Disclaimer: See chapter 1, please.

Author's Prescript: quick edit has been giving me some trouble with page breaks, so I've had to include a letter along with it. Whenever you see ---a---, it means a page break, OK? Thanks for your patience.

Flesh and Steel: Chapter 4

Harry sat in the darkness of the Delta Flyer's aft cargo hold. It seemed like an eternity ago that he heard the thump of the shuttle landing in an alien shuttle bay, and at any moment he expected a dozen wolf invaders to come crashing through the aft egress port. And with the dampening field deactivating all of the technology including phasers, he had nothing to work with except his own two hands.

The environmental controls must be out too, which is probably why his lungs felt like they were sucking in gelatin instead of air. He was practically wheezing, dizzy from the effort of trying to get oxygen.

The aft egress hatch cracked open, and Harry's eyes darted around, looking for something to defend himself with. But he had nothing no tool no weapon just his hands and God it's been years since he's practiced hand to hand self defense –

The hatch blew inward, and bright light flooded Harry's eyes, blinding him temporarily. When his vision cleared, he saw an odd little man, barely coming up to his waist, tufts of hair sticking out of the temples of his otherwise bald head, and an aged white beard coming down to his chest. Harry was reminded vaguely of Albert Einstein for some reason.

Flanking the diminutive alien were two white wolves, bigger than anything that Harry saw in the Holodecks.

Harry gulped, but there was nothing to swallow in his dry mouth.

Then the small alien spoke.

"I think you'd better come with us."

---a---

"Will someone tell me what the Hell is going on here!" Harry said as he was escorted into the room by the two flanking wolves.

The room had a round table at its center, chairs placed at even intervals with consoles protruding at the sitting places. In the very center of the table there was a circular dish and a light shining down upon it, so Harry speculated that it was some sort of holo-projection device.

It was a far cry from the torture room that Harry had imagined himself being taken to.

Then a door on the other side of the room slid open, and more aliens came through them. Like Albert who greeted him beforehand, these aliens were diminutive and looked old, with white coats on over black slacks and shirts. Unlike the wolves that apparently served them, these aliens didn't appear to rely on brute force, but intellect and insight.

The aliens started to take seats down by the conference table. Albert – the one who "greeted" him when he first came on board - said, "Please, have a seat."

"I'll stand, thanks," Harry said, with a bit of an edge in his voice. Let's face it; he was tired, he was hungry, an unknown alien force had abducted his crew, and now he was captured by an alien race that could be very well in league with that force, if the two white wolves were any indication.

"Very well," the alien said, ignoring the apparent defiance. "I apologize for not making introductions earlier, but it was necessary for you to be situated in a more comfortable setting before we could give you knowledge on our dilemma. My name is Sabani. The female to my right," He said, gesturing to an aged-looking woman with flowing green hair, "Is my genetics officer, Katani, and the one on my left," gesturing to an elderly man with a full head of red hair, "Is Murani. He is my main engineer, and is very resourceful with technology."

"Ensign Harry Kim, Federation Starship Voyager. All right, now that introductions are made," Harry said, voice tight, "can you please tell me where my crew has been taken and why?"

"I regret to inform you that your crew has been taken prisoner by Timilians through a mischance, and that we are to claim responsibility for their actions," Sabani said with what sounded like a mirthless chuckle.

Harry reigned in his impatience and let Sabani speak.

"We are the Arcosians, a race of explorers and scientists. For eons, we have developed our minds and sciences, delighting in the pure joy of endless exploration. Even though we developed Warp Drive in the earliest stages of civilization, it took a thousand years before we lost sufficient interest in our own world to venture out and discover new worlds and interests."

Murani piped up, a low voice filling the room. "It was there, in space, that we discovered that not all were as content with science as we are. The Kazon, the Krenim, the Vaduuar; they were more content to war, and to conquer. We were not like that; by some fluke of creation, we did not wage aggressive action upon each other. When one of our kind harms another, even if it was an accident, he undergoes a severe mental trauma. We don't know why this is so; perhaps our aversion to violence is biologically inclined. The fact remains however that we cannot destroy another life form, not even to defend ourselves."

Realization suddenly hit Harry. "YOU can't kill, so you created life to defend your people, suing your advanced sciences."

Katani nodded feverently. "We developed the Protectors, defenders of our colonies, our ships, and our worlds, designed for close-combat situations." She pushed a button on the console, and in the center an image sprang up of a White wolf behind him. "The Protectors boast a triple redundant cardiovascular system, rapid regenerative ability, heightened senses, ultra dense skeleton and musculature, and an ultra-responsive nervous system," She said with a mix of pride and regret. "They are the first, and the finest, defensive genetic creation we have made." She nodded to the two White wolves standing behind him. "Gaguar and his wife Tsinil are the two progenitors to the Protectors."

"However, they were the only ones who turned out as we desired," Sabani joined in, his face falling at the memory. "We tried to use techniques to genetically disposition the Protectors to docile behavior, attacking only when it was absolutely necessary. However, the first generation actually grew agitated and restless in our passive environments. Genetic alterations in later generations seemed only to exacerbate the problem." He shook his head, as if trying to wake from a nightmare. "I was there when the first Protectors revolted on colony 146, calling themselves Timillians – the chaotic – and slaughtering everything between them and the space port: adults, children, animals. We should've anticipated that our own creation would turn against us, but we were too sure in our technology. They escaped to places unknown, taking with them our personal energy dissipaters."

"Personal energy dissipaters?" Harry echoed. He'd never heard of that term before.

The request for an explanation seemed to clear the emotional grief from Sabani's eyes. He tapped a few places on his console, and a belt materialized over the projector – the same belt that Harry saw on all of the Protectors.

"These belts," Sabani explained, "Generate a field that pushes high voltage energy out of it's radius. It is both a shield and a dampening field of sorts; only specially treated electronics can enter the field at full operational power. That's why the Protectors were designed for close combat; these fields would neutralize any long-range combat. These they stole and enhanced with language translation and communications systems, making this the only piece of equipment that the Timillians need. There are larger, more powerful versions of these generators on all our ships, including the ones that the Protectors stole. With this technology, the Timillians have been ambushing ships and engaging in close combat, then disappearing to a hidden location. And now, we need your help."

"My help?" Harry scoffed. "I don't know if I can be of any help at all. My crew's been taken and I'm the only one left. And if you can't find your creations, then how can you expect me to do any better?"

"Your main ship," Sabani explained, "has sensors that, while primitive compared to our standards, are somewhat unconventional. If we return to it, the sensors may be able to look for something that our sensors might have missed."

"I see," Harry agreed. The astrometric sensors were his and Seven of Nine's creation, a blending of borg and federation technology. Now that he had some knowledge of what he was dealing with, maybe they'd find something. "What happens after you find them, though?"

Sabani chewed on his bottom lip, openly apprehensive. "Hopefully... we'll be able to find some passersby who will be able to deal with the situation. We would be able to point them in the right direction."

Harry fought the urge to laugh. "That's a big maybe."

"We have no other way of dealing with the Timilians. We are biologically disinclined to violence, as you recall. Any conscious thought of disabling or destroying life is detrimental to our health."

"Not even a way of restraining them?"

"Not even."

Harry closed his eyes in silent agony. He had finally got some information on what was going on, but he was dealing with a people who were so adverse to killing, they could not help with getting the crew back.

He wondered why this attitude seemed so darned familiar.

---a---

12 years ago

Thwack! Crack!

George regarded his sons, who were frozen in a moment of mock combat in the large, stone courtyard. For years now his two sons Michael and Harry had been practicing martial arts disciplines that ran through the family; first, only hand to hand combat, then armed with various weapons of the medieval times. And as expected, Harry won most of these duels through more experience and discipline.

But recently, Harry had been slacking and it showed. Now his skill with the wooden sword had degraded so badly that his eight-year-old brother had easily slipped a blow past Harry's halfhearted block, rewarding him with a huge red welt across the cheek.

George's eyes narrowed in concern. "Michael, go wash up and prepare for dinner. I need to talk to Harry about his practicing routine."

Dutifully, Michael bowed and left, his training clothes rustling as he swept up to the doorway leading into the house.

George focused on his other son, who glared blatantly back at him, the mark on his cheek glowing angrily in the setting sun. Once George was sure that Michael was out of earshot, he began. "Of course, you haven't been practicing, have you?"

Harry's eyes colored a defiant obsidian as his chin rose up defiantly. "I fail to see the point of using such ... barbaric techniques, especially ones that are directly against Starfleet policy."

George looked at him warily, his senses on full alert already. They had this argument a thousand times, and a thousand times each one had come away failing to convince the other to give in. It had gotten to the point where father and son could predict what the other was going to say next.

"If I remember correctly, Starfleet necessitated the use of such 'barbaric techniques,' especially during conflicts with Romulans and Klingons." George replied, pointedly emphasizing the Harry's own words.

"The federation is a society of explorers and scientists who were use weapons only as a last resort," Harry countered. "What you're suggesting is that in lieu of phasers which can stun an enemy without harming them, we should wade in breaking bones and rupturing spleens!"

"What I'm suggesting," George said coolly, "is that we need to deal with an enemy in such a way that he would never attempt such an act again. You forget that this form of martial art has been passed down through our family for millennia. All I'm asking of you is that you practice it in order to preserve –"

"Preserve our heritage?" Harry gave one sarcastic, mocking bark. "What you're asking me to do is to perpetuate a stereotype."

There was a deathly silence as George factored this new opinion in the debate with astonishment and shock. "Do you really think that what we're doing here is stereotyping ourselves?"

"There are other ways of showing 'unique' culture, father," Harry said in a scathing tone. "We could've taught the lessons of Confucius, who preaches respect. But instead, you show our culture to be a warlike and aggressive race, one that hardly benefits the Federation."

George shook his head. He realized that he and his son had different opinions on the matter, but he didn't realize how different they were until this point. He shook his head, disagreeing. "Even in Starfleet, when facing the unknown, one has to be prepared for unexpected circumstances."

Harry threw his hands up and turned his back toward his father, lost in teenage sarcasm. "Oh, sure, father. What a great way to make first contact with a new species. 'When we can't use our stun settings on you, we need to hit you with our bare fists until you drop from the damage!' Under you, father, you know what the Federation would be? The Mongolian Empire, living all for the glory of conquest and the pleasure of seeing others suffer."

George shook his head. That wasn't it, wasn't it at all. And deep down, he knew that his son knew. But Harry was too deep in his fury to even permit an argument. "You know what," George said, "I'm too tired to argue with you. But you can count that we are going to talk about this tomorrow."

"Fine by me," Harry snapped, and he impudently made his way back up to the house.

George sighed and followed.

But what neither son nor father knew was that tomorrow's conversation would never come.

---a---

Harry comfortably sat on the plush leather couch, reading what passed on the Arcosian vessel as a padd. Despite the fact that at a warp speed of 4 the vessel would be at Voyager in under half an hour, the aliens felt guilty about what had transpired and accommodated Harry with comfortable living quarters food and drink, even after Harry mildly protested at the generous but wasteful thought. They'd also provided him with information, stored on the padd, on what they knew about the Timillians based on evidence on assaulted vessels and ship movements.

If Arcosians were scientists and explorers, then it stood to reason that they were exceptional investigators and anthropologists as well, which made what Harry was reading all the more frightening in all its supposed accuracy and detail. As he scrolled down through the reading, and corroborated it from the security holorecording, bitter horror started to rise up in his throat like bile.

The Timillians, he read, while an anarchic and savage race, have nevertheless developed a version of a culture that has been quite fascinating - and terrifying - to observe. Despite efforts by geneticists to curb their aggressive tendencies, it appears to be ingrained in their neurological patterns, perhaps a characteristic of their creation. From the records we gathered on abandoned ships, there is no rhyme or reason to the attacks, save for the simple pleasure of combat, to be challenged and tested physically to the point of death. To state it simply, the Timillian philosophy is to conquer or to be conquered.

And to be conquered is not a thing to be desired. We have little first hand evidence of what happens to the captured from vessels abandoned after battle, but we do have a detailed report from Ratani, the only Arcosian scientist to survive as one of the conquered for eight years - long enough to escape and send the wealth of information in a subspace transmission. It is unfortunate that he was killed before he could transmit the coordinates of the Timilian's habitat; we would have been able to find someone to contain the species long ago. But the report was valuable to our studies nonetheless.

The Timillians have developed a quasi-religion based on the combat that they face. They believe that they suffer greatly, and the only way to relieve that suffering is through the challenge personal combat with other species. To die in battle is a great honor, but to be challenged and still win in battle is the greatest honor. Accordingly, the conquered are treated little less than slaves, due for hard labor, construction, and integration of technology. Occasionally, there are those individuals or races that are "worthy," ones who have resisted to the Timillian's satisfaction. When the worthy are conquered, they are killed and consumed after nine days of ritual celebration, as the Timillians believe that if they digest the flesh of such formidable foes, they will gain their foes strength, knowledge and experience. They believe it is a great honor for the worthy as well, for the souls of the worthy are then immortalized within the Timillian bodies.

Though the Timillians relish their personal combat, they rarely have altercations between themselves, taking out frustrations on the conquered instead. It is believed that they have a leader of the race, though his appearance and identity are unknown. However, it can be assumed that he serves as a master strategist, a mediator, and a religious leader.

It should be noted that all the research that has been done has not been current for the past year, as the Timillian ships have taken to destroying the conquered's ships after the captives are safely transported back to their habitat.

Harry had had enough. He tossed the padd to the wood-simulated floor, watching it skid along until it hit the far wall. All the pieces of the puzzle were clicking into place: the unprovoked attack, the complaints about "lack of entertainment," the comment about B'ellana being worthy for "the Consumption."

With the rest of the crew captured and enslaved, he only has eight days to locate and rescue them all before B'elanna becomes an object of immense discourse – the discourse used in dinner conversations.

It was a tall order, but maybe the Arcosians could still help him –

"Sabani to Ensign Kim."

Harry turned around to see that a screen had just activated, showing Sabani's face. "Yes?"

"We have reached the desired co-ordinates. However, there are complications."

Harry frowned, confused. "What sort of complications?"

There was a loud crash, followed by a quake so violent that Harry had grip on to the seat to keep from being tossed out; a telltale sign of an enemy doing damage

"Those kinds of complications."

"What's going on?" Harry asked, though he knew half of the situation already.

"When we dropped out of warp, a Timillian raiding party was already there, consisting of one attack vessel and two raiding vessels. One of the raiding vessels has crashed into us," Sabani said somberly. "External communications are down, transporters are offline, and our Energy dissipater is malfunctioning."

Harry swore. This was turning out to be the worst week he had. With external communications and transporters down, the only way to contact Voyager was to sneak past the wolven creatures, get to the Delta Flyer and hope he doesn't get shot down while reactivating the power systems. Talk about running the gauntlet. "You said something about a raiding party. Where are they now?"

He jumped up as he heard a loud bang, much closer this time, and not from weapons fire. He turned toward the door to see a large claw shaped dent in the metal.

Sabani nodded, confirming Harry's worst fears. "They are on your deck."

Harry turned wide-eyed toward the alien captain. "Is there any way to get to my ship other than through that door?"

"There is an egress hatch in the far wall. I have downloaded directions into the padd that we gave you; it's the most direct route to the shuttle bay. Good luck." The viewscreen winked out of existence, leaving Harry alone, and very much afraid.

A second bang brought him to reality. He scrambled to the floor to pick up the padd, and then rushed over and practically ripped the egress hatch door off its hinges. He crawled inside and shut the door a heartbeat before the room door gave away with a loud rending sound.

As he stole down the Jefferies tube, he could hear the growling conversation of the animalistic aliens.

"Seems like we didn't capture all of the prey after all, Growreerr."

"On oversight like this seems... amusing. Perhaps he will prove to be more of a challenge than the rest of the human lot."

"All I know is that we just missed him; his scent is still hanging in the air."

"Good job, Marlrandish. Spread out, find out if he's hiding or running from us."

That was all the impetus Harry needed to crawl as fast as he could down the tunnel. His mind and his body both raced as he followed the directions on his padd while devising a way to literally throw the wolves off his scent.

Five minutes later, Harry winced as he heard the egress hatch door actually being rent off its hinges. There wasn't much time left to devise a diversion... absent-mindedly he wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.

Then he looked at the hand and an idea came to him. It wouldn't get him any more than a couple of minutes, but perhaps that's all he needed.

He sat down in the middle of the tunnel and got to work.

---a---

After what seemed to be an eternity later (though in reality it was only ten minutes), Harry found the exit he was looking for. After cracking the door open and making sure the coast was clear, he crawled out and resisted the urge to blush. Now was not the time to gain a sense of modesty over his state of undress.

But the sacrifice for his embarrassment probably paid off. As the diversion, he stripped off his Starfleet jumpsuit and undershirt, and toweled himself off with it, making sure that he was completely dry of perspiration. Then he threw the wad of clothes down the nearest ladder, so that the tracking party would be confused. Most likely, they would follow the stronger scent from his clothes. At the very least, the party would be halved. Since he didn't encounter any furred aliens in the junctions or heard any growls behind him, he assumed the diversion worked.

Unfortunately, no Arcosian was aware enough to even take humor in Harry's mild predicament. Their bodies were scattered throughout the hallway, slumped over like rag dolls someone carelessly threw to the ground. Obviously, the Timillians came through there as well.

Harry snuck along the corridor, keeping one eye on the map that his pad had generated. According to it, all he needed to do was turn the corner and go down the hallway to reach the shuttle bay. He smiled in relief; he was going to make it.

He turned the corner, still looking at his pad, and promptly slammed into something solid. He frowned in blustered confusion. There wasn't supposed to be a wall here. And since when do ships have walls with fur coats?

Realization dawning on him, he gazed up into the sneering face of a wolf.

It picked him up by the throat and slammed him into the wall. A wave of pain engulfed Harry's body as it took the shock. For a second, he could only stare numbly at the wolf as it grinned savagely back at him.

"So, a human did escape our first attack. I knew that we underestimated your species," it said. "It's a pity that your kind is so weak. If you were as strong as you were resourceful, perhaps you would be an interesting challenge. But as it is, you'll have to suffer along with the rest of the slaves." He relaxed his grip as he gave the wolven version of a hearty laugh.

Seeing his only chance at escape, Harry spat directly into the wolf's eyes, blinding him momentarily. With all his strength, he then lashed out with his boot, knocking the alien's head to one side. In surprise, the Timillian dropped him, and he tore down the corridor.

The hallway seemed to stretch to infinity as Harry vaulted over the Arcosian bodies. Though he dare not look back, he could hear the wolf roaring in frustration as it gained on him. He ran and ran, and ran and he saw safe haven, almost there...

The doors opened automatically, and Harry keyed in a Borg locking sequence with the padd still gripped in his hand. He sighed in relief as the wolf howled and pounded on the other side, with no avail.

But he was all business again when he entered the cockpit of the Delta Flyer. Though he was safe from the close combat horror, there were still two ships out there looking for blood. It would take all of his piloting skills to evade them and make it to the landed Voyager. He keyed in the launch sequence, and with his trusty padd opened the doors.

Like a sparrow from a crocodile's mouth the Delta Flyer shot out of the shuttlebay and made a beeline for the moons surface. It's flight did not go unnoticed by the two ships hovering nearby like predatory hawks waiting for fish. Immediately, the bulbous raiding vessel gave pursuit from behind, while the more conical attack vessel sped its way to cut the Delta flyer from the front.

An attack rocked the smaller ship, and not for the first time Harry cursed his skittish nature. In his rush to get away from the hand-to-hand battle, he forgot to reroute the tactical station to helm control. Now, a ship was firing at him, and Harry couldn't reach tactical control behind him unless he wanted to lose precious seconds of control.

Another blast shook the Flyer, and Harry could hear one of the EPS relays exploding. "Delta Flyer to Arcosian Vessel!! I'm under heavy fire! Perhaps you should retreat to a safe distance – just in case."

"Negative, Ensign Kim," Sabani responded. "We have devised a way to stop them."

"I thought you said that you had no weapons," Harry said.

He got no response.

Frowning, he called out to the computer, "Display viewscreen of aft sensors."

On the monitor to his right, a view came up of the space behind him. There was the small, seedlike vessel, closing slowly and firing beam weapons frequently. Then the Arcosian vessel lumbered into view, effectively blocking the raiding vessel from pursuit.

Harry's heart caught in his throat as what he predicted came true. An explosion blossomed and outlined the science vessel as the raider crashed into the hull at a critical point. Then the ship shuddered, and Harry knew that very soon that the power system on the ship was going to reach critical mass.

Another blast drew Harry's attention to the front, and he saw the attack vessel bearing down on him, bent on a collision course. With shields down and weapons unavailable, and with his only ally disabled behind him Harry could only watch wide-eyed as the ship barreled toward him, on a course toward oblivion.

End of chapter 4

Author's Post Script: An update, FINALLY!!! I'd never thought I'd get this done, but I pushed through somehow. It's been so long since I've updated that you may see some continuity errors between chapter 4 and the rest of the series. If you spot any errors, please e-mail me or leave a review. I promise that after the series is done, I'll correct the errors. I have ambitious plans to get this done by the time school starts (September 20th) but somehow I'd doubt I'd make it. In the meantime, I'm going to start work on chapter 5 immediately.

Happy reading, everyone.