See Chapter One for details. Standard legal BS applies. Star Trek: Voyager and all things contained therein are the property of Paramount and Viacom. No infringement intended.
Desecration
Chapter Four
B'Elanna's dark head rested wearily on Harry's shoulder. The senior officers were slumped together on the floor in a corner of the crowded cargo bay. It was unbearably hot, the unavoidable result of cramming 135 beings, all radiating body heat, into a room intended for storage. Their durable Starfleet uniforms were designed to be worn on a climate-controlled ship. They consisted of layers of clothing that, at the moment, only served to trap the hot air next to their skin.
Lieutenant Torres let out a low
growl of irritation as she unzipped her jacket and clawed impatiently at the
sleeves to remove it. "I can't stand
this heat!" she snarled. She plucked
her combadge off the jacket and tossed the gold and black article aside.
"I thought Klingons liked a
warmer climate." Harry mused aloud as he watched his friend yank her gray
standard issue turtleneck over her head, her dark hair damp with sweat.
Finally stripped down to her tank
top and trousers, B'Elanna glared at Harry. "Don't be ridiculous, Starfleet. I'm only half Klingon, remember? Besides, this doesn't qualify as a 'warmer climate'. It's hotter than Vulcan in here!"
Commander Tuvok regarded the
chief engineer with a raised eyebrow. "That is incorrect, Lieutenant. The temperature on Vulcan often exceeds…"
"It was a figure of speech, Tuvok."
B'Elanna snapped. She fixed her dark
eyes on the Vulcan's face. "Look at
you. You're not even breaking a sweat."
"Vulcans do not sweat until the
temperature reaches approximately 215 degrees." droned Tuvok.
"Fascinating." she replied
sarcastically. "At least we know Tuvok
and Vorik will survive after the rest of us die from heat exhaustion."
Neelix sat silently watching
B'Elanna from his spot against the wall. He knew she must be crazy with worry about Tom. The Variquian guard had come for him over an
hour ago and shoved him along a path out of the cargo bay with no explanation
whatsoever. That was the real reason
for her hostility. Yes, the heat was
getting to all of them, save Tuvok of course. But it was her concern for Tom that had B'Elanna spitting like an angry
sarcazion bush snake.
Neelix slid over and sat beside
her, placing a gentle hand on her trim arm. "It's okay, B'Elanna. We're all
worried about Tom and the captain."
Her angry expression seemed to
soften slightly as she looked at the portly Talaxian seated at her side. He was always there for her, to offer a
listening ear or a word of advice. And,
as annoying as the little man could be, he had definitely wormed his way into
B'Elanna's confused heart. "I know,
Neelix. Thank you." she said softly,
patting his hand.
She rose to her feet and began
pacing the small space they occupied. "I just feel so frustrated. I
hate just sitting here waiting for something to happen. I feel like we should be doing something."
"We all feel that way, B'Elanna." said Harry. "But what can we do? There are too many guards, and we've all seen what their weapons can do." Sadness washed over the handsome asian's face as he recalled the condition of Ensign Taylor's lifeless body when she was carried into sickbay. It was a gruesome sight, and he wished he hadn't been there to see it. There was a moment of almost reverent silence as the senior officers were reminded of the grisly scene they witnessed on the bridge.
The cargo bay doors hissed open
and the silence was broken as a familiar voice filled the room.
"Okay, okay! I'm going." Tom said, casting a smug glance
at the huge alien shoving him roughly into the cargo bay.
"Tom!" B'Elanna cried, rising to
her feet.
A soft smile graced Paris's full
lips as he made his way to B'Elanna. He
took her into his arms. "Miss me?" he
teased, planting a kiss on the top of her head.
"Never." she lied, a grin tugging
at the corners of her mouth. "I'm just
happy to see that you didn't join forces with the enemy."
"Glad you have such faith in me."
Tom snorted playfully.
"Tom," Harry interrupted, "Sorry
to break up the happy reunion, but where did they take you? Did you see the captain?"
"Calm down, Harry. I'll tell you everything." Paris said, patting
his friend on the back. "Just as soon
as I shed this jacket. It's hotter than
Vulcan in here."
The officers chuckled at Tom's
unwitting repetition of his girlfriend's earlier comment. Tuvok regarded Paris with an extremely
Vulcan raised eyebrow and simply said, "So it would seem."
Paris removed his jacket and
tossed it next to B'Elanna's on the floor. He took a seat beside her and began to tell them about what he saw while
he was assisting the doctor.
"I'm so relieved to know that the
captain is alive." Neelix gushed, clapping a hand on Tom's shoulder.
"She's alive. But she certainly isn't safe." Paris
corrected, his boyish face taking on a painful expression. "We treated her broken arm as well as we
could in the ready room, and we were able to stop the bleeding, but…" He paused and dropped his head sadly for a
moment.
"Please continue, Lieutenant."
Tuvok prodded.
Tom met the Vulcan's gaze. "She's been mistreated."
"What do you mean 'mistreated',
Tom?" B'Elanna asked impatiently.
"The doctor said that she was
lying unconscious in her own blood on the ready room sofa when he arrived. He had difficulty waking her. He tried to convince Kirov to let him move her
to sickbay for the surgery, but he wouldn't allow it. When we arrived with the surgical equipment…" he paused again,
swallowing back the tremble that had crept into his voice. "She was gasping for breath and her lips
were blue. She had these horrible red
welts on her neck." He locked eyes with
Tuvok, finding his Vulcan strength comforting. "She had been strangled. If we
had been any later…"
"Oh my…" muttered Neelix
breathlessly, the color draining from his whiskered face. He leaned against the wall for support. "We… we have to do something."
B'Elanna jumped to her feet and
kicked a large container of dried leola root in frustration. The huge bin crashed to the floor, knocking
the lid loose and spilling the contents. "BaQa', ghuy'cha', Hu'tegh!" she cursed in Klingon
Tom took her firmly by the
arms. "Easy, B'Elanna. That's leola root, you could kill us all."
"Mr. Paris's predictable attempts
at humor notwithstanding, you must control your temper, Lieutenant." Tuvok
preached. "Your outburst will only
attract unwanted attention from the guards."
B'Elanna glared at Tuvok. "The captain's in danger! How can we just sit here?"
"Calm yourself, Lieutenant
Torres. That is an order." Tuvok met her hateful glare with his
penetratingly logical one, quieting her volatile nature with an expertise no
human could possess.
When B'Elanna returned to her
seated position, the Vulcan continued. "I have no intention of 'just sitting here'." he said, raising an
eyebrow in B'Elanna's direction. He met
the eyes of each of the officers in turn as he spoke in a hushed but firm
voice. "I have devised a plan, but it
will require a flawless execution to be successful. Listen carefully…"
"Please Captain, I've seen enough
of your foolish pride." He hissed, his body pressing tightly against her back
as he pinned her to the floor. "Give me
the codes."
"I already told you." Janeway
wheezed, ignoring the stinging bite of the carpet burning the tender skin on
her cheek. "I don't have the
codes. Give me access to my computer so
I can attempt to decrypt them."
"LIES!" Kirov roared. "What kind of a fool do you take me
for?" He rose to his knees and took
Kathryn's small arm firmly in his grasp. "This is your fault! All of
it! You're willful, arrogant. But I will break your spirit… even if I have
to do it one bone at a time."
She felt it the split second it
happened. The pain was instantaneous,
originating in her arm and then ripping mercilessly through her body at warp
speed. The sound was almost as agonizing
as the pain. It was the sickening,
unmistakable sound of bone being crushed. Excruciating, stinging pain ravaged through her and she knew her freshly
healed arm was once again broken and useless. She didn't even realize she had cried out until the sound of her own
scream hit her ears. The torturous ache
was followed by a crashing tidal wave of nausea that she was unable to
contain. She watched in horror as her
own vomit flooded the ready room carpet.
She turned her face away from the
foul mess, disgusted by her body's betrayal in such a revolting display of
weakness. She failed to suppress
another painful cry as Kirov jerked her roughly to her feet, her arms still
tied cruelly behind her back and twisting her broken limb at a merciless
angle. He lifted her effortlessly off
the ground by her neck, her feet dangling helplessly in the air. "Do you fear me now, Janeway?" he hissed,
the veins bulging and pulsing in his temples. "Have you tasted it enough?"
Rocked by intense pain, the
magnitude of which she could never before have conceived, she no longer
possessed the rationality to fear for her own life. She knew only hatred, only rage, as Kirov again crushed her
windpipe with his bare hands. He
deprived her of not only life's vital breath, but of her dignity as well. With her last bit of strength before she
slipped into sweet unconsciousness, Kathryn Janeway locked eyes with the huge
alien… and spit directly in his evil face.
"Ahhhh!" Kirov howled as her
saliva struck his skin. Her small,
cataleptic body hung limp and lifeless in his grasp, her shapely lips once
again an eerie shade of blue. He
remained motionless, still holding her by the throat. He was morbidly captivated by her body's ragged attempts to take
a breath as she clung to life. Still
defying him, even in her unconscious state. He could do nothing but stare at her. He didn't even hear the doors hiss as they closed behind Subcommander
Jalek.
"Pardon the intrusion, High
Commander." Jalek said calmly. "But if
you kill her she will be of no further use to us. Unless, of course, you have learned of a way to extract
encryption codes from a corpse."
Kirov slammed Janeway's lifeless
body onto the sofa and whirled angrily on Jalek. "Watch your tone with me, Subcommander! It is only because of me that you're even still alive. Need I remind you that it was I who
convinced the Variquian Council not to execute you for your brother's treason?"
Jalek hung his head
shamefully. "I needn't be reminded of
that, sir. I assure you, I think of
your graciousness every day of my life. You know you have only my deepest respect, High Commander."
Soothed by Jalek's skilled ego
stroking, Kirov began to let go of his anger. He nodded regally at his subordinate. "You are forgiven."
"I am most grateful, sir." Jalek
replied almost sincerely.
Kirov averted his gaze to Janeway. "Is she dead?"
Jalek moved to the sofa, feeling
the captain's bruised neck for a pulse and watching her chest for
respirations. "She is alive, High
Commander. But she's unconscious,
perhaps even in a coma. Shall I summon
their doctor?"
"No." he answered without
hesitation. "This human belongs to
me. I'll see to her needs. For now, we have other business to attend
to." Kirov moved toward the door,
motioning for Jalek to accompany him.
As the two men stepped through
the door, Kirov summoned the guard to return to the ready room. "Watch the human closely, Trebin. Notify me immediately the moment she regains
consciousness." He ordered. He moved to
step away, but suddenly hesitated. He
peered deeply into Trebin's eyes as if trying to assess his character or read
his thoughts. He saw the familiar
lustful fire burning in the guard's eyes. It was a perfectly normal reaction to an attractive female. That was the purpose of all females, to
please the men. And had it been any
other woman he would've gladly allowed it. But not Janeway, she was his alone. "Do not touch her. Do you
understand?"
"Yes, High Commander." Trebin
answered obediently.
"Well…" Chakotay snapped the
instant the doctor stepped through the sickbay doors. "Did you see her? How is
she?" Gods, it seemed like he'd been
gone for hours!
"Well, it's delightful to see you
too, Commander." the hologram chided. He moved quickly to Chakotay's side. "Relax, or you'll have every guard within earshot breathing down our
necks. Is that what you want?" he
scolded in hushed tones as he pretended to be scanning Chakotay.
"Of course not." the commander
answered sharply. "It's this damn
concussion. I just can't think
straight. I'm going insane lying here and
doing nothing."
"I understand how you feel." the
doctor comforted. "But you must remain
calm if we're to accomplish anything." He watched as Chakotay breathed deeply in an effort to gain control of
his erratic emotions. When he decided
that the commander was calm enough to be somewhat reasonable, he
continued. "Yes, I did see the
captain. Lieutenant Paris and I set the
bone in her arm and tended to her other injuries. She was alert and stable when we left."
Chakotay eyed him suspiciously,
his dark eyes narrowing into knife-slash thin slits. "Why do I get the feeling that you're being deliberately vague,
Doctor?"
"Doctor-Patient confidentiality."
he lied, having no desire to tell the injured man that his beloved captain and
best friend, or whatever they were calling their strange relationship these
days, had nearly bled to death and was then strangled into
unconsciousness. His emotions were
difficult enough to maintain without knowing the horrific details. They were distressing and unnerving, even to
a hologram.
"Doctor, please. I need to know the truth. What's happening to her up there?" Chakotay's eyes were pleading for
information, for some connection to her no matter how indirect. It was an unmistakable testimony to his deep
feelings for Captain Janeway that even the doctor couldn't miss.
"Very well, I'll tell you. Just remember that you wanted to know, no
matter how unpleasant it may be." Chakotay nodded his understanding. "The captain suffered an open fracture on her arm that required surgical
correction. When Kirov refused to allow
her to be brought to sick bay, I was forced to perform the operation in the
ready room."
The blank expression on
Chakotay's face made it clear that he obviously didn't understand the
significance of such an event. With a
heavy sigh, the doctor continued. "She
was unconscious when I arrived, and I lacked the necessary equipment to safely
sedate her in the ready room. I'm
afraid the captain was awake during the surgery and though I gave her an
analgesic, she undoubtedly experienced severe pain."
Chakotay's face melted in an
expression of sorrow. When he spoke,
his voice trembled with emotion. "I
assume that's not the worst of it."
"You assume correctly." the
doctor began again, a sadness washing over his holographic features. "I'm sorry to tell you, Commander, that some
of the captain's injuries were inflicted during the short time I was gone
gathering equipment for the surgery."
"What do you mean?" Chakotay
prodded impatiently.
"From the condition I found her
in upon my return, I concluded that Captain Janeway had suffered…
strangulation." He watched as the tears
welled up in Chakotay's eyes. "Kirov is
barbaric. I must tell you that I fear
for her life."
Commander Chakotay hung his head
and tried to control his breathing as his heart ruptured into
microfragments. The large, powerful man
had a gentle soul and a love for this woman that was beyond measure. When he touched her, he did so with a
softness and respect that could easily be called reverence. The image of large hands marring and
bruising her tender flesh was heinous and unbearable for him. He sat quietly as the tears rolled slowly
down his cheeks. "We have to get her
out of there. And we have to do it
now." he chocked.
The doctor turned around sharply
as he sensed motion behind him. A large
Variquian guard stepped up to the biobed. "Why are you spending so much time on this human?" he snarled. "I already told you that your first priority
is the Borg woman."
"I hardly think you're qualified
to prioritize my treatment schedule, unless you're hiding a medical degree
somewhere in that uniform you're wearing." the doctor said smugly.
The Variquian glared
threateningly at him. "Your time with
him is up. Move on to the Borg, now!"
"I'm trying to save lives here,
not that you would understand. I can't
heal my patients on a predetermined timetable. The work I do is delicate, and often unpredictable. I cannot turn it off and on according to
some ridiculous schedule!" the doctor said indignantly. "I'm a doctor, not an egg timer!"
The Variquian stared at the
doctor in abject disbelief. He had
expected the hologram to cower before him, or at least be intimidated. He shot a disgusted glance at Chakotay. "He seems well enough to me. Prepare him to join his shipmates in the
cargo hold."
"Fine." snapped the doctor. "I need to give him one more treatment
before I release him. Please step out
of the way." He glared at the unmoving
Variquian. "I'll inform you when I'm
finished."
Reluctantly, the guard resumed
his previous position by the door.
Chakotay stared quizzically at
the doctor as he retrieved two emergency life support units from a nearby
shelf. He brought one of the oxygen
masks to Chakotay's face. "Keep this
sealed tightly over your nose and mouth, Commander. Don't let go of it, no matter what happens. Do you understand?"
"What are you doing?" Chakotay
stammered, grabbing hold of the mask.
"No time to explain. You'll just have to trust me. Keep the mask on. Do you understand?"
"Yes." He answered, holding the
mask tightly to his face.
The doctor moved swiftly to the
surgical bed where Seven of Nine still lay in a coma. He strapped the other mask to her face, securing it tightly in
place. Before there was time for anyone
to question his actions, he ordered, "Computer, erect a containment field
around sickbay." The computer chirped
in acknowledgement.
As the startled Variquian
soldiers began moving toward the doctor to stop him, he moved to put a biobed
in between them. "Now evacuate the
nitrogen from this room and replace it with anesthezine, command authorization
Chief Medical Officer alpha three zero."
This hiss of the sedating gas
flooding the room caused Chakotay to reflexively press the oxygen mask tightly
against his face. He climbed off the
biobed and strapped the life support unit to his waist.
Within seconds, the Variquian
soldiers began to stagger and sway as they tried to fight the anesthetizing
effects of the gas. They clutched at
biobeds, consoles, and walls… anything within reach in a desperate attempt to
stay upright.
"You are undoubtedly experiencing
lightheadedness and strong urge to sleep." the doctor ambled on. Before he could continue, one of the
Variquians stumbled into him, clawing at the doctor's uniform to steady himself
as he fought to say conscious. Loosing
the battle, his large body slumped to the floor, dragging a very indignant
hologram with him.
"How extremely rude!" the doctor
said haughtily, prying the unconscious man's hands from his jacket and climbing
to his feet. He moved swiftly to the
surgical bed to check on Seven of Nine, even as he spoke to Chakotay.
"We won't have much time before
they discover us. We'll have to act
quickly."
Chakotay stepped over two passed
out aliens on his way to the console. He began tapping away at the controls. "We have to find a way to access the transporter. We can lock on to the captain's biosignature
and beam her to sick bay." He rambled, his voice muffled by the mask.
"I have to vent the anesthezine
from this room before the aliens breathe in a fatal concentration. We'll have about 15 to 20 minutes at best
before they regain consciousness." The
doctor regarded Chakotay's quizzical expression. "I'm a physician, Commander. I preserve life. I will not
cause their deaths."
Chakotay nodded his
understanding. "Can we vent this gas
through the environmental system throughout the entire ship, put everyone to
sleep?"
"I'm afraid not. I have been able to determine that Variquian
physiology is quite different from that of most humanoids. They have a very unique type of tissue among
their alveolar membranes; consequently, they require a smaller percentage of
oxygen in the air than do humans. It's
quite remarkable actually. They are
also larger in stature than most humanoids." One look at Chakotay's impatient glare prompted the doctor to get to the
point. "The amount of anesthezine I
would have to vent through Voyager's systems in order to render the Variquians
unconscious would undoubtedly be fatal to the crew. That's why I provided life support packs with an independent air
supply for both yourself and Seven of Nine. So, unless every single crew member happens to have such a device at
this very moment, it is not an option."
Several alarms began to sound
from Seven's life support equipment. The doctor responded immediately and began examining the information on
the small diagnostic screen.
"What is it?" asked Chakotay.
The doctor looked up from his
monitor, a subtle smile gracing his lips. "It appears that Seven is regaining consciousness."
Without warning a loud, piercing
scream tore through the hushed cargo bay. Neelix, who was bent over at the waist and clutching his abdomen, cried
out in pain. "Please, help me."
Tom Paris rushed to his friend's
side. "Neelix, what is it? What's wrong?"
"It hurts!" the Talaxian gasped,
falling to his knees. "The pain, it
just hit me out of nowhere." He
continued to claw at his stomach, moaning in agony.
"I need some help over here!"
Paris shouted. He locked eyes with the
nearest Variquian guard. "This man is
ill, he could die! Please, he needs
some help."
Neelix fell onto his back, a
terrified scream tearing from his lips as his body convulsed violently.
"Hey, Count Dracula! I don't imagine your superior will be too
happy if my friend dies while you stand there staring at me." Paris quipped.
Reluctantly, the Variquian
motioned to two other guards and they moved to Neelix's position.
In the far corner of the cargo
bay, Tuvok nodded silently to Torres and Kim. Without a word, B'Elanna eased open the access port and climbed into the
Jeffries tube. Harry followed a few
seconds later.
Commander Tuvok watched the well
choreographed scene play out before him. Mr. Neelix and Lieutenant Paris were doing an impressive job of creating
a diversion and distracting the guards. Confident that their absence would not be noticed for at least several
minutes, he slipped unobserved into the Jeffries tube, securing the hatch
behind him and drowning out the sounds of Neelix's theatrical screams.
B'Elanna crawled swiftly and
easily through the narrow Jeffries tube. Since she was promoted to Chief Engineer, she had spent more hours in
these tubes than she cared to remember. She was as at home in the bowels of this ship as she was in her own
quarters. "This way." she whispered to
Harry as she followed a tube that veered starboard.
Harry Kim struggled to keep up
with B'Elanna's pace as he tried to navigate his broad shoulders through the
tapered access tunnels. "This is one
time when it pays to be small." he mused aloud.
B'Elanna stopped, flipping her
dark head around to glare at him. "Who
are you calling small, Starfleet?"
Harry's retort died on his lips
as Tuvok's stoic voice filled their ears.
"Need I remind you that every
moment we delay, the danger to Captain Janeway, as well as Mr. Neelix and
Lieutenant Paris, increases considerably."
"It might help if you told us the
rest of your plan, Tuvok." B'Elanna said.
Tuvok hesitated only briefly
before fixing his dark eyes on Torres. "We will discuss the details at a more opportune time, Lieutenant. Right now I suggest you focus your attention
on reaching the weapons locker before our absence has been discovered."
"Why do I get a feeling that's
Vulcan for 'I don't even have a plan yet'"? Harry muttered under his
breath.
Of course, it was a rare thing
that escaped Tuvok's keen, pointed ears. He said nothing, and simply regarded the young ensign with a look that
clearly said, "I'll tolerate that because you are a mere human and cannot help
yourself."
They continued in silence until
B'Elanna spoke. "Okay, there is a
weapons locker on the other side of this hatch." She said barely above a
whisper. "The question is are we the
only ones who know about it. Because if
we're not, it'll be guarded."
"What I wouldn't give for a
tricorder about now." Harry said, more to himself than anyone else.
"In the absence of technology, we
must rely on our senses for guidance." Tuvok said, sliding past Kim and Torres and
positioning himself in front of the hatch. He indicated for them to be silent, and then very slowly and carefully
slid the hatch open about a fourth of an inch. He did it without making a
single sound. He put his ear near the
crack and listened meticulously to the sounds in the room.
After a moment of silent
surveillance, the commander leaned in close to his subordinates and whispered,
"There is only one guard in the room."
Harry Kim failed to hide the
shock on his face. "How can you tell?"
"Simple." Tuvok whispered
flatly. "I detect only one individual
breathing."
B'Elanna shot a wry grin at
Harry. "Yeah, it's simple Harry."
Tuvok ignored the Klingon's
sarcasm and continued. "It is logical
to assume that he is armed. However, we
have the element of surprise in our favor."
"If we rush him, he might not
have time to take aim at anyone." Torres added in a whisper.
"Agreed." Tuvok said. "I will lead. On my signal."
Torres and Kim nodded their
understanding.
Commander Tuvok was the first one
to burst out of the Jeffries tube, followed immediately by Harry and then
B'Elanna. The guard was in the far
corner of the room, his back to them. He whirled at the sound, his hand already reaching for his weapon.
Tuvok's lightening fast reflexes
served him well as he kicked the energy weapon out of the alien's hand just as
he was about to fire on them. The
firearm flew across the room and landed with a thud on the floor. The guard's eyes averted for a microsecond,
an insentient act, as they followed the weapons trajectory. That was long enough for Harry to slam his
shoulder into the Variquian's abdomen, sending them both crashing into the
wall.
B'Elanna retrieved the weapon
from the floor and turned to aim at the alien, but Harry's body was in front,
covering him like a human shield. Tuvok
and Kim struggled with the guard until the commander finally managed to deliver
a swift Vulcan nerve pinch and render him unconscious. His body slumped to the ground.
Tuvok opened the weapons locker
and was as relieved as a Vulcan can possibly be to discover that it still
contained a full arsenal of hand phasers and compression rifles. He passed a rifle to each of his
subordinates and then took one for himself.
"What now?" Harry asked.
"Now we'll go to the main science
lab. It is a low priority area and is
likely to have been overlooked by the aliens. It may even be unguarded altogether." Tuvok answered without looking at him. He was already moving toward the door. "Once we secure the science lab, we will attempt to access the ship's
systems."
"That isn't going to be easy,
Tuvok. None of us are exactly
proficient in Borg encryption codes." said B'Elanna.
"You are correct,
Lieutenant. However, Ensign Kim has
spent a considerable amount of time working with Seven of Nine. He has a fair knowledge of the Borg
language. And you are an able
engineer. You will make an efficient
team."
"And what about you?" Harry
asked, an amused grin on his face.
"My job is to get us there in one
piece, Ensign."
The headache wasn't so bad. It was the tooth-splitting pain coursing
through her arm that drug Kathryn Janeway kicking and screaming into
consciousness. "Ohhhhh…" she moaned aloud
as she tried to sit up. Her arms were
still tied behind her back, and the pressure as she lay on her injured limb was
excruciating.
It took only a few seconds for
her senses to return. A quick visual
scan alerted her to the presence of the familiar Variquian guard seated at her
desk. He stared at her, a disturbing,
malevolent grin spreading across his ghostly white face. "I was beginning to wonder if you would ever
wake up, woman."
She stared up at him, watching
him suspiciously as he rose and moved toward her. She stiffened slightly but didn't speak as he sat next to her on
the sofa.
"I have orders to alert High
Commander Kirov as soon as you wake up. Perhaps he desires another round of… discussion with you. Though, I doubt you'd survive it." he said
wickedly. "A puny, frail body such as
yours can only take so much battering before it gives out. Don't you agree?"
She remained silent. She met his gaze, her blue eyes revealing
nothing.
Trebin reached over and began
stroking her knee. Then he moved his
hand slowly up her thigh. "Perhaps I
could be persuaded to delay that communication, Captain." he leered
suggestively. "If you were to distract
me…"
Kathryn chocked down the bile
that was rapidly working its way up her swollen throat and forced a flirty
smile. "Really?" she purred, leaning in
closer to him until her lips were mere centimeters from his ear. "And just what type of… distraction
do you prefer?"
Trebin dropped his head back and
sighed heavily in response to Kathryn's soft breath tickling his earlobe. "I'll show you." he panted
breathlessly. He took her chin in his
hand and covered her lips with his. The
kiss was brutal and demanding. Janeway
fought the urge to gag as his tongue pushed between her lips and invaded her
mouth. Despite the nauseating, metallic
taste of his mouth, she forced herself to kiss him back.
His arms closed around her,
pulling her onto his lap. His hands
began to wander along her back and then up her sides. She was unable to stop a gasp from escaping her lips as his hand
lightly brushed the underside of her breast. Trebin mistook her shocked reaction for desire and moaned softly into
her mouth.
Kathryn moved off of his lap and
knelt on the floor between his knees. She noted the hand held energy weapon holstered at his waist and
casually averted her eyes as if she hadn't seen it at all. She eyed the obvious bulge in his trousers
suggestively. "This would be much more
pleasurable if I could use my hands." she said, her voice husky and deep.
Trebin eyed her
suspiciously. "Do you think I am an
idiot, Captain? You're just trying to
get me to untie you."
Her eyes held his gaze steadily,
hoping with all her soul that he would mistake the hot hatred in her eyes for
burning desire. "Yes, I do want you to
unleash my arms. The pain is
distracting me." She licked her lips
seductively, slowly, watching the lust wash over his face. She leaned in until her mouth was just
barely brushing his and whispered, "Besides, I can do amazing things with my
hands. I can produce sensations beyond
your imagination. I've been alone for a
long time, too long." She kissed him
gently, soft as a whisper. "I want to
feel your flesh under my hands, feel the heat of you in my palms."
The Variquian's breathing had
become ragged and shallow. He nodded
once and then motioned for her to turn around. She obeyed, sighing in relief as he untied the merciless ropes and
released her chafed wrists. Her broken
arm hung limply at her side, aching and throbbing like a thousand bee
stings. She tried once again to push
the pain to the back of her mind and focus on what she had to do.
"Thank you." she purred,
traveling her one useful hand up his thigh toward his zipper. Her heart was pounding in her ears as she
slowly undid his trousers. She had to
wait until he closed his eyes, even for just a split second, before she seized
the weapon. She knew she only had one
shot at this. Either she would succeed
and gain control of the firearm, or he would pull it out of her reach and blow
her head off. It was a chance she had
to take.
As she slowly slid her small hand
down his abdomen, and into the waistband of his undergarments, the fool dropped
his head back and rested it on the back of the sofa. He closed his eyes and groaned in anticipation of her touch.
Janeway seized that moment to
reach up and snatch the weapon from his side. As soon as she felt the cold metal handle in her hand, she jumped to her
feet and moved back, taking immediate aim at his face.
Trebin's eyes flew open as he
realized that he had been disarmed. He
roared a Variquian curse that the universal translator couldn't decipher. In an instant he was on his feet and lunging
at her.
Kathryn fired the weapon without
hesitation, hitting the huge Variquian point blank in the neck. Purple blood spurted from the gaping wound
and spattered across Janeway's face. The warm blood drizzled down her nose and lips, making its way into her
mouth. She winced as the tangy metallic
flavor hit her tongue. The blood was
thick and somewhat lumpy in her mouth, already starting to coagulate as the
clotting factors were exposed to the air. She absent-mindedly swiped at it with her arm, smearing the purple
plasma across her face and staining the gray standard issue turtleneck she
wore.
"I'm sorry, but you left me no
choice." she murmured. There was no
time to check the setting on the alien weapon to assure it wouldn't inflict a
fatal injury. She watched silently,
sadness flooding her heart, as Trebin fell to his knees, clutching desperately
at his mangled throat. Purple blood
oozed and bubbled as he tried to draw in ragged breaths through his perforated
trachea. He attempted to cover the huge
hole and seal if off with his hands, but to no avail. The air made a sickening whistling sound as it escaped out of the
gaping maw before ever reaching his lungs.
The captain turned without
further hesitation and opened the access port to the Jeffries tube behind her
desk. She shot one more quick glance at
Trebin's dying form before closing the hatch behind her. There was no time to grieve for life that
she had just taken. That would come
later… if she survived. She knew she
would mourn the loss of his life even after the cruelty he displayed. She had a lingering respect for life, all
life. It was bred into her very soul,
and… it is the Starfleet way.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, so I know that I promised to wrap it up in this chapter,
but it would've been too rushed. While
I fully realize that a miraculous escape from a completely hopeless situation
that occurs in the last 15 seconds of the story would be in keeping with the
grand tradition of Star Trek episodes everywhere, I just couldn't do it. It would not do the story, nor my beloved
Captain Janeway, justice to wrap it all up in a whirlwind ending just because I
fear for my own life if I keep everyone waiting. J Thank you so
much for your interest in my stories, and I promise… the ending will be worth
the wait. (Unless, of course, you
prefer to see the crew blown into microfragments and spread across the quadrant
like so much space dust. In which case,
you're reading the wrong story.) I
appreciate your patience. Please don't
give up on me yet!