Pairing : B'Elanna / Seven
Rating : Mature
Feedback : I took the time to write it, so do me the honour of taking the time to respond when you read it.
Chapter IV : Riding the waves ...
The streaking stars being left far behind by the superluminal abilities of the starship Voyager burned their silent fury. The non-Newtonian principles of the Starfleet vessel's faster-than-light propulsion succumbed to the laws of physics—nacelles previously tasked with the vital generation of a warp field now spectators and burdens to the saucer-mounted impulse engines, which took over the interstellar journey.
Providing an effective barrier against the warp drive, an almost impassable maze of dark, splintered rock hung amidst the depths of the void; irregular, torn asunder and assorted shapes one might deem madness in consideration of thrusting, arching spires utterly impossible but for the lack of gravity between worlds. The larger asteroids span lazily about poorly defined axis, cleaving apart only the occasional smaller cousin whom unwittingly came within range of the clawing mountain ranges rising up from uninhabitable surfaces.
Smaller spheres destroyed themselves in cataclysmic explosions of sheared rock and vaporised fragments, releasing spinning debris which survived to make negligible attacks on the larger bodies within the belt. Taking nothing in the way of chance, a furious stream of writhing energy tore from the lower phaser array, detonating several of the perilously close asteroids in a series of powerful bursts.
Tom Paris completed the full-stop with a final sweep of his forefinger on the helm, his part in the chase for the assailants of Seven and B'Elanna in a lull until a decision on what course to take was established. The plucky lieutenant had thus far successfully avoided dwelling on his error the night before, reasoning that if he thought about what had happened he'd need some counselling and with only The Doctor in such a role, the thought hadn't appealed.
"The warp signature continues through the asteroid belt ahead," Harry confirmed. Transferring the data to tactical and the command console, the Ensign frowned at the unpredictability of the objects which made up the belt. "Captain, either their vessel's manoeuvrability puts Voyager to shame, or their deflector technology is second to none."
Janeway slowly rose, pondering the situation; Voyager had seemingly made up for time lost with the trail increasing in intensity, but she had been unprepared for the obstacle ahead—the Intrepid class, though small and for her size nimble was hardly designed for negotiating the complexities and random chaos of a class one asteroid field. The fact that any hope of the recoveries of both Seven and Lieutenant Torres depended on their success did not escape her consideration, either.
"Mister Paris, can you get my ship through this?"
Tom's mental monologue was broken by the question posed, a welcome distraction which filled his inner child—unfortunately also qualifying as his inner pilot—with the wonder such manoeuvres could elicit. "With full phaser support and every last bit of engine power, I think it's possible. I'll need engineering on the ball Captain; there won't be much room for power transfers."
Reluctant to disturb the two crewmembers most able to marshal Main Engineering, yet unwilling to damage the very same pair's chances of finding a resolution to their non-consensual union, The Captain tapped her commbadge; "Janeway to Lieutenant Torres and Seven of Nine."
Seven of Nine reacted instantly to the communication, having been unable to master the art of sleeping in the hours that had passed and electing simply to study the dreams of the Half-Klingon that had bled into her consciousness. Attempting to swing heavy legs round to the side of the bed, she encountered resistance not unlike having been bound to the mattress itself with rope, limbs jerking and partially going into spasm whilst carrying out her demands.
"Seven of Nine, Lieutenant Torres—do you have a problem?"
The blonde deduced that her muscles were receiving conflicting orders from a nervous system attempting to cope with two intellects where it could only have expected to serve one, constantly being interrupted by the unexpected tenant. Focusing her concentration Seven urged B'Elanna from her sleep, abandoning the physical for mental coercion.
"Ten more minutes Seven," She mumbled absently.
"Ladies I appreciate your fatigue, but I'd be even more appreciative if you could spare me a moment."
B'Elanna-Seven's eyes shot open with the stinging lash of embarrassment tingling the ex-drone's cheeks, for the first time in their post-Borg existence. "Sorry Captain—what can I do for you?"
Janeway repressed the urge to flash a smile at the untidy awakening, focusing on the task at hand and painfully aware of the fleeting time. "We're closing in on the warp signature of the raiders' ship but there's an asteroid belt between us and them. Mister Paris is confident he can negotiate it safely, but we need our best people in Main Engineering."
"It just so happens," The Captain continued, "That two of them are occupying the same space. I know you're either not entirely rested or able, but any help you both can render would be of use."
B'Elanna-Seven seized upon the opportunity, her legs propelling the lithe body upwards now that consensus of the neurons was complete. "Right away Captain; me and Seven could use the distraction instead of being cooped up waiting on the Doc."
"Report to Main Engineering when you're both ready, Janeway out."
...
...
Rising to enter the sonic shower, B'Elanna inwardly frowned as she found herself dragging the bed sheets across the floor, the Borg-enhanced fist locked tightly around the fabric. Pausing, the Chief Engineer found it quite impossible to relinquish the hold, and raised her eyebrow—Seven's occular implant—in confusion; all the more horror-laden for the use of the younger woman's trademark irritation.
*You are unorganised B'Elanna; we must return the sleeping area to a usable condition or waste time doing so in the evening following—it is inefficient otherwise.*
"You want to make the bed?" B'Elanna translated, and received the mental image of a nod before shrugging Seven and by proxy, her own shoulders. Throwing the sheet roughly on to the mattress until each corner of the cover was vaguely within distance of its mattress equivalent, she departed only a single step before feeling her legs begin to tremble.
B'Elanna reached over to the nightstand and plucked the hypospray up she had placed there in good foresight the evening before, pressing it to her neck. "Go crazy Seven."
Seven-B'Elanna flexed her hands as though they were but replacements for the originals that very second, stretching each muscle group with a sense that they were only vaguely her own or willing to accept her orders. "You did not take the task seriously, as I do not believe you would ever unknowingly complete a poor job."
*Well sorry Seven—I'd got it into my tiny mind we had more important places to be, like Engineering, helping to track down the bastards that marooned me.*
Seven's occular implant rose for the first time at the volition of the true owner; "I sincerely apologise if your stay within my body has not been enjoyable. Feel free to seek an alternative host if you can find one, perhaps your husband? You might therefore share a life, a quarters and a body. A most efficient and Borg-like amalgamation of resources."
*I see my sense of humour is rubbing off on you, and by that I mean actually giving you one. You didn't even have to assimilate me.*
"It must be a painful irony," Seven retorted aloud as she smoothed the sheets. "To be forced to inhabit a body so disfigured by that which you so hate."
B'Elanna considered the implications of the word the blonde had used; disfigured, damaged, twisted. The intonation remained the same across the family of the word, implying a hideous and obscene take on the natural order. For the half-Klingon the former was a reluctant truth, for the implants were very difficult to accept as anything more than a perversion or terrible torture inflicted on those who could not resist it. As for the latter B'Elanna agreed wholeheartedly, an obscene kiss to gift any would-be suitor as the Borg almost viewed and treated each prospective drone.
Though she said nothing in response, B'Elanna knew Seven had heard all she had pondered, though no words were spoken by the Chief. It seemed to both now the various barriers and shielding of their two respective minds were becoming more entwined, and more accommodating of each other. What the repercussions, specifically in a medical sense this might yield could only be explained by The Doctor.
They unanimously agreed he would be informed, at their earliest convenience after the work in Main Engineering, again without uttering a word. Satisfied with the state of the bed, and feeling her feet grow heavy though she herself was not tired, Seven accepted the end of her short tenure as dominant personality.
B'Elanna felt herself reasserted, flexing the fists in the same way her companion had done a few minutes beforehand. "Aren't you put out by the time I spend bossing you around, Seven? I'm the interloper here after all."
Though she realised it was now possible to communicate her answer, Seven decided it best to rely on words at least consciously attempted. *Whilst you are correct B'Elanna, I find it wearying even with the aid of the suppressant to function with your presence, even as a secondary role. The Doctor was correct in that your personality appears to be dominant, and as such has taken up primary residence. It is logical to continue the status quo in that whilst the ship can theoretically survive indefinitely without an Astrometrics Officer, it cannot lose the Chief Engineer.*
*The irony of a Borg Drone unable to function with a single voice in addition to their own having been surrounded and linked to trillions is not lost on me, though I rationalise this by knowing that even if I succeed in raising your ire once more, you can do no better than strike yourself.*
Torres mumbled a retort that was perfectly audible to her co-habitant mentally, before reaching to the replicator for more appropriate working wear. Already an internal `debate' on why the biosuit would not be making a reappearance had started and the Chief Engineer wondered briefly how they would ever leave the quarters, let alone achieve anything that day.
...
...
Nicoletti logged the result of the warp field calibration tests for the Chief Engineer's daily review, though it had been the fourth time she had done so without it being read or acknowledged. Silencing the panel she crossed in front of the thrumming reaction chamber, her eyes still drawn to the intermingling ribbons of colour which marked one of the most violent reactions yet witnessed by man—the annihilation of Matter and it's most opposite number in an energetic apocalypse. Despite the huge number of times she set eyes upon it, the magnitude of the power being released to the warp plasma network was never lost on her.
The young engineer had been on duty during Voyager's infamous Core ejection, and from that day had always understood the delicate balance such technology maintained between the revolution that was faster-than-light travel, and the dangers of absolute destruction … As so many Starfleet vessels and her crews had experienced and never lived to learn from.
Acting Chief of Engineering Vorik interrupted Nicoletti's ponderings. "Have the warp field calibrations been filed, Ensign?"
She nodded, "Just this minute completed Sir. I was about to take a repair team to give the starboard nacelle its internal check-up."
"That will have to wait for a more convenient time," He countered matter-of-factly. "Voyager is about to traverse a class one asteroid belt, and will require the entirety of the Alpha shift to be present in Main Engineering and oversee the manoeuvres and any side-effects they might have."
The Vulcan continued; "Ensign Kim shall be monitoring the stability of the forward shield emitters, report to him and assist in any way he sees fit."
Nicoletti nodded her understanding, and picked up a tool kit propped up against a supporting diagonal beam. A surge of adrenaline and the accompanying anxiety coursed through her veins, with the excitement and uncertainty of duties beyond simple maintenance. Departing Engineering and entering the turbolift at the end of the corridor of deck fifteen, she almost walked straight into the incumbent. Tal Celesse.
"Someone's eager," the Astrometrics crewmen ribbed. "Are you Chief Engineer yet, or do you have to assassinate Vorik first?"
Nicoletti grinned, "Actually I'm pulling a shift with Harry—hobnobbing with the Bridge Officers and the such; working my way to Commodore."
"I don't think Commodores serve on Starships Nic," Tal mused. "If they don't, we'll be leaving you on some god-forsaken Demon-class planet to serve out a term of duty on our inaugural Delta Quadrant Star base."
The Engineer scoffed. "And where exactly are you heading to? Cleaning out plasma conduits? Fixing Neelix's burner? Fixing Neelix's passion for gut-dissolving spices?"
"I'm going to the bridge," she beamed. "Filling in for Astrometrics while McDouglas does the dirty work in the lab—I'm team leader while Seven recovers from … well … your Chief Engineer. B'Elanna scares the wits out of me and I've only been in Engineering a handful of times; usually accompanying Seven out of some possible sadism she reserves for challenging the Lieutenant to verbal sparring, with us peons in the crossfire."
Nicoletti gasped in mock outrage. "I think it's our Chief recovering from your Astrometrics Officer. Pity be the mortal who crosses Sev's path and pity be the engineering crew in proximity to that mortal, who's also their boss, being called into question in their home territory."
She rubbed her temple, sighing. "That's one aspect of the Chief's absence I would vote to be given indefinite leave. It's amazing they never escalated to violence—I've been about ready to call Tuvok and a couple of type-three phaser rifles a couple of times myself."
"From the safety of underneath your diagnostics station?" Tal ribbed, half-seriously using her hands to feign away Nicoletti's weak attacks with the tool kit. "So Harry eh? He's as cute as a button."
"I don't think he much likes it when crewmen don't take him seriously—`Hey cutie, has anyone said you look adorable today? I just wanna' eat you all up."
Tal giggled. "So sixty thousand light years from home is all it took to turn Academy All-Star Maria Nicoletti into a slut. I am disappointed Ensign, such a promising career wasted in an orgy of lust and desire …"
The Engineer smiled, "You're talking but all I hear is jealousy Tal—green really suits you."
The bridge-officer-for-a-day pouted as the turbolift stopped before deck eight. Nicoletti hugged her huffing friend as she departed, unable to resist a final parting barb.
"Try not to activate the self-destruct sequence by using the bridge replicator dear."
The doors closed firmly before the growling Tal Celesse could finish her foul tirade.
...
...
The doors to Main Engineering opened to admit a familiar enough figure in extremely unfamiliar attire, attracting a single glance from each crewman present until a suitably un-Borg-like glare persuaded them to find something less dangerous to do. Seven was clad in a tasteful dress ending just below the knees, with a hem that flared slightly into semi-transparent leaves of dark blue fabric.
Over the dress a short, thin jacket held together by two black buttons ended at the waist, covering both arms to the elbows with a translucent purple material. Long blonde tresses tied in a loose ponytail which reached almost to the waist complimented a custom-piece of many argued minutes' creation.
"Welcome back on duty, Lieutenant Torres and Seven of Nine. The Bridge is standing by for our readiness and engineering teams are in place monitoring the dorsal, ventral and forward shield emitters. The result of a class two diagnostic on the sensor array is ready for your inspection."
B'Elanna had never appreciated Vorik and by extension the infallible if irritating Vulcan logic any more than that moment, with the anticipated difficulty the crew might have interacting with Seven and B'Elanna as they co-inhabited, the former acting-Chief had been a welcome icebreaker.
B'Elanna-Seven deployed both hands to the diagnostic station mounted on the handrail surrounding the warp core. "Good job Vorik, let's get this show on the road and my body out of bed."
Those brave enough stole a second glance at the entirely `relaxed' Speech emanating from the stoic and clipped mouth of a notorious forgoer of the casual. "Main Engineering to Bridge—we're standing by down here on your orders."
*I predict a need for twelve percent more power to the dorsal emitters,* Seven interjected.
"Sounds good," B'Elanna answered aloud, though mentally she had reviewed her compatriot's explanation for the suggestion and agreed. For the crew surrounding and listening on the active commlink, it was difficult to ignore the oddness in hearing the half-Klingon repeat only half a conversation.
On the Bridge, Chakotay accepted the nod by the Captain as he stood behind Tom, leaning over the helm slightly. "Take us in Mister Paris, at your discretion for course and speed."
"Phasers standing by," Tuvok added without raising his eyes from the myriad targeting vectors and trajectories he had calculated, and was still calculating, with the aid of the computer and the sensors not tied directly to the helm.
As though a horse urged into the dark of night by the will of a brave, or perhaps foolhardy rider, Voyager crept into the belt which lay ahead—the navigational lights upon the hull casting odd shadows against the asteroids which passed harmlessly out-with the impromptu `safety zone' Tuvok had tasked the sensors with maintaining.
Unlike a horse, the Intrepid-Class Starship employed more than simple speed for defence, as a single beam of energy freed itself from the confines of the targeting rim and took the merest milliseconds to impact and shatter a looming projectile. The resultant spinning debris being promptly vaporised by a second, low-power phaser sweep from a secondary emitter on the saucer.
Seven-B'Elanna glanced at the various LCAR screens displaying navigational, tactical and sensor data. Regarding the sensors less attention was devoted, with the considerable processing capacity of Voyager's computer mostly concerned with such. The alabaster features of Seven were instead primarily concentrated on balancing the plasma power transfer between impulse engine banks; the automated flight nominals having been disabled due to their slowness in reacting to high-stress spacial manoeuvres.
*Port forward bank increase zero eight percent, starboard forward decrease point seven.*
Lithe fingertips danced over the Starfleet-standard interface, making minute adjustments which combined to increase the overall efficiency and hand Tom maximum manoeuvrability. Singly a task taxing to perhaps either Seven or B'Elanna alone but combined, manageable. Just about.
A violent shuddering which grew to a torturous quaking seemingly put paid to any self-belief, as the navigational monitor flickered to nothingness for a period of seconds. "Impact!" B'Elanna-Seven urged into the open commlink—"Forward shields down to fifty three percent!"
Chakotay staggered back to the relative stability of his chair, eyes finding Tuvok's and questioning the incident.
"A rogue orbital path the Computer was unable to project, and thus fail to react to the situation promptly. The randomness of the belt is beginning to tax the Computer's processing capabilities; we require more projection facilities."
Seven had already suggested the possibility, even as Tuvok moved to narrow the Computer's search radius in an effort to free up additional processing space. "B'Elanna and Seven to Ensign Kim."
Harry took several moments to respond, partially because of the odd transmission of the signal and secondly because of the considerable cut on his forehead caused by a loss of footing during the previous impact. He glanced at Nicoletti, grimacing as she was at her own heavy handling, but none the worse for wear. "Kim here."
"Harry, you and Nicoletti need to tie your auxiliary monitor into the sensors and start looking for asteroid orbit paths—the Computer's struggling with the random rocks, and we'll be lucky to take another hit like that one and still be around to do anything about it."
The ship shuddered almost imperceptibly as the main phaser emitter discharged again. "Understood, we'll do our best—Kim out."
Tom grimaced as he pulled the nose of the Saucer up sharply, the internal Dampeners whining their protest at the gravitational forces being exerted upon the ship as a whole. A second and harsh vibration signalled another impact, though much smaller and taking only a bite from the shields rather than the fragile hull itself.
"Almost there," he whispered through clenched teeth, leaning to one side as though his body directly influenced the direction of the ship he steered. No sooner had Tom completed the latest nose-up than a smaller fragment of black and splintered rock impacted just forward of the Bridge, sending all except the anchored helmsman to the floor violently.
...
...
"Forward shields are buckling!" B'Elanna yelled to anyone who cared to listen, protecting her face as the console in front of her sparked in anger at the treatment it was receiving.
"There is a power surge in progress Lieutenant," Vorik stated dispassionately from aside. "Plasma conduits on decks two, six, eight, nine twelve and fifteen have blown out."
The Chief Engineer, or Seven's body at the least, swore proficient Klingon before spinning from her now useless and smouldering station. Taking in Vorik's report a pale hand tapped the commbadge pinned to her jacket. "B'Elanna and Seven to Kim—report on damage and condition."
The silence which greeted the commlink urged the ex-drone to try again. "B'Elanna and Seven to Ensign Nicoletti. Respond."
"Medical emergency in forward deflector control!" She yelled, having scarcely allowed the Computer time to process her statement and alert Sickbay. Crossing in front of the Warp Core the Chief Engineer activated a secondary station, setting about working out the latest frustration to the ship and her crew.
Janeway struggled to her feet and seeing the unconscious body of Samantha Wildman manning the science station, leapt to her aid. Crouching down to the decking and sure of a steady pulse if little else, she tapped her commbadge to announce a medical emergency Chakotay joined her to watch the unconscious woman freeing the Captain to take the science station.
Her face hardened. "Tuvok there's a starship killer closing. Entering our proximity field now—deal with it!"
Tuvok's eyebrow raised as his console squawked negatively. "I cannot comply Captain, the damage to the power distribution grid has taken Main Phasers offline. At this range a photon detonation would overwhelm our shields and eliminate us as well as the asteroid, and there is no time to modify a warhead for a lower yield."
"Collision warning, thirty seconds to impact," announced the Computer as if none had noticed the perilous object.
Tom growled in frustration. "It's too fast Captain, not enough time to take us around!"
B'Elanna and Seven literally worked with the speed and ability of a single unit, but it did not seem to be enough. They furiously worked to find a re-route through the blown and useless plasma conduits and bring the Phasers back online, before the ship and everything on it was cleaved apart. Working frantically and in part because of the distinctly un-Borg-like tenant, a thin sheen of sweat cropped across the Blonde's forehead.
"Collision warning, ten seconds," Counted the Computer for what seemed its final audio announcement, before it was rendered down unto its components and scattered about deep space.
A repeating, shrill three tone alarm on Tuvok's console brought first his eyes and then fingertips to attention. "Power to Phasers restored, targeting asteroid."
Janeway gripped the sides of the science station grimly, as Chakotay cradled the unconscious Wildeman underneath him. Demanding all their attention, the view screen stood useless; long since enveloped by the approaching rock. It granted a view only of imminent destruction at the hands of an enemy not Hirogen, or Borg, or Malon or even a fearsome celestial phenomenon, but an airless and barren ball of scoured rock.
Almost before the shields flared in momentary resistance against an ultimately irresistible force, two fierce daggers of brilliant orange light burst forth and speared the asteroid asunder. The phasers drove through the heart of the cold monster and shattered it into a hundred thousand shards of razor sharp rock ,which scythed painfully against the screaming deflector envelope.
Consoles blew out spectacularly as primary systems failed utterly, starved of power or simply overloaded by the tremendous and almost unsustainable battle against the debris of the starship-killer. Lighting overhead flickered and died as the last of the immediately available energy was drained, plunging the Bridge, Main Engineering and almost the entire ship into darkness lifted only by the red alert tapers.
Janeway prised herself from the science station and returned to the command chair, settling into it with a loud sigh as secondary power systems restored limited lighting and function. "Report!"
"Shields have failed, considerable buckling of the hull plating on deck six and seven, multiple plasma conduit failures and fires as well as stress damage to the inertial dampeners. We have however cleared the asteroid belt, and I am detecting a vessel entering visual range. It is travelling away from Voyager at warp three, but appears to be at the limit of its propulsion capability. It matches the profile recorded by the sensors during the earlier attack on the ship."
Kathryn crossed her legs, narrowing her eyes at the view screen which still showed only the never-ending field of stars making up the Delta Quadrant and the Milky Way beyond. "Have anyone with engineering training or experience assigned to damage repair teams Chakotay; they may be no faster than one of our shuttles but I won't let them build any more of a distance between us than I absolutely have to."
The damage to Voyager would be repaired in time, and the prize for such a hard chase was slowly but irrevocably closing. "On screen Mister Tuvok—Maximum magnification."
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To Be Continued …