Author's note:
Well, this took a while, so here we are with some action. Janeway only gets a cameo, but I assure you that she will show up in full Betsy-toting splendor later on.
Now the personal notes schtick...
Bren: (who emailed me a review when decided that reviewing needed to be turned off) Glad you liked the chapter. Poor Mr. Lessing doesn't really have much role here; I didn't want to clutter things up. He'll probably pop up later.
Saavik: (who's probably my most loyal reader – she's been reading my stuff since I started in the Hannibal fandom) Another long-winded Janeway rant? Not yet; next chapter, probably. And there'll be some gore in there for you too.
JadziaKathryn: You seem to pick up a lot of the little lines I toss in; glad you like 'em. (Glad you found 'em, too.) You can direct some credit for the Seven/Marla scene to Bren, whose suggestion of such a scene I found an interesting idea. (I do include some reader ideas, so long as they fit the general model of where I'm going – there won't be any Janeway/Chakotay mutual sponge baths here, but if an idea piques my interest I've been known to run with it.) Will Janeway meet Kilbourne? Probably...
eScapefreak: Mumps? Yikes! Doesn't sound fun. This American enjoyed his Thanksgiving quite a bit. How will Marla stand up to confrontation? Here's where you get to find out....as for suspense...well...(cue ominous laughter)
JimHawkingJr: Oddly, seems to have eaten your review, although I got it in email. Will I write another DS9 or Voyager story? Probably, as long as I get a good idea. And yes, things are gearing up for the final battle.
PG: Glad you like the story. Yes, even the commodore had his moment of redemption; Section 31's tentacles don't have everyone in a firm grasp.
Almost immediately after transporting to the bridge of Grambyo, Janeway swung into action. She looked around with steely eyes. The bridge was the same ruined hulk it was before, but seeing it did not unsettle her as it had before. Her crewmen needed her.
Torres and a few others had congregated on the bridge. She wasn't sure where the others were. The half-Klingon stared at her and blinked.
"Captain? What are you doing here?"
"I believe we have company," Janeway answered. "Run a scan, see if you can detect any lifesigns. Where is the rest of your salvage team?"
"I have a few people scanning the memory buffers," Torres replied. "And Gilmore and Seven are in the lab." The corner of her mouth turned down. "I...I didn't know there were all those corpses in the lab. I didn't want her to see it."
Janeway nodded. There wasn't much that could be done for it now. "Do they have a security escort?"
Torres looked pained and shook her head. "No," she admitted.
Ayala shouldered his phaser rifle. "I'll go," he said neutrally.
Janeway nodded tightly. "Do it," she said. He set off without a word, striding over the debris and junk littering the bridge. She watched him depart. Ayala had always seemed to better handle the transition from Maquis to Starfleet better than some of his cohorts. She was confident in his ability to protect them.
"Good call," Chakotay said, echoing her thoughts. "He'll do the job." He took a long moment to look around the bridge. "I don't know whether to compliment them or hate them."
Janeway frowned. "Who?"
"Section 31," he said. "This looks just like Equinox. Must've been hard to wake up to."
"I'll settle for stopping them first," she said.
The console offered some comfort.
Marla turned away from the bodies surrounding her, staring only at the screen and the console, forcing herself not to look. There had been a series of sickening thumps when artificial gravity came back online. She didn't want to look. She'd made herself go in here, but she could only face her past so far, and this was the limit.
"What are you doing?" Seven asked.
Marla's fingers flew over the console. "I can access a lot of ship's functions from here," she said. "Back on Equinox – the real Equinox – we set up the lab to almost act as a duplicate bridge in case we lost the bridge. I can access transporters, the warp core, weapons, and some helm functions. It leaves a lot to be desired, but it works." For a moment it occurred to her how much on Equinox's desperate journey that phrase could have covered.
Seven's combadge twittered. "Janeway to Seven."
"Go ahead," Seven said.
"Are you in the lab?"
"Yes, captain." Seven glanced over. "Ensign Gilmore and I both are here."
"We're sending Ayala down to you. Wait until he gets there, then proceed back to the bridge. We believe there may be intruders aboard. Are you armed?"
A chill ran down Marla's spine that had nothing to do with the temperature. Intruders? They had to be coming for her. Would they kill Seven? Try and do brain surgery on her? What would they do to her, for that matter? Take the ship and try and do the whole thing all over again? The idea was frightening. She could not let that happen again.
"Perhaps we should beam to the bridge," Seven observed.
"No," Janeway said, the voice tinny but commanding over the comm. "Don't take the chance. Just sit tight. Are you armed?"
"I am not." She glanced over at Marla. Marla shook her head. She had tools, most of which could be used as weapons in a pinch, but no phaser. "Neither is Ensign Gilmore."
An idea occurred to her. This was a science lab, and the designers of the Nova class had foreseen that its crew might need to experiment on hazardous materials. She brought up a series of commands on the screen. A good engineer had to be able to deal with computers, and what she wanted wasn't very difficult. Seven tilted her head and looked interested in what she was doing.
"Ayala will be down there in a few minutes. Let us know if you hear anything."
"Understood, captain," Seven said, and cut the connection. "What are you doing?"
"Just an insurance policy," Marla said.
The waiting was maddening. He wanted action. The Voyager crew had to be somewhere on this damn ship. Where were they? His men were all equipped with sensor dampeners; the Starfleeters wouldn't be able to track them via the ship's internal sensors.
This was risky. When Grambyo had been parked out in the middle of deep space, there had been much less risk. Now, they were right on top of things, here at Deep Space Nine. All the same, he knew what could be done. Ransom and Burke had brought along a psyops field kit; they had enough drugs and such that if they got their hands on Gilmore, they could have her quiet, sedated, and willing to cough up things like whatever command codes they might want.. Right now, he'd settle for her knowledge of the ship. They'd have to kill the Starfleet crew, disconnect from the pylon, and get the damn ship out of here. Maybe take it through the wormhole to the Gamma Quadrant. He could have a rudimentary cloaking device thrown on it, bring it back, and then worry about the rest later.
"Make sure to monitor any communications between Voyager and Grambyo," he directed.
Benning nodded. For a moment Kilbourne toyed with the idea of sending a saboteur to Voyager. Maybe if Janeway's own crew was threatened she would go back and mind her own damn business. He dismissed the thought; he needed everyone he had, and Captain Janeway had already proved many times over that she wouldn't mind her own damn business.
It would have gone much, much easier if she had. He'd have to take care of her. Starfleet officers who made Section 31's enemies list often disappeared one way or another. It wouldn't be now; she was the darling of the Federation right now, and she had thrown it all away to rescue a woman who had shamed Starfleet and embarrassed the Federation. But at some point, Janeway would be vulnerable. He would see her broken and battered on the floor of one of their cells. Perhaps one of the cells aboard the X5573, if he could manage it.
His men had checked out the lower decks and found nothing. No Starfleet crew. They'd set up transporter shields; if Voyager wanted to try beaming security details into parts of the ship that Section 31 had taken, the patterns would be automatically dispersed. If they wanted to put their security officers back together again, that would take a while.
Careful scans had revealed two life forms in the science lab, one heading down towards them, and a large group on the bridge. As he watched, two more life signs joined the gaggle on the bridge. He grinned. Janeway. One of them had to be Janeway. It was about time. He wasn't sure, but he strongly suspected that Gilmore was one of the two life signs in the lab.
"Move to intercept that fellow moving down to the science lab," he said. "He's blocking us from our package."
Two agents moved to the front, phaser rifles high and aimed. Kilbourne stepped into place behind them. He was mildly surprised Janeway had sent only one. He must be pretty good. It didn't matter; he'd have to fight off four Section 31 agents, and no one could win that battle.
The door to the science lab was ahead. He could see a shadow darkening the corridor. His agents weren't soldiers; they were better. Trained to think for themselves, they fired their phaser rifles as soon as they could acquire a target. Section 31 had better weapons for clandestine work than Starfleet did; the bolts flew silently down the hall.
The shadow ducked back behind a bulkhead before they hit. Kilbourne raised an eyebrow. This fellow was good. He strained his ears and heard a quiet voice, thin with tension.
"Ayala to Chakotay. I'm taking fire. I need backup."
"On our way," came the response.
His agents were already moving forward, aiming at the end of the hall. If the Voyager security officer stuck his head out, he'd get a phaser blast parting his hair. If anyone else did – say, a certain redheaded starship captain who didn't know when to mind her own damned business – they'd get plastered too.
A few other voices came from down the hall, but ultimately it didn't matter. His agents had the initiative, and three agents at the forefront were able to pin down the Voyager security teams quite nicely. Slowly but surely, Kilbourne gained control of more and more of the corridor until finally he was at the science lab doors. He checked his tricorder. Still there. That surprised him; didn't Gilmore have the common sense to realize that there was only one way in and out of the science lab? Or perhaps she was still broken, a scared little mouse terrified and waiting for the cat to come get her.
"Keep them pinned down," he directed. "Benning, you're with me."
The door to the science lab opened easily. That surprised him just a bit. Didn't these people know anything about being in a hostile situation? He stepped into the lab, and it took his eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. He stepped briskly to the side, searching for movement that might signal an enemy.
Marla Gilmore and Seven of Nine stood in one corner of the lab. Light from a nearby terminal painted their faces, making them look ghostly. They were eying him back without any fear. Strange. Gilmore's hands were crammed into her parka pockets. A weapon? He didn't think so; if she had a phaser, she'd have taken it out.
A glance outside indicated that the doors to the lab were comfortably behind his lines. He took out his own communicator. The two women seemed wary, and rightfully so. Marla Gilmore was going back into Section 31's custody, and there were plenty of Section 31 scientists who would have given their eyeteeth to dissect the Borg drone.
"Bring Ransom and Burke up here," he directed into the communicator. Gilmore tensed at that but said nothing. Kilbourne smiled pleasantly and put his communicator back on his belt. He displayed open hands.
"Now, ladies, we have you surrounded," he said kindly. "Let's do this in a civilized manner, shall we? Put your hands on your head, come over here, and we'll do this with a minimum of fuss. We won't hurt you if you cooperate."
"Your offer is nonsensical," Seven said scornfully. "You subjected Ensign Gilmore to interrogation procedures that were unethical and illegal. You would not refrain from doing so again. I do not wish to discover what fate you might have in store for me."
Kilbourne smiled tightly again. "Perhaps. All the same, I must point out that you are unarmed, and I have several men with phasers, so you don't have much choice but to obey me. Otherwise, I'll simply use superior force." His eyes touched Gilmore's. She was afraid, but not a coward. She flinched, but stood strong. Her eyes were wary on his. "Come, Ms. Gilmore. You'd like to prove something to the rest of that benighted crew, wouldn't you? I'll tell you what. Come with me voluntarily and I'll let your Borg drone friend go." It wasn't true – the Borg drone was destined for a Section 31 vivisection table as soon as possible – but she didn't need to know that.
She drew herself up and studied him as if he were a fascinating example of alien engine technology. It wasn't what he had expected of her; she either didn't seem to understand the fact that several men with phasers were backing him up or she didn't think it was a problem.
"So," she said conversationally. "You're Mr. Kilbourne."
He started. In the normal scheme of things, he hadn't wanted Marla Gilmore to know he existed, let alone refer to him by name.
"Some people call me that," he admitted, and took a step forward.
Almost immediately, his toes tingled. An unpleasant shock raced up his leg, briefly cramping the muscles of his calf. In front of him, a bit of white interference sparkled into existence before turning invisible again. He smiled and nodded.
"Force fields," he said. "My, you are a clever girl, aren't you?"
"This is a science lab," Gilmore told him flatly. "We handle hazardous materials sometimes. Of course there are force fields."
Kilbourne chuckled. "Computer, lower force fields."
Bloop-palurp. "Voice access is restricted," the computer informed him.
Gilmore smiled coolly back at him. "Sorry," she said. "Senior officers of USS Equinox only."
"That's not a concern," Kilbourne informed her. He gestured behind him for Ransom and Burke. Ransom gave Gilmore a concerned look and shook his head.
"Computer, lower force fields. Authorization Ransom, four gamma six."
The computer seemed to consider that for a moment, then emitted strange sounds; to Kilbourne it sounded like a cat being dipped in water and strangled simultaneously. It finally emitted a final choking noise and announced, "Unable to comply."
Marla Gilmore reached into the pocket of her parka and pulled out a metal case. Wires trailed from it. She opened it to display a few isolinear chips.
"Sorry, Rudy," she said softly. "When we put the main computer back together, I pulled out the chips that had your voice authorization on them. Max's too. But you're not really Rudy, are you? " She smiled again. "This isn't your ship any more. It's the captain who runs the ship, but to really screw things up you need the chief engineer."
Kilbourne paused. He couldn't get at her. All the same, Marla Gilmore had painted herself into a corner: she couldn't get out of the science lab. The force fields that protected her from him also kept anybody from getting a transporter lock on her. It would block her combadge signal, too.
"You've made quite the Mexican standoff here," Kilbourne said. "What are you going to do? Sit there until you starve to death?"
Marla shrugged. "Security is on its way," she said indifferently.
Kilbourne thought for a moment, smiled coldly, and shook his head. "You mean the dark-haired fellow who was coming to your rescue? I'm sorry. We stunned him and brought him to our ship. He's being questioned now. Once we know what he does – and we will – who knows what could happen?"
Ransom stepped forward. Kilbourne watched Gilmore carefully: yes, even though she knew the truth, there were still psychological reins that her former captain held. He could see conflicting emotions play out on her face.
"Marla," Ransom said. "Let's end this. You know people will die otherwise. Haven't you seen enough death?"
"Besides," Burke said from behind him, "you know you can never go back. Do you think anyone on Voyager will ever respect you?" He chuckled and shook his head. "You know better. You're the outcast there. You always will be."
Kilbourne waited a bit before chiming in himself. "I won't kill you, because I need you. But when that field comes down – and you know it will – I'll kill the Borg drone if I have to. Lower the field and come along quietly, and I'll let her go free, along with the security guard we captured. Otherwise, I'll kill everyone in a Starfleet uniform who I see, and their blood will be on your hands." He spread his own. "It's up to you."
She stopped and stared at him hard for several moments, clearly trying to discern if he could carry out his threat. The weakness in Starfleet officers was usually there; they didn't want people to die unnecessarily. In her case, it was there in spades. Kilbourne didn't care if half of Starfleet died, so long as their deaths got him somewhere. It was a weakness on her part and a strength of his.
"Why?" she asked. "Can you tell me that? Why did you do all this to me?"
Kilbourne shook his head. "You're stalling for time," he said. "It won't work."
Her eyes flicked across his. She turned and looked at the Borg drone, then turned back to him. Her hands came out of the parka and described a weighing motion that put him in mind of the scales of justice. Then she watched him silently for a few moments before reluctantly speaking.
"Tell me why you did this and I'll lower the field," she said abruptly.
Kilbourne sighed. Here it was, the justification. He'd seen it with other interrogations. Sometimes they just wanted to know why before bowing to the inevitable. All the same, it was exasperating; he didn't like being boxed in. He decided his options, not some blonde mass-murdering engineer.
"Oh, let me guess," he said scornfully. He raised his voice in a high-pitched mockery of her own. "'We were starving, we were desperate. That's why we did what we did. Why did you do this?'" He dropped to his normal tone.
"Your enhanced warp drive is faster than anything else we've seen. We can't get transwarp to work right, and nothing else works. Yours does. With your drive, we could have gotten behind Romulan defenses before they could have ever gotten their guard up. We'd have done what we had to do and gotten back behind our lines in less than ten minutes. Three days later, the Romulan Empire would have been a shadow of its former self, and we would have won." He shook his head. "There. Are you happy? We wanted your damn drive. That's why we took this ship and put you on it. Nothing too deep or meaningful, but effective. Now shut down the force field."
She moved slowly over to the console and tapped out a few commands. He waited for the flicker that would tell him she had dropped it It did not come; instead, a hum from behind him told him that she had now blocked off the exit to the lab with another force field, boxing him and his agents in.
"I lied," she said stoutly. "Complain to my commanding officer."
Kilbourne pursed his lips. Annoyance bolted through him. Now he was cut off as surely as she was: he couldn't signal his men or beam off the ship. "Ms. Gilmore, you're trying my patience," he said thinly. "Now listen. Lower that force field now. If you don't, I assure you, I will take both you and the Borg drone back to my ship, and I will see to it that you sit and watch while her fingers are cut off one by one."
"If I don't lower the field," Marla reminded him, "you can't do any of that, can you?"
Kilbourne watched her carefully. She was afraid of him; he could see that in her eyes. But she wasn't going to spook and do anything stupid. Facts were facts; he had been put in check pretty neatly.
Gilmore's combadge twittered, and a staticy voice he recognized as Janeway's came from it.
"Gil...what happened? We can't pick...on sensors...we're getting down there....everything all right? We're getting down...," The fractured words vanished in hissing static.
"Stalemate, Ms. Gilmore," Kilbourne informed her. "You've got me, but my agents control this part of the ship. The cavalry will not be coming to your rescue. You've got nowhere to go. Eventually we'll cut off the power to the lab, and then where will you be?" He chuckled and shook his head. "I'll make the offer one final time. Surrender yourself, and I'll let the rest of the Voyager crew go unmolested. If I have to force you out of there, I'll exact a price in blood. It's up to you."
The ensign sighed, looked at Seven, then back at the agents surrounding her. She closed her eyes, let out a slow breath through her nose, and then suddenly seemed peaceful, as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
"Then there's only one way to resolve this," she said, and turned to tap out a sequence on her console. Another forcefield shimmered into view between her and the Borg drone. The Borg looked surprised. Kilbourne's brow furrowed. What the hell was she doing?
"I'm sorry, Seven," Marla Gilmore said. "Truly, truly sorry."
Then Kilbourne saw what she had in her hands, and he knew what she meant to do. His eyes widened. Was she insane?
"No!" he shouted.
"Oh, yes," Marla Gilmore said, and smiled.