oOo

Crusher came to with a start. Her legs had fallen asleep, her wrists were rubbed raw from the unpadded metal bands holding them, and her hands were going numb. She pulled her legs out from under her, flexing her fingers and toes, and stretched with a slight grimace, trying to ease the pain. Was that what had awakened her?

No. The ship was moving, travelling with its usual smooth hum through warp space. How long had she been asleep? She glanced over at Keiko. The other woman had also fallen into an exhausted sleep, huddled against the engineering console in a defensive ball, and the doctor found herself marveling at the body's ability to cope. Tense and strung out as she'd been, she hadn't thought sleep was possible, not in such a hostile situation. But sleep she had, and Keiko as well. Ro Laren? The ensign was nowhere to be seen; perhaps she was locked in with Troi, perhaps she'd been put with the rest of the prisoners. It was impossible for Crusher to say; the other woman had disappeared sometime during the doctor's unexpected nap.

She still wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, but it felt as if it had been at least a couple of hours. The emergency lighting was still on; apparently Narve didn't care how the bridge was lit, as long as he was in command. A wave of bitter anger passed over Crusher as she glared at the back of his head.

He was sitting in Picard's chair. Of course. Data was next to him, with O'Brien on the other side. No. Not Data and O'Brien; Verek and Mylal. She'd have to remember that, to start thinking of them by those names. Peris of the distinctive green aura, in Worf's body, was standing at tactical next to her, while the one called Larsch occupied Riker's body, sitting incongruously at navigation.

"This is the place!" Riker's voice rang out cheerily as Larsch spun around to face Narve. "No intelligent life, not too many large carnivores--just enough to make things interesting--temperate climate, large land masses, drinkable water and edible food. Paradise!" He sounded obscenely cheerful to Crusher's ears. "Wonder why it hasn't been colonized before?"

"Because," Verek said in the calmest voice Crusher had heard him use yet; perhaps being in Data's emotionless body was affecting him. "It's in disputed space." He grinned evilly, and any resemblance to Data disappeared. "Disputed with the Romulans." His eyes sought hers, and he smiled again as he continued, "So we have to get those people down and ourselves out of here before we're detected by one side or the other and someone comes asking our business." He looked over at Narve. "Right?"

Narve nodded in agreement. "Right." He paused, then raised his voice to address the intership. "Mast!"

"Mast here," came the prompt response.

"Mylal's on his way down; we're ready to dump them." The callousness of that statement brought Crusher to her feet; she leaned heavily against the rail as she glared down at Verek and Narve. Especially Narve.

"You can't just send us down there with nothing!" she protested hotly. "At least allow my medical teams to bring down their equipment and supplies!"

Narve turned to face her as Mylal rose to his feet and headed for the turbolift. "We've let them take food, clothing, and a few supplies; we're not barbarians, after all." His voice, oozing with false sympathy, turned hard. "But no technology, Doctor. And no you. You're staying on as my...guest." He turned away again, ignoring her continued protests, protests that were only cut off when he waved an irritated hand over his shoulder and Peris lashed out and backhanded her viciously across the cheek.

She collapsed to her knees from the force of the blow, blinking away tears of pain. Keiko was also awake, but when she made a tentative move towards the doctor, Peris growled at her menacingly and she backed away again, cowed.

It was a mere two hours later when Mylal returned, pausing briefly by the turbolift before entering the bridge. Verek was pacing restlessly; none of the others had moved the entire time Mylal had been away. Except for Narve. He'd gone into Picard's ready room once and re-emerged a few minutes later, grinning. "The Counselor is awake," he announced, turning his face to reveal a bleeding scratch on one cheek. "Or rather, she was. I felt she needed a little more sleep." He rubbed his hand suggestively, and Data/Verek burst into laughter.

Mylal's eyes lingered on Keiko for a moment, but he wrenched his gaze away and walked down the ramp to take the seat usually occupied by Will Riker. They were all showing some self-control now, Crusher thought through a haze of pain; her cheek still stung from the force of the blow. They weren't as desperate as they'd been when they first took over. The further they'd gotten from their former prison, the more relaxed they became. It was as if they were afraid the storm would reach up into space and suck them back down to the planet's surface. Or maybe that was too poetic an image; maybe they were just more confident the longer they got away with this...madness.

"They're all down now. Everyone except us and the women," Mylal reported to Narve.

The commander nodded, satisfaction clearly written on his features as he rose and stretched. "Good. Now get us out of here." This order was directed to Larsch. "Top speed to neutral territory, as far away as you can manage in a couple of hours. Then stop. If it looks safe, I'll let the men celebrate." He smiled, a genuine smile this time that chilled Crusher's blood more than the artificial ones he'd bestowed upon her earlier. "They've certainly earned it; we all have." His gaze returned to O'Brien. "How many did we keep?"

"Fifty, not including these and Ro Laren."

"Ah, yes. Ro. Where is she?" He glanced around in the semi-darkness, seeming to notice it for the first time. "Put the damn lights back on," he snapped, before repeating his question. "Where's Ro?"

"In my quarters," Verek replied as the normal lighting suddenly sprang back on. Crusher blinked painfully at the brightness. "You said Mylal, Larsch and I could have our pick, so I picked her."

Narve eyed the android now occupied by his second-in-command doubtfully. "Maybe you should've taken a Human body."

"Don't worry about that, Commander; this body is fully functional. And I do mean fully," Verek added with a smirk.

Narve looked at him with a touch of envy. "I think I picked the wrong body."

Verek merely shrugged, still smirking. "We can always switch, if you like. But I'm getting rather attached to this body; it doesn't need sleep or food, but it can still appreciate a woman. And it will, too." He looked around at his fellow pirates. "All of our bodies will, eh?"

No mistaking that meaning, Crusher thought with a sinking heart. No mistaking that or the looks O'Brien's invader was casting on Keiko...or the looks Narve was giving her. She was almost too worn out at this point to really care--almost. There was still enough of the analytical researcher in her to wonder, if the women occupied as much of the invaders' thoughts as they seemed to, how the men had managed to control themselves this far. Impressive discipline, if nothing else. She turned her face away as these thoughts flitted through her mind, avoiding Keiko's panic-stricken face as well. She finally accepted that there was nothing she could do. For now. She closed her eyes so Keiko couldn't see the defeat in them as Larsch asked Narve for Troi.

"When I'm finished with her," was the curt reply. "She's the example." There was a momentary pause after those cryptic--and chilling--words while he apparently waited for a protest which never came, then: "Tell the crew the women are for when we've reached goal; after that we'll work out a schedule so everyone gets a turn. Same as before; they know the drill." His eyes caught those of Mylal. "Where did you put them?"

"Ten-Forward," was the reply. "With Mast in charge. So there won't be any discipline problems."

"Good. Verek, take the doctor to my quarters and then take some time to recuperate; android body or no, you've been pushing yourself a lot." Verek nodded curtly, allowing himself only the barest of anticipatory grins as the commander turned to speak to O'Brien.

"Mylal, I want you to stay here while Verek and I are 'occupied'." He forestalled the objection Mylal was about to voice with a raised finger. "Anticipation makes the meal taste sweeter," he said. "Have a little patience. You'll get her soon enough, and I need someone in charge that I can trust to keep things running smoothly while Verek and I are...indisposed. Besides," he added, a touch of steel entering his voice, "you showed a little less control over your host's mind than I expected from you."

"You can't blame me for that, Commander," Mylal protested, his eyes flickering briefly toward Keiko before returning to Narve. "It's not like we've had a lot of practice at this--"

"I didn't ask for excuses," Narve shot back. "You know how to use your host's memories; you're not supposed to let them use you. And that's just what happened back in Ten-Forward. You got lost in O'Brien's memories. So I want you to stay on the Bridge for now, and practice your control. Got it?"

Mylal's nod of acknowledgement was grudging, but he made no other protests as Narve turned to face Peris. "I want you in Ten-Forward, helping Mast. He knows his duty, but I want someone else down there I can trust not to lose control. Send Nal to engineering to help Mesch; he's reliable, but he always had problems keeping his mind on work when there were women around. Larsch, you stay here, too. Time to practice your patience as well; when I'm done in there, she's yours."

Crusher refused to open her eyes as she heard footsteps heading toward the captain's ready room--and Deanna Troi. There's nothing you can do to help her, Crusher, she reminded herself wearily. Besides, this is all your fault. It was your damn field that failed.

That depressing thought chased itself around and around her mind as Peris pulled her none-too-gently to her feet. "Come on, you," he growled, pushing her towards Verek, tossing the restraints at the android. "Narve, it's not fair that Larsch gets his own," he complained as Verek grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the door. "He didn't come up."

"He was supposed to and he tried to. That's the Code," Narve replied flatly. He was standing in the doorway to the ready room now, obviously intending to enter as soon as he was done snapping out orders. "It's not his fault the body was defective at the time. Don't worry; you'll get your turn soon enough. Do your job, do it well, and you and Mast will get first pick." Peris' reply, if any, was lost as the turbolift doors shut on the bridge.

Crusher sagged against the far wall. Verek had released her arm and was studying her unpleasantly. She tried to ignore him as he sent the turbolift to the deck containing the officer's quarters, tried not to think about their destination, Jean-Luc Picard's cabin in particular. The fact that the captain was still in his body and would be aware of what was happening, completely unable to do anything about it--as Narve had made quite clear--made things even worse. She couldn't begin to imagine how the captain must feel right now--or how he would feel when Narve made good on his threats against herself and Deanna Troi. Just the attempt made her feel sick.

"Query: what are you thinking, Doctor?" Her head snapped up at that familiar tone; had Data somehow managed--?

No, Data had not somehow managed. Her head drooped again at the knowing smirk pasted on Data's mouth. Verek's smirk. I hope being in Data's body drains your emotions out of you like pus from a wound, you sadistic bastard, she thought viciously, but only her eyes betrayed her anger. After glaring at him for a moment, she hung her head again and lowered her lashes. Let him think that was as much defiance as she could muster.

Fortunately for her nerves, they arrived on the proper deck at that point. Verek took her arm again, pushing her ahead of him and down the corridor, stopping in front of the door to her own quarters. Holding her by one arm, Verek marched her over to her closet, rifled through her clothing, then removed a light olive dress and tossed it over his shoulder before pushing her out of the room and continuing down the hall.

To Picard's quarters.

Crusher's steps slowed reluctantly as they neared the door, and Verek pushed her forward so she stumbled through the entrance. The captain's quarters looked as they always had, the automatic lighting dimly set for "evening", which at least gave her an idea of how much time had passed since they'd first gone to investigate the distress signal. The wall chrono told her even more; had it really only been 24 hours? Twenty-four hours of hell.

Even more hell, she suddenly realized, for Keiko. Molly. Little Molly must have been beamed down, along with the rest of the crew and their families. And Alexander. Thank God Wes isn't here, she found herself thinking gratefully, her heart going out to the other parents still on board. Thank God he was safe and sound, back at Starfleet Academy. She wondered if Keiko felt the same relief that her daughter was at least away from all this, surrounded by friends and people who would keep her safe, or simple grief at being separated from her baby. Probably, Crusher decided, a bit of both.

Verek was beside her again; she hadn't even heard him follow her into the room. He dangled the binders in one hand and thrust the dress at her with the other. "You will clean yourself and change into this." It was a dress she hadn't been able to bring herself to wear in a long time. The dress she'd worn one night when Jean-Luc had invited her to his cabin for dinner. They'd danced, and kissed. Then, with no sign of regret or any other emotion, he'd sent her away. Of course it hadn't really been him, any more than it was really him now, up on the bridge, doing who-knew-what to Deanna Troi. She couldn't help it; a shudder passed over her frame as she reluctantly reached for the dress. She wouldn't put it past Verek to force her into the shower and then into the dress, wouldn't put it past him to forcibly remove her uniform to accomplish either goal. "He didn't require that Deanna be 'cleaned up' first," she couldn't help muttering.

Verek shrugged indifferently. "That was business, Doctor; this I can assure you is pleasure. Troi is merely the example; you are the one he selected." His voice hardened. "Get moving, Doctor. I'm not a very patient man, as you might have noticed."

He watched as she moved like a sleepwalker across the cabin and into the bathroom, idly tossing the binders from hand to hand. "Leave the door open," he called to her. "I could easily break it down if I had to, so don't get any bright ideas about locking yourself in." The threat made, he settled comfortably onto the sofa, his eyes never leaving her figure. She nodded obediently, draped the dress on the edge of the small counter, and turned on the water. Sonics, she decided, wouldn't do it. Not tonight. Her spirit felt as grubby as her body.

The hot water brought her somewhat out of the apathetic daze into which she'd fallen. Just because she couldn't think of any way out of this mess, didn't mean that such a way didn't exist. She would have to bide her time. Hopefully she'd be allowed contact with her fellow captives; surely they'd let her take care of them, as medical officer. She didn't know if the invaders had taken over any of the medical staff, but somehow she doubted it. If any of them needed help, they could force her to do it. Or just knock her out and allow one of their own members to enter her body and do whatever needed to be done himself, with the unwilling help of her own mind and memories.

She shuddered at the thought of having her mind invaded in the same way the men's had been. The physical violation she faced now was somehow less frightening than the idea of having her own mind used against her. But for now, she reminded herself grimly, only her body was in peril. No use borrowing trouble.

The shower door jerked open, nearly causing the doctor to bang her head on the wall in surprise. It was Verek, of course. Glaring at her. "You've taken long enough, Doctor," he said, the glare turning into an appreciative leer. "Dry yourself off and get out." She obediently turned off the water, deliberately ignoring his eyes on her naked body. Let him look, as long as he didn't touch. She pressed the button that turned water to dry heat, wrung out her hair and finger-combed it to dryness. Verek never moved, leaning casually against the edge of the shower, a greedy expression on his face as she dried herself.

He continued to watch as she slipped the dress over her head and straightened out her hair--bless Picard for having a comb!--then turned to present Verek with an inscrutable face. "Well?"

The alien in android's clothing nodded with alacrity. "Very well, indeed, Doctor!" He jerked his head towards the door to the rest of the suite. "Narve will approve as much as I do. Now march."

Very briefly, Crusher considered trying to escape. He held no phaser now. As quickly as the idea flashed through her mind, she dismissed it. Data's body could recapture her very efficiently; although he seldom displayed his astounding speed and reflexes, they still existed. At Verek's disposal. He had no need of a phaser; he could stop her before she even started to move.

And he certainly wouldn't give her the chance to shut down Data's body. With Data's memories, he knew that she was one of the few people who knew precisely where to press. He was watching her like a hawk, and not just because he had what her mother would call "dishonorable intentions". He was waiting for her to try something. Anything. Therefore, she wouldn't. Not now, not with him. Let him think she was still in shock, let him think she was beaten. It could only work to her advantage.

Verek pulled her along by one arm, stopping next to the closet. "I'm afraid you're in for a little more discomfort, Doctor," he said with false sympathy as he glanced down at her wrists, bruised and raw from being confined for so long within the metal binders. "Sorry about this, but I can't have you escaping while Narve finishes with the lovely Counselor." He held up the binders and looked over to gauge her reaction to both the security devices and his dig about Troi. Since there was nothing she could do at the moment about either, Crusher said nothing, but she was sure her face betrayed at least the fear she was feeling, if not the anger she was carefully keeping in check.

He clicked the binders over her unresisting wrists, hooking them over the rod in the closet first. She still said nothing, merely stifled a groan at the thought of having her arms held in such an awkward position for any length of time. "I have no intention of waiting here with you while the intriguing Ensign Ro Laren awaits me in my quarters," Verek added conversationally.

Crusher felt her heart leap at his words. He was going to leave her alone! Although she was deeply disturbed by the thought of what was going to happen to Laren--what was undoubtedly already happening to Dee--she resolutely pushed such thoughts aside, this time not out of despair, but out of an urgent need to clear her head. Time alone meant time to plan, possibly time to escape. She made herself look as hopeless and defeated as she could, lowering her eyes as if in meek submission. Data's voice laughed at her, Data's hand lingered caressingly on her hair and back for an agonizingly long minute, then he was gone. She was finally alone.

It was time to put her Starfleet training to work.

Author's Note: Hey, time to let me know if you like this story or not, pretty please?