Title: Survival Pairing: Tuvok/Seven
Series: Star Trek Voyager Rating: 18R Type: Fanfiction – Dark/AU
Summary: Voyagers attempt to rescue Tuvok and Seven from the Norcadian fighting ship fails and they are forced to strand the two crewmates. Seven was forced to kill her Hirogen training mentor and becomes the most popular fighter in the arena, a title that earns some rewards... such as the keeping of a pet. The days are long and the battle is hard and the rest... is down to survival instinct.
Deals with violence and darker sexual encounters.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Star Trek characters or anything from the universe of Star Trek. I am just taking the characters and playing with them a while – promising to restore them whole and unblemished! Thanks to Gene Rodenberry for creating these toys for me to enjoy. Please don't take any of my playing as having any bearing on the actual series. Enjoy.
()
Seven was exhausted but had managed to stagger back to her room under the watchful guard of her jailers.
The match had been a trying one, yet she had prevailed.
The crowds hated her. Other competitors hated her. Her master adored that.
She reached the door she had been seeking and took a moment to steady herself before entering.
The space was sparse and grey. No luxuries; a small kitchenette, larger living space with desk, chairs and an uncomfortable mattress covered in thin quilts.
The bathing area was fully stocked, however. The sonic shower was efficient enough and the medical cabinet brimmed with solutions, vaccinations, vitamins and rubs.
Couldn't have the prize fighter falling ill.
One of the privileges of being Penk's top earner was private quarters. The other was the allowance to keep a pet.
"How badly are you injured?" Tuvok asked from the kitchenette, rounding the counter to approach her.
"I remain... fundamentally undamaged." She conceded, taking a moment to lean her war-weary form against the cold metal of the wall.
She hissed with satisfaction as Tuvok collected the dermal regenerator.
He was at her side in a moment. "You are bruised."
"It will heal." She insisted, "I simply need rest and sustenance."
The debilitating weight of her own muscles was suddenly lifted away as strong hands were gently placed under her arms and Tuvok led her deeper into their room.
Seven was placed on the padded bed as Tuvok fetched a bowl from the counter.
She relaxed into the thin foam, allowing herself to let down her defences and attempt to quell the surge of adrenaline that throbbed round her veins.
It was a disturbing trend she had noted in the last few battles Penk had matched her in. Seven of Nine found herself exhilarated by the fight. Particularly the one in which she had just featured.
"May I ask how you fared?"
"The Pendari," she told him, allowing a dark smirk to form, "was annihilated."
It was a moment Seven had relished.
In her very first bought in the pit Seven had refused to unleash her full force and was beaten down by a particularly aggressive alien and Tsunkatse champion.
"Did you kill him?"
The question made Seven blink. "It was not a red match."
"Did you want to kill him?"
She looked up to the Vulcan; his eyes dark and steady.
"Perhaps."
Tuvok nodded solemnly, as though she had somehow answered a puzzle.
"Explain."
He leaned forward, activating the regenerator and moving it over a particularly purple bruise on her arm. "I have been concerned with your post-battle stresses..."
"Since I killed the Hirogen?" Seven finished the sentence.
A terrible acknowledgement hung in the air.
"I am Borg," Seven retreated behind her familiar mask, "I have killed before."
"Not like this." Tuvok countered, moving closer to her and tilting her body into his as his fingers slipped beneath her tunic, pushing the fabric away and tilting her to access her back. "When you were Borg," he continued, "you assimilated from afar. You killed at a distance."
Seven let out an involuntary hiss as the regenerator tingled and renewed damaged cells and cooled inflamed muscles.
"But this... enforced combat." Tuvok continued, moving her further to him to push her suit down to her middle-back and reach a wound sustained to her kidney. "It is different Seven."
"I have only been involved in one red match, Commander." Seven pointed out, leaning over to cover herself. "I have not excessively damaged other competitors since."
Tuvok completed his ministrations and turned away, moving back to the kitchenette. "It is only a matter of time."
Seven feared the truth in her friends statement.
()
They had been allowed the following day to 'rest' – which they had; Seven requested more literature for Tuvok and a days training in the gym suite for herself.
Penk had arrived to gush over Seven's prowess in the ring, flatter her that she was the finest warrior he had in his arsenal and darken with greed as he considered the possibilities for her future.
"After all," he hissed as he exited, "it's not like anyone will be trying rescue you again."
Seven turned away as the alien exited, feeling a sudden wave of anger build against the helplessness. Her first blow ripped the punch bag from its chain.
She stood there, watching the sand pour from the ruptured material, bleeding onto the metal floor. A cold sensation numbed the anger and irrefutable pain she felt.
They were abandoned.
Tuvok and Seven had been left behind by those she trusted the most.
She turned on her heel and left the room.
The sand continued to fall.
()
After a week of rest and preparation, Seven sat to a full meal with her one-time crew mate as Tuvok served lean meat and prepared lentils. He ate only the pulses, but Seven felt the protein energise her.
Throughout the meal, she observed her companion as he surreptitiously watched her. Seven noted Tuvoks increasing concern for her wellbeing. Perhaps the Vulcan was concerned that latent human emotion was ailing her.
"I have accepted our predicament," she announced, piercing a portion of meat. "There is no need for concern."
A curious brow rose in response. "By our predicament, I assume you are referring to the situation we find ourselves in."
She felt a smile sweep over her lips, "A circular response, Commander. It might seem you are attempting to have me answer an unaired question."
Placid as a barren stream, Tuvok finished his plate, placed the cutlery on the side and steeped his fingers. "If there is a need of me to ask the question, I shall. However, it would seem yours is the greater."
Seven felt her lips press together in frustration as dark eyes searched her for any outward signs of distress.
It was futile.
And yet, there was the smallest, weakest part of her that raged at the machine. It would be heard. No matter the cost.
"Do you believe Voyager has given up the quest to free us?" She asked while Tuvok cleared the plates.
The commander stiffened at the question, hesitating before continuing in his task. "It would be logical to assume they were unable to attempt a further rescue. They are but one ship and, from what I can ascertain, this arena is well protected."
Seven sighed out breath she had not noted she was holding.
Tuvok was by her side. "I do not believe Captain Janeway would have abandoned us lightly, Seven."
"It is likely she or the crew were harmed in the original rescue attempt."
Tuvok nodded solemnly, "From past instances, I would assume much worse."
The thought of crew fatality had not occurred until that moment and Seven instantly despaired. Had any of the crew died in the attempt to save her?
Nothing else was said.
The announcer arrived with a secure squad to collect her for the due blue match.
She feared nothing and, as Tuvok wished her well, Seven headed out of her quarters and back to the arena.
The familiar rush of adrenaline strengthened her muscles as she entered the fighting zone, imagining the cheering crowd. She noted the rush of anticipation as her opponent was announced.
A heavy-set alien lumbered forward from the open door.
Seven had identified his weaknesses before he joined her in the pit; a left limp that indicated previous dislocation of the knee, a slight squint in the right eye indicating previous injury, a lean to the right showing damage to the ribs.
She was confident the bout would be over in moments.
Then a third competitor entered the arena.
"What is this?"
The shorter, lithe alien sneered at her, "Payback, Borg."
The larger creature snarled.
"I am no longer Borg." Seven reasoned, shifting back to assess the situation. It seemed her opponents were aware of their partnership as they stepped in opposite directions to split her concentration.
This was not a free-for-all... but a duo set against her.
Naturally, she sank into a defence posture to wait-out her opponents, inwardly seething with barely suppressed rage.
The larger one attempted to draw her attention whilst the smaller twisted on the edge of her periphery.
Seven smiled. They had clearly not anticipated Borg-enhanced visual acuity. This theory was soon borne out as the smaller of the pair darted toward her.
Moving easily, Seven shifted her bodyweight and redirected him, crashing the fragile alien into the chest of his sturdier mate.
The larger of the two blinked as his partner slid, bonelessly to the floor.
Seven watched the mountainous figure shiver slightly and felt her muscles bunch in preparation of attack.
As anticipated, a roar erupted from the enraged alien as he stampeded toward her.
She was prepared; shifting upward by stepping heavily on the weakened knee and somersaulting over him before he had time to react.
Seven landed lightly; the assailant did not.
The mammoth alien crashed to the ground, howling as he attempted to stand. The smaller creature was…
Seven looked about the space…
Gone.
Warily, she backed toward the door to block any possibility of escape.
The light whirled around her; Penk was observing the match from his office on the higher level, a particularly nasty expression plastered over his usual smug expression. It was a look that told her the best was yet to come. It was a look that told her this match was set to draw blood. That blood would be hers.
Glaring at Penk made no odds; indeed, it only served as a further distraction as she reeled from a strong impact to the base of the neck.
Blinking furiously, to clear her vision, Seven staggered but did not fall as she cast wild glances about the arena attempting to locate the source of the attack.
The large alien remained, howling, attempting to stand; she vaguely wondered if there was a chance the smallest of the pair was using him to hide from plain sight.
She pressed her eyes against the rainbow spots dotting her vision and attempted to control the rush of anger that burned through her body.
Where was it?
A blur at the periphery of her vision snapped her head to the side as the faintest silhouette of the small creature rushed behind her.
Got it.
Lunging back with an elbow, Seven felt the unmistakeable crunch of the creatures nose as the thick, metallic smell of blood shot past her left ear. But she was not without injury as a sharp-tipped boot dug beneath her rib with a sickening crack.
She twisted, feigning right to keep both targets in the front of the field.
The larger of the two had, at last, found his feet.
Breath came in quick, painful bursts as she adopted the stance of an injured animal.
The colossus read the signs perfectly, honing in on his prey… hands outstretched, ready to crush...
Seven had the move in her head and, at the last, made it. But she was weighed down by invisible weight and too sluggish to dodge both gigantic, reaching hands.
He had her by the throat, dragging her body against gravity and hauling her from the floor like a rag-doll.
The heavier weight at her feet began to shift and work up her legs as she clawed at the vice-like grip of her attacker.
Searing pain lanced through her as she noted, in horror, the sharp sting of teeth at her thigh. In the bottom of her vision, she saw the glint of a blade and followed the path as it swooped out of view and a fresh rip of pain burned just above the first cut.
Rage, fuelled by adrenaline kicked though her and she shook the smaller alien, attempting to dislodge his grip from her legs.
It only served to make him cling more tightly to her frame, the blade in his hand pressing at the backs of her calves.
Her teeth ground together as she allowed herself to hang from the neck and scrabbled at her endoskeleton, finding her borg interface and adjusting their connections.
A sharp discharge of electricity spiked, hurling all three opponents to opposite sides of the ring in a green static burst.
Seven was the first on her feet, focused solely on the weapon in the shorter creatures hand.
Hurling herself at the smaller alien, her only intent was to damage him and retrieve the blade for herself.
Moments blanked out as she wrestled the smaller opponent, won the blade, rendered him unconscious and moved to the larger creature.
She struck at his damaged eye, swinging round to deliver a blow to his unprotected ribs again and again.
He fell; defeated.
Seven turned her attention to the observation post, searching out Penks smug grin.
The bastard was practically drooling.
Before she knew she was in motion, Seven let a primal scream rage out as she assaulted the arena walls, brutally stabbing them until the reached the upper level.
"Penk!" She spat, "I'll get you! Do you hear me?
She drove the illegal blade deep into the wall of the office, screaming in frustration and clawing at the immovable glass.
Hands clamped her arms, muscles dragging her away as she hissed and spat objection, nails raking into the floor to reach her prey.
The match was over. She had won. But the madness had not quelled.