By Carolyn Carey
Chapter 3 "Lacrymosa"The black of night made way for an azure of unseen depth. Birdsong bid the rising sun a cheerful welcome. A paradise bird sat in the branches of the large tree that stood next to the servant's quarters, the first rays of daylight playing with the fireworks of its plumage, its long tail fanned in a cascade of feathers. Droplets of dew covered grass and foliage. Insects and exotic humming birds began their daily buzz. Kalanar Prime was a planet of exceptional beauty.
The explosive sound of an enormous bell shattered the peaceful tranquility of the early morning, causing the birds to flee frantically and shaking Kathryn Janeway violently out of her sleep. The servants she shared the barren quarters with were already up and moving towards the exit. A little delirious she sat up, trying to collect herself. She would have to work in the fields today, and her head was still killing her. She felt dizzy and the nausea that had been her constant companion for the past week continued to stay with her. Her throat burned dryly. She took the flask that Veron had left with her the night before and raised it to her lips, savoring the still cool liquid it contained. She was alone in the room now. Everybody else had already left. A guard she had never seen before entered the room, the step of his boots heavy on the stony floor. Warily she stopped what she was doing and fixed him with her eyes. He approached her fast, catapulting the flask out of her hand. It fell to the ground with a loud clang, liberally spilling its precious contents.
"Get out and clean up this mess! Then come outside where we will assign you a section of land you are to work today. Now move! I have no time for slow workers. If you're not out of here by the time I've counted to ten I'll have you disciplined. Maybe the whip will give you energy!" the brute boomed, and began to count loudly.
"One..."
Kathryn moved her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet making contact with the cold floor.
"...Two..."
She braced herself and pushed her body off the bed with her arms, coming to stand on shaky legs.
"...Three...four..."
She took a hesitant step forward.
"...Five...six..."
She grabbed a corner of her sheet, bent down with great care, holding on to her balance for dear life, and soaked up the spilled water from the flask.
"...Seven...eight..."
She had managed to rise again without losing her balance, but black dots were dancing before her eyes again.
Carefully she put one foot before the other and approached the doorway.
"...Nine...ten!"
The light of the rising sun warmed her skin. To her left was a queue of servants, receiving their rations for the day. She went to join them.
Breakfast had turned out to be burned and lumpy goo that reminded her of burned porridge. Then she had been assigned the section of a field that she was supposed to work today. It was a large section of land that contained some sort of a root vegetable not unlike a potato.
The red soil of the field was hard and caked by the heat of summer. All she had been given to work with was a small shovel. Armed guards were everywhere, making sure that the servants, and there were several hundred of them, were doing their job efficiently. Care was taken that there was a considerable distance between the servants, so that they could not communicate with each other. Everyone worked in eerie silence.
She had been hanging on, but when the sun reached its zenith she needed to rest. For hours she had been kneeling in the dirt, digging up the roots, breaking the hardened soil with the shovel and then loosening the earth around the roots with her bare hands, as to not damage the crop. The nausea had increased, but it was nothing compared to the fire that burned in her throat. She licked dry lips and continued to dig. She was about to learn the hard way that taking breaks was not a good idea. When she felt particularly weak and dizzy, she paused briefly in her work to collect herself. One of the guards came over and brutally kicked her in the side, the impact of his hard boots against her soft flesh and ribs causing her to gasp and groan in agony. She would not repeat that mistake.
Her hands were blistering badly; the blisters started to weep, and by mid-afternoon blood covered the wooden handle of her tool. Children were made to pick up the roots and put them into containers. By now the heat was scorching, and Kathryn's gaze involuntarily drifted toward the river in the distance. How she yearned for a sip of cold water. The only drink here was for the guards' use. They carried small flasks attached to the belts of their uniforms. Every now end then they would demonstratively gulp from them, showing off in front of the workers, teasing cruelly. Kathryn Janeway tried not to think of water. She had to concentrate on keeping up with the work. She could feel what little strength she had left slip from her as the minutes passed. The sun was about to set now. Soon it would be over, at least until tomorrow.
Dusk finally arrived, its cooling air soothing her hot skin and aching muscles. The containers with the crop were loaded onto carts and driven towards the house. The servants had to walk back to their quarters, led by the guards. She barely made it back, collapsing onto her bunk, not even bothering to collect her nightly ration of food. Her entire body was shaking with exertion, her bones and muscles screaming with pain, but her hands had taken the most punishment. Large wounds had formed on her fingers and in the palms of her hands, bleeding profusely. The dirt of the dry ground and the splinters of the wooden handle of her shovel had dug their way into the wounds. She could only hope that she would get away without an infection...
After resting for a while she managed to drag her body to the river. Most of the servants had gathered there, silently consuming their rations in front of small campfires and cooling their faces with the river water. The water was refreshing, and she wanted nothing more than to throw herself into it and wash off the day's heat and dirt. But that was not possible. There was no privacy here. So she washed her hands and face thoroughly, ripping shreds of material from her tunic to serve as bandages. She would try to come back to the river when everyone had gone to bed. Maybe then she could attempt to bathe.
Feeling at least a little revived, she returned to the quarters, crawled under the covers of her bunk and dozed for awhile. Not long afterwards the other prisoners joined her.
A few hours later everything was quiet. The only sounds that could be heard were the regular breathing of sleeping servants, intermittently disturbed by soft snoring sounds. Animal cries sounded in the distance. Careful not to make any noise Kathryn slid out of her bunk and slipped through the door, almost stumbling over a guard sleeping on a chair by the door. So they guarded the servants' quarters overnight...Security was tighter than she had thought. On tiptoes she stole away from the building, avoiding to tread on sticks and branches as to not to alert the sleeping guard. Finally she made it to the river. She followed its path for a while, away from the house, until it bent sharply. Where it curved the flow of the water had formed a small pool with hardly any current at all. Cautiously scanning the area around her with her eyes to make sure she was not being watched, Kathryn Janeway slowly divested her bruised body of its clothing, leaving the plain prisoner's uniform neatly folded on the shore, and lowered herself into the water.
The river was cold, but after the day's heat it was soothing. She dipped her head under and cleaned her hair of dust and grime. Then she rubbed at her skin, cleaning her body of the filth it had accumulated in the fields. Too exhausted to swim she simply allowed her body to float. This was to be her refuge. Her little piece of heaven amidst this hell, a place where she could think. And there was only one matter to think about: How to get herself and her crew back on the course for home.
When she began to shiver from the chill of the water, she dried herself off with her trousers, donned the tunic and went back to her bunk.
Similar days followed, days of hardship and suffering, as her immune system fought a losing battle against the infection in her hands, and the pain increased day after day. She left her hands constantly covered in her makeshift bandages, so that she could somehow continue to work. The nausea that the concussion had caused never subsided, and she grew slighter. She knew she should try to eat more, but she could never manage to queue for food after a hard day's work. Exhaustion and sickness simply demanded rest, so she missed out on her nightly ration time and again. She developed a fever. Each day she grew weaker as it took a firm hold on her. But each night she would sneak out of the servants' quarters unnoticed and seek refuge in the cool pool of water where the river took a turn, cooling herself down in a desperate attempt to fight the fever. She knew it would not be enough, and in the end the fever would win and she would die, but she would be damned if she did not fight it with everything she had left.
It was the seventh night, and Kathryn Janeway was bathing in the pool, enjoying the numbing cold of the water on her throbbing hands and her burning skin. As usual her thoughts drifted to her crew. She wondered how they were faring on Laxys III. There had to be a way to get them back. If only she could get to a vessel... That had been her original escape plan, to get hold of a ship and try to get off the planet. But she had yet to lay eye on a spacecraft since her arrival on Kalanar Prime. Where the commissioner was keeping his vessel was a complete mystery to her.
She was startled by a rustling sound behind her on the riverbank. Janeway spun around.
"Good evening, Captain."
Talshek smirked as he stood on the riverbank, holding the clothes she had neatly placed there.
"I see you've gotten into quite a ritual here... I've been watching you closely for the past week, my dear. It's really quite intriguing."
Janeway stood frozen to the riverbed, feeling her cheeks burn with anger, embarrassment and probably the fever. The moon shone brightly tonight so that the dark water was not concealing very much of her from his sight. He had been watching her every single night? She dreaded to think how much of her he had already seen.
The commissioner seemed to be examining her clothes. He shook his head.
"These clothes really are in a state, Kathryn... You should be taking greater care with them."
Finally, completely outraged, she found her tongue.
"If you had provided me with descent living conditions and maybe at least one change of clothing that would not have been a problem."
He gave her a devilish grin.
"You have broken one of my house regulations, Captain. Servants are not supposed to leave their quarters after sunset. Didn't you know that? I thought the guard in front of the servants' house would make that pretty obvious. You have broken that rule seven times in as many days. Do you have any idea what the punishment for such an offense is?", he asked matter-of-factly, in a voice so calm he could have been having a conversation about last week's weather... It ground at her nerves.
"I have no doubt you will tell me." Janeway responded sardonically.
"If a servant is discovered out of quarters only once, the punishment is a withdrawal of all rations for three days. If it occurs repeatedly, the penalty is death... a slow and painful death. The traditional form of execution in this case is a series of tortures that the prisoner's physiology will eventually succumb to. There's only so much a person can take, you know..."
Talshek looked her straight into the eyes, as he revealed the truth of her predicament. Janeway swallowed hard, and fought to maintain her composure. Her face was a mask of stone, yet heart was beating violently.
Talshek measured her silently, scrutinizing her, searching for a sign of weakness. Not finding one he continued,
"I will have you confined to a cell. The punishment will be carried out at dawn. Sunrise is a beautiful time to die on Kalanar Prime. Nature truly is at its most magnificent at daybreak. Your screams will join the singing of the paradise birds. Just imagine, a harmonious mixing of the sounds of heaven and hell..."
Again there was a short period of silence between them, in which each of them seemed to attempt to stare the other one out.
He was testing her. She knew. Did he really expect her to beg for mercy? She would not give him the gratification.
"Are you ready to die, Kathryn?"
When she did not answer he drew a disruptor gun and threw the trousers at her.
"Here! Dry yourself and get out of there."
Janeway did as she was told. She had little choice in the matter, with the deadly weapon pointed at her. The Commissioner was eyeing her in a most unsettling way. She wished he had the decency to turn away until she had donned the tunic, but no such luck. He was watching her every move, cataloguing every curve of her body. When she had thrown over the tunic, he motioned her to step in front of him, so that he could keep an eye on her while he escorted her to her cell, wherever that was. As she attempted to move past him to walk in front of him he suddenly grabbed her wrist and spun her around so that she had to look straight at him.
"Of course, if you were still of some use to me, I could pardon you...."
Her eyes grew wider, and she hoped to God that they did not look pleading.
"I reviewed your ships records. They are quite impressive. You have fought many species during your travels in this quadrant, including the Borg, and you have managed to survive each time, mostly thanks to your scientific expertise and wise leadership. I was particularly impressed with the way you used the Borg nanoprobes to defeat Species 8472, and so forced the Borg into compliance with your terms for an alliance. An alliance with the Borg is unheard of in this part of space. I've also read your Starfleet profile. You are a most capable scientist. Help us develop a weapon against the Neddiin and I will grant you your life."
Kathryn Janeway pulled her wrist out of his grasp and snorted in disgust.
"If you, as you say, have reviewed Voyager's record banks, then you must have come across our cardinal law, the Prime Directive. You know I can't do what you ask. And I wouldn't want to if I could."
"Well, it wouldn't be the first time you ignored your Prime Directive now, would it? But would you really be violating it? The Neddiin attacked your ship, too. They crippled Voyager. I was amazed to see your weapons arsenal and defense systems. Voyager is a remarkable vessel, and her captain very experienced in battle. If you had not been so weakened by the Neddiin, I doubt that I would have had the chance to impound your vessel."
"The answer is NO, commissioner. I will never aid tyrants like the Kalanar to achieve their dark goals."
"Not even against tyrants like the Neddiin? What if I not only granted you your life, but also that of your crew, Captain?", he smirked.
This was the opportunity she had been waiting for... to be reunited with her crew. But there was no guarantee that Talshek would be true to his word. Most likely he would use her, then break his promises.
"Commissioner, would you mind telling me why Commissioner Talshek of the all powerful Kalanar Imperium would want to seek help from a lowly prisoner like me?"
Talshek grew serious.
"I won't lie to you, Captain. We are desperate. The war with the Neddiin is crippling us far more than we had anticipated. They have destroyed and enslaved many of our homeworlds that were bordering their space. Lately they've been getting ever closer to Kalanar Prime. You may remember the attack on my ship, when I brought you here..."
How could she forget?
"And as I recall, you destroyed the Neddiin attack vessel without too much trouble."
"It was only a small cruiser, Captain. I'm talking about hundreds of their warships..."
"And you think that I can help you to develop a weapon that will defeat the Neddiin? You are delusional, Commissioner."
"I don't think so. I think you have faced far greater challenges in the past."
"I won't help you fight your little war. If you want to kill innocent people and conquer new worlds in order to extend your Imperium, then do it yourself."
"Captain Janeway, the Neddiin are hardly innocent. They attack without provocation."
"You attacked Voyager without provocation."
"That was different. You entered our space without permission, violated our borders."
"We didn't even know of your existence..."
Against her will tears of anger were beginning to well in her eyes. She spun away in disgust, her hands painfully twisting out of his grasp. She winced and hoped he took no notice. He was getting to her, and she wanted to beat him into a pulp for it. Janeway gritted her teeth.
He approached from behind her until she could feel his breath on her hair. She suppressed a shudder. Then he purred, his lips almost touching her ear,
"Kathryn, if you help us fight the Neddiin I will pardon you and your crew and let you go. I'll even return you to your vessel. You'll get safe passage out of our space. Think about it. You have been traveling for more than five years. Do you want it to end this way, or do you want to go home? All you have to do is agree to help us. You can see your Earth again, or you can die in the morning, your crew's fate uncertain. The choice is yours."
Very slowly she turned to face him. If there was a devil incarnate she was sure he was it. Even Q had not been this crafty when he had tempted her with a fast return to Earth.
"Why?" she hissed.
"Why what?" he asked, a little confused by her question.
"Why Voyager, why my crew, why me? Why won't you leave us alone? Isn't it enough that you have enslaved us, stolen our vessel and robbed us of all hope of ever getting home again? Why do you have to continue to torment us, to dangle the carrot?"
There was that damned devilish grin again. It immediately sent a shiver down her spine.
"Because, my dear captain, I find you endlessly fascinating. The way you sacrifice yourself for your crew, the way you try to hold on to your morals, the way you sneak out at night to bathe... And don't think I don't know that you will try to escape at the first opportunity. But are you willing to help your captor against a common enemy for your crew's sake, if not for your own?"
"No."
"What?"
"I said 'no'."
"Alright then, you will die at dawn, and your crew will join your fate on Laxys III."
His words, so casually spoken, rung in her ears.
"Hang on, you said 'I' would die. You never mentioned my crew. They are innocent bystanders who obey my orders. This is my decision. I alone should take responsibility. They should not suffer the consequences. It wouldn't be fair."
"Who said anything about being fair, captain? I say they die, and they will. Now, Captain, if you'd just move on, slowly."
She stood frozen to the ground. He was serious. She could see it in his cold eyes. He would kill her crew, including little Naomi. She could not allow that to happen, to hell with pride and the hallowed Prime Directive. She did not give a damn anymore.
"All right, you win.", she said in a tone that seemed to make even the still humid air freeze.
Talshek turned towards her in disbelief.
"I don't think I heard you then, Captain. What did you say?"
"I said, you win! I'll help you develop your weapon," she all but growled.
Talshek's eyes had grown a little wider in surprise.
"You'll sacrifice your high morals for the sake of your crew. I'm impressed, Captain. Such humanity, such selflessness. Your compassion is most moving. It's your greatest weakness, you know... I will introduce you to my science team in the morning. Follow me to the house. You'll receive fresh clothing. You'll sleep in the manor house tonight. Have you dined yet?"
She could not believe this man. One moment he would threaten to kill her, the next he would invite her to dinner. When she did not answer, he simply added,
"You will join me for dinner once you have freshened up. Now come."
They walked in chilling silence toward the house.
He had made her take a bath, and she had hated every minute of it. He had made her put on fresh clothes, a white gown of exquisite beauty, made from the most delicate materials she had ever seen, and she felt like a traitor. He had shown her to a chamber of magnificent splendor, and she had to suppress the rising bile in her throat. How could she live like this when there where hundreds of slaves suffering in desperate conditions, when her crew was dying on the hellhole that called itself Laxys III? How could she? But she had no choice.
Talshek on the other hand appeared to take great enjoyment in seeing her squirm. To kill with kindness...
They had dined together, and he had made her force down every single bite on her plate. The food was delicious. On the table lay the most precious delicacies to be found in the vastness of the Kalanar Imperium. Yet to her it all tasted like stale cardboard. When she finally got back to her room, the food forced its way back out of her body. Physically and emotionally exhausted she fell into a restless sleep on a bed that was far too comfortable for decency, haunted by nightmares that roused her time and again, her heart threatening to jump out of her body each time she woke.