Oh, No, Not Another Mutiny!
Disclaimer: Oh, Ricky, can't I own the show? No, Lucy, you own the show! You got some 'splainin' to do!
A/N: I'm am so overwhelmed with the reviews! I love you guys! I honestly didn't expect anyone to read it, let alone like it! It was based on a goofy dream I had. I told myself that I would be satisfied with one positive review. Boy was I surprised! I appreciate it so much! Keep the feedback coming!
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Chapter 5: Two Warring Houses "And the Kuva'Mach shall be born out of two warring houses." ~ Ancient Klingon prophesy
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Paris snapped out of his reverie. He would need to be on guard. "Replicator, a phaser."
"Unable to comply."
"Dammit! Computer, five inch knife and one yard of nylon cord. He looked at the outside wall of his quarters and smiled. That ought to be sufficient for what he had in mind.
Before coming to his quarters, Tom's shadow had also replicated a weapon, a ten inch dagger with two serrated edges, and the capacity to disembowel a person with a flick of the wrist, thanks to a clever little gadget on the handle. It packed a nasty little sting.
It did not register in B'Elanna's mind that she entered the door of her own accord, with her own password, without waiting for someone to answer. Tom did not notice either.
He grabbed the knife as soon as he saw her. "Is that the best you could do, Starfleet?" she sneered. "A little kitchen knife and some rope?"
He smiled, never losing his cool. "No, it's a decoy." And before she had time to react, he had thrown down the knife and reached for a bant'leth off the wall.
A bant'leth!? What the hell was a human doing with one of those? She barely knew how to use them. She remembered, in little flashes, a few things. A holodeck program with monsters. Her red sports jumpsuit. A really cute instructor. It didn't really make sense. It was all hazy. She pushed it out of her mind. Unimportant. She reacted without thinking. There was another bant'eth, perpendicular to the one he had taken, the two had been in an 'x' over a table. Why?
He not only knew how to use the bant'leth but the code of honor that accompanied it. He stood opposite her, a few feet away, bant'leth poised for battle. They came toward each other at the same time, swinging their bant'leths in arcs, a move of both momentum and intimidation. Metal stuck metal in one loud collision, both at the top of the blade. Tom was the first to move his weapon, forcing it upward and throwing B'Elanna off balance. She recovered quickly, ducked her head down, avoiding a deadly swing, wheeled around, regaining her composure. She went low this time, but he anticipated it, blocked. They were held in stalemate for some time. Then Tom got the upper hand in a moment when the Maquis seemed preoccupied. A flash of gold on a finger, breaking through otherwise foggy vision. She was knocked off her feet onto the bed. Something familiar. She used it as a springboard, lifting her legs high into the air, close together, toes pointed like a dancer, used her weapon for leverage, pulled her entire body up save her upper back, bounced up, and was back on her feet in seconds. She swung her weapon in a vicious arc, and for some inexplicable reason, the Starfleet felt impressed, even a little proud. But his thoughts made him vulnerable, and she knocked him to the floor with the dull side of her blade. His bant'leth soared across the room.
She raised the bant'leth to strike.
********************************
"This seems like a case of mass hypnosis," the Doctor pointed out. "Like something or someone has made the crew extremely suggestible, so that they see only what they expect to see, then convinced them that the Maquis and Starfleet shouldn't trust each other."
"So you believe it is the nebula causing this state, Doctor?" Seven wondered.
"I think so, yes. It must be causing some kind of abnormal delta brain wave activity. And someone has been taking advantage of the nebula to implant these suggestions and put us at odds with each other."
"But who would want to that, Doctor?" Neelix wondered.
"I don't know, but we had better figure out how to snap them out of it before they all kill each other."
Neelix seemed very worried. "Can they be made to do anything? Are they just puppets on a string to whoever is doing this?"
"Not completely. We do have a few advantages. For example, a person under hypnosis will not do anything that they would never morally do."
Neelix brightened. "That means they won't hurt each other. They'll be fine!"
"Not necessarily, Neelix," Seven pointed out. Both Starfleet and Maquis crewmembers have been taught as soldiers. Their memory seems to have been damaged, so we can assume that most of them don't feel a connection to each other. And as soldiers they learned that it is sometimes necessary to fight. If they do believe that there is an altercation that needs to take place, they will behave like soldiers. It is quite likely that some will be hurt, if not killed."
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Memories returned with the physical force of a punch in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She nearly dropped the weapon, but stopped short when she looked at Tom, she saw that the hatred, the madness, had not left his eyes. He saw her as a Maquis enemy, nothing more. But she was safe, she knew, he couldn't reach his weapon. She grabbed the rope on the table and bound his hands behind his back. She was now near the point of tears. "You're hurt. We're going to sickbay."
"What, you don't want to kill me?" He scoffed.
"No." There was a serious and somewhat sad tone in her voice that gave Tom pause. "Not yet, anyway. Later, you are in big trouble." For some inexplicable reason, that statement filled him with fear like no other. She helped him up. "Stay there." She moved to the kitchenette, mumbled something to the replicator, grabbed a scrubber from beside the sink, and shoved it against his back. "I replicated a phaser. Walk."
"Nice try, but the replicator won't make phasers."
"Funny, it worked just fine for me. You really want to take that chance? Walk."
*************************************
"Doctor, there's something wrong with Tom." She explained the bant'leth fight. The three looked at each other quizzically. A Starfleet and a Maquis. Obviously, something was still wrong with Mr. Paris, but B'Elanna seemed fine. Could she possibly have gotten better?
The Doctor decided to test this hypothesis. "Why are you bringing this Starfleet to sickbay? Don't you want to kill him?"
She understood. "I don't know what's going on, Doctor, but I've snapped out of it." She pulled him aside and whispered, quite a bit distressed, "I nearly killed him. I didn't wake up until the blade was just a few centimeters from his neck."
"Relax, B'Elanna. People will do strange things under a state of extreme suggestibility." He scanned her with a triquarter while she spoke, checking her brain wave activity. Back to normal beta waves. Good. "There's nothing wrong with you."
"I know!" She was visibly irritated now. "It's him! He doesn't know me at all." She whacked him over the head with the sponge scrubber. Tom was, at this point, completely confused. Her voice turned from angry to sad. "Why doesn't he remember?"
The Doctor had a theory. "B'Elanna, at any time did he have you in a compromising position-" The Doctor could have kicked himself for the wording of that question. He grumbled, trying to ignore the look B'Elanna was giving him. "Did he have you in a position where he could have seriously harmed you?"
"No."
"Just as I thought. When a person made extremely suggestible like the crew appear to be, he will not do anything that he normally would be absolutely unable to do. Obviously you couldn't kill him, so the delta wave state was broken and you recovered your memories. Because he was never in that position, he was never faced with a moral dilemma in the way that you were. Had the situation been reversed, you would be the one over there acting like a fool while he dragged you to sickbay. All this proves is that you are the better bant'leth fighter, which by the way, Mr. Paris has already informed me. We'll just find a way to ease him back into his memories. He'll be back to his old self in no time." The Doctor wore his perpetual look of distaste. "That may or may not be a good thing."
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Well, I sure hope you enjoyed reading that chapter because I think that's the most fun I've ever had writing anything. R&R Luv ya' much. ~LMR*
Disclaimer: Oh, Ricky, can't I own the show? No, Lucy, you own the show! You got some 'splainin' to do!
A/N: I'm am so overwhelmed with the reviews! I love you guys! I honestly didn't expect anyone to read it, let alone like it! It was based on a goofy dream I had. I told myself that I would be satisfied with one positive review. Boy was I surprised! I appreciate it so much! Keep the feedback coming!
******************************************
Chapter 5: Two Warring Houses "And the Kuva'Mach shall be born out of two warring houses." ~ Ancient Klingon prophesy
*******************************
Paris snapped out of his reverie. He would need to be on guard. "Replicator, a phaser."
"Unable to comply."
"Dammit! Computer, five inch knife and one yard of nylon cord. He looked at the outside wall of his quarters and smiled. That ought to be sufficient for what he had in mind.
Before coming to his quarters, Tom's shadow had also replicated a weapon, a ten inch dagger with two serrated edges, and the capacity to disembowel a person with a flick of the wrist, thanks to a clever little gadget on the handle. It packed a nasty little sting.
It did not register in B'Elanna's mind that she entered the door of her own accord, with her own password, without waiting for someone to answer. Tom did not notice either.
He grabbed the knife as soon as he saw her. "Is that the best you could do, Starfleet?" she sneered. "A little kitchen knife and some rope?"
He smiled, never losing his cool. "No, it's a decoy." And before she had time to react, he had thrown down the knife and reached for a bant'leth off the wall.
A bant'leth!? What the hell was a human doing with one of those? She barely knew how to use them. She remembered, in little flashes, a few things. A holodeck program with monsters. Her red sports jumpsuit. A really cute instructor. It didn't really make sense. It was all hazy. She pushed it out of her mind. Unimportant. She reacted without thinking. There was another bant'eth, perpendicular to the one he had taken, the two had been in an 'x' over a table. Why?
He not only knew how to use the bant'leth but the code of honor that accompanied it. He stood opposite her, a few feet away, bant'leth poised for battle. They came toward each other at the same time, swinging their bant'leths in arcs, a move of both momentum and intimidation. Metal stuck metal in one loud collision, both at the top of the blade. Tom was the first to move his weapon, forcing it upward and throwing B'Elanna off balance. She recovered quickly, ducked her head down, avoiding a deadly swing, wheeled around, regaining her composure. She went low this time, but he anticipated it, blocked. They were held in stalemate for some time. Then Tom got the upper hand in a moment when the Maquis seemed preoccupied. A flash of gold on a finger, breaking through otherwise foggy vision. She was knocked off her feet onto the bed. Something familiar. She used it as a springboard, lifting her legs high into the air, close together, toes pointed like a dancer, used her weapon for leverage, pulled her entire body up save her upper back, bounced up, and was back on her feet in seconds. She swung her weapon in a vicious arc, and for some inexplicable reason, the Starfleet felt impressed, even a little proud. But his thoughts made him vulnerable, and she knocked him to the floor with the dull side of her blade. His bant'leth soared across the room.
She raised the bant'leth to strike.
********************************
"This seems like a case of mass hypnosis," the Doctor pointed out. "Like something or someone has made the crew extremely suggestible, so that they see only what they expect to see, then convinced them that the Maquis and Starfleet shouldn't trust each other."
"So you believe it is the nebula causing this state, Doctor?" Seven wondered.
"I think so, yes. It must be causing some kind of abnormal delta brain wave activity. And someone has been taking advantage of the nebula to implant these suggestions and put us at odds with each other."
"But who would want to that, Doctor?" Neelix wondered.
"I don't know, but we had better figure out how to snap them out of it before they all kill each other."
Neelix seemed very worried. "Can they be made to do anything? Are they just puppets on a string to whoever is doing this?"
"Not completely. We do have a few advantages. For example, a person under hypnosis will not do anything that they would never morally do."
Neelix brightened. "That means they won't hurt each other. They'll be fine!"
"Not necessarily, Neelix," Seven pointed out. Both Starfleet and Maquis crewmembers have been taught as soldiers. Their memory seems to have been damaged, so we can assume that most of them don't feel a connection to each other. And as soldiers they learned that it is sometimes necessary to fight. If they do believe that there is an altercation that needs to take place, they will behave like soldiers. It is quite likely that some will be hurt, if not killed."
***********************************************
Memories returned with the physical force of a punch in the stomach, knocking the wind out of her. She nearly dropped the weapon, but stopped short when she looked at Tom, she saw that the hatred, the madness, had not left his eyes. He saw her as a Maquis enemy, nothing more. But she was safe, she knew, he couldn't reach his weapon. She grabbed the rope on the table and bound his hands behind his back. She was now near the point of tears. "You're hurt. We're going to sickbay."
"What, you don't want to kill me?" He scoffed.
"No." There was a serious and somewhat sad tone in her voice that gave Tom pause. "Not yet, anyway. Later, you are in big trouble." For some inexplicable reason, that statement filled him with fear like no other. She helped him up. "Stay there." She moved to the kitchenette, mumbled something to the replicator, grabbed a scrubber from beside the sink, and shoved it against his back. "I replicated a phaser. Walk."
"Nice try, but the replicator won't make phasers."
"Funny, it worked just fine for me. You really want to take that chance? Walk."
*************************************
"Doctor, there's something wrong with Tom." She explained the bant'leth fight. The three looked at each other quizzically. A Starfleet and a Maquis. Obviously, something was still wrong with Mr. Paris, but B'Elanna seemed fine. Could she possibly have gotten better?
The Doctor decided to test this hypothesis. "Why are you bringing this Starfleet to sickbay? Don't you want to kill him?"
She understood. "I don't know what's going on, Doctor, but I've snapped out of it." She pulled him aside and whispered, quite a bit distressed, "I nearly killed him. I didn't wake up until the blade was just a few centimeters from his neck."
"Relax, B'Elanna. People will do strange things under a state of extreme suggestibility." He scanned her with a triquarter while she spoke, checking her brain wave activity. Back to normal beta waves. Good. "There's nothing wrong with you."
"I know!" She was visibly irritated now. "It's him! He doesn't know me at all." She whacked him over the head with the sponge scrubber. Tom was, at this point, completely confused. Her voice turned from angry to sad. "Why doesn't he remember?"
The Doctor had a theory. "B'Elanna, at any time did he have you in a compromising position-" The Doctor could have kicked himself for the wording of that question. He grumbled, trying to ignore the look B'Elanna was giving him. "Did he have you in a position where he could have seriously harmed you?"
"No."
"Just as I thought. When a person made extremely suggestible like the crew appear to be, he will not do anything that he normally would be absolutely unable to do. Obviously you couldn't kill him, so the delta wave state was broken and you recovered your memories. Because he was never in that position, he was never faced with a moral dilemma in the way that you were. Had the situation been reversed, you would be the one over there acting like a fool while he dragged you to sickbay. All this proves is that you are the better bant'leth fighter, which by the way, Mr. Paris has already informed me. We'll just find a way to ease him back into his memories. He'll be back to his old self in no time." The Doctor wore his perpetual look of distaste. "That may or may not be a good thing."
************************************************************
Well, I sure hope you enjoyed reading that chapter because I think that's the most fun I've ever had writing anything. R&R Luv ya' much. ~LMR*