Title: Kiss of the Spider People
Series: Star Trek: Voyager
Author: Singing Violin
Rating: T
Summary: Janeway gets into some hot water with some hostile aliens. Set shortly after "Coda."
Disclaimer: They're not mine (except the aliens), so don't send me money for my story. This one might count as parody, though it's not funny.
Feedback: Yes please.
Archiving: Anywhere.
Author's note: Sorry to make y'all wait so long for this one. You know that thing in my profile about problem sets and papers? Well, that's what happened; the muse has been buried under textbooks for a while. I'll try to get the next one out faster, though no promises, since midterms are approaching quickly.

Chapter 6: Darkness

Chakotay heard something dripping as he sat in the captain's chair – her chair – and tried his best not to expend effort worrying. He found himself expecting that at any moment the EMH would call and tell him to turn back – that it was too late to help the captain. He shuddered at the thought of having to plan another funeral – a real one this time. But as he'd told the hologram, he wasn't just going to let her die. If there were anything he could do – no matter how risky – to increase her chances of survival, he would consider no other option.

He knew she would tell him not to place so much value upon her own life – to save the ship first – but he also knew that the crew would not deal well with the loss of its captain – he would not deal well with the loss of his captain, and could not, therefore, be of much service to a grieving crew. He justified his efforts with the thought that she herself had certainly taken risks to save others – she'd sacrificed an easy trip home to save the Ocampa from the Kazon before he was even an officer on Voyager, and had willingly walked straight into a trap in order to save the life a traitor and the child they'd thought was his son. So, for her sake, and for the emotional well-being of the crew, he'd do what he could to save her life. He had a feeling that, without its captain, Voyager would never make it home. At least, that was what he told himself in an effort to convince his conscience that he wasn't just being selfish … saving her because he needed her.

Confirming his justification, however, was the fact that it had only taken one statement to deflect the crew's objections to returning to the aliens' space.

"Reverse course," commanded Chakotay as soon as he returned to the bridge. "We're going back in."

"Commander?" queried Tom Paris. "Does that order come from Captain Janeway?"

Chakotay frowned. "No," he answered. "Captain Janeway is currently incapacitated. I am in command now, and will be taking that position permanently unless we go back. Now, Lieutenant, if you please …"

At that, Paris gulped before replying. "Aye aye, Sir," he responded solemnly, then turned and followed the order …

After a moment, Chakotay realized that not only could he hear the soft noise, but he could see the tiny droplets landing on the console. He looked up, half expecting to see a leak in the ceiling, but when his risen eyes met those of a very concerned Vulcan, he realized that the moisture in question was in fact originating from his own tear ducts.

He wanted to scream. Rising, he slapped the console hard with his hand, and was suitably annoyed at the torrent of beeps that resulted from the computer's lack of understanding of what it believed was intended as a coherent command. Several crewmen looked up briefly at the disturbance, but quickly turned back to their own consoles at the sight of the irate commander.

Chakotay was about to cede the bridge to the Vulcan and proceed to the ready room – where he would be free to weep openly and perhaps throw some random objects around – hopefully not breaking any of the captain's treasured possessions – when Tuvok spoke.

"Commander, we are receiving a distress call," he spoke evenly. There was no hint in his tone of the worry that had momentarily flickered across his noble features just beforehand; his statement was informative, nothing more. "It seems to be an automated beacon," he continued, "but the triangulation of its origin reveals no matter at that location."

Instantly, Chakotay was caught in the curiosity presented.

The tinkerer was deathly cold. It seemed that the vacuum of space was quickly seeping into the pod, though he knew the hull to be sealed perfectly; after all, he had personally inspected it when the ship was first launched …

Nevertheless, an icy chill made its way into the air surrounding him, through his frail exoskeleton, and directly into his internal organs, where it threatened to freeze his very core. He imagined someone finding his body in that state as he felt himself drifting away from reality. It didn't help that he hadn't eaten anything in forty cycles, and the escape pod was not stocked with those sorts of supplies – in truth, nobody was expected to survive for long inside them; if a rescue were not already in progress at the time the pod was launched, chances were that the journey to find and locate it would yield more profitable results in the recovery of the device than of the body – alive or dead – contained within its walls.

For a moment, he wished he hadn't scrupulously avoided the last meal provided to him – it had been another alien species that had naïvely attempted to initiate a trade with his people. Deeming the aliens' knowledge and technology worthless, she hadn't even bothered to interrogate them before seizing their ship, executing the entire lot, and providing the bodies as a feast to her crew.

At the moment, he was hungry enough to eat his own children, if he'd ever had any. He'd always been focused on other things – his research, his duties, his secret scheming to provide a better future – but for whom? If he were to die in this escape pod, it would not be his descendants who would benefit from his sacrifice. Suddenly, he wished he had taken the time to initiate a procreation rite, just so that he would have some eggs of his own on which to bequeath his legacy. He consoled himself with the thought that perhaps, by some miracle, he would be rescued, though the prospect was growing dimmer with each passing octocycle. He wondered whether she had concluded her rampage and begun to repair the ship yet, and mulled whether or not to unhide himself in hopes that they would allow him a chance at preserving his life, should they prove to be his only hope.

Through the haze of his fading consciousness, his eyes detected an anomaly in the starfield on his small viewscreen – his only connection to the outside world, as the pod afforded little space for anything else. The instruments announced that a ship approached. But it wasn't the mother ship …

In an instant, he recognized the signature. The aliens had returned! But for what purpose?

He supposed it didn't matter. In any plausible circumstance, the aliens were more likely than his own people to help him, and it seemed quite improbable that there were any other options.

Quickly, he initiated a distress call, once again putting his faith into the goodwill of this relatively-unknown alien species. They hadn't, after all, failed him yet. Perhaps they would allow him to join them – could it be that they could use a tinkerer? Didn't everyone need tinkerers? Although he considered it unlikely he could learn much from their relatively primitive technologies, he might be provided with resources with which he could expand his own mind through productive research, unhindered by the demands of a capricious ruler …

Although the temperature in the cramped cabin had not changed, he felt warmed when he received their answer. There was no video screen capability, but he heard the hail on audio.

"Unknown ship: we have received your distress call, but we cannot locate you. Please transmit your coordinates."

He cursed himself for his oversight and immediately disengaged the masking device, then sent his relative location to the alien ship.

For the first time in his entire life, he genuinely believed that things would turn out all right. He was about to be rescued, and the aliens would help him to return home, if not to finish the job he had started and place a new government in control – one that would value sentience and knowledge above power and victory. And perhaps, once his life's goal was complete, and there was a better world to look forward to, he could find a female with which to create offspring to inherit that world …

The pod jerked, and he realized it had been caught in a tractor beam. As the alien ship pulled him into its belly, he anticipated the warmth of the alien atmosphere and reveled in his good fortune.

With much trepidation, Chakotay again left Tom Paris in charge of the bridge while he took Tuvok to the shuttle bay to greet their guest. Since the pod had not been in danger of exploding, the alien's life signs were strong, and they did not wish to give evidence of their transporter technology, they'd opted to tractor the pod inside rather than beaming its occupant on board.

Lieutenant Paris appeared positively relieved when the commander announced he was leaving the bridge, and the expression was not lost on his commanding officer. Chakotay felt a weight settling in his midsection at the weakness he had shown in front of the crew – her crew – thus hinting to them the dire nature of her condition. He was sure she would not appreciate his lack of discretion if she found out. That is, if she survives to hear about it …

Also nagging at his over-burdened mind was the suspicion that this was a trap. When the alien had transmitted its coordinates, he'd momentarily hesitated, asking himself what she would do. He decided that she would be willing to give the alien the benefit of the doubt, and thus, so would he, especially since, if the alien were willing to provide a sample of the venom, they could avoid further interaction with the mother ship.

As he stood in the turbolift beside the Vulcan, whose features were unreadable as usual, he silently prayed that the alien in the pod would be either sympathetic or easily subdued, and not followed by a legion of others …

Inexplicably, anger rose within him. He was angry at having to second-guess himself, having to take risks, having to worry. He was angry at her for not telling him she was ill, thus allowing him to send her on the mission that might very well prove to be her last.

No, he insisted to himself. She's not going to die. This is going to work.

With that, he exchanged glances with the security chief, who curtly nodded in acknowledgment that he was armed and ready for whatever they were to encounter. Together, they exited the turbolift and proceeded into the shuttle bay, where a team of security officers was already waiting, surrounding the admittedly innocent-looking pod.

Chakotay nodded to one of them, who carefully approached the vehicle, located the hatch, and released it. The alien awkwardly crawled out, its long limbs expanding out the egress, finally followed by its torso and then head. Several officers had phasers carefully trained upon the exiting form.

"Forgive the security," announced Chakotay when the alien appeared to be fully free of its confinement, "but without knowing your intent, we must take precautions. We do not wish to harm you."

The alien bowed. "I understand," it replied. "Please, take whatever precautions you deem necessary. Thank you for my rescue. I do not understand why you have returned to our space, but I am grateful that you have, for I am cold and weak with hunger and would not have survived much longer had you not happened upon my location."

Chakotay nodded. "We will see what we can do about getting something for you to eat," he answered, "if you will tell us what kind of sustenance you require. However, I would first like to know if you are willing to provide assistance to us with a particular matter of urgency."

The alien did not hesitate. "Of course. Whatever I can do for you; I am happy to help. I only ask that in turn, you aid me in returning to my home world, where I will be safe. I will likely be executed if I return to the mother ship."

At that, Tuvok raised an eyebrow as Chakotay shot him a glance of concern.

Observing their hesitation, the alien continued. "It was I who assisted your sabotage," it admitted proudly. "I am on your side. This is why I am a wanted fugitive."

Chakotay wanted desperately to interrogate the alien as to why it would join forces with strangers against its own people, but time was of the essence, so he deferred questioning the alien further.

"Please follow me," he urged, and proceeded to lead the alien to Sickbay. The journey was short and traveled in silence, with the security team tailing closely behind, ready to stun it should the alien make any unexpected moves.

Chakotay briefly toyed with the idea of killing the alien and extracting the venom from its dead body, just to save himself the trouble of having to guess what trap lay ahead, but he knew he had to give the alien a chance to prove itself trustworthy. After all, it was not a Kazon or a Vidiian or a Cardassian. It wasn't Seska, wasn't the creature that had attempted to kill Kathryn on that planet where he'd crashed the shuttle – and even if it were any of those things, he still couldn't justify murdering it in cold blood.

It occurred to him that the recent bout of betrayals – most recently, from the woman whose life he was trying to save – was making him bitter, and he resolved to consult his spirit guide when this was all over. He shuddered to think his troubled mind was devising solutions he wouldn't even have considered when he was leading a Maquis ship.

The tinkerer enjoyed being able to stretch his limbs and walk about the aliens' ship, even as they trained weapons upon him. In truth, they impressed him yet again, with the care with which they hosted him while still employing enough security to protect themselves should he prove dangerous. It was also difficult to feel threatened with the warmth of their artificial climate permeating his exoskeleton. His antennae twitched with pleasure as they led him through the ship.

Their doctor greeted him. It occurred to him that something was odd about the doctor, but he couldn't tell what. The medic queried him about his alimentary preferences, to which he gladly replied, his stomach quietly expressing its approval with a secretion of digestive juices.

Then the doctor made a strange request. It wanted a sample of his venom …

It seemed that the leader of this ship had not been so easily assassinated, and was clinging to life by a leg-hair. And the doctor believed it could develop an antidote for the poison.

The tinkerer neglected to express his opinion about the feasibility of a cure for the leader's condition; the sample would certainly be easy to provide, and he had promised whatever help he could give. However, he couldn't help but feel slightly sad that the aliens still harbored hope of their leader's survival, and had returned at their own peril for such a futile – and worthless – cause.

It occurred to him that their loyalty was similar too his own people's loyalty to the Queen, and for the first time since he had escaped from his own ship, he began to harbor doubts about their intelligence and benevolence. Perhaps they were only treating him kindly so that he would cooperate. When the treatment the doctor devised failed, they might blame him for the death and execute him – or worse, they might attempt to trade him back to the Queen in exchange for passage through their space – a trade to which She would gladly agree, then happily revoke Her promise and return them to their previous predicament.

Throughout his difficult life, he'd expended entirely too much effort hiding technology to allow the Queen to obtain dangerous capabilities from some passing visitors now. He surmised that it was imperative to remove the threat of the mother ship at all costs, for his own and his people's benefit, and for the aliens too. As soon as he had an opportunity, he would make sure the option of trading him would not be available – without the threat of the mother ship, they should be able to pass safely out of his people's space, even after a detour to drop him off on the home world. And while technologically inferior in many ways, the aliens' ship contained many devices that could aid him in his mission, if only he could gain access …