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
5
”Step
up on the dais.” The muzzle of a disruptor weapon shoved Seven
in the back. Refusing to let the searing pain show, as the rifle
hit almost directly on one of the sockets used to connect her to
the alcove, the ex-Borg raised her foot.
The
shackles were too short for her to enter the fifty centimetre
high podium, and she looked disdainfully at the men. “It is
not possible.”
The
mercenary closest to her muttered under his breath, handing over
his weapon to one of the others and knelt beside her. Seven
could have easily taken him out with a well aimed kick, but
refrained from it, well aware the others would fire immediately.
Freed
from the foot shackles, she stepped up on the dais and looked
around. As soon as the five of them stepped in the room, the
diodes had altered colour, turning to a soft mauve. Seven’s
optical implant measured the room to be twenty-five square
metres. There was five metres to the ceiling, which rendered the
room an almost sacral ambiance.
“Place
your feet on the markings.” The man before her nudged her
impatiently.”
Seven
gazed down on the dais, which was made from the same obsidian
like glass as the walls. In the middle of the circular surface
were glimmering markings, looking like alien scribbling. Placing
her feet upon them, Seven was startled when two poles came up
out of the floor, flanking her.
Two
of the men grabbed her wrists and removed the handcuffs. Pulling
them out from her body, they fastened them onto the poles with
the help of a locking mechanism, which Seven was fairly sure she
would not be able to break. When they were done, it appeared as
if her hands had become one with the glass poles.
Without
saying anything else, the men now hastily withdrew, moving
toward the door.
“Why
are you leaving me here?” Seven demanded to know.
There
was no response. The men kept walking, holding their weapons in
a defensive position. What are they afraid of?
“What
will happen?” she demanded to know, fear and anger battling
for dominance. The thought of the large door leading into the
room closing behind them, made her tremble. “Answer me!”
Without
even glancing back toward her, the men left the room.
The
four pieces of opaque glass slid close with a dull thunder and
with that, all the diodes switched off. Seven was left alone in
complete darkness.
“No!”
***
“Where’s
Mirish?” Janeway hid behind some barrels, pressing her back
against two crates, stacked on top of each other.
“She’s
waiting at your rendezvous point. She knows when to stay low.”
Kingas leaned to the left, peering towards the tarmac. “Things
are happening faster than we predicted. Seems Masier’s acting
in a bit of a panic this time.”
“What
do you mean, ‘this time’?” Pulling the weapon towards her,
Janeway got ready to move when the opportunity came.
“Six
lunar cycles ago, when the Shantari came to claim their
sacrifice, Masier was close to creating a disaster for himself
and his men. Pity he didn’t. Anyway,” Kingas sighed, “this
time he seems to take every precaution to do it right.”
“What
are you talking about? Who are the Shantari? And what happens
every six lunar cycles?”
Kingas
frowned. “I really don’t have time to explain it to you
right now.”
“But
you’re going to,” Janeway growled. Leaning forward, she
grabbed a fistful of the other woman’s coverall, pulling her
closer. “Speak quickly. I’m not moving until you do.”
Looking
as she was about to launch at Janeway, Kingas drew a deep breath.
“Very well. When our two moons are aligned, which they do
every six lunar cycles, we have, for as long as our people can
remember, sacrificed to the Shantari. There are many
stories of how it was done, which are told from one generation
to the next.”
“What
kind of sacrifices?” Dread filled Janeway’s chest, making
her rib case rigid around her lungs.
“Samarian
sacrifice, of course.”
“What?
You sacrificed humanoids?”
Kingas
face hardened. “We weren’t barbarians, like Masier and his
men. The Samarians sacrificed only the ones who received the
proper education and training for it. We only offered our best
to the Shantari. It wasn’t a punishment. It was completely
voluntary and an honour.”
“And
nowadays? What method does Masier and his men use, since they
almost screwed things up last time?” In and out. Keep
breathing.
“The
Sidiors have made a mockery of our traditions for many solar
cycles. They take one of their prisoners and try to pass them
off as fit for a Shantari sacrifice. Last time, they killed a
woman, and left her body in the Chamber. Had not Dargas and his
crew corrected Masier’s mistake, by fetching the corpse and
replacing it, the Shantari … “ Kingas paled. “We have to
move. We don’t have much time.”
“Wait!
Replaced the corpse with what?” Is this what’s happening
to Seven? Oh, God …
A
sorrowful expression flickered over Kingas’ face. “A living
individual, Captain.”
“Who?”
Janeway whispered. “Who could Darga do such a thing to?”
“Darga
could not force anyone else to go, that’s not how it works,
and also this would’ve made him no better than Masier and his
men. He volunteered, but someone else disagreed, stepping up to
the task, claiming without Darga, their entire cell of rebels
would fall apart.” Pressing her lips together, the other woman’s
eyes burned coldly. “Dorma, his younger brother replaced the
dead woman. They buried her in the jungle, close to the old
temple ruins. She wasn’t the first one we’ve buried there.
Masier and his men never go there.”
Kingas
carefully leaned forward, checking the tarmac. “It’s clear.
Come on.”
Janeway
grabbed the heavy weapon, her knees almost buckling as she rose.
Hurrying behind Kingas, she moved toward the rendezvous spot.
“Why did you come and get me?”
Calmer
now, Kingas flashed her a quick grin. “I have to go with you
and Mirish since Masier reassigned his men unexpectedly. I was
concerned since you’re slightly off schedule.”
Janeway
knew Kingas was right. It had taken her longer than estimated to
reach the weapon’s depot. “Are the others in position?”
“All
but the ones on Darga’s team who are covering the Big House.
They haven’t reported in yet.”
“In
what direction has Masier taken Seven?”
“Towards
the far end of the compound.” Kingas gestured. “It’s where
the path to the Chamber is located.”
Hoisting
the weapon onto her shoulder, Janeway operated on pure
adrenalin. “You’re right. We can’t afford to waste any
time. Let’s go.”
***
B’Elanna
sat on the narrow wooden porch outside of the barracks. She
could not stand being inside in the dusty, dark rooms. The
thought of Harry, of his life energy as a flickering, dying
flame, made her ache.
“Hey,
sweetheart? You’re getting cold.” Tom approached with yet
another torn blanket. “Here.”
Strangely
annoyed with him tending to her, when Harry needed every single
ounce of their resources, she accepted his offer. “Thanks. It’s
getting darker, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
Tom straightened and sniffed the air. “Can you smell that?
Phosphorous?”
B’Elanna
inhaled deeply through her nose. “Yes. Smells like before a
thunderstorm.”
“I’ve
never sensed this before.” Tom turned as the door opened
behind him. Chakotay and Tuvok joined them on the porch, Tuvok
immediately smelling the air as well.
“This
is curious,” he offered. “This reminds me of Vulcan. This
planet is quite Earth like, but now the atmosphere is faintly
yellow tinted, and highly ionised. I think we can expect a
storm, perhaps even a plasma storm.”
“Where
are Masier’s guards?” Tom suddenly asked, pointing towards
the end of the tarmac before them. “What the hell’s going
on? They were right there only half an hour ago.”
“He’s
moved a lot of them to guard the perimeter,” Chakotay mused,
leaning against the railing. “We have to take advantage of
this.”
“What
do you mean?” B’Elanna sat up straight in the chair.
“If
we can get anyone onboard Voyager, we could bring back equipment
for Harry,” Tom stated. “There might still be a chance.”
“The
way things look; we may even be able to bring Harry onboard
Voyager. He would stand a greater chance in sickbay.” Tuvok’s
voice was as hopeful as it was possible for Vulcan.
“Plan
HK 2, then?” Tom grinned nervously. “It’s now or never. I
feel it.”
“We
should send someone in the direction they took Seven as well,”
B’Elanna suggested. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget the
sight of her in shackles.” The proud ex-Borg. It was just
…wrong.
Squinting
in the phosphorous, fading daylight, Chakotay only hesitated for
a few seconds before he nodded in agreement. “I agree. We’ve
been cautious long enough. For all we know, they’re keeping us
here to sell as slaves, or until they can dispose of us another
way.” He stood, folding his hands across his chest. “All
right, people, let’s do it. B’Elanna, you’re too weak to
move very far, but we need you on Voyager. Can you walk the
distance?” He motioned towards Voyager, creating alluring
skyline in the distance. “It’s about six hundred metres.”
“I
can do it.” B’Elanna swallowed hard, praying to Kahless
she had not promised too much.
“Very
well. Tom, get Neelix. He’s strong, and together you can carry
the stretcher with Harry. Bring the mobile emitter and hook it
up to the Doctor’s desk. Let’s pray they didn’t loot that
as well.”
“Yes,
sir,” Tom replied smartly, a new energy in his voice. “We
can still transfer the Doctor’s program, even if his desk is
gone.”
“All
right. I’ll team up with Tuvok, and see if I can alert Alaya
and a few of the other security guards. We’ll make an attempt
to reach the other side of the compound. Let’s go.”
B’Elanna
accepted Tom’s hand to get out of the chair, but let go
quickly, feeling her features hardening at her attempt on
standing on her own. There can’t be weakness now. Harry’s
life depends on it.
***
Mirish
waited for them behind some half burned down barracks, looking
relieved. “I thought I was going to have to come and fetch
you. What? What’s happened?” Her bright eyes darkened and
she turned to her sister, grabbing her by the arm. “Kingas?”
“I
had to explain to the captain what the Shantari tradition
entails.”
“And
what the Sidiors have turned it into.” Janeway’s voice was
cold. “Let’s get the job done.”
Mirish
sent her sister another questioning look, but then shrugged and
reached for the weapon. “We have to work fast,” she stated.
“Once the missiles detonate, there is going to be initial
confusion, but Masier’s scanning devices will soon track where
the fire’s coming from. Then we’ll be toast, if we’re not
out of here.”
Janeway
and Kingas lined up six of the missiles, flipping the switches
on them to remove the safety feature. “We’re ready.”
“Me
too, in just a tiny moment,” Mirish murmured, calibrating the
sight of the missile launcher. “The recoil is going to be bad.
I suggest Kingas support me from behind and you keep loading the
launcher, Captain.”
“Very
well.” Janeway got in position, forcing the thoughts of what
Kingas just told her, out of her mind. If there was a chance to
rescue Seven and the rest of her crew, she wasn’t going to
screw it up by not being focused. She loaded the first missile,
a plump object with a narrow looking tail, into the back of the
barrel, then closed the small hatch. She flipped a red switch,
knowing from Kingas’ briefing in the camp that a red light now
showed up in the sights’ peripheral field of vision. “Ready.”
“Aiming.
Launch!” Mirish pulled the small handle underneath the
launcher, and there was a muted hissing sound, but not much
noise from the weapon.
A
few seconds later an enormous explosion turned the first
ammunition and weapon’s storage into flames. A small, black
mushroom cloud rose to the sky above it.
Janeway
pulled the hatch open, inserted the next missile, repeating the
procedure. “Ready!”
“Aiming.
Launch!” This time, Mirish was barely able to remain on her
feet as the missile went on a steeper trajectory, taking out the
second ammunition storage. Alarm klaxons began to howl, a husky,
strained sound coming from several places. Men began to fill the
tarmac, all of them armed.
“Ready!”
Mirish
spread her legs, to stand firmer, while Kingas took a steady
grip of her sister’s shoulders. “Aiming. Launch!” Another
supply room was destroyed seconds later, and the smoke billowing
from it suggested it was full of highly flammable materials.
“We’re
not blowing up anything poisonous, or dangerous in some other
way, are we?” Janeway yelled above the Klaxon’s.
“No!
We have time for one more, and then we have to run for Voyager
while they’re still confused.” Kingas motioned with her chin
towards the missile in Janeway’s hands.
Quickly,
Janeway loaded the launcher again. Mirish took aim, the muscles
in the young woman’s arms tensing up, before she called out
her words of warning again. This time she sent one of the
mercenary shuttle crafts, parked behind a long, narrow hangar,
into small pieces of debris that perforated two other shuttles,
rendering them useless.
“That’s
it. Run!”
They
dropped the weapon where they stood; trying to bring the
launcher with them would only slow them down. Running through
smoke, staying low behind crates and barrels, they moved towards
the barely visible contour of Voyager.
“You
lead the way, Captain,” Kingas panted. “We’re going to be
on your turf soon.” She pulled up a small, black box from her
pocket as she ran. “Kingas to Dargas.”
“Dargas
here.” The Samarian man’s voice was strong behind the
crackling static and the klaxons. “I see Sidiors running
around like headless chichas. Good job.”
“Glad
you approve. I’ll let you know when we’ve boarded the ship.
Is the perimeter broken yet?”
“Not
yet, but it’s going to be. Soon.” Dargas sounded feral.
“Dargas, out.”
The
three women reached the last of the protective structures.
Kingas stopped, holding up her hand to alert the other two. “Two
Sidiors, straight ahead,” she whispered. “I don’t think
they can see us through the smoke, but from now on, there’s
nothing to hide behind. Someone’s bound to have found where we
fired from by now.”
Janeway
squinted from the smoke, taking the handheld weapon she took
from the storage. Setting it to kill, she looked down on the
heavy disruptor, so unlike Starfleet streamlined phasers. “I’ll
take the one to the left,” she informed the others and moved
forward.
“Damn,
there she goes,” she heard Kingas mutter behind her. “Come
on!”
The
women took the two guards completely by surprise. The men raised
their weapons, only to stagger backwards when fired upon, and
fall to the ground as if slain by a giant’s hand. Janeway
stared down at the somewhat crude disruptor for a second, amazed
at its firepower, before taking the lead again.
The
guards had stood beneath the ramp leading up to the large
opening in Voyager’s rear, though to her shuttle bay. Looking
up, Janeway saw no movement, nor could she hear anything over
the alarm klaxons. “Clear,” she yelled at Kingas and Mirish,
who dragged the two men behind the ramp, out of plain view.
Running
up the ramp, Janeway sat foot on her vessel for the first time
in more than two months.
***
The
darkness only lasted two point five three minutes, but it was
still unnerving. When the diodes lit up again, now in a faint
pink colour, she exhaled mutedly in relief. It was one of her
childhood terrors, being afraid of the vast darkness of space.
She did not know if she had been afraid of the dark before her
parents took her on the long journey into Borg space. If she was
not, at least she still had flashbacks from her room onboard the
Raven, of lying there, listening to her parents arguing, working,
doing many things, but tending to their daughter.
Accustomed
to standing, preferring it, it did not bother her to remain
upright between the dark glass poles. She examined the area
where her hands were attached. Tentatively, she tugged them
towards her, but to no avail. Her optical implant could not even
find the crack in the glass where it opened when the men
restrained her.
There
was a faint hum, probably from the diodes, and it rose and fell
almost imperceptibly. Rolling her shoulders, she tried to not
become tense, since it would drain on her energy levels
unnecessarily. As she did that, her mind relaxed as well, and
the image of Kathryn flickered before her. Kathryn. My love. She
had asked Masier every day, for the last sixty-two days, where
her captain was. She made a point of asking about everyone among
the senior crew, not to draw attention to the fact that Kathryn
meant more to her than anyone else. Masier, she deemed was a
lesser individual, lacking in greatness, and in compassion, in
fact, she did not see any valid reason for his existence
whatsoever. He never answered. Not about the crew, not about
Kathryn.
Walking
between the guards towards Voyager, she would spot crewmembers
at a distance, pass them by, but she never dared acknowledge any
of them, in case the guards reported it to Masier. A callous man
like him, he would not hesitate to use someone to state an
example or prove a point. When Naomi Wildman ran up to her, she
had scared Seven badly. She had seldom experienced such rapid
fear. It was if her heart was about to evacuate her body through
her mouth. No matter now it hurt her, to treat Naomi like she
was nobody, no one particular to her, it was all Seven could do.
The truth was she loved the little girl almost as much as she
loved Kathryn.
Refusing
to cry at the thought of the ones she most likely would never
see again, Seven again tugged her hands toward her. It hurt her
human hand, and the left, which should have easily broken free,
could not move or break the pole.
Closing
her eyes, despite her fear of the darkness only a moment ago,
she inhaled the unusual scent of the room. Dusty, yes, but also
with a distinctive fragrance, of some flower perhaps, or herb.
It was not a strong scent, but it was there.
What
is going to happen to me? Will I ever see Kathryn again? Is she
alive? She has to be … Seven sobbed, but would not resort
to tears. Surely, I would sense if she was dead?
Opening
her eyes, Seven blinked repeatedly. Angry, frightened, and with
an escalating feeling of despair, she began to shiver. Tossing
her head back, she cried out, her voice echoing in the tall,
square room with the now pale blue diodes.
