to take everything away."
"My mother loved you."
"That's old."
"Agreed. But jealousy aside, I thought you were manipulating her, had manipulated her into giving you the Provocations exhibit. Do you remember Gina Ferrara?"
Bette inclined her head cautiously.
"Well Bette, Gina is an old friend of mine. We go way back."
"Oh."
"Let's say that Gina wasn't complimentary about your business dealings. Did you really sleep with an artist just to get her show away from Gina?"
Bette flinched and slowly chugged her drink before admitting the truth.
"Yeah I guess I did. It wasn't quite that simple - I really liked the woman. She was an amazing artist and very attractive..."
"And the next time Gina runs into you, you go behind her back and all but seduce my mother. Poor old Gina was left high and dry explaining to MOCA why their exhibition had been stolen from them."
Alice stirred from her resting place, "This is boring."
"Go back to sleep Alice," snapped Bette. Alice obliged, sinking deeper into Helena's shoulder.
"Okay Helena, I see why you might not trust me but does any of that merit actual hatred?"
Helena fiddles with the olive resting in her martini. She knows their conversation is about to get harder and meaner. She should stop but this confrontation is overdue.
"The first time we meet, you make an uninvited appointment to see me to indulge in some special pleading for your Peabody grant, though personal meetings with the Chair of the Foundation are not any part of the grant-giving procedures. You let me know that you're gay and have a partner and are about to have a child, none of which were remotely relevant to your case and as far as I was concerned, were blatant attempts at manipulating me as you had my mother."
"That wasn't my best..." Bette tried to interrupt defensively. Helena glared at her and continued fiercely.
"No your 'best' was going behind my back to my mother and trying to get her to influence the decision. For once the mad old bat supported me but that didn't change what you had tried to do. So far Bette all I could see was a scheming ruthless woman who had gained an inordinate amount of influence through back-stabbing. My opinion didn't change when I met Tina and discovered that you had been lying to me about your relationship and that you had cheated on her. On top of that you were so bumptious and possessive of Tina that I couldn't wait to knock you down."
Bette was silent though her dark eyes were angry and resentful. Helena's expression softened.
"However the real reason I hated you Bette had nothing to do with you at all."
Bette looked at her blankly.
"Your real offence was that I thought you were like Winnie." Helena's voice was soft and reluctant as she came to the climax of her explanation. "Winnie is the most accomplished and manipulative, scheming bitch I have ever had the misfortune to encounter let alone have children with. She turned undermining me into an art form and at the point in time that I first met you, she was using everything in her considerable arsenal to separate me permanently from my children. She even went to see you didn't she? I had her followed twenty-four hours a day in case she tried to leave the country with the children and she approached almost everyone I knew or worked with, including my mother to see if she could employ them against me in the custody case."
Bette looked totally disbelieving. Her voice rose. "You brought me down as a way of getting even with Winnie? You have to be kidding me."
Helena kept her chin up though it was hard in the face of Bette's righteous fury. "I couldn't take revenge on Winnie because of Wilson and Jun Ying but I could give you crap and feel good about it because of what I thought you had done to Tina, Gina and my mother."
"Jesus."
"I can't change what I did Bette but I swear that I will do my best to assist you adopting Angelica or even getting Tina back if you ever decide that's what you want."
Bette was controlling herself with some difficulty. She gripped the sides of the chair, afraid of the damage she might inflict on the woman who had done so much to hurt her.
"Why, since you despise me so much, would you now want to help me at all. Why not just finish the fucking job?" she enquired in a voice dripping venom.
"Because I was wrong about you. What I said to Tina yesterday was true - you do things out of passion not calculation. You are sometimes unthinking and go after what you want without considering consequences but you're not deliberately manipulative and eventually I realised that your situation with Tina was not uncomplicated or one-sided. Tina is the subtle one."
"So now you feel sorry for me because I am a wrong-headed bull in a china shop," Bette ground out through gritted teeth. She was still keeping a firm grip on her chair as if afraid that if she let go she would go into orbit. Which may have been a true risk at least metaphorically speaking.
Helena shook her head and smiled tentatively, "I came to realise why your friends love you and even why my mother loves you."
"Strangely Helena I don't give a shit what you think of me."
The Briton looked away discouraged. "I know. Why should you. But I am going to tell you anyway because I may never get up the courage again. The funny thing is everyone assumes that because I went after Tina, she was 'my type' - actually she was a break from the norm."
"Actually I thought it was because you had a fetish for pregnant women."
Helena's lips twitched. "Maybe...I do find pregnant women very attractive. My fetishes aside, Dylan Moreland, as painfully bad as that turned out, was definitely 'my type' - passionate, carelessly brave, unorthodox, maybe a little buccaneering." As she enumerated Dylan's qualities, Helena held Bette's gaze. The Briton's normally cool gray eyes betrayed an unexpected vulnerability and what might easily be fear. "Tina is not the kind of woman I normally fall in love with Bette." Helena took a deep breath. "You are."
There followed a pause so pregnant that a family of four could have been conceived, born and graduated high school and be well on the way to producing grandchildren, a pause during which time Helena struggled between regret and relief and Bette struggled to understand anything. A struggle with which she received help from an unexpected quarter.
"Helena's got the hots for Bette. Ha Ha Ha! That's funny," Dormouse Alice suddenly said aloud and then went straight back to sleep.
Helena laughed too, slightly hysterically, before choking out, "My God it's the chorus from a bloody Greek tragedy."
Bette was not amused. Helena did her best not to cringe and fortunately just as Bette seemed to be have worked up enough steam to speak, the band on the stage kicked off its set with a loud flourish of saxophones. Frustrated, Bette brought her fist down sharply on the table setting off a sequence of tiny tsunamis in the line of unfinished drinks. Helena jumped.
Alice's head jerked up, displaced by Helena's movement.
"Fuck that's loud!" she hollered to no-one in particular. "Don't they know there are people trying to sleep here." Unaware of the tension, Alice sat-up, stretched, rolled her head to try and pop the kinks out and then looked around at her companions. Next to her Helena was gently rubbing her arm to restart the circulation. On the other side Bette was staring at the Englishwoman with undisguised loathing but that was fairly normal.
"I had the weirdest dream," Alice bellowed. "You and Helena were yaddering on, boring stuff, and then she told you she wanted you. Can you believe that?"
Alice grinned at each of them and looked again. She took in Bette's volcanic demeanour and Helena's absolute discomfort. "No way!" she exclaimed. When neither Bette nor Helena responded Alice shouted "Come on guys what's going on?" The music had gotten a little quieter so several people looked their way wondering why the blonde was yelling.
Helena stood up to escape. She raised her voice to be heard over the thudding rhythm.
"I have to go. Bette, I'll ask my lawyer to call you to talk strategy."
"I don't need your help and I don't want to pay the price that you clearly believe you can exact for that help Helena. Given a choice, I'd rather fuck Tina's man-toy if that's what it takes."
Helena paled and Alice gave a gasp of outrage.
"Bette! For fuck's sake! And you so do need her help." Alice prodded Bette painfully in the side. Bette winced and her scowl deepened. "Angelica?" Alice reminded her. Bette blinked and Helena saw a yawning breach appear in the Porter defences. For one long moment the Briton fought an impulse to exploit that weakness. She took a step back and apologised instead.
"I'm sorry I said anything to embarrass you and honestly I won't expect your gratitude Bette; just let me do this for you. You don't have to speak to me or see me or anything. You only have to talk to my lawyer." The Briton felt quite proud of herself for keeping her calm and neither running away or losing her temper.
Bette stared impotently up at the woman standing before her. How could the person she had once hated more than any other be the one who now seemed to be her only chance of keeping contact with the person she loved more than any other? Bette could see Alice making throat-cutting gestures out of the corner of her eye. Bette slumped back in her chair.
"Fine" was all she said, barely audibly. Concern washed over Helena's face. She'd rather have Bette shout at her than look so defeated.
"I'm not trying to beat you or gain some advantage."
"You would hardly have to try, I am beaten Helena, or are you going to pretend that you hadn't noticed. You must feel really powerful, now that all you have to do to get my total attention is dangle in front of me the tiniest of chances that I might keep some contact with my daughter, no matter how small."
Helena was hurt and offended again by Bette continuing to imply that she was going to demand some kind of reward for her endeavours instead of having put her feelings on the line with no expectation of anything.
"You may indeed be beaten but not by me. I think you're confusing me with Tina." Helena made to leave but was prevented by Alice grabbing her hand tightly.
"Don't go," the blonde demanded plaintively, "You promised to stay with me tonight." Helena glanced at Bette.
"I'd better Alice. I don't think I can stay."
"I'll go," said Bette gruffly and started to stand.
"Just sit the fuck down. Both of you!" screeched Alice loudly, catching her companions by surprise. She glared at Helena and then at Bette. "Remember me? Well this evening was supposed to be about me. You know 'Lets take out poor old Alice, entertain her, make her laugh, get her drunk, take her mind off being left again even if it was only by the pity fuck.' Fucking alpha drama queens! You're totally making me want to vomit and I've had enough to drink to carry through on that promise so get over yourselves and finish your drinks. You can work out some kind of power sharing peace accord thingy later, after you've taken me home and tucked me up in bed."
Helena's sense of humour got the better of her. "I don't think you can complain about the entertainment Ali."
Alice continued to look fierce and needy at one and the same time. Helena could never resist a damsel in distress so she slowly sat down. Bette subsided back into her seat too.
"Better," said Alice, feeling an unusual sense of power, until she suddenly realised that having tamed the lionesses she was now going to have to actually talk to them and the signs for a pleasant evening were not propitious. She said a silent prayer that Shane or Jenny or even that dick-head Max might turn up. Her silent prayer was followed by a longer period of silence during which a more devout person than Alice could have read a couple of the gospels and got around to some fairly serious study of the Old Testament. On the other hand the blonde did feel as uncomfortably sober as any teetotal minister of religion, a condition in which she did not wish to remain. Alice chugged her drink.
"This is nice," she uttered limply. "Perhaps I should get us some more drinks."
"No! I'll go," said Helena and Bette together, both starting to rise to their feet.
They both sank back when Alice insisted with as much firmness as she was capable "No. I...umm...want to go to the bathroom anyway. Try not to kill each other, I mean especially Bette since I don't suppose Helena... just don't kill Helena until I get back," she instructed faintly.
"Why? Do you want to watch?" growled Bette.
Alice fled the scene towards the safety of the bathroom.
"Coward," Bette hurled after the scuttling Alice at the same time as Helena said quite clearly "Wimp!" Alice ignored their epithets.
"That's Alice, big mouth, no follow-through," Bette said moodily, staring after her.
"Sometimes but she's also funny, sweet and wonderful. She's reckless too. I mean not many people would 'rescue' their best friend's ashes. She's easy to love."
Bette's face softened in agreement.
Helena added cautiously "Hard to believe you two ever dated though."
"Why?" Bette asked without raising her voice, though she managed to imbue the monosyllable with a touch of contempt.
"She seems a little frivolous for you."
"So? Flaky bisexual blondes are my thing. Apparently."
"Is that really true. Tina doesn't appear to be flaky," Helena wondered aloud. When Bette said nothing but just gazed at her from pained dark eyes, the Briton added gently "I suppose she has her moments."
Bette took another sip of her rapidly diminishing martini before saying sharply "You know what I cannot understand and I don't think I ever will. I don't know why she took me back when she clearly didn't love me anymore. Was it just so she'd have a home for Angelica? Was I just the best option she had at the time?"
Helena shook her head firmly. "No, she loved you. After all if the only thing she wanted was security, she could have chosen me and my millions." The Briton grinned self-deprecatingly and then said "She still loves you I think."
Bette uttered a sound of disbelief.
"Somehow Ms Peabody I find that hard to believe."
"Do you mind if I offer a possible theory about you and Tina - strictly amateur psychology of course - I have thought a lot about this over the last eighteen months...from several points of view."
"Including Alice's no doubt."
"She may have supplied some background colour."
"Go on then. Go for it. Enlighten me."
"Tina is angry with you."
Bette laughed sarcastically, "I think I got that Helena."
"No I don't just mean the sort of angry that comes when one partner cheats on another though that is devastating enough. She changed her life for you, chose the harder path, gave up the world, or at least her expectations of it, for love if you like. You didn't just cheat Bette, you threw her willing sacrifice back at her."
"That is not the first time I've heard this Helena, not least from Tina."
"Yes but I think her fling with me after you separated was an attempt to prove to herself that she had not changed her whole life simply for you, that she had made a real choice to be gay but instead she discovered that you really were the reason. She loved you, not women. She really had no choice but to take you back."
"She had choices. She could have gone back to men or stayed on her own. She is not that passive..."
"She is pretty accepting and she was still in love with you - she had to fall out of love first. She needed to take you back and find you wanting so she could move on."
"What the hell are you saying? That she took me back so she could dump me? Tina isn't like that."
"Not consciously maybe but falling out of love with you was surprisingly easy once she managed to be disappointed by everything you did or said. You weren't the same powerful woman she had loved: you needed looking after, to be supported. You weren't fulfilling the rest of your unwritten contract: that you would both effectively live your lives like a straight couple with you firmly in the male role. I expect she thought you would swing back into action for her, allowing her to look after Angelica which was her dream wasn't it? Instead she was responsible for the family support and you stayed at home with the baby."
Bette looked close to tears. Helena started to take her hand.
"Hi," said a cool deep voice interrupting their conversation. "Am I interrupting?" Both women drew back quickly, they had been leaning into each other to hear over the music.
"Shane," said Bette with obvious pleasure, her smile not quite disguising the tell-tale wetness in her eyes. "No, I'm glad you're here - Helena is just expounding her dubious theories on why Tina has returned to men. Apparently Tina and I were engaged in some kind of butch/femme role play and I wasn't butch enough."
"I didn't put it quite like that. You were playing a role that you hadn't even acknowledged and didn't really want and were not in fact as comfortable with as you might have appeared to a straight woman like Tina. I don't expect either of you had ever discussed your relationship in terms of the roles you played; it's not the sort of arrangement that two sophisticated twenty-first century lesbians would admit to is it? You may not have married because it looked to be aping the straight world, yet in every other respect you could have been the ultimate heterosexual couple."
Bette wasn't impressed.
"Psycho-babble" she said dismissively.
"I think not - thousands of dollars spent on therapy and fucking my psychiatrist - a little wisdom must have rubbed off."
Shane was still feeling uncomfortable at the mere mention of marriage.
"I don't know Hel. People and relationships are not easy to figure. Bette's a strong woman but I never saw her as butch."
"I did," chimed in Alice. She placed three drinks on the table before flopping down in her chair and addressing Shane. "Thank God you're here at last. You can help me stop the top dogs from peeing on the furniture."
"Lovely image Alice," Helena complained. She finished the remains of her current drink, and looked around with an evil glint. "Don't tell me that neither of you have ever wondered why Bette cheated?"
"You're drunk," Alice asserted calmly.
"Very" Helena agreed. "But I stick by what I said, whatever it was. Umm...I know...the question before the house is 'Why did Bette cheat on Tina, the love of her life?'"
"She's a horn-dog," Alice said simply, also drunk enough to be fearless.
"Alice!" exclaimed Bette.
"What? You told me yourself that you just couldn't help it. It was all about the sex."
"Alice!" yelled Shane. Alice subsided slightly under the outraged disapproval of her dearest friends.
"What was Candace like?" asked Helena, genuinely curious and wanting to stir things up at the same time.
"Now she was butch," Alice said with emphasis and winked broadly at Helena and then at Shane. At this point the blonde seemed to get confused and winked at a total stranger who was walking past. He winked back.
"Look! He's cute" she called out happily.
"Candace was not butch," Bette contradicted firmly if slightly too late. Her voice had become very precise - a sure sign that Bette Porter was feeling her martini. "She was cute too."
Her three companions all noted the slightly wistful voice with varying degrees of surprise. Alice made a face.
"Personally, I couldn't see the cuteness but she was butch, a really butchy butch in her overalls and sawdust."
Bette smiled slowly remembering. "She could be butch when it was called for but she cleaned up real good too. She was confident, capable and knew what she wanted."
"Yeah right. We all know what she wanted," Alice said scornfully though her eyes were threatening to bug out. Bette had never discussed Candace.
"She gave me every chance to walk away Alice. I was totally to blame and I won't pretend that somehow I was seduced by an evil temptress. It was all my fault. How often do you think someone can say that in a lifetime before it loses any meaning?"
Helena cocked a quizzical eyebrow at Shane who shrugged. Bette was getting maudlin.
"Was she good in bed?" Alice blurted out and then immediately withdrew the question. "Sorry, stupid question. You fucked her for six weeks. She must have been good."
"Did you love her?" Shane asked while gazing into her drink seemingly dreading the answer.
"No!" Bette half chortled as though disbelieving that anyone could ask her that question.
"So it was all about the sex then," Helena suggested quietly watching Bette's face. A shadow of confusion marred the beautiful face but Bette didn't contradict her.
Any opportunity to press the issue was lost when Jenny rolled up, Max in tow. They had been arguing. It was obvious from their tight unsmiling faces, lack of greetings and their careful choices of seating on opposite sides of the small table necessitating everyone shuffling their chairs to accommodate the new arrivals.
"Oh great," groaned Alice undiplomatically. "What is wrong with you two?"
"I'm sorry everyone," said Jenny coldly. "This person insisted on coming with me and not taking himself out of my life forever. I have nothing to say to him but you can tell him that I do not want those drunken animals he calls friends in our home again."
"Shut the fuck up," Max exploded.
Shane took her usual role of peacemaker and restrained Max with a hand on the shoulder. "Cool it guys. Max, help me get some more drinks."
Bette was now sitting close beside Helena. She was watching the bickering facsimile of a straight couple with a sad puzzled look on her face. She leaned over and murmured quietly in the Briton's ear "Why would Tina want that?"
"Don't ask me darling" Helena replied, shrugging her elegant shoulders. "All that role-playing would kill me. Now if you'll excuse me I think it's time I introduced myself to that unfortunate blonde that you abandoned."
She stood up and straightened her clothes.
Bette looked up at the Briton. "I see your recently professed attraction for me was time-limited" she drawled cynically.
Helena glanced down and smiled lovingly. "Not at all but firstly I promised to keep out of your way for a few days and secondly I have been sitting in close proximity to you for a couple of hours which was very enjoyable but ultimately frustrating. I am only human Bette. I'll call you in a few days to see how it goes with Angelica."
Bette smiled and this time it was the full genuine Bette Porter smile - a very sweet, slightly drunken, dazzling smile. Helena swallowed and placed her hand against the wall. Bette was explaining something.
"I may even get her Saturday for two hours if we can work it out. I'm going to take her to the beach."
"That's great. As I said I'll call. Bye."
Helena had to squeeze between the adjacent wall and Bette's chair to get out. She was stopped by Bette's arm barring the way.
"Do you have your children this weekend?"
Helena nodded, suddenly hopeful about where this might be going.
"Would you like to come to the beach with us? We could make it a family day, perhaps ask Shane and Alice. They could help with the child minding, swimming, sand-castles and so forth."
"I'd like that very much."
"Good. See you then."
Helena said her goodbyes to the rest of the table, assured Alice that Bette would see her safely home and then made her way towards the table where the hot blonde was still sitting. She caught the woman's eye. Smiling, Helena allowed her eyes to stray over the woman, checking her out. She was on the final approach when she suddenly felt all wrong, knowing that Bette was watching her. She smiled regretfully at the blonde who looked confused and then annoyed as Helena passed her by heading for the exit.
That staple of every L Word episode: the one-sided telephone call. Carries on from previous story.
All the characters and locations belong to Showtime and Ilene Chaiken. I am merely taking them out for a quick polish. TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
====== A Week in Limbo ======
== Early Sunday morning ==
Helena winced and held the phone away from her ear. When the noise subsided, she tentatively brought the handset back within speaking distance.
"I have to say I am impressed by your constitution Alice. A skinful and up and at 'em by 7.00am."
Helena grimaced as more invective whizzed down the wires. She tried ineffectually to deflect it.
"I know... ...you're right. I should have kept my mouth shut. Is she very angry?... ...not angry - well that's good... ...oh but you are angry with me. Why are you angry Alice?... ...I didn't tell you first!"
Helena rolled her eyes and smiled as Alice continued to give her hell.
"Look Alice I was drunk and I didn't really mean it... ...well I did..."
Helena bit her lip as Alice jumped on her statement. She sighed. "No it is true...I just don't expect anything to come of it you know? I didn't mean to say anything."
At the other end of the line Alice was getting critical.
"For Chrissakes Alice can't I have a hopeless crush - I thought you were the expert."
Helena's exasperation dissipated some of her good humour.
"Even I know that! Of course it would never work; we're too alike; too controlling; nothing in common except Tina; far too much history; good as friends; better as enemies," Helena sing-songed until her head reminded her that it was too early and too painful for hushed whispers let alone sing-songing.
"Look Alice I'll meet you later. You can pull me apart then... ...I don't know - brunch, lunch, later. I have to go. I need sleep and maybe a glass of water and a couple of aspirin."
Helena shifted the phone to her other hand in hope that her head would hurt less if the sound came from the other side. It didn't work. Preoccupied with her own pain she was late in realising that Alice was angling for a visit.
"No you don't need to come round here," she exclaimed. A few more seconds of abuse and Helena resigned herself to her fate.
"Okay... ...so you do need to come around here. Alright. Anything you say Alice just please give me another two hours in bed. Please."
== Late Monday morning ==
"Shane?" Alice bawled as if surprised that Shane should be answering her own cell.
"Where are you? Do I even want to know?... ...you mean that cool black chick you met the other night? You're still with her?"
Alice checked her watch. Thirty-six hours. Had they been fucking all that time? Well whatever, it was time to wrap it up now. Alice needed her.
"Listen Shane we have a situation, get your butt out of Mary Ann's bed and over to The Planet for lunch."
Alice listened impatiently to the prevarication.
"It is urgent. We have to talk."
Alice rolled her eyes.
"Bette and Helena of course! Damn I cannot even believe I put them in the same sentence."
Alice tapped her foot as Shane expressed her ignorance of what Alice was talking about.
"Didn't you even notice?" Alice exclaimed annoyed by her sidekick's apparent indifference.
"Whaddya mean it's cool? It's seriously uncool Shane. It's Bette and Helena... ...yes I know it's one-sided...AT THE MOMENT! I'm not leaving anything to chance. We have to lay plans for Saturday... ...the beach? Family day? Remember?"
Alice slapped her head. It was beyond her how any of the family had survived before they met her.
"Of course it is none of our business - what has that ever had to do with anything?"
A murmured inquiry caused Alice to frown. She blinked. "I haven't heard from Lara, not even one lousy 'phone call. Stop trying to change the subject. I'll see you in fifteen."
== Tuesday evening ==
"Hi... ...No I'm not busy."
Bette stared at the wall and tried to ignore the silence of her home.
She grimaced. "I wouldn't say it went well."
The grimace twisted painfully as her interlocutor pushed for more information.
"No, we are still on for Saturday. In fact your presence is required Helena or hasn't Tina told you yet?"
Bette's anger and grief leaked into her voice. She couldn't help it.
"She hasn't. Well let me explain. I can see Angelica but only in the presence of another approved adult. I am not allowed to keep her overnight nor take her out of the immediate area of West Hollywood. All outings must be agreed in advance and a schedule of movements provided. If required I am to return Angelica to Tina immediately."
Bette's voice started to break.
"I must not attempt to make her aware of me as anything other than a friend of her mother's. She is not to think of me as her other parent but as an aunt figure like Shane or Alice."
Bette listened to Helena rant for at least thirty seconds, her expression unchangingly sad and lost but it gave her time to recover a little composure so when she answered the teariness had gone from her voice.
"That's what I said but apparently negotiation is off the agenda." Bette closed her eyes. "I don't know if I can Helena or if I can accept these terms - it's going to hurt too much. What if she won't change her mind... ...perhaps I should just leave fucking LA and try and forget... ...yes I am on my own here."
Bette was tired - she really didn't need the interference no matter how well-meaning. She guessed what was coming next.
"I appreciate the offer but I don't want any company tonight," she answered the kindly meant words coldly and firmly. "I'm not going to hurt myself but I can't extend that promise to anyone else tonight. Leave me be. I have to think about what I am going to do."
== Wednesday morning ==
"Helena where are you? We have a meeting in thirty minutes with that guy from Warner's who might fund the Loach project." Tina anxiously tapped the keys on her blackberry. She sighed resignedly.
"Okay. Okay. I know the traffic is mad today. At least you're coming in... ...yeah I have spoken to Bette. I didn't know you and Bette communicated?" Tina's face became cautious. "Yes I did tell her that," she confirmed trying not to feel ashamed.
"Helena I'm just trying to protect my daughter... ...I'm not doing this to hurt Bette but I don't trust her not to pull another stunt and go off with Angie whenever it suits her. She has to know the boundaries."
Tina lost her temper.
"She is not Angelica's mother. I am!... ...well I've change my mind... ...I'm not treating her like a criminal or a paedophile Helena. I've taken a lawyer's advice about this and he thinks that I'm being more than reasonable... ...well Henry suggested him."
Her eyes widened as she listened to Helena's honestly expressed opinion of her recent boyfriend. "Wow! You really didn't like Henry... ...I know you feel strongly about the rights of gay parents Helena but... ...what do you mean?"
Tina sounded a little less certain.
"We're not going to court Helena. Bette promised me... ...I can't talk about this on the phone."
She cut off the call and sat staring at the handset.
== Thursday Afternoon ==
"Helena, dear. Let me get this straight. You want me to close your film studio and make everyone redundant." Peggy Peabody impatiently shifted her wriggling lap-dog onto her hip as she listened to her daughter. "Yes I am well aware that I own your little venture. The idea with which I am having difficulty is that you wish to be made unemployed. You do understand that in your present circumstances, you would have to get a real job?... ...I could just sack you instead," Peggy commented drily hearing her daughter's convoluted reasoning. "Helena I am not a fool. Would this sudden whim be related in any way to your recent request to Alan Liebermann to provide some advice or assistance to Bette Porter?... ...Helena? Are you still there?... ...Oh there you are. Apart from your apparently undiminished desire to interfere in the life of Ms Porter, is your decision fair to your employees? They are not simply pawns you can push about on a chess-board... ...that is true and I am pleased to see that you have at least discussed it with your finance people. As you wish darling. Now I must dash - I too have a fabulous woman to spoil."
== Friday Morning ==
Shane was patient because she understood how fragile her friends were, even those who kidded themselves that they were in control.
"Tina calm down. This is not the end of the world... ...you'll get another job and another house."
"What about Helena?... ...How is she homeless too?"
That seemed out of whack to Shane but she let it go.
"Well you could stay here but it's pretty crowded and I don't suppose you would want to for very long... ...well then talk to Bette. She isn't going to let Angelica live in a hotel room or on someone's couch... ...Of course she'll speak to you. She loves Angel more than life... ...I'm not getting at you Tina. It's simply true."
Shane listened to Tina and for the hundredth time concluded that she had been right to let Carmen go. If people like Bette and Tina ended up doing this to each other, what hope was there for anyone else.
"Tina the last few months have been crazy. I don't think any of us are acting like our normal selves. You know, just give peace a chance... ...I'll speak to Bette for you if that helps. Explain what's happened," Shane offered quietly. "I'm seeing her tomorrow at the beach... ...yeah we're having a 'family' day out. I think everyone has been asked, even Max though Alice was bummed about that."
There was silence on the other end of the line as Shane realised that of course not everyone had been invited.
TBC
Helena has to take a very nervous Bette to collect Angelica.
All the characters and locations belong to Showtime and Ilene Chaiken. I am merely taking them out for a quick polish. TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
====== Collecting Angie ======
The Mercedes purred to a halt outside Bette's house. Helena scrolled down the window, and bipped her horn. After a few seconds the door opened and Bette Porter stepped into the sunlight. If another human being had ever looked that good in a white shirt, cutoffs and sandals then Helena wanted to meet her.
"Who's that Mummy," queried Wilson. "She looks very beautiful."
"Her name is Bette Porter. She's a friend. We are going to collect her daughter, Angelica, after this. You've met Angelica."
"Oh yes. She lives with her other Mummy. Like me and Juny."
Bette had made her way to the Mercedes by this time. She was carrying two bags and Helena scrambled to get out of the car to help her.
"Hi" said Helena, feeling oddly shy.
"Why have you sacked Tina?" queried the dark goddess abruptly. Helena eyed Bette warily. With her eyes hidden behind sun-glasses, Helena wasn't sure exactly what Bette was feeling. She didn't sound too friendly.
"Let's talk about it on the way."
"Are you sure that you are welcome at Tina's home today?"
"I didn't sack Tina. My mother did. Along with me and everyone else at Shaolin."
Bette exhaled and looked away. "So the decision to close the studio had nothing to do with our conversation the other day, because Helena, I distinctly remember you saying that you would fire Tina's ass and what do you know, scarcely four days later and Tina's on the breadline."
"Okay I would be lying if I didn't say it gave me some satisfaction and God knows I would find it hard to work with her after what she's done to you but Bette the writing was on the wall for Shaolin. We probably wouldn't have survived another year..."
"But you did ask Peggy to close the studio."
"Yes I did."
"Great. Just fucking great."
"Bette!" Helena gestured at the car where Wilson and Jun Ying were hanging out of the window staring curiously at their mother and her 'friend'.
"Sorry, sorry...you know that Tina will blame me."
"Not everything is about you and Tina," Helena snapped angrily. "Anyway I've spoken to Tina, gone through the figures with her. She knows what the situation is."
"Mummy! When are we going to the beach?"
Helena smiled at her impatient children. She opened the trunk and then took the bags from Bette's hands to place them in the car.
"Bette come on. I can fight and drive. Let's go get your daughter."
Bette hesitated.
"I wish you wouldn't wear those damned sunglasses," complained Helena. "I can't tell what you're thinking. Are you so angry with me that you're not going to see Angelica?"
"I'm thinking," said Bette slowly, "that I'm afraid."
"Mummy! Hurry up!" demanded Jun Ying.
"We are coming baby. Just as soon as I have convinced Auntie Bette here not to be so silly." Helena turned back to face Bette.
"Bette. Car. Now." She smiled gently, "before my children riot and destroy it."
Bette nodded at last and walked around to the passenger side while Helena supervised refastening of seat-belts. Bette opened the door and lowered herself into the leather seat. A blast of cold air gave her a jolt. She felt sick. Helena jumped in beside her and started the engine.
"Top up? Top down?" she bellowed.
"Down, down, down" yelled the children together. Helena laughed and pressed the button to lower the top while the children cheered.
"Is it always this noisy?" asked Bette faintly, still experiencing nauseous panic.
"Except when they're asleep...get used to it." Helena accelerated gently away from the house. "Of course the main advantage of putting the top down is that you can't hear them so much. Why are you scared Bette?"
"What if it all goes wrong today?"
"What can go wrong?"
"She may change her mind. Angelica might not recognise me. Or maybe she'll miss Tina and cry all day."
"Hold on Bette. You have been over-thinking this. I spoke to Tina this morning. She is not going to change her mind; Angelica will be fine; sometimes kids do get cranky but they get over it and so should you. Okay now stop worrying about that stuff. I'd rather you stayed angry with me."
"I am still angry with you."
"That's alright then," said Helena wrily. "Dare I ask why?"
"I still can't decide Helena whether your grand gesture was patronising interference, arrogant bullying or just plain stupid."
"I've already explained..."
"And I don't believe you. Alice told me that you were going to fight to keep Shaolin open; that you didn't want to close it and give Peggy the satisfaction of seeing you fail."
"We probably would have failed. At least this way Mother thinks I have an ulterior motive."
"How fine and dandy. And what are you going to do now? You don't have a job and Peggy has cut you off. You've never worked."
Helena made a face. "I've seen other people work. It didn't look that hard. Seriously I still have the Peabody name and a shedload of contacts. Some oil or steel company, probably more than one, will give me a directorship in the expectation that one day I'll be back in the Peabody fold. I won't starve or even have to lift a pen probably."
"Is that what you want from your life?"
"No of course not but without the Peabody billions, Shaolin would be just another small struggling studio having to compete with more commercial groups. I don't really want to make commercials and kung-foo knockoffs. That's what Shaolin used to do."
"Then use your 'shedload of contacts' to raise money for projects that you do want to do. And maybe you would have to do some commercial work...not every exhibit at the CAC was 'Provocations'. We had to do our fair share of 'Impressions in Winter.' Even when I was starting as a gallerist..."
"...seducing artists away from other galleries..."
"...yes that too thank you Helena...for every artist that I truly believed in there would be five others whom I exhibited simply because they had a name or did stuff I knew would sell. It was worth it to support those artists whom I loved. As my gallery became better known I didn't have to compromise so much."
Helena smiled tiredly. "Thanks for the pep talk but it's too late Bette. We have already told the staff. Mother won't pull back now."
"It's your choice but ask her. I would."
"I know you would but I'm not you. Okay we're here."
The Mercedes drew up beside a small spanish style apartment block on a tree-lined avenue.
"Shaolin have a couple of apartments here for company use. I let Tina use one while her house deal went through. She's had to pull out of buying of course."
"Ouch," said Bette. Glancing over, Helena saw Bette's face transform from neutral interest to fearstruck wonder. Helena turned to follow Bette's gaze to where she could see Tina emerging from the courtyard carrying Angelica.
"Oh my God," Bette whispered.
"Breathe," Helena instructed fighting to keep down the lump in her own throat.
The moment was slightly ruined when a small sandal flew over from the back seat and caught Helena on the ear.
"Sorry Mum," called Wilson, giggling. "Juny was tickling me."
"Behave or we will go home," Helena said automatically. She was still watching Bette and both her children realised that it was an empty threat. The struggle in the back redoubled.
"Bette?"
"I'm okay."
"Go meet her. Go on."
Bette opened her door and pulled herself up. Helena heard her whisper "I can do this," before she walked from the car over to where Tina was standing.
"Bette."
"Tina."
"It's a nice day for the beach."
"Yeah."
"You look well, I mean you look great."
"Thanks. You too."
"I've put her things in here. Sun lotion, diapers, the usual. You shouldn't need to feed her but there's some pureed vegetables just in case." Tina lifted the large bag in her left hand and Bette took it quickly. Bette lost the bag just as quickly when Helena appeared behind her and relieved her of it.
"Hi Tina. We should get going. Wilson and Juny are about to combust."
"Sure," Tina agreed but she held tightly onto her daughter. "She's still a little sleepy."
Bette said nothing, her arms hung helplessly by her sides, not sure how to ask Tina to take that final step.
"We really need to go Tina," prompted Helena.
Tina and Bette stared at each other as the mess of emotions stewed unhappily in each of their hearts. Helena groaned as she saw Bette starting to look angry.
"Oh please. For once can you two meet and not make a hash. Tina, give Angelica to Bette. We will have her back here in two hours safe and sound."
Tina nodded finally and held out her daughter to Bette. Bette stepped closer and lifted the little girl into her arms. Angelica's eyes popped open and for a moment it looked as though she was going to scream until her big dark eyes focused on her Mama B's equally large brown eyes and the little girl broke out in a huge smile and held up her arms to be cuddled. Her mother's answering smile lit up the area. As Bette hugged and kissed her daughter, tears fell unregarded down her cheeks.
"Baby I've missed you so much," she whispered into the small ears.
Tina was still standing close to them. When Bette lifted her face to grin at her ex-partner in sheer joy, Tina could do nothing except smile right back reflecting the happiness shining on her. But when Bette withdrew her attention back to her daughter, Tina looked confused and lost, staring at the reunion that she had prevented for so long, knowing that the degree of happiness on display revealed the extent of the misery that she had inflicted on Bette.
"Let's go," Helena prompted gently.
Bette looked at her for a second, smiling through tears and Helena knew that her own heart was on her sleeve at that moment. However no-one was looking at Helena.
A harsh laugh interrupted the moment. Henry was walking towards them, holding an envelope in his hands. He looked unshaven and ill - it was clear that he was suffering. From the appalled look on Tina's face it was also obvious that this encounter had not been planned. Henry stopped and stared at Bette holding Angelica. His face twisted in an ugly sneer.
"No-one's going to ask her if Angie's adopted are they Tina darling?"
"How are you Henry?" Helena asked gently, placing herself between Henry and Bette. Henry took her in slowly and shook his head. He peered at her angrily from red-rimmed eyes and the whiff of alcohol caught her nostrils. Henry wasn't interested in exchanging pleasantries with Helena however. He took two steps towards Tina.
"Wow! Both your dyke lovers Teens. You must have been desperate for pussy."
Tina flinched.
"Stop it. Why are you here."
"I only called by to drop off these papers for you. I haven't signed them - I wanted to see you first - talk things over. I didn't realise I'd be interrupting a family outing." He emphasised the word family.
"Bette is taking Angie to the beach," Tina explained reasonably, hoping to calm things.
"By way of Mexico this time Bette?" He smirked.
"Get out of here," Bette growled.
"No. I want to see my little girl."
"She's not your little girl."
"She sure as hell isn't yours, dyke."
"Mum!" yelled Jun Ying from the front of the car where she had climbed and was now pretending to drive the Merc. "We're bored."
"Jesus," jeered Henry. "Two more fatherless bastards. Poor little..."
He didn't get a chance to finish spewing venom.
"Stop right there sir. On the floor please," said a calm male voice.
A man and woman, very sharp in dark suits and dark glasses, had emerged from a dark car parked across the road from the apartment, crossed the road, and were now aiming large handguns at Henry's chest.
"What the..."
"On the floor. Now!" reiterated the man rather more loudly.
Henry did as he was told. The female member of the team knelt down heavily on his back, ignoring the cry of protest and swiftly handcuffed and gagged him.
"Sorry we didn't intervene earlier Ms Peabody but we had identified him as a previous aquaintance of yours and Ms Kennard's. The back-up team will be here in forty seconds. We'll hold position until then."
"That's okay Mike," answered Helena, who was the only one of the three women not looking surprised or terrified.
Mike and his associate didn't say anything further. They marched Henry to the car across the road and pushed him in. As Mike had said, another similar dark car turned up a few seconds later and the first one drove off with Henry.
"What on earth...?" exclaimed Bette, who was clutching Angelica tightly and in turn being held protectively by Tina.
Helena shrugged. "Sorry about that. Wilson and Jun Ying are Peabodys. Kidnapping is a constant fear and any kind of threatening behaviour...well my mother has very firm views and so does her security chief."
"What will happen to Henry?" asked Tina.
"He'll be alright," Helena said not sounding at all interested. "Can we go now, preferably before Jun Ying learns to drive."
Bette glanced at Tina who was still clutching her around the waist. "I guess we can. Are you okay with that T? Will you be alright here?"
"I think so."
Tina released her hold on Bette and stepped back. She looked embarrassed and more than a little stressed.
Bette didn't hesitate. "Why don't you come with us. Spend the day with the family."
Tina wrinkled her nose doubtfully.
"The family...I don't think they want to see me Bette."
"T, as a fairly wise person recently pointed out to me, if you and I are going to bring up Angelica over the next twenty years then we have to find a way to work together. Why don't we make today the first day of our most important project?"
Tina was shifting uncomfortably. "I don't know Bette. It's a big step."
"T. It's a day at the beach." Bette smiled at her ex-partner and held out her free hand. "You can bring your car and then you're free to leave if you're not enjoying yourself."
Tina looked up at Bette Porter and not for the first time in her life found herself incapable of saying no to the woman who had been the centre of her universe.
"Okay," she said simply, taking the hand that was still on offer. She smiled not really knowing what else to do.
Helena turned away to stare up at the sun for a moment, trying to burn away the image of Bette, Tina and Angelica that had printed itself on her eyes.
The family go to the beach and do what they do best...talk. Tina pins Helena down and not for sex.
All the characters and locations belong to Showtime and Ilene Chaiken. I am merely taking them out for a quick polish. TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
====== A Day at the Beach ======
The drive from Tina's house to the beach was peaceable if not quiet. Angelica was fastened in the child seat between Helena's children and Helena had impressed on both of the older kids that they had to take care of her. Each child interpreted their mother's injunction differently. Jun Ying was earnestly trying to teach Angelica to count her toes while Wilson took on the role of jester, making dramatic faces at the baby and shrieking peekaboo every minute or so. He also provided Bette with a running commentary on Angelica's every move. Through all of this attention and noise the baby remained completely happy, chattering in her own language, giggling at Wilson and pulling Jun Ying's hair.
Bette had twisted in her seat to supervise. Her face betrayed her feelings as she watched their interactions with a combination of awe and joy and perhaps a little fear.
Helena did not speak except very brief answers to the kids' questions which were mainly along the lines of 'were we ever this gross/cute/dumb?' She drove steadily, one hand on the wheel, her other arm resting on the door. Her silence finally became obvious even to Bette who dragged her attention away from her daughter for a minute.
"Is anything wrong?"
"No."
"You've hardly spoken a word."
"Not really necessary with Wilson in the car."
"Mum! I heard that."
Helena smiled briefly before becoming impassive again. She glanced up at the rear-view mirror and an expression of dissatisfaction settled. Bette twisted around to look out over the rear of the car. Behind the Merc was the dark car which she now knew contained the children's bodyguards. Behind that was Tina's SUV. Bette glanced down at Angelica who was waving a bright plastic bucket she had determinedly wrested from Jun Ying. She grinned at her daughter and gently reached back to steady the wildly waving toy before it could be launched from the vehicle.
"Are you annoyed because I asked Tina to come with us?" she guessed.
"Not at all," Helena answered tersely. "It's none of my business."
"I asked her because I felt sorry for her. Your goons frightened the life out of her. Do they always intervene quite so forcefully?"
"The company have worked security for the Peabody foundation and family for several years. They have always made it quite clear to us that it is their responsibility to assess threats and manage them. We are kept out of things where at all possible. I forget they are even there."
"And Henry?"
"I expect they'll haul him off to a cop shop, threaten him with charges and have our lawyers draw up restraining orders."
"I know I should be concerned at such a raw display of the power of obscene amounts of money but somehow I can't seem to care," announced Bette thoughtfully. Helena smirked and Bette followed up her quip by asking, in a very casual voice, "so why are you concerned about Tina being with us today?"
"Because..." Helena screwed up her face in annoyance at being so easily caught out. "...nothing. I don't care Bette. You can ask whomever you choose. I was just surprised..." Her face closed again, removing all emotion.
"You shouldn't waste your time on me Helena," Bette said gently. "I'm not a good bet for anyone. I'm not really a whole person anymore."
Helena reacted bitchily "Of course you're not. You've lost your Tina appendage."
"Did it hurt?" asked Jun Ying who was hanging on to back of her mother's seat, listening seriously.
"What!" exclaimed Bette nervously. She wasn't up for explaining her break-up to a nine year old. However that was not what Jun Ying had in mind as she launched into a breathless story.
"Well when my friend Shandy, that's not her real name, her real name is Charlotte but everyone calls her Shandy, I don't really know why, I think it's some kind of fizzy drink so maybe it's because she's really fizzy, but when she had her appendage out, she said it hurt awful bad and she had a big scar on her tummy and her Daddy had got her appendage in a jar. It was really small and red and horrid and smelly. Do you have a scar? Can I see it?"
"Yeah!" yelled Wilson. "Let's see. I wanna see it too."
Helena was laughing, she glanced sideways to see Bette's mildly appalled expression. "Nothing to see children," she said firmly to discourage her offspring from harassing Bette. "There are no visible scars on Bette. And would you both please sit down and put your belts back on."
"Sorry to disappoint you" Bette said to the children whose expressions clearly showed what they thought of an operation that didn't leave a scar.
"Have you kept your appendage?" asked Jun Ying hopefully.
"Not in a jar," said Helena in a stage aside.
Bette made a face at Helena before turning back to Jun Ying. "Sorry again. However maybe one day I could take you to a museum where you can see some dead sheep and cows in very large glass cases."
"Eww," exclaimed Jun Ying. "That is gross."
"Poor animals," said Wilson sadly. "Why did they die?"
Bette opened and then shut her mouth as she realised that a seven year old boy was unlikely to understand that the animals died for art.
"I guess they were sick and died and the artist found them like that and tried to make something meaningful of their deaths."
"I feel an analogy coming on," Helena whispered loudly again.
"Helena," Bette warned.
The Briton grinned broadly and mimed zipping her lips. Bette suppressed an answering grin and shook her head disapprovingly before returning to answer Wilson's next question.
Minutes later the Merc slowed and turned into a parking lot and the children immediately forgot about dead sheep and bottled appendages. They cheered wildly and started trying to unfasten their seat belts despite their mother's instructions to the contrary. When the car stopped close to the edge of the beach, Wilson and Jun Ying were out and stripping down to their swimsuits. Helena was also quickly out of the car, trying to keep hats on and smother the children in sun cream before they were off and running across the hot sand towards the ocean. It amused Bette to see the security team still dressed in suits trying to follow them inconspicuously. She emerged a little more sedately than the Peabodys and began extracting Angelica from the baby seat, the little girl holding up her arms to be lifted out by her Mom. Bette stood by the car, smiling and talking nonsense to the baby, bouncing her gently on her hip. Helena felt her heart tighten. She knew she had never seen anything more beautiful: no work of art, no mountain view nor coastal panorama.
The sound of an engine switching off reminded Helena that they were not alone. Tina had parked her SUV a few yards away and was watching them. Actually she was watching Helena watching Bette, the Briton realised as she met Tina's curious gaze. Helena suddenly felt guilty as though she had been caught doing something wrong. She could imagine the wheels turning in Tina's mind. The blonde got out of her car and approached them. Helena smiled at her with what she hoped was an innocent manner.
"Hey Tina. I guess we'd better go find Alice and Shane. They said they would be here early. Something about someone they had to see."
"Yes. We're meeting at the tower," Bette said absently, her whole attention still on Angelica.
"The tower?" Helena looked confused.
"The tower of love" Tina laughed. "It's not far. I'll lead the way," she said. Helena couldn't be sure but there seemed to be just a touch of satisfaction in Tina's voice.
"I hope this is an appropriate place for children..."
"As long as Alice and Shane behave which they will," Bette asserted.
Helena's wrinkled brow indicated that she was mystified so Tina explained "It's the lifeguard lookout. Alice, Shane and Dana loved to watch the beach patrols, so much that they came to know which shifts their favourites worked. Dana really liked a girl who worked in the mornings."
Bette took up the story while Helena unloaded the bags from the trunk of the Merc.
"It became a tradition that we would arrive in time for the shift change so that Dana could say hello and maybe ask her out. Of course she never did get beyond hello. Alice and Shane were a different matter.
Bette and Tina shared a smile at the memory. Tina picked up the bag of Angelica's things and she and Bette set off next to each other, still reminiscing, Bette carrying Angelica effortlessly. Helena had to suppress a curse when she found herself laden with the kids bags, the beach gear and a picnic hamper, struggling to keep up with the ex-lovers. They walked along the shore for about a hundred yards which seemed like a couple of miles to the over-laden Helena.
Alice saw them coming first and sat up, waving wildly as though she thought they might pass her by while Shane lazily propped herself up on her elbows. They had both been sunbathing.
"Hey you're late...and...Tina! Wow! This is unexpected."
She looked at a slightly red-faced Helena who was dumping her burdens on the sand and then Bette for an explanation. Seeing Tina's hurt expression, Bette took up the challenge.
"Sorry we're late. Helena's security team had a run-in with Henry outside Tina's apartment. It was fairly unpleasant...we didn't think Tina should stay on her own. Although I didn't realise that they would be relocating Henry to a new identity in Peru."
"Bette!"
Bette grinned at Helena who rolled her eyes while Tina looked worried and Alice threw up her hands in a 'yeah I know what you mean' gesture.
"So you've met the hoochy-koochy twins too," she exclaimed loudly. "Scary shit, though I kinda like the look."
Helena laughed. "Alice you were waving a knife around Wilson's head. You were lucky they didn't shoot you."
"That's very comforting Helena. I was only teaching him how to scalp the British invaders. Someone has to counter all that Brit crap you fill his head with. He needs to learn how to be an American kid. When I was his age I could shoot the eye out of a groundhog at a hundred paces."
"Alice, the nearest you've ever come to a gun is a hairdryer and you wouldn't recognise a groundhog if it came with a label."
"Not so. I was in a Western once...with Burt Reynolds." Alice scowled at the raised eyebrows and amused smirks circulating. "Okay my mother was playing the town whore with a heart of gold and an illegitimate baby. They needed a baby."
"It's alright Alice," said Shane supportively. "None of us will ever question your knowledge of American traditions again."
"Hey Shane, Alice. It's great to see you guys," Tina offered hesitantly.
"Hi Tina. It's great you could come," Shane got up off the sand and hugged her old friend. Tina clung to her.
Alice shrugged and also got to her feet to join in the hug.
"How's the babe-watch, snagged any Pamela Andersons yet?" teased Tina, her voice breaking slightly at the familiarity of it all.
"Firstly Tina, eww! I see your time with men has coarsened you."
Tina gave Alice the finger and Alice grinned.
"Secondly we have observed the true spirit of the event and have greeted each female member of the beach patrol with silence and shuffling feet. I think Dana would have been proud."
Shane nodded soberly "though I don't remember Dana sticking her business card in anyone's swimsuit Al."
"Dane never had a business card," Alice answered as though that settled the point. "How's my Angie-boo?" she asked as Bette settled on a towel beside her with Angelica in her lap. The baby looked a little uncertain as Alice peered closely at her grinning madly.
Shane smiled like the fallen angel that she was.
"She's getting more beautiful Bette. Like her mommies."
"Yes she's beautiful but that sun-bonnet is a fashion disaster." Alice sat back and shook her head. "I shall have to take Angie shopping. That, Angie-boo, looks like something your Aunt Dana would have bought."
"Alice!" Shane remonstrated.
"What? I'm not having my earth-daughter wearing Granny Clampit's cast-offs."
Tina glanced knowingly at Bette and they both started to laugh, acknowledging some unspoken remembered anecdote. Bette frowned at her old friend.
"Alice, you are not dressing Angelica. She is not ready for you."
Alice made a face as her smiling friends settled on the clean sand around her and began to remove their clothing and shoes.
Helena watched the interchange, again painfully aware of how well Bette and Tina knew each other and indeed how well the whole group functioned together. She felt out of place, like an intruder.
"I have to go and check on the children." She fished the tube of high factor sunscreen out of her bag and stood up. She was surprised when Tina offered to go with her.
"I'd like to discuss a couple of things very briefly," she explained.
Helena nodded her head and hid her apprehension. There were at least two subjects that she did not want to explain to the smart blonde who was now walking barefoot beside her, kicking at the loose sand.
"Why did Peggy suddenly decide to close the studio down? I thought she was going to give you the chance to make it work as a real film studio."
Subject number one. Helena said nothing for a second. They walked on.
"You've seen the figures Tina. You know how hard it was going to be to get through the next three months. I didn't think we could do it and this way there's still enough money to pay off the staff."
"You asked Peggy to close it down," Tina stated quietly.
"Yes."
"And that decision had nothing to do with Bette."
Subject number two. Helena schooled her face into blank astonishment.
"What are you talking about?"
"Helena there are not many people in this world that I claim to understand but you I think I do understand. You can never hide what you're feeling Helena. And you are feeling Bette. It's written all over your face when you look at her."
Okay so blank astonishment was fooling no-one. She tried outright denial.
"There is nothing going on between me and Bette."
"I didn't say there was but you'd like there to be. And when Helena Peabody wants someone she makes their dreams come true. Did Bette ask you to put pressure on me?" Tina stopped and grabbed Helena's arm forcing her to stop also.
"She had nothing to do with closing the studio."
Helena could see the disbelief and anger in Tina's eyes. She was going to have to be totally honest and take the full heat of Tina's fury - anything less and she risked the whole argument blowing up in Bette's face.
"I swear that Bette knew nothing about Shaolin's closure. I had offered to help her with the custody case and she very reluctantly accepted an appointment with a Peabody lawyer. Bette doesn't have much time for me Tina - you know that."
"Yes but maybe you're hoping that you can win her over."
"Do you really believe that Bette would fall for that?"
Tina held her gaze before replying. "I think Bette would do anything for Angelica."
"As would you."
Tina nodded slowly, accepting the point. Helena decided that it was now or never for the whole truth.
"But I am going to be honest with you. Your keeping Angelica from Bette was a factor for me. I like you Tina and I have enjoyed your friendship; I know that you've decided you are straight and that's okay but if that decision means that you are going to throw the same kind of crap at us as the rest of the straight world then I cannot have any relationship with you Tina, even as a colleague?"
Tina looked shocked. Her hand dropped from Helena's arm. The Briton was on a roll now.
"And you're still treating Bette like shit with all these conditions: she can't be alone with Angelica, she can't be her other Mom, she just some kind of aunt or family friend. How exactly will that work Tina, when in her heart and mind Angelica is her child?"
Tina sighed and passed her hand through her hair. "It won't work. I know that."
"So...you're just punishing her?" Helena uttered disbelievingly.
"Yes."
"What!"
"That's the story of us: Bette misbehaves, I punish her. I misbehave, I punish her." Tina smiled sadly. "Who says therapy's a waste of money." She became serious again. "I am not going to keep Angelica from Bette, or make her take some lesser part in her life. Bette just made me really angry. Angrier than I have ever been in my life. And she was so single-minded that I guess I really went overboard to make her listen to me, to make her understand that she cannot steamroller me like that anymore. Not where Angie's concerned."
"So you steamrollered her."
"Like you said, I would do anything for Angelica."
"Are you going to hang the ultimate threat over Bette's head every time you disagree?"
Tina shook her head emphatically.
"No. That wouldn't be fair to Angie. I have already talked to my lawyer about reviving the adoption proceedings. He didn't think it was a good idea so I guess I need a new lawyer and maybe a good family therapist for the rough times ahead."
Tina looked enquiringly at Helena who broke out in a broad smile.
"You don't need to ask Tina."
Tina returned the smile and took Helena's hand.
"So you see, you needn't have interfered Helena. I understand why you did though..."
"...it's what I do."
"Yeah I know."
They resumed their walk towards the distant figures of the two children playing in the surf.
"You still love Bette."
Tina shook her head but she answered affirmatively.
"Of course. Always. But we don't work together as a couple. We bring out the worst in each other and I don't see that changing if we lived together and I don't think Bette wants that either now. So what are you going to do now the studio has closed." Tina changed the subject.
"Bette thinks..."
"So you have talked to her about it," Tina queried suspiciously.
"She found out from someone, probably Alice, and challenged me about it in the car on the way to get Angie. She said you would blame her."
Tina sighed. "She knows me so well..."
It was Helena's turn to interrupt.
"...as I was saying, Bette thinks I should talk to my mother, get her to re-consider the closure."
"Do you think she would?"
"Would you be interested in staying if she did?"
"Not to sound too mercenary...would I keep the apartment?" Tina waggled her eyebrows and Helena thumped her on the arm.
"I guess there is no harm in asking the old she-devil. It will just confirm Mother's belief that I don't know my own mind and give her something to look forward to when I fail."
Tina thumped her in return. "Don't be such an old-world pessimist Helena. You're in the good old US of A now. Anything is possible."
Twenty minutes later they had returned the way they came with two reluctant children in tow. Max and Jenny had arrived and Max had busied himself building a fire for the cook-out. Jenny was busy burying herself in the sand. By tacit agreement no-one interfered.
Helena was still arguing with her protesting offspring. "You can go back in the sea when we've eaten. And we'll all have a swim, even little Angie."
Lunch was happy, if fraught with incident (the children ingested as much sand as sandwiches before they set off back to the ocean ignoring their mother's demands that they let the food sink before getting back in the water and Max burnt the burgers and Jenny's notebook though he denied that he had deliberately used it as kindling.) It was a reluctant Tina who stood up to announce she had to leave. She gestured at Bette that she wanted a private word. Bette's relaxed pose disappeared and tension entered her face. She gave Angie to Shane and stood up without a word following Tina to a safe distance.
Shane and Alice watched anxiously as Bette followed Tina and they started to talk. Tina seemed to be holding Bette's hands.
"What is that about?"
"Don't worry," said Helena. "I think Tina has some good news for Bette."
Suddenly Bette yelled and picked Tina up and swung her round in an impressive display of strength that made even Max sit up and take notice.
"What the fuck?" howled Alice. Helena grinned and shook her head, refusing to say anything despite the glare of death she was getting from Alice. Bette and Tina started back to the group still holding hands. Bette picked up Angie from Shane's lap and hugged her, tears streaming down her face.
"I guess I have a little 'splainin' to do," said Tina.
"Ya think!" cried Alice in mock outrage.
"I have a few things I should say to all of you. Firstly Bette - I want everyone to hear this. I'm sorry for hurting you so badly over the last few weeks. I have been a monster I guess...I know as well as you that you are Angelica's Mom and somehow we will push an adoption through even if it takes the entire Peabody Foundation legal team doing nothing else for the next few years."
Helena smiled and nodded agreement. Bette just couldn't stop hugging Angelica.
"I also have to say sorry to the rest of you guys. I apologise to you, my gay family, for abusing straight privilege and behaving like a total shit."
There was complete silence. Tina laughed nervously.
"Is Bette the only one to get forgiven when she's a horse's ass?"
Alice smirked. "Hey we're all used to Porter being a horse's ass. I guess no one expected it from you."
"Hey!" protested Bette. Alice ignored her.
"Well Miss Straight-girl, I may let you live it down. In a few years. Maybe." Alice leaned over and hugged Tina. Shane smiled enigmatically.
"I guess we should all forgive each other."
"Oh for fuck's sake," complained Alice. "Hey grasshopper! Do you charge for those pearls by the word?"
"I think you mean 'Hey Sensei!'" corrected Max.
Alice scowled at him. "Whatever."
More inconsequential chit-chat much like the previous four chapters ;-)
All the characters and locations belong to Showtime and Ilene Chaiken. I am merely taking them out for a quick polish. TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
====== Ladies Who Lunch ======
Helena hustled into The Planet cursing the villainy of the LA traffic that had made her late for her lunch meeting. She relaxed when she saw her friends on the far side of the room until she realised there were only two people. Not Bette.
"Damn," she muttered quietly.
"Hi guys"
"You're late, you're late, for a very important date. No time to say hello. Goodbye. You're late, you're late, you're late!" Alice sang off key at high tempo. Helena rolled her eyes and pulled out one of the chairs.
"Al," said Shane reprovingly. "Let the woman sit down before you start."
"Thank you Shane," Helena smiled as she sat down. "Where's Bette?"
Alice started again.
"You're late, you're late..."
"Al!" Shane interrupted sharply this time. "Do you want me to ask Kit to bounce and ban your ass?"
"Leave my babelicious ass out of this. Bette has had to go to a meeting of her own at the college. She took a call and seemed kind of angry but she did ask me to give you this." Alice passed a folded piece of paper across the table.
"Have you read it?" Helena enquired sweetly.
"Please," said Alice reproachfully.
"She's read it," Shane confirmed.
Helena raised her eyebrows in mock disapproval.
"Why am I not surprised?"
"Because you've met her?"
Alice muttered something from which the only audible word was "stool-pigeon." She looked up to see both her friends grinning knowingly at each other. Alice threw her shredded napkin on the table.
"Oh poopies! Look I just cut out the bullshit and keep it simple. You should try it Lena. Stop mooning around after Bette and make a few demands of your own. She is taking you for granted as only Bette can. I mean look at that note! Are you her chauffeur now?"
"Perhaps I like doing things for her," Helena said defensively.
"Jeez that is sad. Believe me I know that you want to please her but that isn't going to make her fall for you. Again I know. I bought the tear-stained t-shirt, you know the one saying 'Bette Porter's door-mat.'" Alice held Helena's gaze and enunciated very slowly: "Just. Too. Pathetic."
Helena smiled apologetically, hoping to slow Alice down. She didn't really want to listen to reason right now.
"Of course you're right Ali. Which is why tonight I have a date. No sitting about this Friday night for me."
"A date! Do I know her?"
"I think you do. Leigh Ostin."
"The artist? Didn't you used to date her when you were still in your wicked-witch-from-east-of-the-Atlantic phase? I thought that was yesterday's affair."
"We didn't actually date then. I chatted her up to annoy Bette mainly."
Alice threw up her hands in theatrical despair. "Bette again. Or Bette-Noir should I say." She looked at Helena suspiciously. "You're not really going on a date with Leigh are you? It's just camouflage to hide your pathetic-ness."
"Well I suppose we're friends actually," Helena admitted. "I don't really feel like dating at the moment; Leigh's a very interesting woman and I like hanging with her."
Alice rolled her eyes but in mid-roll and just as her mouth opened, her cell-phone set up a tinny rendition of the theme from Shaft. She peered warily at the small screen to see who was calling. Slightly bewildered, she glanced at her watch and then leapt to her feet, swearing silently as though the unanswered phone might detect her presence. 'Fuck! Oh fuck! Oh fuck!' After the third repetition of 'Shaft' and some more anguished leaping, Alice took a deep breath, smiled determinedly and pressed the call accept button.
"Jane! Hey. Great to hear from you."
Alice visibly cringed as her caller replied. She put her hand over the phone mouthing 'My Boss' at her two companions. Another wince and Alice started to babble: "No really? We did? Jane, I am there! With you. Now. Well okay I'm not actually there, there, but you know what? We can do this on the phone. Just a moment while I find a quiet spot. Then it'll be just you and me."
Alice danced awkwardly away in the direction of Kit's office.
Shane grinned slowly at Helena, remote and warm like a desert breeze. Not for the first time Helena found herself wondering where the young hairdresser acquired her presence. She knew that Shane's life was borderline chaotic, filled with drugs, poverty and random sex, yet to look in her eyes was to see a stillness and ageless antiquity. She could imagine Shane as a character in an Anne Rice novel, a tragic and ancient vampire driven by its desires but entirely lacking either malice or self-interest.
"Bette huh?" said the ageless one.
Embarrassed, Helena frowned and mumbled, "it's not that...I mean I don't expect..." Her voice trailed off.
Shane watched her quietly for a moment and then said "The first time I met Bette, she saved my butt. It was the closest to love at first sight that I've ever come."
Helena was surprised at the unexpected confidence. She and Shane had never talked much beyond normal pleasantries. She wondered why Shane was choosing to tell her this - probably going to warn her about pursuing Bette - either warn her away or warn her off. She still wanted to know.
"What happened?"
"She stepped between me and some guy who was harassing me outside the bar. As far as I can remember this is what she said to him: 'The police are on their way asshole. They may not care about you beating on that scrawny drugged-up kid but I am fucking the Police Commissioner's daughter. Lay one finger on me and you will be splitting rocks until hell freezes over.'"
Shane sipped from her very large cup of very black coffee before continuing her story.
"She looked so fucking arrogant and strong that he caved totally, just walked away yelling abuse." Shane smiled beatifically at Helena. "It was a beautiful moment. Then I hit on her."
Despite this being a story long past Helena felt a jealous hand clutch at her heart. "Did she...?"
Shane shook her head and her amused expression became more worldly.
"She told me to come back when I was out of diapers and could remember my own name and was dressed in something other than her 17 year old nephew might wear. It was a couple more years before we even spoke again."
"Did you ever sleep with her?"
"Nah. When I next met her she was with Tina. But we did go on a sort of date once."
Helena stiffened. "Really?"
"She took me to..." Shane paused and raised her eyebrows expectantly.
"...an art gallery," Helena finished and they both started laughing.
They were interrupted by one of Kit's staff enquiring if she could get anything for Helena or Shane. The way she said 'anything' and then licked her lips and stared at Shane set Helena off giggling again. Shane kept her cool, refused and thanked the young woman politely. Helena took the moment to recover and then ordered her coffee. The girl sloped off to get it, clearly disappointed.
"Do you ever get sick of it Shane?" Helena asked curiously.
"Sick of what?"
"I don't know. I guess I mean being so notorious that you can't even have a cup of coffee at lunchtime without that happening."
"I never get tired of talking to girls. So why are you attracted to Bette? Apart from the obvious of course."
"I never ignore the obvious. Seriously I actually have no idea why I like her. She's really exactly like the head prefect of my nightmares - I ought to hate her. I did hate her."
"Head prefect?" queried Shane.
"Yes you know. English Public schools like to put kids in charge of other kids, so the Head Teacher selects the most responsible, upright, conscientious, hardworking children and sets them up as prefects to lord it over the others. The Head Prefect is the one chosen to lead the rest. If Bette had been English she would have been marked down as a future Head Prefect while she was still in prep school."
"I take it you were not a...prefect."
"No," Helena agreed lightly. "However I did fuck a Head Prefect when I was fourteen. That was the first time I was chucked out of a school. I learnt a valuable lesson - don't trust a girl who asks your forgiveness after you've seduced her."
Shane raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"The first time you were chucked out? Did it happen often?"
"Six, seven times if you count being expelled twice from the same school."
"Impressive. Has my five childrens' homes beat."
"English Public schools are basically childrens' homes for the wealthy anyway," Helena said glibly. Shane was doubtful about this but she was still curious.
"Did you keep fucking Head Prefects or did you move on to other things?"
Helena smiled mischievously. "Let me see." The Briton stared into space and enumerated: "one - Head Prefect; two - doing Coke in the girls' loos; three - doing the drugs counsellor after I was given my second chance; four - the Head Master's wife (and the Head Master's daughter, though no-one found out about that last one); five - my Physical Education teacher (because you have to have one of those on your resume); six - the school nurses - the plural was a bad idea - they were jealous of each other; and finally seven - organising an 'orgy of depravity' in the sixth-form common room."
Shane laughed. "An orgy. Sounds good."
"Orgy was a flattering term for a fairly harmless party for which I carried the can as the acknowledged bad apple. It has to be said that the Head Mistress was a nun with only a limited understanding of orgies and depravity."
"Not my experience of nuns," Shane said a little bitterly. Helena glanced at her and Shane deflected the obvious interest in her companion's eyes by asking "I didn't know you were Catholic."
"I'm not," answered Helena shortly. "It was Mummy's final attempt to have me educated in England - she bought into the propaganda that an English education is the best in the world. However even she felt that the orgy was a flimsy excuse for excluding me. After that I went to a school in Switzerland and spent a year skiing and fucking chalet girls. Very traditional of me I thought. Thanks to a very talented and very attractive French teacher I even managed to scrape some qualifications together. That concludes the potted history of my not very interesting school years."
"Livelier than most I guess."
Helena shrugged. "Mostly it was boring. I gather from some of the things I've heard that your early life was..." Helena hesitated.
Shane looked away for an instant before finishing Helena's sentence "...shit."
"Sounds harsh."
"In parts it was. Now is better." Shane toasted Helena with her coffee and smiled her slow mysterious smile. Helena got the hint. The distant past was off limits. The recent past however...
"Have you spoken to Carmen?"
Shane's expression closed off but not before Helena glimpsed the younger woman's discomfort or maybe it was shame.
"There's no point."
"She might not agree with you."
"I wouldn't be offering her anything and if she hates me then I deserve it. She should forget me."
"An apology might be worth something to her Shane, even just the chance to tell you to fuck off," Helena suggested gently. "Don't you care how she feels?"
"I care. I just can't help her. I am what I am Helena. Just as Bette is what she is." Shane looked sadly into Helena's eyes.
"Here it comes," Helena sneered defensively. "The 'keep away from Bette' speech. Which is it? She's too good for me? I'm no good for her?"
"I was going to say that Bette needs someone to share her life. If you can offer her that then go for it."
Helena's mouth popped open in surprise and Shane released her suppressed grin.
"Bette can look after herself, she doesn't need Al or me guard-dogging her. Hey Jen!"
Helena looked over her left shoulder in the direction of Shane's greeting. Jenny was just approaching wearing a fey smile and dungarees over a white top. In truth she looked very young and kind of cute.
"Working today?" Shane queried as Jenny slid in beside her. They hugged and kissed affectionately. It was an odd friendship based on a complete mutual lack of judgement. Shane accepted Jenny's weirdness and Jenny witnessed Shane's more amoral actions with a writer's objectivity.
"Yep. But not yet." Jenny smiled happily at them, until her gaze slid away distractedly and there was a short silence.
Helena fought off the impulse to ask Jenny whether the six foot rabbit was with her and asked instead, "Why are you still working here? I thought your book was about to be published."
Jenny's wide eyes widened further. "I'm not writing," she pronounced carefully as though this explained everything.
"Ever again?" wondered Helena.
Jenny spoke slowly, very patiently as though she was talking to small children, "Today. And I like working here: Kit is an amazing woman and it annoys Billy."
"Which makes any day worthwhile," Helena smirked. Irritating the enemy was a motivation Helena understood and she didn't like Billy either. Jenny beamed at her - always pleased when someone seemed to get her even for a moment. The would-be writer looked around.
"I thought Alice was going to meet us here," she said, her eyes searching amongst The Planet's corners and enclaves without success.
"She's in Kit's office, having an emergency conference call with her producer."
"Emergency?" Jenny worried at the word.
"Alice style emergency," Shane reassured.
"Where's Bette?"
"Also at a meeting. Hel is picking her up in half an hour."
Jenny eyed Helena seriously.
"Are you and Bette together?"
"Why do people keep asking me that?"
"You've spent a lot of time with her recently," Jenny said simply.
"Not together. We have had a few meetings to discuss the adoption..." Helena was embarrassed but she thought on reflection the truth might be less embarrassing than the constant questioning about her relationship with Bette. "I've borrowed Bette's car for the day since I am lacking in the wheels department at the moment. It fitted both our schedules - she's going to see Tina later and I was going to pick her up from here and go over to Shaolin. Only now she's not here..."
"But you have many cars," Jenny said slowly seeing a flaw in this explanation.
"Not since I sold them to pay the cast of our next big picture: 'Hong-Kong Dragon At The OK Corral'. It's going to save our studio I'm told." Helena grinned ruefully, "Could be worse. Tina says if this crashes and burns then we'll have to move into porn...possibly with a Kung-Fu flavour: 'Big-Breasted Lotus Flowers Suck Dragon Balls' springs to mind."
"I think I ordered that carry-out," Jenny said slyly and started to giggle.
Shane wasn't laughing. If Helena hadn't known better she would have said Shane was looking surprised.
"Hey it's okay Shane. I'm not that hard up; I can probably afford one of those tiny Japanese things. I just haven't got round to it today."
"Yeah," Shane said slowly as though she was grappling with a thought that was just inconceivable. "Bette is letting you drive her car?" She said it with the same quiet wonder in her voice as if she'd just heard that Bette was sleeping with a man.
You're shitting us!" shrieked Alice who had just come up behind them. "Jeez Helena! Bette would be more likely to let you fuck her wife than drive her baby!"
There was a sudden extremely awkward silence.
"Thanks Alice but I think I've been there," Helena said quietly.
Alice grimaced guiltily. "Okay I'm sorry. That was gross of me but Helena, you're driving her car. That is huge."
"Ali, it's not huge. It's just convenient."
"Helena trust me. This is huge. I have known Miss Thang for eleven years and she has never allowed anyone to drive her car. No-one. Not one. Not ever. Never."
"Well she did today. I dropped her at the college..."
"Whoa! Back up right there!"
Helena stopped and looked at Alice who having just sat down was now on her feet again.
"You drove her car with her in it!"
Helena nodded and Alice threw up her arms.
"Okay that's it people. I am going now to sit in a darkened room and wait for the next sign of the apocalypse."
"Ali stop making a fuss over nothing. I have to go and pick up Bette so maybe I'll see you later."
"Sure! Just run away. I know you don't have to go yet - I read the note remember. I mean aren't you going to share your wedding plans with us?"
"Al," Shane reproved her with a word and a look and Alice slumped back into her chair sighing exaggeratedly. Helena was not amused.
"If I had wedding plans, believe me Ali, you'd be my first port of call but since I haven't, could you just mind your own business and stop poking pins in me over Bette. There is absolutely nothing between us except a sort of friendship. So once and forever, just let it go Alice."
Alice's eyes narrowed. "A sort of friendship," she repeated softly. "Yeah I get that..."
"Alice called Lara last night," Shane said quickly before Alice had a chance to expound on what sort of friendship Bette and Helena might have.
"Really?" Jenny asked helpfully distracting Alice's attention from an obviously angry Helena. Alice smiled uncertainly.
"Yeah, we just kind of left it...I thought...some closure maybe."
"And..." prompted Shane.
"She's going to New York next week. New job. Sounded important."
"Are you going to see her?" asked Helena, who had recovered her temper enough to take an interest in Alice's strange relationship with her dead ex-lover's lover. There was a lot of grief on both sides and a psychologist would probably have got an entire research paper out of the sheer incestuousness of it all. That said, Lara was a good woman and had clearly become very fond of Alice though the latter had made it clear to Lara and everyone else on a memorable and tearful evening that there was no future for them as a couple. Being a pragmatist, Lara had immediately ended the affair rather than drag it out.
"Tomorrow. We're just going to meet and talk."
"That's good Al," Shane smiled.
"Perhaps you should do the same for Carmen, Shane," Jenny said a little reprovingly. Jenny loved Shane unconditionally but she had loved Carmen too and it hurt her that the Latina had cut them all out of her life. Shane didn't respond and Jenny knew better than to push.
"I have some news," she offered instead.
"Yeah?"
"I've split up with Max."
"What!" chorused everyone else.
"Is Max okay?" asked Shane, concerned about her roomie whom she had come to like for his honesty even if he was occasionally a total prick.
"It was the best conversation we have had in a while. He took it pretty well - relieved I think - he's not going far actually, just moving into the shed if that's okay."
Shane nodded peaceably but Alice raised her eyebrows.
"This doesn't have anything to do with the fake frenchwoman?"
"Claude is nice but no I'm not leaving Max for her. Our relationship was becoming destructive and I have had enough dysfunction in my life. Hey, you've all read my book..."
A round of silent nodding met that statement since most of Jenny's friends had mixed feeling about the great first book and felt more comfortable not discussing it with the author despite her frequent attempts to draw them in.
"I do have to go now," said Helena and stood up. "The traffic is crap and Bette will be waiting..."
"And that would never do," snarked Alice, smiling sweetly. Helena made a face and just resisted sticking her tongue out.
"Absolutely. See you guys."
Her friends waved her off. Helena walked away, calling out her goodbyes to Kit who was working behind the coffee counter. Kit smiled and nodded, but her gaze turned more speculative as the tall Briton left The Planet. Kit wandered over to where Alice, Shane and Jenny were sitting.
"Is she driving my baby sister's car?"
"Yup," said Alice. They exchanged a significant look.
"What the hell is that about?" wondered Kit aloud.
Alice shrugged, Shane made an expression that said 'I have no fucking idea' and Jenny stared into space as though expecting to hear the answer from the ether.
The plot thickens slightly and Helena does not have a good night.
All the characters and locations belong to Showtime and Ilene Chaiken. I am merely taking them out for a quick polish. TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
====== The Long Night of Whatever ======
"Oh fuck!"
A resonant chuckle accompanied Helena's gasp.
"You like?"
"Oh fuck I like," Helena whimpered and arched against the body holding her.
"That's good to know." Her lover loosened her grasp on Helena's wrists and bent to kiss down the side of her neck. Soft hair flowed over her shoulders. Helena drew a deeper breath as the kisses turned fierce and sharp teeth marked the smooth skin of one shoulder. Warm lips moved over her throat.
She wanted to remember this, remember every detail but Helena couldn't focus, the sensations blurred and blended: the press of stiffened nipples pushing into her; soft curves and firm muscles yielding under her fingers; an expensive warm scent that she couldn't place drifting, eddying and mingling with the rising aroma of mutual desire; rising pressure within her, building from the gentle friction of sweat-slicked limbs sliding against her own and the scrape of fingernails down her back and over her buttocks; the shocking coldness as the night air flowed over newly exposed super-heated skin, filling the space left by her lover as she kissed and licked her skin on an inexorable journey down her straining body; and through it all a shining thread of fear twined about her in the dark - she was being taken and her weakness made her want to cry and resist but her nervous system would not obey, instead her legs parted helplessly.
"So ready for me," whispered her lover pulling away to stare down at her. Helena could not see her face in the dark shadow but she could hear the smile in the other woman's voice and knew that her own need must be embarrassingly obvious. Long strong fingers, the subjects of many fantasies, answered that need, slipping easily inside her as Helena cried out. Just as easily the fingers slipped out. Helena groaned and turned her face into the smooth muscle of her tormentor's arm.
"Just fuck me."
Fingertips trailed over Helena's lips.
"Taste first. Taste us."
Helena took two fingers into her mouth and slowly sucked the sweet bitterness from them before gently removing her lover's hand and pushing it downwards.
"I love you. Don't make me wait any longer."
Her dark angel laughed and bent to kiss her mouth, capturing Helena's gasp of pleasure as two fingers re-entered the wet heat and pressed inside. Helena clung to strong shoulders, returning the heated kiss until she could no longer, and her head went back on the pillow. her hips rose in counterpoint to the insistent thrusts, she cried out her name, pleading for more, for completion. There was a ringing noise in her ears and the bed seemed to be shaking...
"Helena! For fucks sake would you wake up? The telephone has been ringing for ages."
"Jesus!" exclaimed the Briton, her eyes popping open.
"I've certainly heard his name a few times in the last ten minutes," smirked Leigh who was sitting up in bed beside her proffering the still ringing phone.
Helena stared at her in confusion.
"Just answer the phone. I'll make some tea."
Helena took it and pressed the answer key. Leigh cast off the covers and was already walking towards the kitchen when Helena answered.
"Hello..." she uttered hoarsely still hovering between arousal and sleep.
"Christ Helena, I thought you were never going to answer."
"Bette! I'm sorry...I was...I..."
"Never mind. I have a situation here. Angelica's not too well. It's not serious and the doctor's seen her but I need to get some supplies and I can't leave her. Can you pick them up for me and bring them by as soon as possible."
"Certainly. What do you need?"
Helena rolled on her side, flipped on the bedside lamp and grabbed a pen and an old envelope from her bedside. She listed Bette's very precise requirements and then swung her long legs out of bed.
"Thirty minutes Bette and don't worry." She replaced the phone in its carrier and started to dress. Leigh Ostin, still naked, leaned against the door to the kitchen watching her.
"Bette as in Porter?"
"Yes. You know her don't you?" Helena realised that Leigh was not looking too happy. "Her daughter's not well and I'm just going to take some stuff over..."
"Bette as in 'Oh God! Fuck me Bette!' Porter."
"What?" Helena's head snapped up.
"You called her name in your sleep," Leigh said baldly. "It certainly puts our earlier activities in context."
"Leigh I'm sorry I can't really talk about this now."
"Because you have to go pick up groceries at three in the morning. You sure know how to show a girl a great time Helena."
"Leigh I'm really really sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you."
Leigh shook her head disbelievingly. "I wasn't expecting grand passion Hel but at least your full attention for a few hours. And why is the incomparable Porter requiring your presence? Are you together now because you never mentioned it?"
"No. Not at all. It's nothing like that. It's just I'm the only lesbian mother she knows apart from her ex. New mothers...you know..."
Leigh was in no mood to make this any easier. "No I don't actually," she snapped. Helena shrugged and looked so guilty that Leigh regained a little of her humour and suddenly grinned at her.
"So you were dreaming about colic remedies and diapers then? Perhaps you were dreaming that you had the colic. Might explain all the grunting and twitching."
Helena blushed to the roots of her hair. "I...wasn't aware...Oh shut up Leigh. Look I'll buy you breakfast okay? This won't take long."
Leigh flopped back on the bed. "I'm going back to sleep and dream - maybe I'll get as lucky as you. See you for breakfast."
"It won't be that long."
"Whatever," Leigh mumbled as she snuggled back under the comforter.
Helena let herself out of her apartment and shivered in the chill early morning air. Her little car wasn't much warmer. She leaned up, switched on the internal light and glared at her disheveled hair in the rear-view mirror. 'What am I doing?' she wondered. Her body hummed with unsatisfied desire and her dream was still vivid in her mind thanks to the violent awakening. 'Five more minutes,' she grumbled. 'That's all I needed. Now I'll be wandering around all day thinking about it. Oh God poor Leigh - I'm really not fit for human company. Perhaps I should get a dog.'
She had been slightly surprised when Leigh accepted her invitation to come home with her for a night-cap. They had had a pleasant evening together, Helena walked Leigh to her car, kissed her good night and then more from politeness than any real inclination had asked her back to her apartment. Leigh accepted immediately. Three drinks later they were sitting beside each other on the floor of the living room in Helena's tiny condo, leaning against her couch. Helena was thinking melancholy thoughts about her life and Bette and Leigh was talking about her ex whom Leigh still loved even though the ex had long ago moved on and in with the 'other' woman; both women were feeling their drinks on top of the alcohol they had consumed at dinner.
"We shouldn't let them do this to us," Leigh declared angrily. "I know you're still hankering after that manipulative straight girl and me, well I am just as pathetic."
For a moment, Helena couldn't understand what Leigh was talking about. Not even Bette's worst enemy would describe her as straight and then she realised that Leigh was thinking of Dylan. Helena nearly laughed out loud. She hadn't thought about Dylan in weeks. Now she was thinking about her it was strange to realise that the shattering pain of betrayal and loss that Helena had feared would never go away had dissolved completely leaving just a small residue of anger. Helena was over her even if it was at a cost.
"I am not going to spend another night moping over her," Leigh said as she leaned over to kiss Helena on the mouth. They both looked startled. "Is this okay?" Leigh asked uncertainly when Helena had said nothing for what seemed like hours. Helena smiled slightly as she allowed herself to notice how attractive Leigh was. The Briton was almost grateful when her body began to respond normally to the other woman's closeness - she needed this she argued - it had not been a good day.
Helena returned the kiss and Leigh's lips parted against hers and for a few minutes they kissed gently, exploring each other, testing this new frontier. Then Helena took control.
When Leigh finally collapsed on top of her boneless and exhausted, Helena held her tight and whispered in her ear, telling her how beautiful she was and how fine and good making love had been. Leigh finally raised her head from Helena's shoulder to look into smiling green-gray eyes.
"Was that better than moping Ms Ostin?" Helena inquired innocently.
Leigh began to laugh. "I don't know. What do you think? Should I stroke your ego and tell you it was fucking mind-blowing? Or should I stroke something else?" Leigh's expression darkened with lust and she moved to kiss Helena. The Briton held her away.
"Actually I'm rather tired...I mean I don't really need..."
Leigh pushed herself up to support her weight on her arms as she gazed curiously at the woman lying underneath her. "Helena what's wrong? Don't tell me you're some kind of stone butch." Leigh laughed and then looked embarrassed when Helena didn't reply.
How do you explain politely to someone whom you have just fucked senseless that you don't want to surrender in her arms because she's not the one you really want without making her feel like a slut and an inadequate one at that and making you sound like some prissy love-struck teenager. She really did like Leigh and loving her had been wonderful but for reasons that not even Helena could get her head around she did not want Leigh to make love to her. It was fucked up. Stupid and fucked up.
"No...I just...don't...feel..."
Leigh turned away and sat up in the bed.
"It's okay. You don't have to explain."
Leigh's obvious hurt propelled Helena to action. She sat up and wrapped her arms around the other woman, pressing herself into her naked back. Leigh struggled slightly but Helena tightened her hold and dropped small kisses on her shoulders and neck between whispered promises.
"I feel more like this."
Helena reached around Leigh's slender body with one hand, running her fingers over the artist's smooth pale skin until she reached the firm swell of her breasts and unerringly traced a path to the tight puckered nipple and pinched it. Leigh gasped and jerked in her arms. Helena continued to massage and squeeze, soft and hard, all the while easing a now unresisting Leigh back onto the bed.
Afterwards Leigh had fallen asleep, her naked form still spooned within Helena's embrace. It had been some time before Helena had risked detaching herself then she had fallen asleep too.
'And then what do you do?' said Helena to her image in the car mirror, 'Dream about Bette. How great is that Helena? You have a really nice woman in your bed who wants to sex you up and instead you'd rather have wet dreams about someone who regards you as little more than what?' Helena exhaled heavily and stared at her mirror image quizzically. She really did not know how Bette thought about her. 'A friend?' suggested the mirror. Helena shook her head. 'Not really a friend...she orders me about as though she were my older sister. Perhaps she is Mummy's love child after all...in spirit at least. God I hope not.' Helena grinned at her reflection. That would be just too damn soapy.
Fifty minutes, four convenience stores and an all-night drug-store later, Helena parked on Bette's driveway and staggered to the front door carrying three bags of groceries, stumbling in the dark and cursing Bette for not putting on the outside lights.
"You're late," said Bette as she opened the door. The room lights behind Bette flared in Helena's eyes and she couldn't see Bette's expression but Ms Porter did not sound happy.
"Just thank me later Bette," Helena snapped, dumping the bags on the floor just inside the front door and turning to go. Bette caught Helena's hand and held her back.
Bette sighed and ran her other hand through her hair. "I'm sorry Helena. It's been a long night."
"Yes. Well me too," Helena replied haughtily not quite ready to forgive her but not pulling her hand away either.
"Would you like a coffee."
"It's okay Bette. I think I'll just go home to bed."
"I could do with the company for a little while."
Bette squeezed her hand. Helena glanced down at Bette's fingers enclosing her own. Reluctantly her gaze wandered up a slim strong arm, over slender and muscled upper arms to a finely sculpted shoulder; Helena's pulse accelerated and her mouth went dry as she took in the somewhat overwhelming realisation that Bette was clad only in a white tank-top and pajamas. Helena's dream was still hanging about in her consciousness like a party crasher who won't leave and she was teetering on the edge of arousal. It was a little hard to disassociate herself from the reality of Bette Porter standing inches from her, barefoot in pajamas.
She gently tugged her hand from Bette's fingers.
"All right but I can't stay long, I have a guest."
Bette grinned at her. "Really? Do I know her? You should have said something."
"I don't remember you drawing breath or offering to listen."
"I could have called Alice..."
"From the other side of town...No it's alright Bette. How is Angelica?"
"Grumpy - she's quiet at the moment but it probably won't last."
"What's wrong."
"The doctor thinks it might be chicken pox."
"Poor Angie. I'm surprised Tina's not here already."
"She can't. She never had chicken pox as a child. The doctor told her to stay away."
"She won't like that."
Bette shrugged and headed for the kitchen. As she walked away Helena's pleasure in watching Bette's retreating back was cut nastily short and her stomach felt as though it had just taken a sucker punch from Muhammed Ali. Three long parallel scratches scarred the perfect surface of Bette's left shoulder.
Helena put a hand on the door frame to steady herself and tried to breathe as the jealous blood rushed away from her brain as though trying to leave the source of distress behind. She swayed slightly and it was quite hard to get to a chair.
A few minutes later Bette returned with two large cups of coffee.
'Fuck you Bette Porter,' thought Helena furiously as she smiled graciously at Bette and took her coffee. 'How dare you stand there looking serene and well-fucked when I'm a seething mess of unsatisfied arousal?'
At that moment Angelica announced her presence. Bette stood up wearily. "Have you had chicken pox?" she asked frowning slightly. Helena stood too.
"I've had everything and more. At boarding school there were annual plagues: regiments of little girls all scratching and moaning. I'll get her Bette - you look shattered."
Bette subsided gratefully back into her chair.
When Helena entered the nursery Angelica was standing in her cot yelling.
"Hey Angelica," Helena greeted her cheerfully. Angelica's serious little face unscrunched for a moment in surprise that this was not her Momma B or her Momma T or Mister Scratchy Face. Then the baby remembered that she was feeling bad and someone had to do something now! Helena scrunched her face up in sympathy and picked up the little girl, cooing in her ear and rocking her. She carried her through to Bette.
"Not a happy little soldier. It's okay Bette - I'll take this shift. Drink your coffee." Helena walked up and down rocking the crying baby. The cries gradually subsided to whimpers.
"You haven't told me who's waiting for you at home," Bette raised her eyebrows inquisitorially. Helena paused and stared back at Bette, trying to assess if Bette was anything other than curious. Observational results were inconclusive. Bette's expression revealed nothing except polite interest and if her body language was a little tense then that could just be tiredness.
"Leigh Ostin," Helena said bluntly and resumed walking and rocking.
"Oh," said Bette clearly taken aback. Helena didn't give her time to get any further questions in.
"You look as though you've had some action yourself. Very recently I would say."
"What?"
"Your shoulder blade - difficult to self-inflict marks like that so I guess you had help. Do I know her?" Helena knew she was sounding possessive but Bette was not very observant apparently. She was smiling at nothing with a shy softness that Helena had never seen before.
"I don't think you've met her yet. She's a new artist in residence..."
A red-hot spear of pure jealousy twisted through Helena's guts. She wasn't even aware that Bette could look like that except with Angelica.
"...not the woman who made you so angry a couple of weeks ago. I thought you said she was a self-righteous, pain in the arse." Helena remembered picking Bette up from a lunch time meeting and having to listen to the Dean of Arts rage about the stupidity and ingratitude of artists in general and Jodi Lerner in particular.
Bette laughed.
"Yep. One and the same. Jodi is an amazing artist and an amazing woman. We've only had a couple of dates but they've been great - eventually anyway - I had forgotten how good dating can be. She's just totally fearless, wonderful to be with and I find her..."
"...amazing. You said. And obviously she's not afraid of you. Taking you from the edge of apoplexy to feverish passion in ten days. Wow...that's quick work." Her voice breaking up, Helena hid her face against Angelica and mumbled nonsense in the toddler's ear. Magically Angelica stopped crying.
"Hmmm. You have the knack with her," Bette admired quietly. Helena sat down on the couch still gently rocking a suddenly sleepy Angelica. After a few moments of silence Helena looked up to find Bette watching her with Angelica and looking somewhat perplexed.
"Jodi doesn't really like kids," Bette said abruptly. "I mean she left tonight when Angie started to fuss."
"She's probably just not used to them. I mean who could resist Angelica?" Helena bit her lip. What was she doing? She should tell Bette to run away from the mean witch and look for someone who could love Angelica as much as she did. "Of course she may not understand that Angelica is your priority." That was better.
Bette smiled wistfully. "Somehow I never expected to be one of those people who scares partners away because I have a kid in tow. It wasn't in my game plan."
"No-one expects to be a 'divorced' parent Bette. I know I didn't though looking back it must have been obvious that Winnie and I would split."
"How are Wilson and Jun Ying? When are they next coming to see you?"
Helena stifled a growl. This was an open-wound yet Helena kept her voice low and soothing for Angelica's benefit despite the rush of anger she felt remembering her most recent conversation with her ex.
"They're both great but I don't know when I'm going to see them again. Winnie called yesterday. The bitch has decided that since my fortunes have taken a downturn, the environment here is not good enough for the children. So I have an open invitation to visit in New York but she doesn't want them staying with me in a one-room apartment and, as she put it, a coterie of corrupting drug-addled west-coast movie people."
"Ouch."
"Yes of course drug-addled east-coast theatre people aren't in the least corrupting." Helena felt the tears beginning to rise. Everything in her life was such a fucking disaster.
Bette rose from her chair and gracefully sat down next to Helena and put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her lightly into an embrace.
"S'okay Helena. It'll work out. You should talk to Peggy - after all she holds Winnie's purse strings."
Helena had seen Bette hug her friends a hundred times. It meant nothing beyond a simple gesture of comfort. She knew that but her body didn't. If she didn't move now she would have no option but to turn her head a last few inches and kiss the beautiful neck. She had to go. 'Not yet' she screamed inwardly, 'just stay where you are Helena, let her hold you for a little longer - a temporary heaven in hell - don't ruin it by wanting more'.
Bette dropped a small kiss on top of her head and that was too much for Helena. She pulled away and sat up.
"I have to go Bette. Leigh will wonder what's happened."
"Is that serious?" Bette asked as Helena gently transferred Angelica to her mother's arms.
"No," said Helena standing up, not wanting further discussion. She only wanted to get away before she made a fool of herself. "I'll let myself out."
"Okay and thank you Helena for the groceries and for helping with Angelica." Bette squeezed her hand and smiled up at her. And for the first time Helena could see there was no reservation or hint of distrust in Bette's beautiful dark eyes just friendly affection. It was almost unbearable.
"Anytime."
Helena all but ran to the front door. She closed it behind her quietly. It was light outside - she should get back for Leigh but something made her turn her car in the opposite direction from her apartment.
Twenty minutes later she pulled up outside the apartments owned by Shaolin. Standing outside the door of Tina's apartment she hesitated before ringing the door bell. It was several minutes before Tina answered the door and she didn't look very happy. No-one in the Porter-Kennard family was happy tonight it seemed.
"Helena do you know what time it is?"
"Sorry...I just need to talk to someone..."
Tina stopped looking angry. "Are you okay?"
"No." Helena fought back the overwhelming need to cry as Tina stood aside and led her inside.
"Sit there and I'll make us both coffee."
"Not for me. My stomach can't take it. I'll be sick."
Tina abandoned the coffee plan and sat down opposite. "What's happened?"
Helena blurted "Winnie's trying to stop me seeing my children and Bette's dating someone."
Tina went white.
"Fuck!" was all she said.
"I am such a mess Tina. I've made a mess of everything." Helena slumped forward on her chair and put her head in her hands.
"Who is she fucking?" The ice splinters in Tina's voice penetrated even Helena's coat of self-pity.
"You mean Bette?"
Tina rolled her eyes.
"Okay I guess that was a stupid question. I mean why would you care about Winnie. Bette's seeing some artist at the University. I haven't met her yet; she's amazing apparently." Helena's laugh sounded hysterical even to her own ears.
Tina curled her lip in an angry sneer. "What is it with Bette and artists - before she met me she'd slept her way through several entire artistic movements - only the women of course."
"Uh Tina?"
"I knew this day would come, Bette's not going to get left on the shelf is she? I suppose they're all falling over the hot new Dean of Arts: students, teachers, parents, every fucking woman who lays eyes on her."
"Are you jealous of Bette?"
"Helena why would it make me jealous that the woman who swore she would be mine forever is fucking every female in southern California who can lift a paintbrush or a hammer."
"Well why would it make you jealous Tina? You left her for a man."
"Of course I left her - she'd have cheated on me again. I wasn't enough for her. No one person is enough for Bette and I couldn't let her hurt me again." The blonde was half-shouting, her pale skin flushed with anger. Helena gaped at her - she'd seen Tina fall apart before but had blamed it on her pregnant hormones but she didn't have that excuse this time. Tina's face crumpled. "It still fucking hurts Helena, why won't it stop? I just want to stop caring about her." Then the blonde was in her arms sobbing as though Bette's betrayal had happened yesterday.
"Shhh. Don't cry. Please." Helena held and stroked her former lover as she in turn grieved anew for the end of her old love. After a few minutes, Tina's helpless weeping began to ebb. Helena hugged her harder and whispered "You know this is utterly ridiculous don't you? I mean I came over here to cry all over you."
Tina snorted damply against her neck. "I know. I'm sorry. Fucking lesbian drama queen."
"Me or you?"
"Me I guess."
"Well I guess I'm glad you still think of yourself as gay. Personally I hate to see anyone drop out of the team."
"You're a good friend Helena," Tina snuffled, wiping her nose on Helena's t-shirt.
"And you Kennard women are determined to ruin my best grocery-buying-at-three-in-the-morning outfit."
"Wha'?"
Helena explained about her emergency call to Bette and Angelica and as she had hoped, talk about Angelica and her ailment effectively distracted Tina.
"I hate not being able to see her while she's ill."
"She'll be fine Tina, Bette is completely on top of it. She would move mountains for that child."
"I know she's an excellent Mom but please let's not talk about Bette any more. Tell me about your problems with Winnie." They had both settled back on the couch, Tina resting in Helena's arms with her head on Helena's shoulder. Helena recounted her parenting woes and Tina listened and gave advice.
By the time Helena left Tina it was nearly seven o'clock. Half an hour driving through the already nightmarish traffic and finally Helena leaned back and stared through rain that was bouncing off the windshield at the apartment block where she lived. The street cleaners were still sweeping the sidewalks but soon they would be gone and the daytime commuters would replace them.
"That was a hell of a night," she complained aloud to herself. 'I hope Leigh has gone home so I can get some rest. No more drama for me tonight.' Then she remembered that Leigh had left her car on the far side of the road. It was still there. "Damn," Helena muttered. 'She's going to hate me. It's not enough that I'm going bankrupt; my ex-wife is stealing the children; and I'm in love with a woman who hardly notices me, is dating other women and now the love of her life wants her back. No that's not enough; I have to go and process my deviant behaviour with an angry dyke.'
"Oh fucking whatever!" she yelled at the falling rain as she exited the car and slammed the door and ran for cover.
Bette and Helena talk but Helena is not listening.
All the characters and locations belong to Showtime and Ilene Chaiken. I am merely taking them out for a quick polish. TPTB are many. In a perfect world I would be one of them but it's not and I'm not. No infringement of copyright/trade marks or other intellectual property is intended. This story was written for fun and not profit.
Warning: This story includes same sex relationships between women. If you are offended by this or it is illegal where you live or you are underage then please read no further.
Full warnings, credits and disclaimers can be found in the contents page and chapter 1.
====== Beer and Wine ======
Helena strolled down the street feeling a sense of elation - it was one of those days when she loved being gay - every woman she saw looked amazing and wonderful from the young to the very old: the way they walked, the way they stood, talked, laughed, everything and they all seemed to notice her too. She smiled freely at a woman coming out of a store who first looked shocked then pleased. The woman stood still and followed Helena's progress along the sidewalk as she zeroed in on her target - a very smart Italian restaurant in the heart of West Hollywood.
Bette Porter stood outside the restaurant checking her watch, still in her work suit and seemingly utterly oblivious to the admiring glances coming her way from the numerous lesbians out to see and be seen in the balmy evening. Bette observed Helena coming towards her and an amused and not unappreciative smile touched her lips. The tall Briton was obviously enjoying herself; she had a sway in her hips and a bounce in her stride and was clearly very cognizant of the attention she was getting. As their gazes locked Helena's face lit up and Bette couldn't really do anything but look pleased herself. To the many interested observers their apparent mutual pleasure was very disappointing. Bette overheard one obviously disconsolate body comment 'I thought they hated each other.' So it was with a touch of showmanship she leant in to kiss Helena on the lips.
"How is my favourite blood-sucking vampire?" she whispered.
"Hungry after a hard day in my coffin. A pint of their best O-neg would be great." Helena sat down at the table Bette had commandeered.
"Don't tell me you're going to drink beer..." Bette shook her head disapprovingly at Helena who winked.
"My father was a great beer drinker - we have our own brewery back home - not that I'm expecting anything special here. Some imported blonde beer probably."
"I shall not be joining you."
"Wine snob."
"Pleb," Bette shot back. "And why are you so happy."
"It happens sometimes," Helena protested. "Usually when I have managed to annoy you..."
"...wreck my life, lose my job, that sort of thing."
"Yes that sort of thing. Actually you should know that my current emotional state has nothing to do with you."
"You've met someone?" Bette asked neutrally.
Helena shook her head. "Not one but several people." Bette raised her brow inquisitively. "Financiers, high rolling money men who want to bet on our next picture. We have a budget, we have the actors signing contracts (including someone fabulously famous whom I am contractually unable to name but you and everyone else hated his last film so he is looking for something to redeem himself), we have a director who believes in the project and best of all we have a script which doesn't contain the direction 'They fight!' on every other page.
"So I'm having dinner with a movie mogul."
"Yes you are!"
The waiter arrived at that moment and both women ordered their food and drinks and Bette avoided rolling her eyes when Helena ordered an imported beer that cost only slightly less than the house champagne.
"Plus even better news - Mummy has prevailed on Winnie to let the children come this weekend. They are staying for two weeks."
"In your apartment?" said Bette dubiously. It was a very small apartment.
"Not at all! We are all staying in the Mondrian courtesy of Mummy's credit card." Helena grinned happily.
"That's great," Bette said and toasted Helena with her chianti. Helena clinked the glass with her beer.
"And how is the most beautiful woman in WeHo?" Helena asked playfully.
"What?"
"Angelica Porter, your heartbreaker daughter."
Bette glared at her. "It chills my blood to think that in 15 years I may actually have to fend off blood-suckers like you. I wonder how many families lock up their daughters when you are in town."
Helena shrugged and pretended to calculate.
"Don't bother Helena. I wouldn't like to stress your over-tired faculties. Anyway Angelica is great. She is a total chatterbox."
"I hear her art appreciation coming along." Helena bit her lip.
Bette winced. "You've spoken to Tina."
Helena nodded and then started laughing at Bette's obvious frustration. The Dean of Arts clearly wanted to be angry but since Angelica could do no wrong there was no outlet for her ire.
"It can be restored," Bette said tightly, "at a cost. I never liked it that much anyway; I only kept it because it was a gift."
"So Angie and her spontaneous finger painting did you a favour then?"
"An expensive favour," Bette smiled resignedly, "but I guess her art appreciation is coming along nicely."
"Speaking of art, Jodi's okay?"
"Fit and tireless," Bette confessed and smirked. A little of the gilt rubbed off Helena's mood. She was saved from having to say anything more by the arrival of the food. For several minutes the conversation was more muted. Bette was watching Helena carefully trying to assess if Alice had been correct or was just talking out of her hat as usual. Eventually Helena noticed.
"Why do I get the feeling that you have asked me here for a reason other than simply sharing a plate of grub."
"I want a part in your next picture and was hoping for an invite to your casting couch," Bette dead panned.
Helena's head shot up and she met Bette's determined gaze.
"Don't Bette," she warned.
"Alice thinks you have a crush on me."
"I told you that myself weeks ago."
"I thought that was the alcohol talking or you were playing some game."
"I leave those to Jenny. Really it doesn't matter Bette. I'm a big girl and I can handle it."
"I don't want to hurt you Helena."
"Then let's not have this conversation. Let's discuss politics with a big P or politics with a small p, or sport or the weather - looks like it'll be sunny tomorrow but of course you can never be sure in SoCal - we can talk about our children or our damnable ex-spouses; you can tell me about some new artist you really like - not her of course - but somebody who has provoked you or made you catch your breath; or you can tell me how clever you have been conning donations out of the rich right; I'll tell you funny stories from the film set and tales of my forays into poverty. We can talk about anything except this..." Helena pointed at her heart.
A shadow loomed over them. A tall good looking man was offering to buy them both a drink.
"No," Bette said without looking at him.
"Perhaps your lady friend here feels differently," he persisted.
"Agent provocateur," Helena muttered. Bette nodded and took Helena's hand and they both leaned back in their chairs and looked the intruder up and down. He shifted uncomfortably.
Helena smiled charmingly at the man. "Thank you but no. I'm afraid I don't want a drink from you now or at any other time." She stared pointedly at his ring finger. "Your wife would be a different matter of course - I expect she could do with a change of scenery. So if she'd like a drink with us..."
"Fucking lesbos," he said angrily and walked away.
Bette exhaled irritably. "Jesus. Where were we?"
"I was trying to prevent you from giving me the big speech," Helena recapped helpfully. She was still holding Bette's hand from their encounter with the would be rescuer of 'women too good looking to be lesbians' and she tightened her grip. Bette sighed and gently pulled her hand away. Her expression combined concern, embarrassment and exasperation in equal measure. Bette Porter was not one for dyke drama even if she did always seem to be in the middle of it; there was too much talking and time-wasting in the lezzie community.
"Okay, no big speeches, just this: I am fond of you Helena and believe me, I never thought I would ever say that, but friendship is what this is, nothing else. I am sorry if I've taken advantage of your feelings..."
"Well I'm not," Helena broke in to what looked like the warm-up to a very well-rehearsed speech. Helena wondered how often Bette had used it.
"What?"
"Bette you seem to think this is a done deal. From my point of view it is anything but over. Okay so you're having a fling with Jodi Lerner and getting over your break-up with Tina and maybe there will be others but I am not going to admit defeat until you're walking down the aisle with someone else."
"Helena that's not really realistic..."
"God Americans are so unromantic: just get your feelings off your chest, get kicked to the curb and then move on. What the hell happened to building a willow cabin outside your gate and abiding faithfully until the worms are feeding on my damasked cheek."
Bette started to laugh. "I think city planning laws and injunctions against stalking might interfere."
"Unromantic and hard-assed. But consider this my hard-assed American friend: three months ago you hardly spoke to me, could hardly bear to be in the same room. Now we're having dinner. Who knows where three years will take us?"
"Helena!"
"I will wait Bette."
"Helena!"
"I have nothing further to say."
"You're a fucking lunatic."
"A fucking romantic lunatic," Helena corrected. "Now how about those Lakers?"
TBC