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
9
The
almost undetectable door swung open, and Janeway squinted at the
blinding, pulsating light. It caused a burning sensation to her
retina, and she kept her hand up to shield her eyes as she
approached the opening, disruptor raised. “Seven?” There was
no reply.
She
looked around the small hall and nothing could have prepared her
for the sight that met her eyes, teary from the flickering
light. In the middle, on a dais, chained to what looked like
obsidian poles, stood Seven, her back and neck arched back, arm’s
tautly stretched and held captive what looked like obsidian
poles. She seemed oblivious to her surroundings and their
presence. Janeway wanted to rush up to her, wrap her arms close
around her and bury her neck in the soft curve of Seven’s
neck. The extended poise scared her, the arch of Seven’s back
seemed impossible to sustain without fracturing her spine.
The
light now throbbed with an almost unbearable intensity, ranging
from pristine white to blood red. Not taking her eyes off Seven,
Janeway still noticed how tall the ceiling was. It seemed to go
on forever, but she had little interest in the make up of the
inner chamber, and she took a step toward the dais.
“Stop,
Captain.” Kingas placed a strong hand on Janeway’s shoulder.
“You can’t free her.”
“What?”
Janeway’s head snapped around. “What do you mean?”
“First
of all, we have to use the keys to unlock the clasps around her
wrists. There is no other way to get her loose.”
“Then
do it!”
Kingas’s
eyes looked at her with empathy. “We have a hard decision to
make first, Captain, and it has to be done quickly.”
Impatiently
Janeway grabbed the rebel’s hand. “Tell me, then. You said
yourself that time’s running out.”
Kingas
looked as if someone kicked her in the gut. “Yes, it is. That’s
why we need to make some difficult decisions. Quickly. Freeing
her is possible, if we’re acting within seconds. The problem
is we can’t approach the dais without knowing who’s going to
take her place.”
A
large lump of ice seemed to dislodge from Janeway’s stomach
and send icicles piercing every part of her body. “We can’t
just free Seven and get the hell out of here?”
“No,
Captain. We can’t.” Kingas’s voice was not without
kindness, and still it left no margin for doubt that she was
deadly serious. “When we release your woman, someone else must
be on the dais with her, to change her place. If not, the doors
will close and we’ll not be able to open them, not from
inside, not from the outside.”
“I
guess there’s not point in asking if you’re exaggerating…”
Janeway’s mind raced. It only took a few seconds for the only
solution to the problem to emerge. “All right.” She
straightened her aching back. “Let’s go to her before it’s
too late.”
“But,
Captain…”
“You
heard me, Kingas.” Janeway knew her eyes must be winter-stormy
grey. “I will take Seven’s place.”
B’Elanna
stared at the enormous tank that crept toward them, slow and
menacing, and with its cannon directed at Voyager. Her thoughts
tumbled around each other as she tried to think of a solution to
this threat of imminent destruction. It seemed she only had one
choice.
“Doctor,
Neelix. I’m going to fire the last three photon torpedoes into
this damn thing. The shockwave from the hit, since it’s so
close, might knock Voyager off her struts, but I have no choice.”
“I
agree,” Neelix replied. “You better hurry up, Lieutenant.”
There was a new tone to Neelix’s voice, a sort of seasoned
gravity that B’Elanna had not detected in the Talaxian before.
“They seem to be picking up speed.”
“All
hands, brace for impact.” B’Elanna engaged both inner and
outer communication systems to alert the crew. She knew there
was a great risk the ones of Voyager’s crew still fighting out
on the tarmac might be hurt. Punching in commands at a furious
pace, B’Elanna armed the last photon torpedoes, and directed
them toward the approaching tank.
The
explosions dimmed the view screen for a moment, and B’Elanna
felt the chair she sat in slam into the bulkhead behind her. She
hit her head hard on a protruding part of the computer panel,
and felt hot moisture leak into her hair. There was no pain, and
she reached for the desk, pulling up to the computer again.
Seeing only smoke and debris, she blinked several times, trying
to make out the alien tank. “Report,” she barked.
“Just
a moment, Lieutenant,” the Doctor called out. “Neelix is
injured.”
B’Elanna’s
head snapped up, and she stared at the still, prone form on the
floor, cold dread starting to simmer beneath her cranial ridges.
“Will he be all right?” Kahless,
no. Not Neelix.
“I
cannot say. He took a bad fall.” The Doctor rose with Neelix
in his arms, effortlessly placing him on a bio bed. He scanned
the stocky form and then nodded solemnly. “His vital signs are
within reasonable parameters. I’ve put him on life-support.”
He turned toward B’Elanna. “At least the ship is still on
her struts.”
“Yeah,
but I fear that’s about it.” B’Elanna returned her
attention toward the screen. “Oh, damn…”
Many
of the alien mercenaries lay motionless on the tarmac, but B’Elanna
had to force back another surge of nausea as she realised they
had stopped the tank, but not rendered it completely harmless.
The canon still moved, even if the caterpillar looking
propulsion seemed inoperative.
“How
about our people?” she asked the Doctor.
“Six
minor injuries from the ones onboard Voyager. Short range
readings suggest eighteen wounded outside, two of them serious.
I’ll get ready for them.”
“Very
well,” B’Elanna murmured, punching in new commands. “Damn!
The tank is powering up. They’re going to fire at us and
Voyager won’t sustain a hit from that cannon.”
“You
have to find a way to stop them!” The Doctor rushed towards
the door, relieving two scorched ensigns of their unconscious
burden.
Growling
deep in her throat, B’Elanna hammered furiously at the work
console, pulling up all the sensor readings she could think of.
“Torres to engineering. Direct all available resources to the
main deflector and our shields.” She gripped the console hard
with one hand and pressed the other against her side, coughing
so hard she tasted iron in her mouth. The taste of blood sent
her Klingon ire through the ceiling. “Damn you, Masier,” she
growled and felt blood and saliva foaming around her lips as she
spoke. “Damn you to Gre’thor!”
A
rumble shook Voyager and B’Elanna slammed into the Doctor’s
desk. Pain seared through her. “Tom!” The name of her
husband seemed to echo in her head long after everything turned
into black nothingness.
“Captain!
You can’t!”
The
young voice next to her made Janeway twirl. Around them the
lights were pulsating with a maddening pace and the vibrating
hum increased an octave.
“Anako,
I have no time to argue.” Janeway knew her voice cut the girl
off by the ankles.
“But
you do. You still have time to change your mind.” Anako placed
a strong hand on Janeway’s arm, clearly unfazed. “You don’t
have to sacrifice yourself!”
“You
are young…”
“And
of the right bloodline.”
Confused
by the unexpected announcement, said with obvious pride and
completely fearless, Janeway stared at Anako. “What do you
mean?”
“She’s
of the Shantari-Vorisan,” Kingas explained. “They are
holy people. Most of the Shantari sacrifices came from Anako’s
ancestors.”
“What
does that mean?” Janeway looked over at Seven who appeared to
not notice them. Her eyes were half closed and her body as taut
and trembling.
“It
means I go.”
Janeway
went rigid and glowered at Anako in disbelief. “You go? You’re
a child!”
“I
am seventeen. I am a rebel warrior since two years. I have
studied the teachings of my ancestors. Can you think of anyone
else more fitting, more deserving than I, here?” There was
true conviction in Anako’s voice.
“But,
Anako…” Tears rose in Janeway’s eyes and she pressed her
lips together and wiped at them with furious movements. “To
sacrifice your life…”
“Listen,
Captain,” Anako implored her. “Neither of your crewmembers
were ever meant to be here, and certainly not in this chamber.
You are not of this world. You are meant to be fulfilling your
destiny in some other part of space.” She motioned with a
stubborn chin toward Seven. “With her.”
Her
guts twisted in a knot, Janeway took a step backward, shaking
her head in disbelief. She’d been ready, more than willing to
sacrifice her life for Seven. It wasn’t even an option to do
otherwise. Chakotay could captain Voyager and Seven deserved to
go on, to go home to the Alpha Quadrant and experience the life
that was stolen from her by the Borg. Now this young woman,
reminding her of a warrior elfin from a holodeck novel, would
take her place as the sacrificial lamb. Damn
it, it isn’t right!
“Captain.
Let her. Just look at her.” Tom Paris grabbed Janeway by the
shoulders and pulled her against his chest. Next to him,
Chakotay reached out and took her hand. “She looks…content.”
As
much as Janeway couldn’t quite admit it to herself: it was
true. Anako had a glow, something serene emanating from her. It
was as if the young girl had known her destiny all along. Perhaps
she has. Janeway gave a muted whimper as Dargas pulled out a
key dangling from a chain around his neck. He gave Kingas a grim
look before placing it into the obsidian pole on Seven’s
right. He twisted the key and Seven’s arm was free from its
restraints.
Anako
moved in and placed her hand where Seven’s had been. Dargas
looked at her wordlessly for a few seconds before turning the
key again to lock her in. Kingas moved behind Seven and wrapped
both arms around her midsection. “Do it.”
Dargas
unlocked the other obsidian pole and Seven was free. Kingas
pulled her backward and swept her up in her arms as if Seven was
but a child. Anako placed her other hand in the obsidian pole
and smiled at Janeway.
At
the sight of the young girls beautiful smile, something
dissolved inside Janeway and she broke free from Paris’s grip.
Rushing forward, she wrapped her arms around Anako’s neck. “Child…”
“Captain.
Take her and leave. Get everyone out of here. It’s begun.”
Anako spoke urgently. “You cannot stay.”
“I
will. Oh, Gods.” It seemed petty to say thank you, but she had
to. “You’ve given me everything. Seven is…”
“…your
life. I know.” The look in Anako’s eyes grew distant. “Ahh…Ahh!”
Her body arched in Janeway’s grasp and the she stumbled
backward. Anako was immediately thrown into the painful arch
Seven had been in.
“Time
to go, Captain!” Kingas yelled. “Now!” She began to run
toward the door with the unconscious Seven in her arms.
Janeway
turned her head. The door had begun to close. “Come on. Move
out!” She ran after Kingas. “Tom, Chakotay!”
With
the smallest of margins, they all pressed through the door,
barely in time to escape the thunderous boom inside the chamber.
It kept going for what seem like minutes, but was probably only
seconds.
Janeway
pressed her face against the cold walls of the tunnel. Kingas
stood next to her, her back against the wall, still cradling
Seven. Raising her hand Janeway laced her fingers into the
silken blonde hair. More tears ran down her cheeks. “Anako…”
“B’Elanna!”
The
voice seemed to come from the end of a long tunnel, hissing,
falling, echoing. B’Elanna tried to move, but something pinned
her to the hard surface beneath. It hurt, and yet there was a
warmth, something pleasant that began to permeate her.
“What’s
going on? B’Elanna! Get away from her!”
It
was…the Doctor? B’Elanna opened her eyes. The light in
sickbay was so bright she had to close them almost shut again.
“Doctor?” she croaked and tried to locate him.
“Let
go of her! Who are you people?”
People?
She squinted through the piercing light. What people?
The
grip of her arms moved and it was as if invisible hands slid
along her body. There was nothing inappropriate in the contact,
and yet they touched every part of her. It took B’Elanna a few
minutes to realise that every part of her they stroked, reduced
the pain in that limb. Soon she could breathe again, and
whatever had hurt inside, was gone.
“Doctor,
please, it’s all right,” she called out. “I…I don’t
know what it is, this light, but it’s healing.”
“What
light?” the Doctor yelled back. “I see four aliens, energy
forms, around you.”
Alien
forms? B’Elanna tried to look up and now it was suddenly
possible for her to see white lace-like forms drifting around
her. They seemed to have a light blue pulsating centre, and she
slowly reached out a hand. She felt a crackling sort of energy
and some soft matter against her fingertips, but the benevolence
was unmistakable.
As
the being began to shift, move towards the place the Doctor’s
voice originated from, B’Elanna became aware of her
surroundings. She was still sitting slumped over the Doctor’s
desk. Voyager seemed to be in once piece. B’Elanna reached for
the work console and punched in a diagnostic command. “Computer.
What is the state of the Voyager crew, on board as well as on
the tarmac?”
“Eighteen
casualties. Zero fatalities.”
“Damn,
I have to find a way to get them to sickbay…”
“Correction.
Fourteen casualties. Zero fatalities.”
“What?”
“Correction.
Ten casualties. Zero fatalities.”
“Computer.
Run a self-diagnostic…”
“Correction.
Five casualties. Zero fatalities.”
“What
is going on…?” A movement to her left made B’Elanna gasp
out loud. “Neelix!”
“None
other.” The Talaxian walked up to the desk and pulled B’Elanna
into a fierce embrace. “They’re fixing us! The light people.”
B’Elanna
clung to his beloved compact form, forgetting all the times
Neelix had annoyed the hell out of her. “Gods, Neelix. I think
they are.”
“Correction.
Zero casualties. Zero fatalities.”
The
Doctor entered his office. “Seems I’m fresh out of patients,”
he quipped, with dark seriousness in his voice. “What about
the armoured vehicle?”
“Computer.
Bring up outer sensors on screen.”
They
stared at the image presented on the Doctor’s console. The
armoured vehicle was reduces to a small, round object, perhaps
three metres in diameter.
“It
looks like it imploded into a perfectly shaped metal ball,”
Neelix exhaled. “Was it the Light People?”
B’Elanna
had to smile warily at his choice of designation. “I have a
feeling it was. Voyager isn’t capable of such perfect
destruction. I wonder if Masier was in there, or if we’ll have
the dubious pleasure of running into him outside?”
The
Doctor still looked grim, his usual flare gone. “Computer,
locate Captain Janeway.”
“Captain
Janeway is in sickbay.”
“Now
what…” the Doctor hissed. “Computer, check again.”
“Not
necessary. I’m here, Doctor,” a familiar husky voice said
from behind.
B’Elanna
stared over the Doctor’s shoulder. Next to Janeway stood
Kingas, and in her arms lay a pale Seven of Nine. “Is she…?”
“She’s
alive. Barely.” Janeway directed Kingas toward the main
biobed.
“Why
didn’t the Light-People fix her?” Neelix murmured, hurrying
after them. He glanced over his shoulder and raised his voice.
“Doctor! Don’t just stand there.”
The
EMH looked grief stricken as he stared at Seven’s motionless
body on the biobed. B’Elanna jumped up and grabbed his arm.
She dug her nails into his holographic skin for emphasis,
wanting to shake him out of whatever shock reaction he
experienced. ““I think you spoke too soon, Doctor,” she
murmured. “You have one more patient.”
