Disclaimer:
Paramount Pictures own all things Trek. I make no money from
this story. All characters besides the STV senior staff, are
mine. Do not archive or post anywhere else without my written
permission.
Betareaders:
Thanks to Pol, Snowolf, Jay, Glynis and Saffron. Any mistakes
lingering are purely my own!
Pairing:
J/7
Rating:
NC-17. Same gender love between adult, consenting women.
Violence:
Yes, some. It's an action story.
Format:
Different fonts and background colour describe changes in past and present. I hope
this will work out well in simple html. Let me know if it
doesn't come out right. Thank you.
Summary:
An unexpected attack destroys the most joyous moment, so far, in
Janeway's and Seven's life. The consequences are devastating and
the crew is now held hostage, fearing their captain is dead.
Chapter
4
”I
have contacted Dargas’ unit. We’re in consensus. This is an
opportunity we cannot dismiss.” Kingas sounded cautiously
optimistic. “We haven’t seen Masier this busy, and occupied,
in a long time.”
“The
fact we have an entire ship’s crew, hostile towards him and
his men, is a factor to count on.” Mirish added. “They’re
bound to be in a weakened state, though.”
Janeway
sat listening to the rebels discuss the current situation. She
knew Mirish was right. After two months in captivity, most
likely undernourished and mistreated, her crewmembers would be
tired and frustrated. The frustration hopefully fuelled their
will to fight back. Janeway knew them well enough to realise
they were sitting on several plans of escape. The fact they had
not implemented any yet, bothered her. That meant something of
importance held them back. It made her sick to speculate what
this was.
“Dargas
operates on the other side of the compound.” Kingas turned to
Janeway, interrupting her thoughts. “His scouts have
established a pattern, a routine. Masier’s men take the Borg
woman to the ship every other day. She stays in there for six
hours and then they escort her back to what’s called the Big
House. Judging from where the lights go on, he keeps her in the
basement. It has only very small windows, impossible to squeeze
through. The deliver food to the barracks once a week. Your crew
acts in an orderly, restrained fashion when approached by the
mercenaries. Dargas had observed one child among the men and
women.”
Naomi.
Thank God. “She’s the only child onboard,” Janeway
said huskily. “She was born onboard the ship six years ago. I
wonder what she’s thinking …”
Kingas
allowed for a few moments to pass before continuing. “Dargas
labelled a tall dark male, with remarkable facial adornments,
their leader in your absence.”
“Commander
Chakotay.” Another one to check off the list. “Any other’s
with a special appearance they could identify? A woman with
ridges on her forehead? A blue-tinted man? A black man with
pointed ears?”
Kingas
checked her scribbled piece of paper. “The black man. The blue
man.” She raised an eyebrow. “Colourful.” Redirecting her
eyes toward the paper, she kept going. “A man with spots and
furry face. Numerous similar looking people, indistinguishable
from Darga’s distance.
Neelix.
Janeway’s heart ached with longing. She missed them. Oh,
Seven … Directing her thoughts away from her lover, her
fiancée, she rose. “So what’s the plan?”
Blinking,
Kingas regarded Janeway cautiously. “Dargas is going to
contact us (within)
before sunset. He’s an arrogant bastard, but he’ll have a
plan ready to launch
when he does.” Her tone revealed both admiration and disdain.
“I could tell from what he didn’t say, we don’t
have much time.”
“From
whose point of view?” Janeway snapped. “Yours? My crew’s?”
Glancing
towards her sister, Mirish lowering her gaze in contemplation,
Kingas made a face. “It’s spring. Six double-lunar circles
have passed. I’d say we’re all running out of time. Masier’s
men are going to act soon, and Dargas implied he more or less
had guessed what’s going on.”
“And?”
Janeway folded her arms over her chest.
“We
think they may have chosen the Borg woman.” Kingas shook her
head sorrowfully. “I think this woman means something special
to you. You have our condolences.”
Mirish,
the softer of the sisters, despite her intimidating appearance,
rose and walked up to Janeway. “Is the Borg woman of your
family?”
Uncertain
how much she ought to reveal, Janeway cleared her throat. “She’s
my partner.”
“Your
wife?”
“One
day soon, I hope.” Janeway felt the engagement ring, a simple
titanium band, encircling the ring finger on her left hand.
“Then,
you are going to have to work with us. And quickly.” Kingas
joined them. “We suspect they have chosen the Borg woman, your
partner, for this Lunar Cycle Sacrifice.”
B’Elanna
felt stronger after her first careful meal in weeks.
Chakotay had brought the Doctor online for only ten
minutes, enough for the sparsely built man to scan her
quickly and look in on Harry. B’Elanna wished there
had been enough energy for him to return and let them
know how Harry was doing. Having been given the go ahead
to begin digesting a clear soup, the Klingon-hybrid now
wiped her mouth on her sleeve, since napkins was a
luxury they simply didn’t have. “I’m full,” she
announced, giving Neelix a quick smile as he fetched her
half empty bowl.
“So,
tell me,” she began, studying the expressions of the
three men sitting together with her at the table. “What
plans have you considered?”
Chakotay
didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “We have several,
but they all fall apart for the same reasons. We have
fourteen dying members of this crew, including Harry. If
we move according to plan, they’ll be left behind.
That’s not what Voyager’s all about.”
One
for all, and all for one.
B’Elanna nodded. She knew this. It was what kept them
all sane, while travelling in this hostile part of space.
“So, we wait for them to die, so they don’t die
alone.” Her voice hollow, she reached for Tom’s
hand. “We wait, and we watch.”
“That’s
not all we’re doing, love,” Tom reassures her. “We’ve
carefully mapped the guard’s movements and schedule.
You have to give it to these monsters. They are
extremely punctual. The first deviation from their plans
was today when they kept walking Seven in the wrong
direction. Usually they take her straight for the main
house where their leader resides.”
“Yes,
it is of great concern,” Tuvok stated. “Darkness
will fall within the hour.”
B’Elanna
frowned. “Is there any possibility we can send someone
to follow them?”
“We’ve
thought of it.” Chakotay rested his chin on his
knuckles. “Masier’s men have been edgy for a couple
of days, paying less attention to us, and more towards
the perimeter.”
“What
do you think is going on?” B’Elanna asked.
“I
have no clue,” the commander continued. “All I know
is, Masier has posted almost twice as many guards, but
not watching us. It looks like they’re protecting the
base from something in the jungle.”
“He
must have enemies.”
“It
appears to be more than that.” Tuvok leaned forward,
lacing his fingers. “I detect a strong surge of
uneasiness permeating this base. No question, it is an
enemy, but something tells me, it is an enemy of great
magnitude.”
B’Elanna
shivered, pulling the blanket Tom had put around her
earlier, closer. “It sounds so ominous.”
Tuvok
nodded solemnly. “It is.”
The
guards had increased their speed with two point
three-one kilometres per hour since they entered the
curious hidden tunnel. Gazing around, her Borg optical
implant detected the walls consisted of unusual mix of a
dense volcanic glass, resembling obsidian, and an alien
metallic alloy, which would make it practically
impossible to scan from the outside.
“Where
are you taking me?” It was worth a try.
“Keep
walking.”
Pressing
her full lips to a thin line, Seven complied, running
several scans via her optical implant, as they walked
further and further into what had to be primary rock by
now. There was no light ahead and Seven’s implant didn’t
detect anything until another twenty minutes later. As
they approached what looked like a solid wall, she
noticed the guards’ respiration and perspiration
increase. They are afraid. This did not bode well
for her. If the heavily armed mercenaries showed fear,
an unarmed woman, regardless of her superior strength,
stood a slim chance of defending herself.
“Stop.
Wait.” The first guard on her left raised a hand,
adding weight to his words. He felt around inside the
neckline of his uniform, pulling out what looked like a
black square, made of glass.
Perhaps
of the same obsidian like glass that make up these walls.
Seven focused on
what the man was doing. His hands trembled faintly as he
pressed the square piece of glass into a barely visible
indention in the wall ahead of them.
At
first nothing happened, but the mercenaries stood still,
waiting patiently. Then there was a low hum, and
effortlessly, the wall gave way. Breaking into four
pieces, each part pulled aside in a forty-five degree
angle, disappearing into the rock.
Seven
looked inside the large cave, lit up brightly with a
multitude of small lights, the size of diodes. They
covered the uneven walls, the ceiling, and most of the
floor, making her squint before her optical implant
adjusted. The only place where the light was not as
bright was in the middle.
She
swallowed hard. In the centre of the cave, stood a table.
She began to understand some of what was awaiting her.
This was to be her final destination on this godforsaken
planet. Kathryn.
.
“We
need you to blow up the ammunition depot.” Dargas, a tall,
dark skinned man of the same race as Kingas, spoke forcefully,
his sharp eyes locked on Janeway. “You will head for your ship
and fire up its torpedoes. We need all the fire power we can get
our hands on, if we are to succeed.”
Janeway
regarded him calmly. “And how do you suggest I do that? You
just said they increased security.
“Yes.
Outward, facing the jungle. You’ll be attacking from the
inside.”
“And
how do I get inside?”
“The
sewer.” He grinned, showing remarkably white teeth. “You
have to crawl. You’ll fit. You’re a skinny woman.”
Not
insulted in the least, Janeway rolled her eyes. “And where
will I end up, following the sewer? Do I get a map, or do I
guess?”
It
seemed that her calm, slightly sarcastic tone was finally
getting to him. A formidable sight with his shaved head and a
black eye patch over his left eye, he pivoted, glaring at
Kingas. “Is she with us or not? I thought you said she was!”
“She
is. Give her a break, Dargas. You’re about to send her into a codola’s
den without much of an explanation and hardly any backup.
Once she’s inside, she’s on her own.” The rebel leader
swatted the tall man over the head. “Oh, don’t give me that.
She has to know what’s at stake, for her, for her crew—and
for us. How the hell is she going to do what it takes if she
doesn’t?”
Dargas
stopped in mid-motion, his hand on the large dagger attached to
his belt. “Don’t hit me again, woman. It might be the last
thing you do.”
Kingas
smiled brightly, apparently unaffected by the threat. “Deal.
Now, Captain, here’s a sketch of how their sewer system is
built. You follow this route. Kingas traced a path with her
finger and Janeway memorised the way that would bring her closer
to her crew, and to Seven. “Once you get here,” Kingas
pointed at a specific structure on the map, “you’re in their
weapon’s stockroom. You want to grab the biggest thing there,
an over the shoulder photon missile launcher, and a belt of ammo.
Once you have everything, you make your way outside. I know it’ll
be risky, since it’ll still be light out. Keep following the
west perimeter until we make contact. One of us will help you
fire as many missiles as possible toward their ammunition depot,
as well as the Big House. Here.” Kingas pointed at the sketch
again. “When you’re out of ammo, our man …” Mirish
interrupted her sister by kicking her. “… or woman,”
Kingas continued, unfazed, “will return to the jungle, after
assisting you in getting onboard your ship.”
“I
could use a pair of extra hands onboard Voyager,” Janeway
commented. “It’s not all that easy to fire her up, with a
crew of one. There may be mercenaries onboard, and I don’t
have eyes in the back of my head.”
Kingas
eyes darted between Dargas and Mirish. “Very well, we can make
do minus one fighter. Of course, you’ll be armed the entire
time, with a handheld weapon. You never know whom you might run
into.”
Janeway
felt a sudden rush of adrenalin. “When will this go down?”
Kingas
took a deep breath. “We would need more time to prepare, but
we don’t have that luxury. Tomorrow.”
Tomorrow.
Janeway clasped her hands, resting them in her lap. “Tomorrow’s
fine with me.”
“It
is a matter of hours, now,” the Doctor said, after
moving the medical tricorder over Harry Kim’s body.
“I’ve infused him with as much fluids as is possible
via a crude tube, but it’s not doing him any good, I’m
afraid.”
B’Elanna
could feel Tom swallow hard as his larynx moved next to
her temple. “Hours, Doc?”
“I’m
afraid so.”
“How
about the others?” Chakotay inquired. B’Elanna knew
the crew risked everything to smuggle the mobile emitter
between the barracks.
“In
the barracks hosting the crewmen, we’ve lost two
today.” The Doctor dragged a hand over his face. “Crewmen
Mark Leonard and Ling Xiaofei.”
“I
knew Xiaofei.” B’Elanna said, her voice cracking.
“The kid was only twenty-four. She had her whole life
ahead of her.”
“Shhh.
You’ll get ill again, love.” Tom held her tight.
“But
… “
“In
the ensigns’ barracks, we lost Ensign Samak.”
Casting
a glance at Tuvok, she saw the commander press his lips
together for a second to hear the news of another Vulcan’s
death.
“He
will be remembered.” His voice was non-committal.
“The
rest of them, just like Ensign Kim here, are in critical
condition. We have eleven dying people on our hands and
there is very little, nothing, in fact, that we can do
about it. I suggest you take me off line for now and
only use me when I actually can be of any assistance.”
B’Elanna’s
temper flared. “You can help them now! You can provide
them with some sort of pain relief. You can do something!”
His
voice stark, the Doctor shook his head. “No,
Lieutenant. I can’t.”
Tom’s
arms held her back when she tried to break free to
throttle the stubborn hologram. Then she saw something
she never thought possible, something so extraordinary,
she slumped back against Tom’s chest with a thud.
Down
the Doctor’s cheeks ran two crystal clear, holographic
tears. Perfect, wet, with the exact same speed, they
traced the forlorn look on his face.
Walking
up to the woman, the Doctor cupped her chin carefully in
the palm of his hand. “Believe me, B’Elanna,” he
murmured. “I wish I wasn’t.”
The skin
beneath her lips was damp, hot, and moved with her caresses.
Janeway kissed her way from Seven’s long neck, down to
deceptively fragile collarbones, out towards her lover’s
right shoulder. Slipping down, she trailed the starburst
implant on Seven’s biceps with her tongue, making Seven
whimper out loud. "Kathryn!"
"Yes,
darling?"
"You
are burning me with you lips."
"Good."
Laughing huskily against the velvety skin, Janeway kept up
her maddening caresses, knowing full well what they did to
Seven. When she moved quickly to the right, taking a plump,
pink nipple between her teeth, the startled gasp reaffirmed
her assumption. She had Seven exactly where she wanted her.
In bed,
Beneath her. Legs spread wide to accommodate her new
fiancée.
"Doesn’t
making love when you are engaged give it a completely new
dimension?" Janeway asked in a conversational tone of
voice.
"Hm? I
am not certain. Yes. Perhaps."
Laughing
around the taut nipple, Janeway found Seven’s obvious
distraction endearing. She flicked her tongue over the
nipple, teasing it into a rock hard peak. Seven arched
beneath her and dug her cybernetic hand into auburn tresses
of hair, pulling Janeway closer.
"Kathryn!"
"Tell
me what you need, darling."
"I
need you to make love to me," Seven answered readily.
The honest reply sent surges of pleasure through the captain,
making her own wetness gather between her legs.
"And
love you I will." Kissing her way down towards the
blonde tuft of hair, Janeway became ferocious. Her mouth
wide open, she wanted to devour Seven completely. Her hands,
careful despite her urgency, parted the tender folds between
Seven’s thighs. Janeway’s eyes narrowed at the sight of
her lover’s pink, fragile sex. Slowing down, she merely
lapped at it, now close to reverent by the gift that was
granted her.
She would
never get tired of tasting Seven and ...
A
hand shook her shoulder vigorously. “Time to move out,
Captain.”
Stirred
out of her wistful dream, Janeway sat up on the cot, angry
because it was just that, a dream, and regretful that it was
over. “I’m ready.”
Outside,
the camp buzzed with activity as the rebels armed themselves and
gathering small packages of food. Mirish came up to Janeway,
giving the captain half a smile. “I’ll be waiting for you.
Just stick to the plan. We’ll get these bastards once and for
all.”
Nothing
like a little pressure. Janeway nodded briskly. “So you’re
to be my contact once I’ve obtained the weapon?”
“Yes.
I didn’t want anyone else to take on the responsibility.”
Kingas joined them, replying in Mirish’s place. “Mirish
knows every nook and hideout on that base.”
“How’s
that?” Janeway turned her attention back to Mirish.
“Don’t
ask.” Mirish face darkened. “Believe me. You don’t want to
know.”
They
headed out at the crack of dawn, avoiding major trails through
the jungle. If they were following some sort of path, Janeway
couldn’t see it. She walked behind Kingas, focusing on not
having branches hit her face. She knew the leader could not use
her machete to cut off the offending brushes, since this would
reveal their route to the enemy, should they happen upon it.
After
two hours of walking, Kingas stopped. “Here’s where we go
our separate ways, Captain.” She pointed in a ninety degree
angle. Go due west. You’ll know when you're getting closer to
the base. The jungle will become less dense. Anako here will go
with you. She’ll also guard the entrance of the sewer until
she estimates you have made it through to the structure. Then
she will double back to a rendezvous with us.”
Janeway
regarded Anako, a small, thin young girl with latte coloured
skin and black, short cropped hair. Her pointed ears laid flat
against her skull, rendering her a fawn like appearance. Some of
her doubt must have shown on her face, because Anako opened her
vest made of some course fabric, showing off an impressive
arsenal of grenades and handheld weapons.
“All
right. See you later.” Janeway began walking, Anako falling in
behind her.
It
took then less than fifteen minutes to find the concrete square
with an iron lid. It was locked with an enormous padlock. “Don’t
worry, Captain. I’m on it.” Anako grinned, sticking her hand
in one of her many pockets, pulling out a grey mass with a small
red device attached to it. “A silence blaster. Step back.”
Janeway
walked behind a sturdy trunk of a tree and soon Anako joined her,
a broad grin on her face. “It won’t make much noise, but I
still love blowing things up,” she confessed. There was a
hissing sound, followed by a muted thud. “That’s it. All
done.” Anako peeked around the trunk. “Clear. We didn’t
attract anyone’s attention. You’re next, Captain.”
Janeway
moved quickly over to the slightly distorted lid of the concrete
structure, wondering just how much explosive matter young Anako
had used. Opening it, she groaned inwardly at the stench. Well,
they did say it was a sewer. Just think of it as any other
tunnel. Get a grip now. There was no time for sensitivities.
Janeway nodded toward Anako. “Get back safely, kid,” she
ordered. “Don’t stay here,
if it gets dicey, all right?”
The
girl grinned. “But I like dicey, Captain.” Janeway’s scowl
made rendered the other woman serious. “All right, I promise.”
She hesitated for a moment before speaking again, her amber eyes
several shades darker. “Ward off the Shantari on your
journey.”
The
ritualistic way Anako spoke made Janeway stop in mid motion. “What?”
A
quick smile came and went on the young girls face. “Ah, just a
saying, Captain, to wish you luck.”
“Well,
thank you, then.” Janeway swung her feet over the edge,
locating the narrow iron ladder that led down into the sewer
system. Somehow she doubted Anako’s way of shrugging off the
‘saying’. Ward of the Shantari? Who the hell are they?
Another branch of bastards?
Anako’s
words had carried a definite ominous tone.
