Okay, I DID make you wait another year! How horrible is that! Again I forgot the story and plot and everything, and I thought WHAT! I will NEVER leave a story unfinished! I think I said as much a few chapters ago, and I'm keeping my word Damn it!
So here is another chapter with two more to come! They are finished, I just need to do my usual crappy editing job. I do apologize (again, this is getting a bit routine isn't is ;) for the length of time this has taken! But more importantly I apologize for inconsistencies, grammar mishaps and…everything else that I should apologize for. INCLUDING the TITLE! I happen to feel it is no longer appropriate considering the way this story has actually turned out, but I'm not going to change it for confusions sake. When I say I had no idea where this story was going, I meant it. I hope you like it, and I PROMIS (for real this time!) that it will be completely posted by the end of the week! And by that I mean no later then Saturday.
THANK YOU for sticking with me on this! You are all wonderful and each one of you that have placed this fic on your favourites list, as well as the author alert list, flatter me greatly. It was your continuing comments and support that reminded me to finish this!
Now, go enjoy!
Chapter 12
Tirzri'wa had disappeared as they had taken a bubble shuttle to a different hangar. There was nothing that they could discuss about his ship until they arrived and he saw it first hand. What Maki'naj and Mana'ri did insist on speaking of, were ways in which Tom could possibly infiltrate the Trigan defenses. It quickly became apparent that the Widariat scouts who patrolled the border were not common knowledge to those outside the Widariats defensive or spatial programs. Their secretive posts and above standard scanning devices had been feeding information about the Trigan technology for years. Mana'ri was positive that, because the Trigan used such a wide assortment of different technologies on their ships, it shouldn't be too difficult to gain access to them.
"Sloppy, undisciplined and unenlightened. That is how they are. We are not in position to truly judge why they choose to be this way, for their reasons are their own. It does not mean that we accept it. The path they follow is negative, and it will lead to their own undoing in the end. Until such time occurs, however, we cannot and will not interfere in their development." The bitterness was tinged with sadness as Mana'ri spoke, but Tom didn't really worry about why these Trigan did what they did. They had Voyager, and Tom was going to get it back.
The bubble doors slid open, indicating that they had arrived and Tom followed his companions out of the door. They were facing a window that looked outside onto a forest. In the distance a shuttle was departing into space, and closer flew a small flock of fluttering mice-like animals.
"The Kria'dar." Mana'ri announced and Tom turned to look behind him. For a brief moment he couldn't breathe, then feeling how slack his jaw had become he regained dexterity and quickly shut it. "Almost as maneuverable in planetary atmosphere as it is in space." He informed Tom proudly. Tom hadn't reached a responsive level yet as he rapidly glanced from one end to the other of the vehicle. It was stunning, powerful, sleek and absolutely beautiful. It looked to be about fifty meters in length, fifteen high, and its widest part looked about twenty. Its frame was almost like an elongated oval, the nose rounded out to a point that looked both threatening and approachable. A quarter way in from the nose began the smooth protrusion of the wing. It curved outward from the body until it was over three meters in width and height. There was no doubt that at its end was the nacelle thruster, and that there was an exact copy on the other side of the ship. There was also one coming from the top of the ship, like a dorsal fin, but it only reached out a meter and the nacelle was one third of the size of the main thruster.
"There are five ways onto…her," Maki'naj said, picking up on Tom's earlier implication that the ship was female. "Under the starboard nacelle is a hidden access hatch, meant for only one or two people to use at a time. Under her belly near the front is one of two cargo holds; this is the only one accessible outside of the ship. At the back, again under the belly, is a shuttle bay, with one fully operational Sirt'ak shuttle and room for three others if they are parked closely. Try not to break the Sirt'ak." Tom laughed, still not really sure of what else to say as he listened to the quick briefing. "There is, of course, a transport system almost identical to the one on Voyager, though it is modified slightly. You will understand what I mean later. Lastly, the ventilation and waste disposal systems open through the ships hull. There are no other ways in unless, for some unspeakable reason, you tear away her hull."
"Are you sure this is the ship you want to give me?" Tom had to ask, well aware that he was still staring stupidly but not overly concerned about how he appeared.
"Do you think you require something larger?" Mana'ri asked, uncertainly.
"No, no…it's absolutely perfect. I wasn't expecting a ship even close to this magnitude…I have no clue how I can begin thanking you."
"No need for thanks." He replied briskly, as though Tom's reaction was all he needed to feel proud about their gift. "Now, we decided on this ship because it is big enough to hold a crew compliment of no more then eight beings, but with the advanced AI it can be easily manned by only yourself. If you would join me at the cargo hatch I'll have the ship begin acknowledging you as its captain." Tom followed quickly, not taking his eyes off the hull. Its bronze-gold plating seemed to glow in the sunlight filtering through the force-ceiling. The areas where the alloy joined all across the hull was attached so closely together it was difficulty to see where one sheet of alloy began and the other ended.
"You've noticed that there is just enough room for expansion between the alloy. That was my idea." Maki'naj stated proudly. "I hate gaps, they take away from how a hull should flow together." They stopped beside a panel slightly redder than the surrounding hull. "Place your hand there." Tom did as he was told and felt it instantly warm to an almost painful hot before cooling down. "DNA sample. That is not how you access the ship, it is simply an identification panel." Mana'ri had began tapping on the panel in what looked like a specific sequence, explaining that Tom's eyes would be adapted to read it before he left, and the cargo hold opened, lowering its large door to the ground like a ramp. They walked inside the large, empty area, Tom staring around. It wasn't enormous, but its ceiling became higher the further away from the nose of the vehicle it became. It would be able to hold fifty people comfortably.
"Right above here is the command center." Mana'ri stated and then, with nothing but a sudden chill that evaporated as soon as it came, Tom found himself staring around the highly efficient command center. He walked straight to the front middle, where the pilot would sit. The console was expansive and, from what he had learned of Widariat technology, it encompassed, sensors, environmental, transport, communications and access to all other necessary controls. There was walking space in front of the station that ended at a view screen that encompassed the entire wall. Right now, only a rectangle chunk in the middle was operational, and it was showing several hover vehicles approaching the ship. Before Tom could ask about them, Mana'ri began explaining the specifics of the AI and they began to turn full control of the ship over to Toms' command.
Three hours after Tom had first set foot on the ship, he had left Widaria. His need to help Harry, the Captain and everyone else had warred with his need to say a proper goodbye to his new friends. In the end, however, it had come down to time, and Tom couldn't waste anymore. Tirzri'wa had appeared one hour before he was ready to leave, and said that he had placed Tom's personal items in his room, and informed him that some volunteers were loading supplies into the cargo holds. When it came time to leave Tom had been at a loss for words. Mana'ri and Maki'naj had lost their jovial humour, wishing him the best of luck in such a dark time. They shared brief hugs and the two had left with heavy feet. Tom hadn't known them as well as he would have liked, and he knew that if he had stayed on Widaria, they would have been good friends. He knew he could never see them again. By leaving to free his old crew, returning to Widaria would place their planet in danger. He could never return. He looked at Tirzri'wa.
"Captain Tom" They grinned and Tom shook his head. He was a captain now. This ship was his. His entire life he had envisioned himself only becoming a Captain through years of hard work and sacrifice in Starfleet. Once he'd been discharged he had known it was possible to get a ship of his own, but the currency he needed wasn't his and he was not willing to stoop to the level of smugglers, dealers, or worse, to get the money. This was a gift that he may deserve or he may in fact not deserve, but he was beyond thrilled about it. However, there was a dark reason for his new title, and he feared he wouldn't be able to set things right. "I know you will be successful in freeing your people."
"There's really no other option." Tom replied darkly, and then felt guilty for bringing such negativity to their final parting. Tirzri'wa had helped him so much over the last few weeks, and had never asked for anything in return. Tom was still waiting for demands from him, a request for something to repay him and his people for their kindness. The demands never came. Instead, Tirzri'wa pressed a data chip into his hand.
"This is a degradable AI, you may find it useful in your struggle ahead. I am sorry to see you go, but I know that in the end you will find the peace you are searching for. Your friend Harry will continue to be there for you and, I think, others will want to help as well, so long as you let them." Tom pulled his feathered friend into a tight hug, trying to express his gratitude for everything in the one action, like he had with Harry before he left Voyager. "Do what you know is right Tom."
"Thank you Tirzri'wa. I have nothing to offer you but my thanks."
"That is enough for me. Now, you better get going. You can explore your ship in a few hours, once you are clear of our planet. Take care of yourself Tom." And there really hadn't been anything else to say. Tirzri'wa left the ship and joined Maki'naj and Mana'ri at a safe distance. Tom cloaked his ship, the force-ceiling above him disappeared, and Tom was soaring out of the hangar, past the exosphere and was gone after he jumped to warp nine. He remained in his command chair scouring over his controls and trying to learn everything he could. He had five days to become acquainted with exactly what his ship could do, and to become accustomed to giving orders to his AI whenever he needed to.
The last four days had been stressful to the hilt, and the only way he had found to relieve this tension that had built up within his body, was to pace the length of his cell. Five steps in all directions. He could have walked the perimeter of the tiny enclosure, but then he would have dislodged his fellow captives from their resting places. After another few rounds he sat himself down in an empty space, beside Janeway and Ayala, and Gilbert immediately stood and continued in Chakotay's invisible footsteps. It had become a sort of joke among the cell; who would get to pace next. It was a very dry joke but at least it helped pass the time. There were six in his cell altogether, Jenny Delaney and Debra Koslowski rounded out the number and he checked briefly on their sleeping forms in one corner. In the cell to their right were Harry Kim, Collin Crasby, Gerron Tem, Kenneth Dalby, Sheltie Darrin and Candice Barnaine. On their left were Joe Carey, Samantha Wildman, Dana Ronzia, Tahla Greeken, Gerald Bathet and Vorik.
Interestingly enough the Trigan had approximately twenty-five cells lining the walls of a large circular cargo bay, these cells were separated by force fields and not much more. However, Chakotay could only see into the cell on either side of his own, and not the cells beyond that. They had discovered this was the case for everyone through hand signals and lip reading, because sound did not travel through these fields. Chakotay had seen a few prisons from several species and he had never encountered anything so…oddly designed. With almost six Voyager crewmembers in every cell he could see just over half of the crew. Almost directly across from them were B'Elanna and Tuvok. Kes and Neelix had been separated and Chakotay could see only Neelix on the very corner of his range of vision. In the center of the room stood a guard, and she, along with every other guard that had served post in this containment area, had been extremely bored. They had stopped trying to aggravate his crew after the second day, apparently determining that they were the most unentertaining group they had had in a long time.
Chakotay watched Gilbert pacing back and forth for a few minutes and then looked next door to Harry, who was speaking with Bernaine and Crosby, no doubt trying to keep their minds off of their captivity…at least as much as was possible. His black hair had lost its bounce a few days before and needed washing to get rid of the oil that now flattened it. While there were sinks and waste units in every cell (and none were shielded for privacy) only basic baths were occurring to control smell and hygiene. Chakotay's back ached as he leaned against the metal wall at the back of their cell and he watched Harry work his calming magic. Bernaine was slightly claustrophobic and had had a panic attack their second day in captivity. Crasby had never been incarcerated in any form and hadn't handled it to well. Chakotay was relieved that nobody in his cell needed calming, but he figured a part of that reason was because nobody wanted to lose control right under the noses of the captain and the first officer.
The entire crew was dealing with this disaster in their own way. Some panicked, which was to be expected because only a handful of Voyager's crew had ever experienced incarceration, let alone imprisonment for this length of time. Having their ship overrun by Seska and the Kazon, and then being left on a volcanic planet to fend for themselves was still very different from actual confinement. Some of the crew slept a lot while others told stories and histories to pass the time. If Chakotay was correct in his assumptions, then Harry was teaching his cellmates the basics of the Vulcan language. Chakotay had known that Harry, being the communications officer, knew Vulcan almost fluently, along with Bajorin and earths Spanish language. If anything at least Harry was getting some practice at these various tongues, because on Voyager he always spoke standard. Chakotay was drawn back to the guard sitting alone in the center of their circular prison. She started walking around the room, gazing with disinterest into each cell she passed. When she reached his cell he felt her gaze linger in interest on his tattoo a moment before moving on. Directly across the large expanse he saw B'Elanna and Tuvok hurriedly hiding the SIF disrupter they were slowly constructing. By the time the guard had reached their cell she was loosing interest and glanced very briefly inside. As the pale Trigan returned to her spot in the center of the dull room Chakotay relaxed and gave his left should a quick one-handed massage.
The Trigan had boarded Voyager instantly after they had informed the crew of their plans. Only security personnel had weapons and they had been disarmed with an alarming speed that spoke of great experience in abduction. However, it had become instantly apparent that the Trigan attack had been well planned which, while placing Voyager in a very dangerous position, also worked to their benefit. The Trigan had done thorough searches of every crewman's person before beaming them into their cells in groups, but they had also been elated by their victory and rushed through the searches. The result had been various people carrying various small items and tools as they were beamed into the Trigan holding cells. It was with great glee and hope that Voyager realized this group of pirates was incompetent in containing prisoners within completely secure environments.
Every meal they pulled two crewmembers from their cell, roughly, and had them deliver food to each cell so that the guards themselves didn't have to. The guard compliment increased to four at these times, but it was apparent they didn't think the crew would try anything. Docile is the image of the week and every member of the crew, once imprisoned, had appeared to become the perfect prisoners. They didn't ask for anything, they didn't fight, and they weren't making any apparent attempts to escape from this situation. An easy group to take care of, and the guard had grown even more confident as the days passed. This morning B'Elanna had received the last of the concealed tools with her breakfast and together with Tuvok they were creating a device to, hopefully, disrupt the force fields. The prison was assembled in a way that gave the impression of the integration of various ships. The floor, ceiling and wall were multi-coloured grays and, while assembled in a clean and competent manner, told Chakotay, and many of the crew, that there would no doubt be faults within the ships structure. B'Elanna found the first, and that was that the molybedum-jacketed triphase wavguides that activated and controlled the forcfield of their prison, were relatively unprotected. The Trigan were working on the assumption that their prisoners wouldn't have any tools to disrupt the system. They were wrong.
It was difficult business though, hiding this from the guard, because there was really no place to hide it. B'Elanna and Tuvok worked when the guards had their backs turned to the cell, but that was sporadic and allowed for only seconds and, if lucky, minutes at a time to put the tool together. Earlier, about three hours ago by Chakotay's guess, B'Elanna sent a message that it should be ready by next lunch. That was approximately a day away. Janeway was thrilled with the effort but Chakotay could see how worried she was. Time was ticking away and Chakotay knew that they could reach wherever they were being taken at any moment. If they were removed from the cell before the tool was finished...it was a dire situation and there was nobody coming to get them out of this. The one thing Chakotay was grateful for was that Tom wasn't here with them. He'd seen enough of the insides of prisons, and his not being there meant that at least one of them would escape this fate. There was also the tiny, most miniscule hope that Tom would, in some miraculous way, come and find them missing, and get them help. It was a far fetched hope, but Chakotay couldn't stop it from entering his mind. He knew without a doubt the thought had entered Janeway and Ayala's mind, but they too were not holding any true hope for that scenario.
He glanced at Harry again and sighed quietly. The young man was dealing with this situation in a way that showed he had done it before. Being on the senior staff was perhaps one of the most dangerous positions on Voyager, because they were the ones that always got into trouble first. He wondered if Harry thought about Tom while he sat there in his cell, calming his shipmates. Chakotay wondered if the ensign was imagining his best friend sitting alone in a dank, dark hole in the ground waiting for his guards to drag him out for interrogation with absolutely no hope of survival. He wondered if Tom's survival of that horrific place, where such unspeakable acts occurred, gave Harry hope of his own survival of this place. It had been a picnic for them so far, but Chakotay knew, deep down, that it would not last. There was a sinister aura around the Trigan that guarded them, and their stunning green eyes occasionally gazed at the prisoners, like they were searching for their first victim.
Gilbert stopped pacing and Janeway stood swiftly to take his place. Chakotay heard her knees pop at the movement and felt her arm brush against his as she moved. Her steps were the most agitated steps of them all.
Sleeping was something Tom hadn't been good at for as long as he remembered. He'd spent long nights in his childhood unable to shut down his mind, unable to just stop thinking. Those nights had progressed into study sessions, into his hidden hobbies (such as building model ships), and into finding ways of sneaking, undetected, out of his home. After Caldik Prime sleep had been his escape, and he had fallen into coma like nights in order to forget what had happened. Then, after one month of this, he woke up and couldn't fall back under its gift of oblivion. After Starfleet there had really been no time to sleep, because he had been taken from his room on a cargo hold flying to Deep Space Nine. The Cardassian's did their best to not let him truly sleep and he learned to rest in a series of short power naps. On Voyager he managed a few hours a night. Now, on his Kria'dar, sleep was once again proving elusive. This, however, did not bother him as much as it otherwise might have; because he had precious little time to become acquainted with his ship in order to properly engage an enemy.
In one days time he would be upon the Trigan, and he would be infiltrating an alien network of spacecraft, regaining control of Voyager, boarding the Trigan's vessel that held his old crew, hopefully leaving with each and every one of them, and burning a new star system as they hightailed it away from these pirates. Suddenly feeling completely sapped of strength he leaned back in his chair and stared, unseeing, out at the stars zooming by him. What the hell was he doing? He was one person, flying one ship, with one AI, with no exterior (or interior for that matter) weapons. He groaned and brought his hands to his face where he roughly rubbed his fingers down from forehead to neck. He stank, his sweat from the past four days had saturated his clothing and he hadn't bothered to change. He felt dirty and useless sitting here while his crew were going through God knows what while his experienced mind and colourful imagination was providing all sorts of scenarios that had, several times, sent him to the toilet to throw up what little he had managed to eat.
"I'm a mess." He muttered out loud and jumped violently when a serious female voice answered him.
"Yes, you are. You need to bathe, eat and rest and you need to do it in that order." It was Anj'azi, Tirzri'wa's partner's voice. It had been her gift to him as Tirzri'wa's letter, which Tom had found after leaving Widaria, informed him. He pictured her whenever he heard it, and he wondered if her kind voice and warm face would always appear so easily in his mind as the months passed by.
"Why don't you tell me what you really think." He grumbled.
"I did." He couldn't help smiling at this and, with an effort, he pushed himself out of the chair and moved through one of the doors at the side of his bridge.
"All right Anj'azi, I'm going. Keep an eye on the sensors and adjust course as necessary. If anything unusual comes up then holler my way."
"I will inform you of any important occurrences." She sounded slightly exasperated, and he assumed it was because he was asking her to perform tasks she would normally perform without instruction. He made a note not to do that in the future, because an irritated AI could turn his shower from hot to cold in an instant.
He'd called her Anj'azi for two reasons, the first being that since Anj'azi had given the use of her voice he assumed she wouldn't mind if he used her name as well. The second was because, on Widaria, Anj'azi roughly meant grace, power and peace. He figured he could use all three on any given day. Naming the Kria'dar was another matter entirely and had yet to occur. However, at the moment his ship would remain nameless, because with the way he was feeling he knew it would end up something horrible and angry…like Dreadnaught, The Vengeance, or even Leola. Though Neelix might like the last name Tom had no desire to taint his ship with negativity. The name would come to him one day; he just had to be patient.
There were two entrances onto the bridge. One led to a comfortable conference and planning room (which also entered into a corridor), and from there to Tom's private quarters. The main room was what he called his living room. It was a relatively large space with a large viewing window on one wall. Tom had stumbled into this room in search of a waste receptacle four hours after leaving Widaria and he had stopped dead in shock. It was fully furnished. This was what Tirzri'wa had been doing while Tom had been introduced to his ship and had been learning how to operate her. His friend had apparently found some volunteers (it wasn't until the next day Tom had realized exactly how many volunteers Tirzri'wa had found) who had found and installed almost everything in his new home. This room, however, was his favourite. There was an extremely comfortable couch made from wood and secured to the floor with powerful magnets installed in the legs. Tom found he could deactivate these magnets if he wanted to move the couch, but for now he was happy where it was. There were a few comfortable lounging chairs around the room as well as a beautiful coffee table. Its base was hand carved from a deep coloured wood that matched the couch and chairs, and a nearly unbreakable glass top.
One corner of the room had a series of shelves built into it on which there were various books of Widaria that illustrated the beautiful planet and its people as well as a book to teach Tom their language. He would find this useful in the future, because he would need to know it fluently to fully understand his ship. Currently everything was in English, but seeing as it wasn't built for Federation standard they had all determined it would only last about a year or so before the Widarian language reinserted itself as the dominant lingo. Sitting on one of the middle shelves was a photo of Tirzri'wa and his family, smiling and waving happily at him. Occasionally one of his children would become bored and do something unexpected such as pull the others hair, which would result in a silent scolding from one of their parents. Every now and then Mana'ri and Maki'naj would wander in for a visit. It was quite the advanced little holograph. Of course, in the event that Tom was unsuccessful with his rescue attempt and the Trigan gained access to his ship, Anj'azi was instructed to take anything that could link this ship to the Widariats and transport it off ship into a billion particles. And, of course, if Tom didn't come back to his ship within five months of leaving it then it would destruct its mainframe and permanently delete the well hidden Widariat coding. If Anj'azi felt any hostiles were getting too close to discovering her true origin, she would also terminate her mainframe and herself. Tom had decided that this was the safest way to protect his friends, and his ship had agreed.
What had immediately caught Tom's attention about the room, however, had been the vegetation that was littered throughout the entire space. Hanging from the high ceiling were pots overflowing with leaves and vines. There were several large potted tree-like plants in the corners and along the walls, and there where more plants sitting securely on wall shelves. It had been breath taking. The only place Tom had ever seen so many plants had been at his aunt's home back in San Francisco and in Voyager's Hydroponics bay. A note had been left indicating that each plant required very little care and were mature, so they would not grow any more. Quite a few would flower but all had different seasons so there would be different colours throughout the year. Right now it was a purple-red blossom hanging from three of the many ceiling baskets. Surprisingly it was organized in a way that still left plenty of room to move and give the impression of a lot of space. When Tom had tried to rest in these last few days, it had been on the couch in this room.
Entering through there into his kitchen dining area, which also looked out upon the stars, Tom had been shocked again to find a fully stocked kitchen. It included a cooking surface and a cooking box, a small fridge, and a cleaning corner. A replicator and drink dispenser sat tucked in the wall beside the fridge and there were cupboards filled with an assortment of cooking, eating and drinking utensils. The counter of the kitchen was shaped like an L and tucked into one corner. There was another large, hand carved glass dining table that was surrounded by six very comfortable wood chairs. Tom had never seen so much wood on a starship before; it was the complete opposite of Voyager and gave the impression of an extremely warm, yet efficient atmosphere. The bathroom branched off from the kitchen and contained all the basics he was used to, as well as a large bathing tub set against one wall. There were two more doors, one leading into the corridor and the other leading to his room. It had been decorated with light colours, which made it appear large and happy. An assortment of rich reds, creams and pale yellows and blues were scattered through out, making up his bed and walls in colour. One entire wall slid into the ceiling in three sections to reveal a storage area for his clothing behind. It was half full, and Tom had only brought four pairs of clothing with him. The Widariats had made clothing for him based on his own cultures standards and some on their own. He had been so touched that he'd had to turn away or he was afraid he'd start to cry. This was not a time for tears.
He'd later discovered his main cargo bay, the one leading off ship, was full of supplies for himself and for Voyager, just incase they needed some to get back on the road. The smaller storage space was empty and had a mezzanine encircling. There was a stair case leading up to it from the ground level and a door leading to another hall both up there and on ground level. This ship was a maze and, Tom had delightedly discovered, there were unmarked doors that looked like nothing but another chunk of wall. Tom decided that, if he got the chance, he would turn this cargo hold into a gym and recreation room. It was big enough for a variety of sports, and without a holodeck he would need some form of entertainment.
There were also seven other rooms, all for the crew that he did not have. The second largest one had been converted into a hydroponics bay and had been filled with a large variety of fruits and vegetables that were bred for quick growth within space environments. They should last, if properly cared for, as long as the ship will…that could be a very, very long time. One room was turned into a spare conference room and library; all Tom needed was some books to fill the shelves. He only had twelve paperback novels to fill the space and he doubted there was a bookstore nearby. Still, it was a nice thought. The second largest room remained a spare bedroom and came with a fully furnished washroom of its own. The other two rooms were fully furnished as guest quarters and, while having their own toilet and sink, they shared a shower room. Tom would learn later that the conference room's table could in fact flip over and become a comfortable bed in case he needed more space. The bed was large enough to fit two people comfortably.
Tom had a quick bath, allowing himself to try and sooth his tense muscles in hot water until he felt an unnecessary guilt that none of his old crew could relax this way now and he shouldn't be either. The scrubbed clean and dressed in fresh clothes. He shaved and decided to forego officially brushing his hair and settled for a finger brush. It wasn't all that long anyway and nobody was here to see it messed up. He ate toast and drank what must have been at least a liter of water. He was forgetting to stay hydrated and it was giving him seriously distracting headaches. He had just sat down on his couch and closed his eyes when Anj'azi interrupted him. He was on his feet and heading to the bridge before she'd finished saying his name.
"Tom, we have picked up the Trigan ship cluster on the long range sensors. Voyager is with them but the crew is on board a Trigan vessel, as we predicted." He had insisted she call him Tom instead of captain since no one else was around to hear the unofficial title. He felt more comfortable that way.
"How long until we catch up?"
"Four hours and thirty-two minutes at present speed. They have come to a full stop and have, apparently, been waiting there for the past thirty minutes." He stared at his readings, confirming her statements and beginning to run calculations through his head. He was going to assume that they were waiting for another ship or ships to join them, and when that happened he was going to be on a whole new level of difficulty when it came to getting his crew back. He hoped that they weren't going to arrive until then, but he had to factor that possibility in. Shit, he hadn't foreseen this. He straightened from his bent position over his main console and headed to his briefing room.
"Anj'azi, I need you to look for the ships they're meeting and let me know the second they come into range." He walked to his large, round briefing table. "Activate Trigan cluster blueprints." A detailed holographic blue print appeared in the center of the table. "Enlarge. Activate schematic of Voyager. Enlarge. Activate blue print of a single Trigan vessel like the ones they are flying and locate holding cells large enough to compliment Voyagers crew. Locate vessel holding the crew of the first diagram." The images blinked into existence immediately and spread in an organized line across the table. Tom stared intently at them. He had a plan, but the ships had been moving in his plan. Now he needed to alter it and come up with a third back up plan incase they had extra visitors dropping by. He quashed his anxiety and ignored his fears for his crew. In order to make this work he needed to focus. He would get them out of there, or he would die trying.
Hey, like that last line there? I know, I know; it's cheesy…but I really couldn't resist