Disclaimer: Paramount owns everything but the idea.
Notes: This is the third installment of the Modulation Series. You could read them out of sequence, but where would the logic be in that?
The morning chime to report to roll call sounded before Tom could reply to Kathryn's comment. He merely sighed and smiled at her.
"Just promise me you'll be careful today?"
She nodded slowly and returned his smile.
As usual, they were lined up into rows of five. This morning, however, did not run as previous days had. The lead guard stepped back to allow another man to approach the remaining crew.
He was rather portly with jet black hair and citrine eyes. Like others of his species, he had an elongated face, large eyes, and a dark complexion. However, his manner of dress was more ornamented than the other guards. In his hands, he held a data padd and phaser.
"My name is G'tan Tumeric, leader of the Industrial Order. When I call out your name, please step forward. You will not be going to the Yard today. Not complying will mean death."
A slight murmur broke out among the rows. No one that had ever gone anywhere other than the Yard had returned.
"Silence!" Kenoshia barked from behind Tumeric.
Tom gripped Kathryn's hand, fearful of what would happen next. She returned his gaze, slipping on a calm façade. Her eyes, however, betrayed her. The carefully veiled terror hiding behind them was unmistakable to Tom. He offered a weak smile of encouragement.
"We'll get through this," he whispered.
A large Imperial Guard moved from his position in front of Tom's cell block and punched him squarely in the ribs. "Kenoshia ordered your silence."
Tumeric cleared his throat. "Stand down soldier. An injured prisoner can only do half the work as an uninjured one."
The soldier nodded and stepped back in line. Tumeric returned his gaze to the data padd in his hand. "Sam Wildman, Seven of Nine, Thomas Paris, Vorik, and Kathryn Janeway," he paused until each of the five listed crewmembers stepped forward from the ranks and stood in a straight line before him. He regarded each for an equal amount of time. "You are to follow Kenoshia, here. Not complying will mean death. Any questions?"
They all shook their heads slowly in response.
"Good. I will see you all at the ship."
Taking a step back, he ordered the remainder of those left to report to their stations and disappeared into the guard's station.
A large shuttle pulled up into the center of camp. It was crude in formation and bore materials from several different kinds of ships. Some even resembled the remains of Borg vessels. The hatch in the back slowly opened, and all five crew members were loaded aboard and chained onto a narrow bench. Two guards climbed in with them and sealed the door shut.
Kathryn sank back into her place, regarding those in the shuttle with her. Every one of them looked malnourished. Their uniforms were tattered and most had blood caked upon them. Sam's hands were full of cuts and bruises from the sewing machinery they forced her to work. Kathryn had remembered her comment on how unbelievable it was that a culture this far advanced didn't have replicators yet.
After the transport was underway, Tom leaned towards Kathryn. "Did he say ship?" He whispered.
"I think so, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."
"Perhaps they need assistance scrubbing down their plasma manifolds," Sam said, bitterly.
"Regardless, we should try and collect any and all data we can while aboard," Seven said.
"Agreed. Try to run sensors sweeps to find out what their security is on the camp. If we manage to find the frequency that the forcefield is on...," Kathryn started to say.
"Quiet!" The guard yelled from his seat nearby.
The hatch to the back of the shuttle opened, and the small group were greeted by the sight of a Kamien vessel. It was roughly twice the size of Voyager, clay in color, and pear-shaped in design. A good portion of her was still intact, but a large portion of her was blackened from the phaser fire.
"Glad to see you all made the transport in one piece. We've been having difficulties with that one...," Tumeric said, laughing.
"Why have you brought us here?" Kathryn said, stepped forward. She placed her hands on her hips, staring down the much larger man in front of her.
Kenoshia made a move for his phaser, drawing it out of his holster. "Not complying means death," he repeated. Tom moved in front of her blocking his shot.
"You obviously need us for some task. Bringing up new workers will only waste time."
Tumeric stepped forward, punching Tom square in the jaw. "Disobedience is not acceptable, Mr. Paris. However, you do have a point," he said, slapping his communications symbol. "Tumeric to K'nol. Transport us onto the ship."
A yellow beam encircled the troupe. They materialized in transporter room. Tumeric stepped down from the transport pad and faced them.
"This ship is one of our flag vessels. You damaged it while putting up your struggle. We need it repaired quickly. According to our records, you are the best suited for this job of those among you still living. Vorik and Seven of Nine, you are to follow T'nor to the Engineering Bay," he said, motioning to the man behind the transporter panel. "Samantha Wildman, you are to report to sickbay to assist doctor. Janeway and Paris, you will follow me to the shuttle bay. Not complying will mean death. Any questions? Good. After you," Tumeric said, motioning for them to walk ahead of him.
Kathryn and Tom walked ahead of Tumeric, turning left and walking way towards the turbolift.
"Impressive ship, isn't it, Captain? Little wonder our people were victorious. Pity your foul little security man had to damage her."
The trio entered the turbolift, and were moved sideways rather than vertically. Kathryn merely raised an eyebrow.
"We installed our decks as such so that, if anyone tried to take over our ship, we could use the turbolifts against them, spinning them in circles until they lost consciousness," Tumeric explained. "Ah, here we are. Deck 7."
Tom stood for a moment in awe. Their shuttles were designed for combat. Sleek, black lines with no sharp curves to any of them. They were also built for speed. A few of them bore patches and angry black marks from attacks, but most of them were in fairly good shape.
"You are to repair the damaged vessels under T'Mal's supervision. If you are viewed trying to escape or sabotage our ships, we will kill you. Not complying will also mean death," with that, he turned on his heel and walked towards the door.
"Is it just me, or does he end everything he says with death threats?" Tom whispered. Kathryn shot him her best Captain's glare.
"Do as he said," Kathryn said, walking towards one of the worse looking shuttles.
Seven hours into their rebuilding mission, Kathryn emerged from the shuttle she was currently working on. Whipping her brow on her sleeve, she walked around the outside of the shuttle. Her shoulders ached from leaning over the burned console panel for the past hour, and a blinding headache had already spread behind her eyes.
On the far side of the vessel, she found Tom, covered with splatters of black paint, wet brush in hand. She smiled at him and sank down beside him, absentmindedly rubbing her neck and forehead.
"Taking a break?" Tom said, slipping down beside her.
"I just can't seem to figure out why the sensor array won't come online. I practically took the entire relay system off-line, ran half a dozen diagnostics...nothing is working."
"Maybe the panel is faulty. I watched you replace most of the components to it..."
"That might be it..." She said, turning towards him. "You know, you have black paint all over your face...it almost reminds me of the time you tried your hand at painting in the Maestro's studio."
Tom laughed lightly. "How could I concentrate with him always berating me?"
Kathryn knit her brow together. "What did you do?"
He smiled. "He always asked me why I never came with you. Said you mentioned me a few times, in passing, of course...I suppose the Maestro wasn't good at keeping secrets."
"Oh, I think he knew exactly what he was doing," Kathryn said, laughing.
"Really? Makes me wonder what Katarine told the Maestro about her Thomas." He said, eyes shimmering with a challenge.
Kathryn smiled at him. Not one to step down from fight. She sobered for a moment. "I suppose I can't blame decorum this time."
Tom looked away, clasping his hands together. "I think what I miss most about the ship is flying her. The way she responded to the lightest of touches, and purred in response to each movement I led her through. And then there is the holodeck...Fair Haven, Sandrine's, Captain Proton...Did I ever tell you that you looked amazing in Queen Arachnia's costume?"
"You might have mentioned it once or twice, but I could tell just by the expression on your face."
"What I wouldn't give to be on the holodeck right now. You know, the 'good guys' always win in the movies."
A long pause followed. Kathryn raised her knees towards her chest, sighing lightly. "I miss the feeling of control. I liked being able to have a say in how I lived my life...the ability to keep my crew alive and safe. Now, all I have is my conscience... and the knowledge that I killed them as surely as if I was the guard that did it."
Tom sighed. They had been through this conversation before. Knowing that it would only turn into a repeating loop of mental flogging and self-loathing. He turned towards her, noting the way she was rubbing her neck.
"Still getting headaches?" He said kneeling behind her. She sighed and leaned against him as he started to massage her scalp.
"Sometimes this place is almost bearable."
"You've got to be kidding. We've been working on these shuttles for hours now. I'm tired, hungry, and sore."
"But you're alive and with me," she said quietly.
A rather large guard turned the corner, and regarded the pair of them. "What are you two doing? Get back to work!"
Tom got to his feet quickly, offering Kathryn his hand. "Do you think you could bring me one of those panels from the store room, Tom?" She said, showing him her badly blistered hands.
He flashed her a look of concern, but nodded slowly. He disappeared behind a sea of black shuttles. Sighing, she walked back into the main cockpit. She slid beneath the open panel casing, housing the casing of the isolinear chips.
"Just set the panel down in the back, Tom. I'll need it in a second..."
She felt two large hands wrap around her ankles and pull her with force out from under the console. Yet another Kamien guard loomed her, snarling. She was caught unprepared for the blow to her head.
"You are recallibrating the sensor array incorrectly. Your work is sloppy. You are not complying."
He removed a large baton from his belt and began beating her about the back and shoulders. She threw her arms above her head to protect herself, but didn't make a sound. Instinct and experience told her that screaming would only encourage him.
Growing more enraged, he drew a phaser from his belt and fired at the center of her chest. Pain spread through her chest like a thousand pin prick, then she lost all sensation in her arms and legs. She was, essentially paralyzed. Eyes wide with horror, she watched helplessly as he tore her uniform open and lowered himself towards the her.
"Please, don't do this...," she whimpered.
"You have to learn. Beating you has taught you nothing," he said. Kathryn's gag reflexes were fighting her. The smell of his breath and his body...the idea of what he was going to do made her ill.
"Tom..." Kathryn whispered. She was barely able to see from the blood pouring down her face.
Tom approached the guard cautiously from behind, swinging the heavy bulkhead fragment at the him. The shuttlebay echoed with the sound of cracking as the large object came in contact with the guard's head. A labored scream followed as the man fell backwards in agony. After dropping the fragment, Tom continued his assault, oblivious to everything but the anger surging in him. His muscles ignored the pain of the continuous strain they had been under as of late. All rational thought left him. Kathryn's face - her eyes wide with horror and the look of defeat on her face filled his mind.
From a haze of pain, Kathryn watched as Tom beat the guard to death. Splatters of blood joined those of the black paint that were already dried onto his uniform. His face was flushed with exertion and hatred. His fists were bloody and his eyes...god his eyes seemed so distant. Is was as if she were watching a movie. It was just an actor that looked like Tom. Surely he would never kill a man with his bare hands...
"Tom...," She moaned lightly. The familiar darkness was enveloping her again.
Tom stood, for the first time noticing the pool of crimson on the ground at his feet, his hands and clothes bore the same liquid. His gaze went from the guard, whose face was unrecognizable, to Kathryn. His eyes filled with terror. She was so pale.
In the distance, he could hear the footfalls of guards approaching. "Hang on, Kathryn," Tom said. His mind swirled with images of the last few seconds, analysis of his violent behavior the sight of Kathryn curled up against the shuttle bleeding. Swallowed hard, he forced himself to focus. Tom took on a deep breath and closed his eyes. "Think Paris, think."
It was as beautiful as she remembered. Tall, proud, red beams of solid construction towering high above the water below. The ancient cables still connected between each section supporting the bridge together. Though not used today in a daily since, the Golden Gate Bridge was always quite a spectacle to see. Without a doubt, it was the best attributed landmark for San Francisco. Why she never really paid more attention to it, she didn't know.
From her perch on the balcony of a somehow familiar apartment, she looked onto the ocean. The water was a deep blue. The air smelled of salt and the rose bushes, presumably from those that grew in small planters on balcony beneath hers. A man's arms gently wrapped around her waist. He buried his face in her hair, kissing her neck, nipping on her ear.
He whispered his her name so lightly. It seemed like he was speaking from a great distance.
"Kathryn, don't leave me...hang on, please...I need you here with me."
Part 4
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