He hadn't truly feared death for a long time now, not since his shuttle crash in Starfleet. In fact, back then he had almost decided to follow his friends to wherever it was they had gone. The guilt he felt had almost destroyed him, but the guilt he felt for thinking about ending his life, when they had so brutally lost theirs, forced him to go on. He made a deal with them that he would survive no matter what, to honour them. One day he would join them; he didn't need to rush to get there, despite how he sometimes craved its promised ending. The Cardassian's had not granted it, not for him, and he had begged then. After that place, he added a few more names to the list of reasons that forced him to survive. Life hadn't been that bad since then. He had found a best friend, and that had been something he never thought he would ever find again. He had been given a chance to truly fly again. He had been given a rank and a shit load of responsibility for people that didn't give a damn about him, but life hadn't been that bad. There had even been a few moments when he had almost fallen out of his chair laughing at his friend's jokes…or the jokes he played on his friends. He had felt most alive in those moments, despite everything, and he sometimes hated himself for feeling that way.
Yet, he still didn't really fear death. He was curious as hell about it, and sometimes he would lie awake in his quarters and wonder exactly where all his friends were right then. Were their souls flying around somewhere in heaven or in a Utopia of their own making? Were they following Tom around as invisible forces and watching how he was doing? Did they simply cease to exist all together or do they come back as a new soul in a completely new body. Tom wouldn't mind being an eagle if he came back as an animal, or maybe a jungle cat of some kind. He had decided, though, that he probably deserved a short life as a creature that had no worries other than survival; that had no responsibilities to others. So, having spent time in his life craving death, begging for death, and being curious about death he determined that in the end it would be quite ridiculous for himself to fear it. No, he didn't fear death for himself, what he feared was that death could take others, and he had been responsible for too much of it in this life.
"Tom." Anj'azi's quiet voice gently interrupted his thoughts and he abruptly looked away from the mirror, where he had been staring at himself for the last ten minutes. "You need to get ready." He looked back at the mirror and met his worried blue eyes. He stared a moment, until the worry slipped into determination and there was no sign of weakness left. He straightened his back, squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. It was time to get to work.
He went to his closet and pulled out a pair of black pants and a black t-shirt. The pants had several deep pockets traveling up both legs and he would need these pockets later. He probably should have gone for dark gray clothing to try and blend in more with the Trigan ship interior, but there was something traditionally comforting with black. Besides, if the Trigan saw him, regardless of whether he was wearing black or gray, they would instantly recognize him as an intruder. Maybe seeing a person dressed in solid black suddenly looming up on them would give him the element of surprise, but hopefully he wouldn't come across any Trigan at all.
Into the upper pockets on his pants he slipped the degradable AI Tirzri'wa had given him, along with a nice collection of small, yet well-balanced, darts. He'd managed to convince the replicator that darts belonged to a game and were only dangerous in the wrong hands…he'd tipped them generously with a tranquilizer. His replicator's couldn't create any proper weapons for him, not even a tazer. He'd need to get to Voyager first if he wanted to gain access to any form of phaser, and that wasn't going to work. With Voyager already being in the custody of these pirates for several days it was without a doubt that they had began scavenging the ship. This meant they had likely taken all hand held weapons and relocated them from the weapons locker to a different area, maybe even off ship. Tom couldn't get onto Voyager and waste time wandering around searching for the weapons, especially considering that there were Trigan everywhere on the ship. Anj'azi had taken scans that showed the Trigan were even in the Jeffries tubes, crawling around like overgrown rats. Infiltrating Voyager in any manner would be a dangerous waste of time. Though, when he took a moment to acknowledge his plan of infiltrating the Trigan ships, the enemies turf full of officers marching around carrying charged weapons, entering Voyager didn't seem like such a bad idea. Too bad his shipmates weren't on Voyager.
In his lower pockets he slipped some lengths of strong but thin rope, just in case he might want some. Adding a few more choice items he headed towards his transporter room. Anj'azi was currently sidling up beside the Trigan vessel that contained his crew, her cloaking device keeping their presence a secret. In the center of the cluster of ships sat Voyager, no longer held hostage by the containment shields the Trigan had initially trapped them in. In obtaining their prize and not fearing any reprisal from mysterious invisible ships, the cluster of ships had conveniently dropped their perimeter shields. If they hadn't done this Tom wouldn't have had much of an idea of how to infiltrate them. Thank god for small favours and, as Mana'ri had said, for "sloppy and undisciplined" pirates. If it hadn't been for the element of surprise and the electro plasma disruption shield the Trigan had, they would never have been able to leach Voyagers EPS power and effectively shut her down, and therefore wouldn't have had a chance of capturing her crew.
"Pirates." Tom muttered as he stepped onto the transport pad. He could have transported from anywhere on this vessel, but being here allowed him a moment to fully comprehend that he was about to leave his ship. He glanced at the holster around his waist that held his metal retractable staff. It had been a gift from Mana'ri, and while Tom wasn't nearly as proficient with a staff weapon as some that he had fought with, he wasn't all that bad. At the moment the rod was only thirty-five centimeters long, but when activated it stretched to a meter and a half. He had no idea if it would help, but it was better than practically nothing.
"Wish me luck." He spoke dryly to the air and his AI obediently told him to break a leg. He'd been telling her too much about earth phrases in these last few days. He waited a second as she chose the opportune moment to whisk him aboard his target. A cold tingling enveloped his body and suddenly he was standing in the center of a dim cargo hold. Instantly he moved out of site and squeezed himself between some large, plastic storage units; a moment later a Trigan came in and bustled closely over to where he was hiding. Tom could just see him through the cracks between the storage bins. The beings pale skin seemed to illuminate the area around him as he quickly checked the databanks of a large stack of blue bins. The air in the room was still and ominous and the pale alien appeared slightly nervous to be in its vast darkness. Tom shifted on his feet and stilled when his pant let brushed against the bins stacked directly behind him. The Trigan looked over sharply, wide green eyes flashing in nervousness. For a long moment neither of them moved and Tom watched intently as the being let out an exasperated sigh and hurriedly finished checking his notes to the bins databanks. Everything seemed to be in order and the Trigan hurried out of the dark hold. He must have been afraid of the dark.
Tom let out a brief sigh of relief and then shuffled sideways from out between his storage units. Near the door he would find an access port where he would be able to insert his disposable AI, but as he carefully navigated through a series of ceiling high stacks and silently approached the door he realized his first problem. There was nothing to hide behind if anyone came through, and he did not have time to study the activities of the cargo bay workers.
"Anj'azi." He whispered.
"Yes." She replied clearly through the hearing monitor tucked inside his ear.
"Are there any other access ports within this cargo bay?" They had assumed that this one would be safe to use and hadn't fully looked into others.
"Affirmative, but it is unlikely you can reach it."
"Why not?"
"It is…located in the ceiling, in the center of the cargo bay. It appears to have been placed in an illogical area." Tuvok would love Anj'azi. Tom moved slowly around the corner and looked up at the far away ceiling. There was no way he could get up there; the stacked units were to far from the center of the room to be of any use. Damn. He looked back at the door. He would have to follow his first plan. He reached into his pocket and removed a tiny alloy laser. He looked carefully at the door and took two quick steps towards his destination before he stopped and quickly disappeared behind a crate again. Two beings entered the bay this time, talking quietly and excitedly as they hurried to a rack that carried torpedo shaped casings. Tom heard one of them grunt as they pulled one object out of the rack, and then heard their slower footsteps heading back towards the door as they struggled to carry their burden between them. Their uniforms, Tom saw, were a pale silvery colour and almost blended perfectly with their skin. The moment the door slid shut behind them Tom slid silently forward and quickly scanned the wall. Finding what he wanted he turned on the laser and quickly drew it in a small rectangular pattern, leaving a faint burn mark so that Tom wouldn't lose his spot. Slipping on thin fire retardant gloves Tom then began the slower process of cutting through the thin alloy. His laser was miniscule, which meant it would leave a very thin cut that would be easier to conceal. It also meant it would take a minute longer to cut than with a larger tool.
There were very few sparks and Toms' hand was as steady as ever as it slowly traced his outline. When he'd finished cutting three of the four sides he turned off the laser, flipped it over and pried the metal a small ways away from the wall with the tools flat end. He stuck his fingers between the metal and pulled down until there was enough room for him to insert his hands. If anybody came in now he wouldn't be able to hide the flap of metal jutting out of the wall. His hands weren't shaking at all, but he could feel the perspiration trickle down from his forehead to his cheek. He quickly pulled the degradable AI chip from his pocket and placed it beside two wires he had cut the moment before. Holding the chip in place with his thumb and one of the wires over the ship with his index finger he quickly soldered the two together. He did the same with the other wire and waited a moment, staring intently at the now dangling chip. When a tiny yellow pilot light blinked twice he hurriedly bent the metal as best he could, back into place. He ended up having to quickly tack weld it at two tiny points to ensure it wouldn't pop open and then he moved stealthily back to his hiding spot between the bins.
All the AI had needed was to be routed into two input wiring systems. The blinking yellow lights had told Tom that he'd gotten the wires right, but it would still take half an hour for the AI to upload into the system and then it would only give him limited control for about twenty-five minutes. Within that time he had to locate his crewmates so he could be sure they were all beamed off the ship. He worked his way between the bins until he reached ones stacked only five high, where he quickly climbed up and then lay flat on his stomach, pulling a small PADD from one of his pockets. Accessing it he occasionally glanced at the door, waiting for more intrusions. The PADD's screen illuminated and a schematic of the deck he was on filled the screen. He needed to get from here to an access hatch where he could climb down a floor to reach the prison. Once the AI fully integrated into the Trigan system he would be able to lower to force fields that confined his crew. From there it was a simple matter of swapping Voyagers crew with the Trigan crew on Voyager.
"Two large ships have appeared on close range sensors. They are Trigan in design and heading this way. ETA sixty-three minutes." Anj'azi announced and Tom nodded tightly to himself.
"Affirmative." He replied quietly, even though there was no one around to hear him. It was going to be a snug escape but Tom thought they could manage, so long as there were no complications. He grimly stared at his map. He had planned on waiting until the AI was up and running before finding his shipmates, that way the AI could tell him when the halls were clear of Trigan, but he felt an urgency surge up in his chest that told him he needed to get there a bit sooner. With this agitation welling inside of him he decided to make a move. He got up and stepped lightly onto the next pile of bins, and then the next. The doors opened once again and he silently lay flat, hoping they hadn't seen him. There were two voices again and they headed straight for Tom.
"They want these bins to transfer all those weapons they found on that ship. One of the best catches we've ever had." The tiny hearing monitor in his ear translated their conversation for him. "Do you think four are enough?"
"It's what they asked for. If they want more they can come get it themselves." A soft whirring sound vibrated through the air and Tom saw the boxes on his left shift up a notch. They must have a gravitation lift to move these boxes. Quickly and silently Tom rolled to his left, grabbed the edge of his bin as he went over the edge and quickly lowered himself down. His feet touched the stack of four bins just as they began moving and he dropped silently to lie flat on the top of his new stack. It dropped slightly with his extra weight and then the lift accommodated him. He listened carefully to see if either of the movers heard him, and lay as flat as possible when the bins began to move towards the door. As they passed through the doorway and into the brightly lit hall Tom felt his shoulders and then his rear slightly scrape the doors arch. For a brief moment he feared he would be pushed off of his perch.
They had turned right and he thanked the local deity for small favours, and stopped thanking them when he risked a glimpse at the floor. This corridor was unusually tall, which fit well for the storage bin transfer, but the floor was a grate that he could see right through to the corridor below them, and the three below that. This was going to make sneaking around a bit more difficult. He looked over the edge again and noticed that there was nobody else in the corridor that he was traveling except his two chauffeurs, and the hallways seemed fairly empty below him as well. He rolled on to his back and reached up, grabbing at a sturdy beam that traversed, along with many others, across the corridors ceiling. He held tightly as the bins slid away from under him and hung, semi-tucked, in mid air for a moment until they turned the corner just up ahead. Looking down to make sure no one was in the corridor below him he dropped down, not able to muffle the thud his landing caused. He pulled three darts from a pocket and double checked that his staff was still attached properly in its holster before heading back ten steps and turning into a corridor they had passed moments before. He stopped to listen, heard no footsteps, and continued on.
His eyes glanced everywhere, every second. He couldn't afford to be caught now, not while people depended on him. He wasn't too impressed with the ship, especially not after flying Voyager and his own Kria'dar. The grated floor had sporadic patches of solid metal that he assumed were placed there because of broken grating or a lack of grating. Whatever the reason he used it to his advantage whenever he heard someone on the deck below. Stopping there he would crouch low with his darts at the ready. So far so good, but he was anxious for his AI to be uploaded into the system. If they decided to do a security scan of their ship his cover would be blown. He prayed that they were too confident for such measures, too elated by their latest catch to be paranoid about intruders.
The footsteps below passed and he moved on. Three doors down and he would reach the waste room, which allowed access to anyone and contained an entrance to a maintenance shaft. Two doors away and he heard footsteps suddenly coming from up ahead. He ran for it, and practically threw himself through his selected door. It slid shut silently and he quickly headed to the side and pressed himself flat against the wall just behind a support beam that covered most, but not all, of his body. It was very dark in this room, and when the door to the corridor opened it spilt light in a v-shape across the room but, thankfully, it didn't touch Tom. He watched in apprehension as a slim shadow stood for a moment in the doorway and he prepared to throw his tranquilizing dart, but then the suspicious being left and the door closed softly. He waited a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the new darkness of the room. There were blinking lights from panels all over the room and on the wall. In one corner stood a giant tank that glowed a pale mustard colour that had tubes entering it from the sides and, he suspected, underneath. He didn't care to know what any of this was.
The room was unkempt, there were various tools lying around on the floor and an assortment of multi-material boxes piled awkwardly in another corner. Tom walked across the dark room carefully, not wanting to disturb anything, and found the access hatch he was looking for. It opened with a bit of a squeal and he climbed through quickly, banging his knees as he went, and shut it securely behind him. It was pitch black. He pulled out his PADD that contained the map and activated it, slightly illuminating the space around him. When they got off this ship Tom was never going to go into another small and dark space for as long as it was his choice. He staved off the panic by focusing on his map and finding his location. Just like the Jeffries tubes on Voyager, though much smaller, Tom could get to almost anywhere on the ship through them. He began crawling backwards until he hit a t-junction and could turn and crawl forward, creating a larger bruise on his knee with each step. All he could hear was his slightly ragged breathing and he forced himself to calm. He couldn't hear things properly if his heavy breathing blocked out all other sound.
"How much time until those ships arrive?" Getting to the prisoners was taking longer than he thought, so it was a good thing he left earlier.
"Forty-two minutes. Six minutes until the degradable AI is functional."
"Thanks." He muttered and continued to pull himself through the narrow space. He'd be there in a few minutes, and then he would wait for the AI before making the move. They would have plenty of time to get away before those other ships arrived.
Gerald Bathet sat in his corner of the cell and fumed silently as he stared out at the guard. He was not the only one who was beyond pissed at the moment and he hoped that if it wasn't he who got his hands on the guard first, then it was B'Elanna Torres. She would tear him limb from limb and he was sure that the only person who might attempt to stop her would be Tuvok, and there was a large emphasis on the might.
About an hour ago their guard, along with eight others, had stormed over to Captain Janeway and Harry's cells and dropped the force fields, ordering them out into the middle of the room. With all those weapons pointed at them they weren't going to argue. It looked like they had finally grown tired after four, or was it five, days of trying to access Voyager's computers without the proper clearance codes. It was obvious they didn't want to damage Voyager's control systems and had realized that they needed help. They weren't too happy about that. As the twelve Voyagers and the nine armed guards stood in the middle of the room the rest of the prisoners had stared in worry. This was something new, and they had all feared when the routine would change.
Nobody in the cells could hear what was being said, but they guessed it was along the lines of demanding the access codes for Voyager. The alien marched up to Janeway and struck her harshly across the face. She kept her head bowed for a moment before looking up and glaring at him. There was a small trickle of blood on her split lip. Every crewmember was now standing and glaring at the being, watching in silence. The guards tried to ignore them, but a few shifted on their feet nonetheless as over one hundred pairs of eyes stared in anger.
More muted words tumbled from the interrogator and his green eyes flashed in anger when not one of the Voyagers' even moved. He hit her again, and again she returned to glaring at him, squaring her shoulders and daring him to get the answers he wanted from her. He suddenly became aware of everyone staring at him and quickly had the guards herd the twelve members of Voyager out of the room. The crew had been quietly fuming ever since. Not one of them would forgive these beings for hurting their Captain, but what was worse right now was that none of them had any clue what was happening to their twelve missing crewmates. They were all worried.
Torres was almost finished the shield disrupter that she was working on, but after that what would happen? Gerald figured they would wander out of their cages and listen to Tuvok tell them how they might be able to get back to their ship. Then the Trigan would become aware that they had escaped and just teleport them back into their little homes, one by one. A few might be able to get to the transporter room and gain control, then they could get back to Voyager, grab whatever weapons might be left on the ship and fight their way out. It was all very sketchy, but there wasn't a whole lot else they could do. The entire crew was at the mercy of these looting ghosts and he wasn't sure if they would be able to escape, even with the force fields lowered. Still, it would be interesting to see what they could accomplish together, and if there was one thing he'd learned while being on Voyager, it was that this crew could wreak havoc when it choose too.
Frustrated he got to his feet and went to stand by Tahla and Samantha and stared at the guard some more. Samantha had finally started talking to him again since their capture. She had been angry with him ever since he pulled that stupid stunt on Paris and it had taken a distraction of this magnitude to get her to acknowledge him again, even if she wasn't overly friendly. He figured that she even blamed Paris's departure on him, and while he admitted he might have had a small part in it, he doubted Paris would up and leave because of one stupid confrontation. The pilot had been putting up with pranks like that for the entire trip, it was no wonder he finally got fed up and left. In honesty that was what a lot of the crew had been hoping would happen; they had been trying to drive him off. It was too bad that their success wasn't as sweet as they thought it would be.
Tom Paris was no longer a member of their crew, so now they just had one less mouth to feed, one less pilot to fly the ship and play ambassador to alien dignitaries. It was just one less person able to be a field medic on away missions, to help out in engineering or stellar cartography or to create new holoprograms. Bathet had finally realized, though it was a little too late, that Paris actually had some uses after all. When he left the Captain had been beyond upset, and they had left Widariat space so slowly that it was obvious she was hoping he would come back. He still didn't like Paris, but he could admit that he had been a bit unfair towards him. Breaking into his quarters and stealing that toy of his was possibly the stupidest thing he had ever done, and then parading it around like that…he deserved the reprimand and restriction to quarters. What he had never been prepared for was actually seeing Paris get angry, and he had been well past furious on that occasion.
Well, almost being killed by the pilot had, in a twisted sense, forced him to respect the man. He had always figured Paris for a pansy, never really sticking up for himself. He could admit now that the restraint Paris had shown, in light of many childish actions over the last year and a half, was more impressive than if he had fought back. It showed a level of dignity that Bathet had never associated with the man. And if Tom Paris could hear his thoughts right now, he'd probably be laughing. Got what we deserved Bathet thought darkly and his glare deepened.
Looking around there were at least three members in every cell at any given time staring at the guard, but this guard wasn't letting it get to him, he was safe as long as the force fields were in place. I wouldn't get too comfortable buddy he thought darkly and then the guard suddenly looked up, surprise on his features before a black body fell from the ceiling and landed right on him, flattening him to the deck. He wasn't getting up any time soon, but the person who did stand was the last person he ever thought he'd see again.
"Tom!" Samantha cried suddenly and every member of Voyager was standing in the prison and watching as Tom hog-tied the guard. Gerald could see his lips moving but didn't know whom he would be speaking too, unless he'd gone over the edge and was talking to himself. Then there was a shimmer and suddenly voices from the other cells could be heard and they stepped, slowly, out of their cells for the first time in days. Bathet wasted no time in marching up to Tom to hear what his plan was, and noted that the remaining command staff of Voyager was thinking along the same lines. Tuvok was the only one who didn't seem surprised to see him.
"Lieutenant, I am assuming you have a plan."
"When have I ever let you down Tuvok?" But there was no humour in the pilot's words as he gazed intently around the crew, who had massed in an unorganized group as they tried to figure out what was going on. Tom's clothes and flesh was covered in what must be dust and his sweat was causing his black t-shirt to cling to his chest. "Release the gas." He said out loud to no one in particular and Bathet assumed he had someone off ship helping him out. That would make sense. Tom's tense gaze met his own briefly before looking at Tuvok and Torres. "Where are they?" He was all business and Bathet noticed several crew around them pull to attention at his commanding tone.
"They were taken away an hour ago. We do not know their location." Tuvok answered. Tom nodded and then held a hand to his ear. Nobody was talking, well aware that too much noise could give them away. The guard on the floor groaned, opening one green eye, and Bathet took great pleasure in kicking him sharply in the head, sending him back to oblivion. Nobody seemed to pay any attention.
"Scan for possible locations of the missing crew and on my mark initiate the exchange." He looked sharply at Tuvok. "In approximately thirty-three minutes two large Trigan ships will rendezvous with these pirates. Currently every Trigan on Voyager has been knocked unconscious. My ship will transport you to Voyager in groups and send the Trigan here. Once you have control of Voyager you will wait only as long as my ship says it is safe too, after that point you have to go to warp. The rest of us will meet you at the coordinates my ship designates."
"I'll go with you to find the others." B'Elanna demanded but Tom instantly shook his head.
"No, you and Tuvok need to be onboard Voyager. If we don't make it you'll be the only senior officers left and Voyager will need you. Bathet?" Tom looked at him in question and he nodded instantly, picking up the unconscious guards weapon, examining how it worked. He made sure he didn't look surprised that the pilot requested his help, and he noticed that the weapon was a simple design. "You won't see my ship, she's cloaked. Questions?" There were none. "Thirty-one minutes." He looked gravely at both of them and then motioned for Gerald to follow. He did so without a word as Paris led the way to the entrance. He was armed with darts and a stick and moved silently. Bathet was glad he was on their side. They stopped before disappearing through the doors and Bathet glanced quickly behind him. His crew was already being beamed out of there, and he grinned in relief, looking back at Tom. The grin was returned, although it was rather cold, and then they moved silently out of the prison, weapons ready.