Survivors - Past and Present

by

Nicol Leoraine

and Anon

aka VirtualQueens

Chapter 7

The world was black. There was a faint line as if to indicate a horizon, but no stars, no moon - nothing to break the monotonous black and grey. His body was floating aimlessly in the thick, oily air, hands and legs drifting in the weightlessness. For anyone else it would have been a liberating experience, freedom from the constant constraint of gravity. But Tom felt trapped.

Seeming to oblige his mind´s whim, the darkness shifted, and the faint outlines of walls appeared. They shimmered briefly, but Tom hardly noticed. Images were streaming past his eyes, but none of them made sense.

There was his father, dark and angry after one of their confrontations. The face leered at him, even as the dark walls morphed into the crumpled interior of a shuttle pod. He could smell the burning flesh of the other occupants, but he couldn't move, couldn't stop their pain.

Oh and don´t forget his time in prison, and the room-mates that shared it with him. Bitterly Tom tried to look away from the images of his past. But they continued to form in front of his eyes, the voices kept screaming. They were calling his name now, asking him to help them, screaming at him until he was sure his head would implode.

"No!" he shouted, but it came out as whisper, lost amid the voices of his past.

"Stop!" he screamed, ripping his hands out of their dark constraints and planting them over his ears. He felt the air leave his lungs, felt his lips forming the word, felt it leave his mouth. But the words he heard, the ones that penetrated his mind, were not the ones he had spoken.

"-a nightmare!" Someone was shouting, and Tom nodded slightly. Yes, it was a nightmare all right.

"Wake up, Tom."

Perhaps it was the use of his first name, or the fact that the voice that spoke it belonged no where in this hellish dream. Or maybe it was the pain.

Tom's eyes flew open as he fled the darkness and he looked up into Chakotay's angry face.

'Great. Now what did I do?' Tom wondered silently, trying to pull away before he realized he was trapped in the ex-Maquis tight grip.

"Lemmego!" Tom hissed. He was surprised when Chakotay obeyed, crawling backwards a few feet. Looking into his face again Tom had the distinct (and unnerving) feeling that Chakotay's anger wasn't directed at him. In fact, he seemed more concerned than anything.

"It's alright Tom. You were having a nightmare."

"I´m well aware of that fact." Tom retorted, gasping in pain at the end of his sentence. Glancing down at his chest he discovered that the needle was gone. His relief at having the thing out was short lived as his chest spasmed and a series of harsh coughs shook his body. With a moan of pure agony Tom curled in on himself, arms protectively circling his chest. It took almost a minute for the coughing to stop, and when it finally did he felt utterly drained.

"Here," a quite voice said, making Tom start slightly. It was Chakotay and he was holding out another repulsive smelling cup. "Conan said you should drink this."

"Who is Conan?"

Chakotay sighed as Tom pushed the cup away and tried to find a comfortable position among the furs. Aside from a single guard - the one who'd helped to hold Tom down earlier - they were alone. Conan had left some time ago, probably to check on the other entrances. Chakotay hadn't liked the look on his face when he'd left though. If the natives didn't know what was going on, it was undoubtedly bad.

But were they really natives?

While Tom had slumbered away the effects of the tea, Chakotay had spoken with Conan, and asked some questions that had been bothering him.

"Why are you the only one who speaks English?"

"I learned it from my...ancestor." Conan replied simply.

"These caves are huge." Chakotay said, changing the subject. "Do you live here all the time?"

"Yes and no."

Chakotay waved one hand, imploring the man to continue.

"These mountains...they are shaped like a circle." Conan drew a 'O' shape in the air. "But in the center, there are no mountains. The soil is good for growing things, and many rivers flow in through the area. We keep animals, grow plants for food, raise families. Then, when the storms come, we go to the caves. The rivers, they come straight through these caves, and there are vents to bring air in. There is even room for our animals. When the storms go we only come into the caves at night or when it rains."

"What of the city?"

"City?"

"The big, shining, blue place on the outside of the mountains."

Conan shrugged slightly. "My people do not venture there. The valley is very large, as is the system of caves, and there are...others...who live on the outside that we do not wish to meet. Furthermore, if one were to venture outside of the valley and the ring of mountains, then they would have much trouble finding adequate shelter from the storms."

Dropping the subject of the city, for the time being, Chakotay asked another question. "When did these storms start?"

Conan's brow furrowed as he gave Chakotay a questioning look.

"They have been here forever." Conan said after a moment. "Why do you ask, Chakotay? Where do you come from, that you don't know of the storms?"

Chakotay was silent, contemplating his answer. Conan seemed human enough, and spoke English, but he didn't seem to know of Earth, the Federation, starships, or anything else. It would, technically, be a violation of the Prime Directive to tell him about these things. But Chakotay really didn't feel much like a Starfleet officer at that moment. The Prime Directive was too far away from him right now, just like Voyager and the Alpha Quadrant. They were stranded, hopelessly lost, and two members of the away team were now trapped in a mysterious set of caves with the native people (humans?) who somehow spoke English.

"Did you come from the stars?" Asked Conan, breaking the silence. Chakotay looked up sharply, staring in shock. It was like the man could read his mind.

"W-what?"

Conan's face was serious, though Chakotay thought he could see a slight sparkle in his eyes.

"You are not from here Chakotay, nor is Tom Paris. Nor am I, or my people. Though-" he added in a contemplative voice "we've been here long enough to forget that."

"I don't - I don't understand," Chakotay stuttered, still not quite sure what he was supposed to say. This time Conan smiled with his mouth, even if it was a sad sort of smile.

"This planet. It is not our home. I know of other stars, of starships and of the war that forced the ancestors of my people out into space. I know because I learned from the healer that was my father, and from the journals of those before him."

"You're human."

"Yes. That you already know."

"Then you're from Earth."

"Earth." Conan said the word slowly, rolling it over in his mouth. "Yes." he said slowly "I believe I am."

"If you're from Earth, then how did you get here? It's a rather long way from home."

"That I do not know, Chakotay." Conan said with a sigh, rising to his feet as Tom began to groan and toss about on his bed of furs.

Tom mumbled something in his sleep, jerking away from Conan's gentle touch.

"Is he alright?" Chakotay asked, concerned by the flush of Paris' face.

"He has a fever. The dust has been known to infect those who inhale it, particularly those who are already weak." Conan sighed, bending his head close to the needle that still protruded from Tom's chest. He listened for a few moments, then tapped lightly on Tom's chest several times. Apparently satisfied he sat back on his heels, gently pulling away the cloths that secured the needle. The skin around it was slightly red.

"Hold him."

Chakotay did as he was told and Conan removed the needle in one swift motion, then covered the small wound with another portion of the green goo. With Chakotay´s help he bound wide strips of cloth around both the minor wound from the needle, and Tom's no doubt painful ribs. The pilot didn't even stir as they treated him, and that troubled Chakotay almost as much as the fever.

Conan watched the unconscious man´s breathing for several seconds then patted him lightly on the shoulder, a pleased look on his face.

"I will return in a while. If he awakens, there is more of the tea over by the fountains. It will help with the pain and with the fever. Try to keep him still but over there - " Conan waved at a door Chakotay hadn't seen before "There is a room where either of you may relieve yourselves."

"Where are you going?" Chakotay asked, not thrilled with the idea of being left alone with the sick and injured pilot. "What if he becomes worse?"

"Speak my name to Lander." Conan replied, pointing at the man who'd helped him with Tom earlier. He was sitting by the fountain now, drinking water from a silver cup. "He'll find me."

Chakotay had been on edge at first, but when no more tremors occurred, and Tom remained more or less asleep, he began to relax. Almost an hour passed, if he was guessing right, before Tom began to awaken. He'd just started to drift off to sleep himself, when Tom's whimpering woke him. The pilot was breathing hard, and tossing slightly, his throat emitting small, painful whimpers every few moments. Chakotay´s gentle attempts to awaken him were fruitless.

"No..." Tom pleaded with someone - or something - in his dream, and suddenly, Chakotay felt angry. Not at Tom (which had to be a first), but at the situation in general. His hand rested upon the pilot's bare stomach as he tried to restrain him and he could feel one of the ugly scars beneath his fingers. Looking down he realized it was fairly recent. What was Tom doing with a half healed wound from, if Chakotay wasn't seeing things, an Andorian hunting knife? And why hadn't he seen the doctor about it? Because Chakotay was quite certain that medical technology did not leave scars anymore. He wondered how the young helmsman had acquired the injury, and if it was a Maquis or Starfleet crewmember who had wielded the weapon. Or was it self inflicted? He was starting to realize that with Tom Paris you could never know.

"Earth to Commander." Paris waved one hand in front of his face and Chakotay snapped back to reality.

"Sorry Paris. You were saying?"

"No I was asking, but you didn't answer. Who's Conan?"

"Someone who just saved your life." Chakotay snapped, then paused, perplexed by his own behavior. Spirits, how he longed for a nice evening of quite meditation to clear his mind. But now was not the time, nor the place and all Chakotay felt was tiredness. It had only been a day since he'd last slept, but that day had been full of physical and mental activity with no time to relax. The fact that Torres and Kim were still missing also weighed heavily on his mind.

"I'm sorry Tom, I shouldn't have snapped at you like that." Chakotay said a moment later. Looking up he caught sigh of Tom's fearful, childish expression, but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the unreadable mask.

"It's alright Commander." Tom replied in a formal tone. "I'm used to it." he added in a mutter that Chakotay wasn't meant to hear. The former captain did though, and grimaced.

"Look Tom-" (when had he started using the pilots first name?) "We're both tired. You drink the tea and I'll tell you about Conan alright?"

Paris was curious, but he also recalled the sedative properties of the tea.

"You just want to knock me out so I'll shut up. Thanks, but I'll pass."

Chakotay shook his head, once again frustrated.

"Suit yourself Tom." He said, sitting down next to the pilot, leaning his back against the wall. Tom squirmed, because now the Commander was far too close. Hiding his shaking hands from view he tried to ignore the fact that not only was there another person in close proximity to him, but he couldn't see the Commanders face. But sitting up would be too painful, if even possible.

Finally Chakotay broke the tense silence.

"It looks like we've met another victim of the Caretaker."

Harry's teeth were grinding against one another as he clenched his jaw in an effort not to speak. His hands were curled into fists and he was sure his fingernails were drawing blood from the palm of his hand. Aiden had shot him several warning glances, none of which Orsen had seen. No, the older man was too busy poking B'Elanna with his feet to notice anything else. The half Klingon didn´t move, and the fact alarmed Kim even more. Torres wasn´t one to let herself beat up, so she was probably unconscious. Though Harry couldn't see any injuries other than a split lip and small gash on her head, he was concerned.

"Damn them, these Klingons are weaker than I thought," Orsen hissed and spit at B´Elanna.

Harry closely watched her face and saw a slight twitch of her mouth, recognized the fierce hate coming up. She was conscious, he realized. The knowledge had both calming and panicking effects on him as he knew she won´t wait for help. Orsen was preparing for another kick.

"Stop!" Harry shouted at him and saw B´Elanna stiffen as she registered his voice.

"Just... don´t hurt her anymore."

"Or what?" Orsen snapped. "You´ll kill me?"

"No. I´ll tell you what you want to hear."

Orsen smiled and just for a good measure kicked B´Elanna once more. She forced herself to stifle the grunt as her body was turned and she lay face down on the cold ground. She could feel every step Orsen made and was preparing herself. Only two more, you impudent pahtk, and I´ll get you, she thought with a malicious glee. He now had his back to her - a big mistake! B´Elanna almost laughed. She had to restrain herself - one step - take another step so I can kill you.

She felt the vibration, knew he was in the right place, but she didn´t act. Something was happening and B´Elanna was too confused to react. The ground was shaking. She could feel it, her whole body was on the ground, feeling the vibration growing.

"What-" Orsen backed away and B´Elanna growled, but it was lost in the rumble. He was out of her reach.

The shaking stopped as suddenly as it started, leaving all the occupants of the room shocked.

"What was it?" Aiden asked in strained voice.

"I don´t know. But I´m going to find out. You stay here, Aiden. Watch that Klingon - if she moves, shoot her. I don´t care if she lives or not."

As the door closed, Harry let out a relieved sigh. Whatever was responsible for the shakes, he was extremely grateful. Though Aiden looked troubled, he also seemed relieved and neared the "unconscious" Klingon in attempt to check her.

Harry didn´t had a time to warn him, and B'Elanna felled the man with a move too fast to see. With a feral growl, she lunged at him, her hands gripping his neck. The phaser hit the floor just a second after its owner. Harry watched it in a dazed sort of surprise and only regained his senses when Aiden's face turned from red to blue.

"Stop! Stop it, you´ll kill him!" he cried out, rushing over to the pair.

"That´s the point, Starfleet," Torres growled.

"No! He helped me! Let him go B´Elanna!"

With a snort, Torres released the man from her death grip. She was still kneeling on his chest, but as Aiden gasped for breath, the blue in his lips faded away.

"You have ten seconds to tell me who you are, what you want and why are you keeping us here like prisoners. After that, I´ll kill you."

"I´m - Aiden," the man gasped out, staring up at B´Elanna with a look of fear that couldn't possible be anything other than genuine.

"B´Elanna, come on," Harry pleaded. "He opened my handcuffs. I promised him you won´t kill him."

B´Elanna shot Kim a bewildered look, then turned back to Aiden.

"Seven seconds," she prompted.

"I- I don´t know... what do you want," he stuttered.

"Why did you shoot at us?"

"You´re - Klingon!" Aiden replied, as if it was enough of an explanation.

"Your point being!"

"The Federation... is at war with you!"

The mention of the Federation surprised both Harry and B´Elanna. Torres shook her head in confusion.

"That was decades ago! We´re allies now,"

"Federation? But how did you get to the Delta Quadrant?" Harry asked.

"We... we were at war. That was the reason my ancestors came to this world - to find peace."

"Oh, I´ll guess. The Caretaker?"

Aiden was looking more confused by the moment.

"I don´t understand you. But if you won´t believe I´m no threat to you, Orsen will return and kill both of you."

"He´s right, Torres. We need to get out of there and find Chakotay and Tom."

B´Elanna rolled her eyes, wondering just what they taught at the starfleet academy these days. Informing the enemy that there were more of them had definitely been on her don't do list. Harry unfortunately had not had the foresight to realize this.

"Okay. What do you propose?" B´Elanna asked as she pulled Aiden up from the floor with a less than gentle grip on his arm.

"So the war really ended?" Aiden looked at Harry for a reply.

"Yes. Mostly because we found new enemies."

"Plenty of them," Torres added and glared at her handcuffed hands.

"Open my restraints."

Aiden pulled out the same key he used on Harry´s cuffs and freed the woman's hands, stepping hurriedly away when he was done. B´Elanna glared at him as she rubbed her raw wrists.

"Your friends - if they survived the storm - would probably head for the other set of caves. In that case, they´re with Conan."

"That´s the man you mentioned before," Harry commented and Aiden nodded.

"We need to find him. I have learned much in my time on this side of the hills, and I am certain that your arrival has triggered these storms, and the other strange events. If that is indeed the case, you must leave. The sooner the better."

B´Elanna didn´t argue with that.

"How can we get out of here?"

"Follow me."

Aiden used another silver key to open the door, and poked his head out to look around. The narrow hallway (no graceful halls here) looked vacant but Aiden could hear high, nervous voices from the great hall.

"It's clear," he hissed, trying not to notice that B'Elanna was pointing the phaser at him with steady hands. She motioned him forward and the stepped out into the hallway. Aiden led them away from the torchlight and noise, his steps quick.

Aiden abruptly stopped and Torres almost bumped into him.

"What-" she asked, when a cold voice sounded through the cave.

"So, you´re the traitor, Aiden. I´ll have to kill you for that." Orsen stepped out from the shadows, an ugly smile marring his face. He held a phaser, and this time, it wasn't pointed at the Starfleet officer.

For a moment the passage way was utterly silent. Then the blue spark of a phaser cut through the air with a faint hiss. One body hit the floor.

TBC

pahtk (general klingon insult, sort of like saying 'he's a piece of trash' or something.)

A/N-Anon: We got some of our medical stuff wrong but oh well we're not doctors. Hope you like this chapter, I think it's my favorite so far. Please review and tell us what you thought, or just to say that you read it. :-) and many thanks to those who have already reviewed!

A/N-Nicol: This chapter is dedicated to my friend - you know who you are - broad grin - who will celebrate her fifteenth birthday. My Best Wishes to you.

Ah, and a bunch of cool reviews would really make someone happy... mostly me and Anon :-)