Chapter Two: Connect the Dots
As soon as you materialise on the planet, the Captain looks at you awaiting your instructions. This is your domain, and she's the one stepping into it. It's rare for you to both be planet-side at the same time, but the urgency of the situation requires a breach in protocol. The reports of the deceased crew appearing with each reset is increasing.
Seventeen and counting…
But it's not only the panic you feel at the appearance of dead crew members. You have to keep her safe, and you know she won't protect herself. You're quite happy to take charge now, and you like the way she is looking at you with clear blue eyes, waiting for you to utter a single word and she'll leap into action.
The ease with which you shout out orders is a surprise, but it shouldn't be. You've been in command before, and you've fought your fair share of battles. You've spent many hours laying low on foreign worlds, hiding behind sparse trees and rocky outcrops that always felt too small.
Only, you didn't have her. And that is always going to be an unknown complication.
An unpredictable, stubborn and head-strong complication.
That's how you find yourself crouching behind another boulder with her, using ancient military hand signals to coordinate your attack to members of your former Maquis cell. The tenth run at the device has to be better than the first despite the odds stacking ever higher against you.
You know where they are now, and where the humanoid guards are likely to be. The crew listened to you earlier, at first disbelieving but now starting to realise what's happening. Each time the loop resets, it gets easier to convince them.
You've learned ways to impart the urgency of the situation, and the small keywords that mean something personal that stops Voyager's senior staff in their tracks.
Everything you've predicted so far has been correct, right down to the moment Tom Paris trips over that invisible spot in the hall outside section nine-C-Alpha. And that's how you know that the approach you've been taking for the last four – or is it five – attempts is not going to work this time.
You've accounted for every variable, and every variation in which you might find yourself upon each reset. The only thing you don't know is which former crew members are going to appear and where. It's eerie to see them again, and haunting when they fail to recognise you with blank expressions on their faces.
But, this doesn't stop the captain from trying to save them as well.
There hasn't been time to figure out who or what they are in the previous loops. You only know that the device they are guarding is what's causing time to reset. You don't even know why you're here, or why you're the only one to remember.
There is never have enough time. Not before one of you almost dies or the loop resets.
You're damn sure that it won't be the captain dying. Even if it means it's you every time. You're not sure what's worse – dying, or seeing the devastated expression ghosting across her normally stoic features just before the blinding flash sends you right back to the briefing room where the captain finishes a question. You never get to answer, and it's frustrating because you weren't actually listening the first time when she asked you.
Moving your hands, the signals tell your crew to start creeping along the tree line. You're taking the left side, the crew fanning out to the right with phasers up. All things going well, you've got about thirty minutes before the loop restarts. Two-hour loops are really not enough time.
You're moving, quietly. Brute force, guns blazing hasn't worked before. One second, two seconds, three seconds and you're thinking about the next move when you hear a loud snap, like wood breaking and the captain is suddenly gone.
An echo of your name floats in the silent air.
The mission has ended before it's even begun this time. You're nowhere near the humanoid guards, or the former members of Voyager and a quick glance around tells you that you have barely made it a few metres from the tree line with the device far ahead.
You move to where she vanished, crouching low and suddenly trying to get everyone else's attention. But you don't need to – the captain disappearing into the ground was enough to alert the entire squadron.
Peeling the leafy mass aside, heavy bits of timber underneath that make you groan as you try to move them quietly. You move to point a thin strip of light from the phaser down into the hole, hissing through clenched teeth.
"Captain?"
It looks like a trap, probably built by the Humanoids that are guarding the place. Briefly, you wonder how many more of them there are, and your hand flicks under your throat in a cutting motion, telling the rest of the squad to fall back to the treeline. Paris gives you a second glance, but nods and scatters away.
They have to continue on, and they know that time is running out.
You don't even want to imagine what lays at the bottom, and the fact she hasn't yet answered makes you heart hammer a little harder. The dull light filters down into the hole. You can't really see anything; it's a dark abyss that's swallowed her whole.
"Kathryn!" you hiss again. "Can you hear me?"
The dull light from the torch glints off her combadge that had been attached to her chest. Starfleet really need to improve the brightness of these damn things. Definitely something to discuss with them when – if – you make it home.
The longer she is unresponsive, the more your mind begins to conjure up all sorts of terrible ideas and scenarios that end with her dying and the loop starting all over again to present you with a special brand of hell.
"Come on, Kathryn."
Then you hear it; a slight ricochet. A cough. You listen again. "Chakotay."
"Is everything okay?"
There is some more coughing, a subtle groan and something that sounds like shuffling.
"I'm okay, Commander. I take it this wasn't part of your plan?"
"No."
"Any more predictions about what's going to happen?"
You can imagine the arched eyebrow, the prim expression and the tight line of her mouth quirked on one side as she assesses you, even covered in dirt and grim. Clearly, the unpredicted tumble into a trap has done nothing to dampen her sarcasm.
"Have you got your phaser?"
"No."
You glance around, and see the abandoned rifle just shy of the edge to her temporary prison. It must have been flung from her grasp when she plunged into the darkness. You make a mental note to avoid this area on the next reset.
"Do you want it?"
"No offence, Commander, but I'd rather not see what's down here," she comments dryly.
You smother a laugh. "Too bad."
Moving over, you grab the discarded rifle and swing it down, aiming with precision to avoid misfiring and hitting the Captain. She takes it from you, and then sets it down against one of the walls, the damp earth now a little brighter with the light of the beam.
With relief, you can see that she hasn't fallen far, but it's too far for you to reach her alone. The rest of the crew are going to have to leave the cover of the tress. You crouch down, and flatten yourself on your stomach, edging closer to the precipice.
The monitor you carry sounds its shrill alarm. Once again, you're running out of time.
You glance up, narrowing your eyes in the dim light to make out a distant glow of the device. It's still active. You're going to loop again.
And it's going to be harder still.
Glancing down, you catch sight of her bruised, dirty and covered with tiny scraps and cuts. Her eyes are glassy with tears, and suddenly it clicks home that maybe she's hit her head a little harder than she's letting on. As you reach down toward her, your fingertips graze. The distance is too far, and you can't reach her.
She's always been just out of reach.
The desperate kiss you both shared only a few loops before has faded into anguished memories. A blinding flash of light reminds you that you're out of time and you're about to start over. It's too late, precious seconds to make progress have been lost.
As you reset, the conference room materialising in front of you for another time, you think to yourself that this woman has nine lives.
