Title: Kes is Dead (Part 11)
Series: Star Trek: Voyager
Author: Singing Violin
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: TPTB own them, but they didn't do what I wanted with them, so I'm borrowing them for a bit. I'll give them back when I'm done.
Feedback: Yes please.
Archiving: Anywhere.

They arrived under the cover of night, the Flyer left nearly half a kilometer away so as to evade detection. Transporters would not work here; there was a dampening field around the whole area. They hiked towards the camp, attempting absolute silence. Luckily, the ground was mostly rock, and they would not leave an easy trail to follow.

The first sign that they had arrived at their destination was the putrid stench. Then, as they approached the encampment, they became aware of the sights and sounds of suffering. The sick and infirm, wrapped in rags, huddled on the ground, moaning for water and food. Those that were mobile stepped lithely over and around the bodies of their comrades as if they were no more than inanimate logs. Here and there, a Breen guard stood at attention, no doubt waiting to execute any who posed a threat to security.

Prepared to blend in, they too wore rags, with weapons and tricorders carefully concealed underneath, and flaps of fabric covering their communicators. However, any who saw them up close would see that they weren't nearly dirty enough to be prisoners.

Seven wore a dull-colored scarf around her head to hide her Borg implants, and the impediment to her peripheral vision annoyed her. Turning her head, she glanced at Chakotay, who looked disturbed by the sights before them. Perhaps he is in need of comfort, she thought to herself, still trying to figure out how to reobtain him in a romantic capacity. Since the first day in Astrometrics, she had not been successful in kissing him – during the few moments they were alone, she'd tried to get close to him, but he'd been elusive. She postulated that he needed time to get over the embarrassment of being caught by their former captain, as he had not indicated any outright rejection.

Hiding in the shadows, they tiptoed through the camp, hoping to evade the notice of the guards.

They found Celes first. Kathryn recognized her and pulled her into a rocky alcove, covering her mouth so she would not scream. Then, so as to minimize the Bajoran's alarm, she whispered in her ear, "it's Kathryn Janeway, Celes; we're here to rescue you."

At that, Celes turned around and flung herself into the admiral's arms, weeping. "Billy's dead," she sobbed.

The older woman held the girl close, patting her back. "Sssh," she soothed, "we have to be quiet." Then she pulled away slightly, keeping Celes at arm's length with her hands on the Bajoran's shoulders. "Now can you tell me who is alive from your ship? I'm hoping we can get all of them."

Tearfully, Celes nodded and began listing names, finishing after ten, not including herself. Eleven survivors out of a crew of nearly fifty, Admiral Janeway thought sadly. Harry's name was not among them.

Kathryn swallowed, prepared for the worst. She motioned for Chakotay, Seven, and Ayala to begin rounding up the prisoners, and then she addressed Celes again. "What about Harry Kim?" she asked, dreading the answer.

Celes looked scared. "I…I'm not sure," she stammered. "Last I saw him he was very sick; he'd gotten the same thing that killed Billy. First they stopped eating, then they got fever, and…" Tears coursed down her face, and she couldn't continue.

Kathryn rubbed Celes's shoulders, hoping to impart as much comfort as possible. "Do you know where he is?" she asked. Celes nodded hesitantly. "Take us to him," the admiral ordered.

Celes led Tom and Kathryn inside a cave, where the odor was nearly overwhelming. Kathryn attempted to breathe through her mouth and as little as possible. Celes pointed at a figure huddled in a corner, wrapped in a threadbare blanket, shivering. Kathryn raced towards him, and indeed it was Harry, covered in a sheen of sweat. She shook him gently, calling his name.

"Mom?" he called, softly. "I don't feel good." Then he whimpered, pitifully, and the admiral bit her lip and looked over at Tom, who was already scanning his friend. He shook his head at the women, and said only, "it's bad."

Janeway took a deep breath, the foul air burning her lungs. "Can you get him to the Flyer on your own?" she asked the pilot. Tom nodded, bent down, and lifted Harry over his shoulder.

The admiral and Celes returned to the main camp and began rounding up crewmen. They'd find one or two, run them through the shadows back to the flyer, then return for more. Meanwhile, Ayala, Seven, and Chakotay were doing the same thing.

They had almost retrieved the entire surviving compliment of Harry's ship when a Breen soldier finally noticed their movement and began to shoot.

Ayala was hit in the leg, and collapsed to the ground, wincing in pain. Janeway ran to him and helped him up, and supported him as much as possible as she spirited him to the nearest alcove, then moved to the next one.

Meanwhile, Seven and Chakotay found themselves in the middle of a fight. As they hid behind a rock, periodically turning around to fire at the guards, Seven looked at Chakotay with wide eyes and whispered, "I'm frightened." Then she held out her hand to him, and he took it, and in that moment of distraction, they were both rendered unconscious by guards who had slyly crept up behind them and fired.

From her hiding place, with Ayala leaning against her, Kathryn saw the Breen guards dragging her two crewmembers away, and knew that she would not be able to retrieve them immediately. So, using the guards' occupation with Seven and Chakotay as a cover, she quickly got Ayala back to the Flyer, where Tom and ten survivors, including Celes and Harry, awaited.

"How's Harry?" she asked Tom. He shook his head. "We need to get him back to the ship."

"All right," she conceded. "Get us out of here. We'll come back for Chakotay, Seven, and the last two survivors later."