Disclaimer: Paramount, God...how far apart are they?
Rating: PG, why not?

Resurrection
Chapter 6

Janeway was walking briskly away from Sickbay, trying very hard not to smile. Even though
Voyager was the same as she had been since they left dry dock on DS9, Janeway couldn't help but think the walls were a little brighter, more inviting. Soon, with the help of the Minatian
diplomats, she would have her first officer back on duty. Too many months had passed since they had first been attacked, and the crew needed Chakotay back on the job.

A scratchy, unclear noise came from Janeway's communicator. Frowning, she tapped the
object lightly, slowly down her fast gait.

"Janeway here, please repeat."

The voice came across a bit clearer the second time, but Janeway instantly wished she
couldn't hear what was being said.

"Captain...attack...out numbered...sealed off..." The transmission went dead.

Janeway tapped her communicator again, even as she began to turn around and head back
towards the turbolift she had just passed. "Bridge, this is the captain; can you tell me what the
hell is going on?"

"Phasers fired in the transporter room, Captain. Two injuries, one fatality. Commander Tuvok has the area sealed off." Harry sounded surprisingly calm given the situation. He had grown
up a lot in the past six years.

Janeway was about to demand a security team when Tom's voice broke into the conversation.

"Captain, the ships outside are on the move."

"Which way are they moving, Mr. Paris?" she asked.

"Towards us, ma'am."

Janeway sighed. "I'm on my way."

Harry and Seven stood next to one set of barrels, ostensibly examining them for leaks. In
reality, Seven was trying to break into one of the wall panels so that she could reroute power from the force field to another system on the ship. Harry was standing guard.

"How's it going?" he asked her for the eleventh time.

She sighed. "Ensign Kim, I suggest you remain silent until such time as I have told you I
have made progress. Please remain alert to the Minatian troops."

"Uh, yeah, sorry," he said sheepishly and felt his face turn red.

She worked in silence for a few moments longer before she felt a tap on her shoulder.
Looking up, she saw a look of panic on Harry's face. She closed the console quickly and stood up.

"What's going on over here?" the guard asked.

"I had a…leg cramp," Seven lied. "Ensign Kim was assisting me in relieving the stress."

"Come out from behind there," the guard ordered, shoving them towards the center of the
cargo bay. Seven stumbled, whether to keep up with the leg cramp story or from the force of the
guard, Harry wasn't sure.

"Any luck?" B'Elanna asked when the guards were out of earshot.

Seven shook her head a little bit. "I was unable to access the force field controls. The
Minatians have encoded them somehow. They have become more advanced technologically since the Borg encountered them."

"Great," Paris grumbled. "She's the only authority we have on these guys, and her
information's out of date."

"Do not give up all hope, Mr. Paris. Something will present itself," Tuvok said.

"Tuvok, would you stop saying that?" B'Elanna snapped. "I can't believe you, with all your Vulcan logic, can just chant "something will present itself" like a mantra!"

Tom put his hands on her shoulders. "B'Elanna, you're not helping any-fighting with Tuvok
won't get us out of here any quicker."

"I'm going stir crazy," she replied, her voice a harsh whisper. "He's the senior officer
here and he's just sitting there, doing nothing." Her voice got even lower. "I have as much faith
in the captain as the next person but if she's dead…" she swallowed. "If she's dead, we have to do
this on our own."

Tom wrapped her in a hug that she initially resisted. "We'll get the force field down,

B'Elanna." He smiled. "Go talk with Seven; see if you two can come up with something together."

B'Elanna nodded and made her way towards the Borg woman.

Janeway ran a hand through her hair. It was a painful thing to do, but the dirty tresses
were falling into her eyes constantly. Her arms were so sore; the joints were tight and bruised.
How long had it been? More than a week, but less than a month. Another strand of hair fell into
her eyes and she sighed, tucking it behind her ear.

She stared at the gruel in front of her. The Minatians did have enough courtesy to feed
her, which she greatly appreciated. And Klantio had informed her that her crew was still alive,
her ship still intact. But she received no information on her first officer. Was this their
mental torture-denying her the knowledge of his condition? If he was dead...no, she still had the
rest of the crew to think of.

She ate the gruel quickly so as not to taste it. Leola root stew would be highly
received after eating this concoction. It had the consistency of rubber cement, the color of
Klingon Bloodwine, and smelled an awful lot like a barn. Very unpleasant, but it was keeping her alive.

She examined her new cell. This one was smaller than the one she had been held in for so
long. Its three walls were rough, unfinished, and coarse to the touch. The fourth wall was
actually a series of thick, metal bars. Janeway was reminded of the ancient Earth jails she had
seen in pictures.

The low ceiling made it difficult to stand, even for someone of her short stature. And so
the captain spent a great deal of time sitting or lying down, and thinking. Doing too much
thinking. Or not enough thinking, depending on how you looked at it. She still had no way, not
even a plan, of escape.

She had learned a few things about where she was being held. First, she was on a ship.
She had deducted this from the dull throbbing noise the walls and floor made constantly. Tuvok
would have told her another possibility was seismic activity on a planet. But she had ruled out
the possibility of being on a planet because she had been studying the layout of her prison every
time she was taken out of it.

The corridors were short, with many intersecting parts. Every time she was taken
for...questioning, she was brought a different way. Of course, all the paths looked identical.
But Janeway had been paying careful attention to right and left turns. Sometimes, they would make only one turn before she was thrown into another chamber, and other times they would walk for at least twenty minutes before she was given the same treatment. Whether this was because of room availability or a Minatian attempt to disorient her, she had yet to determine.

But none of this did her much good because she was still without a means to escape. Even
if she could break free of her cell, she had no idea where Chakotay was or where the Minatian
equivalent of the "Bridge" was. She wasn't quite ready to admit to herself that their only hope
was the crew on Voyager but it was getting to that point.

Janeway looked out the view port again and felt her stomach sink. Harry had identified
over fifty Minatian ships that had their weapons pointed at the lone Federation craft. This was
not going to be pleasant.

She put both hands on the back of Tom's chair and then spoke over her left shoulder. "Hail
the Councilor."

Harry nodded and pushed a few buttons on his console. The console beeped back angrily at
him. "No response, Captain."

"They're charging weapons," Ensign Ayala said from tactical.

"I'd say that was a response," Tom voiced, trying to be witty. The comment fell on deaf
ears and he went back to his job at piloting.

Everyone looked towards the captain. She walked over to her chair slowly and set herself
down in it. When she finally realized that everyone was waiting on her command, she spoke.

"Raise shields!"

"Should I get us out of here, Captain?" Tom asked, turning to look over his shoulder.

Janeway shook her head. "We are going to get a cure for Commander Chakotay one way or
another. I didn't want to beat it out of them, but I will if it's necessary."

Tom grinned. "Yes ma'am."

Chakotay opened his eyes. Or at least he thought he had opened his eyes. Voyager's first
officer couldn't see anything except black with specks of light at random. It was more than a tad
disconcerting.

"Ah, you're awake," said a voice that had no visible source. The specks of light
disappeared. "How are you feeling?"

"I can't see," Chakotay said, his voice very hoarse. "What have you done to me?"

"Can't see? That's not supposed to happen." Chakotay heard nothing for a few moments and
then a loud beeping assaulted his ears. He flinched. "I should have run more tests," Rinyht said,
his voice almost sad.

"What have you done to me?" Chakotay asked again.

"The drug is affecting your physiology in a way I hadn't expected."

"What the hell does that mean?" Chakotay's voice sounded more than a tad angry.

Rinyht signed. "The synapses in your brain are degrading; it's only a matter of time
before you're completely brain dead."

Chakotay cursed in his native language softly, one of the few words he had learned as a
child. "You can't stop it?"

The doctor purred. "Are you going to tell me what I want to know?"

"I can't," Chakotay said, exasperated. "What you want to know isn't the truth."

"Then what is the truth, Commander?"

Chakotay snapped. "I've been telling the truth," he shouted and then felt warmth on his
skin, presumably from the lights. The doctor must have jumped back at his outburst.

"You're signing your own death warrant, Commander, and your crew's." The doctor paused and
Chakotay could hear the grin in his voice. "Don't forget the captain; your signature is on hers as
well."

"You son of a..." Chakotay felt the needle enter his skin right before he lost
consciousness.