Mok'tah
Author: Penny A. Proctor

[previously, on vvs7.5: In Episode 1, "Wrongs Not Forgotten" Voyager encountered a Cadassian ship, the Malik Ohn, that had been pulled to the Delta Quadrant by the Caretaker 35 years earlier and had since become a pirate ship. When Captain Janeway was abducted, her rescue was aided by Ramon Hernandez, a Starfleet Intelligence officer who had infiltrated the Cardassian crew and spent his time in the Delta Quadrant as little more than a slave on the ship. Although invited to join Voyager's crew, Hernandez chose to leave the ship on his own. Spoiler: This is the Delta Quadrant. Unsolved problems always come back.

Prologue

"bIlujlaHbe'chughbIQaplaHbe'."

From the other side of the holodeck, Lt. Joe Carey turned, startled. "What was that, Lieutenant?"

B'Elanna shook her head, feeling chagrined. "It's a Klingon proverb – 'If you cannot fail, you cannot win.' I needed the reminder."

Carey grinned. "I know what you mean. But I figure we've experienced the failure part. This time we win. I'm ready when you are."

She wanted to be as optimistic, but she was too nervous. All the preliminary tests in the Engineering Lab had been perfect, but they needed a holodeck simulation to test the effects of their handiwork on the ship as a whole. The memory of the fateful holodeck simulations on the slip-stream two years earlier were painfully fresh. "All right. Computer, initiate program Torres Transwarp Test Zeta."

Immediately, the grid of the holodeck melted into a recreation of Voyager's bridge, complete with crew - the Captain in her command chair, Chakotay to her left, Tuvok, Harry, and Tom in their regular positions. She and Carey were the only biological beings involved in the test; she would have preferred to have others from her research team present, but Icheb was taking a midterm and Vorik was with Tom and Tal Celes on the DeltaFlyer,trying to find a friendly world where they might find replacement equipment. Harry had been especially helpful with the Zornon tech, but since then he had been tied up with his department evaluations and a "personal matter" lately, and he wasn't even aware of her latest breakthrough.

Carey took his position at the main engineering console to the Captain's right, and B'Elanna moved to the auxiliary Engineering station on the upper deck, immediately behind the Captain. The station had been manned by Seven for so long that it felt strange to be there again. Mentally crossing her fingers, she said, "Captain, we're ready."

The replica of Janeway nodded. "It's your show, Lieutenant."

"Initiate activation sequence," B'Elanna said.

Carey responded, "Transwarp coil on line."

"Zornon cloak stable," the holographic Harry reported.

She nodded; so far, so good. "Engage temporal stabilizer on my mark. Mark."

Carey reached for a different part of his console. "Engaged and functional."

"Transwarp drive is ready, Captain," B'Elanna said.

Even though the Captain was looking away from her, B'Elanna could picture her hopeful smile. "You heard her Mr. Paris. Engage warp engines and go to transwarp at your discretion."

"Aye, Captain." Tom's body tensed with concentration. "Warp 9. 9.25. 9.3. 9.6. Threshold reached; switching to transwarp drive…now."

This was it. B'Elanna sucked in her breath and held it, waiting. And she waited. And waited.

None of the holograms moved, not so much as a blink or a muscle twitch. Tom's hand was frozen over his console; Chakotay was caught with his hand in the air, as if he were giving a benediction. The Captain was half-sitting, half-standing on the edge of her chair. It was as if time had stopped.

"Damn!" B'Elanna brought her fist down on the station. "Computer, end program."

The bridge and everyone except Carey shimmered and faded back into the mundane grid of the unprogrammed room. He waited several seconds before speaking. "That … was an improvement."

"An improvement?" Frustrated and angry, she took a deep breath and tried to count to ten. She made it to five. "It didn't work, Joe. Borg coils, Zornon cloaks and Federation equipment - it's mok'tah.It just doesn't match. Exactly what improvement do you see in that?"

"Well, let's see. The first prototype was so ineffective, so we couldn't tell in the Lab that we'd hit warp 10 with no protection from the temporal effects of transwarp. Not good. The second one caused the port nacelle to race off in one direction and the starboard in another. Also not good. The last one blew up the warp core and everything else within fifty kilometers." He paused, then grinned. "At least this time, we got out of the Lab and we're still alive. I call that progress."

She almost laughed from sheer frustration. "We're alive. Stuck like a beetle in amber in some kind of time pocket, but alive."

"Come on, Lieutenant - remember the Human proverb - 'if at first you don't succeed, try, try again."

"Right. Doesn't mean we have to enjoy it." She rubbed her belly; the baby wasn't any happier about the result than she was. "Download the transcript and meet me in the Engineering Lab. Let's try to figure out what went wrong this time." She sighed. "I just hope Tom is having a better day than I am."


Thirty light years away, an ancient shuttlecraft shimmied and creaked, then screamed a sound like metal ripping itself apart. A section of the plating fell off the bulkhead and crashed to the deck, clattering even louder than the wheezing engines.

"Something's wrong, Ramon."

Ramon Hernandez reached across the distance between the pilot's seat and the second chair and took the hand of the woman sitting there. She was too pale, he thought, and her delicate skin shone with perspiration. Injured and ill, she was still the most beautiful creature he had ever seen or imagined. "Don't worry, Lynella. Trust me."

She smiled ruefully, and brushed one sweat-clotted strand of strawberry blonde hair from her face. "Oh, I trust you. It's this miserable excuse for a ship you took that worries me. If it's this bad now, what will happen when we're in real trouble?"

"It's not that bad."

"Oh. Then the warp engines are supposed to make that noise?"

Before he could answer, the engines burped twice and the sound stopped. Ramon glanced down at his panel and cursed silently. Warp engines weren't supposed to make any noise except a soothing hum, but on this wretched ship the belching noise meant they were working. Quiet humming meant they were down.

He let go of her hand and stood. "This will just take a minute."

Lynella leaned back in her chair and sighed. "My grandmother was right. A bad deed always comes back to slap you in the face."

"Your grandmother never had to run for her life across the Delta Quadrant," he said, frowning at the engines. He couldn't understand why they weren't working; everything looked right, or at least as right as it got on this tub. Time for a little percussive therapy, he decided, and kicked the base of the control panel as hard as he could.

With a cough and a hiccup, the engines wheezed to life.

He returned to the cockpit and took his seat. From the corner of his eye, he saw her watching him with amusement. "What?" he asked.

"You amaze me."

His heart turned over in his chest, as if he were a schoolboy on his first date. "I told you, I'll get you to a safe place."

"I believe you." Her gray eyes were warm with affection.

Something new began to beep and for an instant he couldn't locate the source. This rat trap of a ship was so poorly designed that nothing was where it ought to be. "Next time," he muttered to himself, "I'm going to steal the best damn ship I can get my hands on." Then he realized that the beeping came from the communications panel. "Someone is hailing us."

Lynella lost even more color. "Who – who are they?"

"Let's see."

"Unidentified ship, this is Lt. Tom Paris of the DeltaFlyer. Do you require assistance?"

A slow smile spread across Ramon's face. "Oh, baby, this is our lucky day." He hit the comm control to respond. "Lt. Paris, this is Ramon Hernandez. Remember me?"

"Hernandez? From the MalikOhn?"

Ramon winked at Lynella. "The same. And yes, I could use some help. My companion needs medical assistance."

Beside him, Lynella stirred. "Ramon-"

"You do. And the DeltaFlyer has an excellent medical station. Could you beam the two of us over, Lieutenant? This old crate hasn't got much left in it."

"No problem. Stand by for transport."

He leaned across the cockpit and grasped Lynella's hand. "Don't worry. This is perfect, you'll see." He was still holding her hand when the transporter beam caught them.

They materialized in the aft cabin of the Delta Flyer, with Lt. Paris waiting for them. "Hello again," the Lieutenant said.

Before Ramon could answer, Lynella's knees buckled and both men reached to support her. "I'm sorry," she said weakly. "So silly."

"I know lots of people who react that way to transporters," Paris said soothingly and led them to the biobed. "Let's get you right over here." He looked over her head to Ramon and mouthed 'What happened?'

"Lynella isn't feeling well." He turned around, studying the details of the aft cabin. "Not as crowded this trip."

Paris smiled. "That's right, we had a full house the last time you were here. This is just an ordinary away mission. Three of us fit a lot better." He helped Lynella lie down and reached for the medical tricorder. "I'm a medic," he explained to her. "I'd like to examine you."

"Please," Ramon said quickly. He stepped back from the bed, moving closer to the replicator and the tool he had spotted. While Paris was concentrating on his task, Ramon closed his hand around an EPS spanner. It was more than ten centimeters long and satisfyingly heavy in his grasp.

Paris ran the tricorder over her body, concentrating on the readings. "Your temperature seems high," he said to her. "And so does your blood pressure. Of course, I don't know what's normal for you yet, but since feel unwell, you're probably running a fever." He leaned forward, trying to get a different angle for the hand-held sensor.

As Paris bent over his patient Ramon raised the spanner over his head and brought it down heavily on the skull of the taller man. He heard a sickening thud as Paris dropped senselessly across Lynella, pinning her beneath him.

She gasped, but Ramon ignored her distress as he hauled the inert form snatched up Paris's phaser. The younger man was heavier than Ramon anticipated, and he lost his grip. Paris fell to the floor, knocking over a medical tray from a nearby console.

Too much noise, he thought at the clatter of the instruments on the deck.

"Ramon -" Lynella began in protest, but he cut her off.

"Stay right there," he said, switching the phaser setting to 'kill.' Standing beside the unconscious officer, he pointed the weapon at his chest and waited.

It didn't take long. In only moments, a young Bajoran woman came from the forward cabin, saying, "Is everything all right, Lieutenant?" She froze when she saw Ramon and the phaser he pointed at Paris's crumpled form.

"Put your weapon down on the deck and kick it over here," he said. "Do it now, or I'll kill him."

The young woman seemed astonished. "But - but why? We were helping you."

"Do it. And don't say anything else."

She looked from him to Paris and back to him. Slowly, she removed her weapon and placed it on the deck.

"Stand up and kick it over here."

After another brief hesitation, she complied. Without moving the phaser pointed at Paris, he squatted down and picked it up. It was set on stun, he saw. He left it there and pointed it at her. "Who else is up front?"

"No one."

"Don't play games, little girl. Paris said there were three of you."

"You misunderstood. There's no one else." She spoke rapidly, words tumbling out. "Are you taking the ship? Are you going to kill me, too?"

"Yes. And no." He fired the phaser set on stun, and she crumpled to the ground.

"Ramon, what are you doing?" Lynella shouted at him. She was standing up, clinging to the side of the bed for support.

"Trust me." He heard nothing, but he was certain there was someone else there. And that someone had to be aware that something was going on; he or she would be armed and ready. He tried to recall the configuration of the forward cabin and realized that there was no place for anyone to hide.

There was no time for hesitation. He ran into the other cabin with both phasers ready. He barely saw the Vulcan seated in the pilot's seat, one hand holding a phaser and the other still dancing on the controls. He dove for the deck, firing at the same moment as the other.

The Vulcan toppled forward, unconscious. His shot went above Ramon's head and dissipated against the bulkhead.

Ramon stood, breathing heavily. He had fired on Starfleet officers and he had taken a Starfleet ship. If he had harbored any hopes of going home again, he had just killed them.

Shoving that thought aside, he grabbed the Vulcan by the arms and began to pull him toward the transporter.