Exploratory.
By
Serena Aris.
Disclaimers: Paramount and other big organisations own Star Trek: Voyager, the ship, its crew and the whole trek universe. I'm just borrowing some of it for a short amount of time.
-o- -o- -o-
Exploratory.
By
Serena Aris.
Chapter Six.
A white room. Upon awakening Tom Paris had found himself surrounded by the white glare of the room. He didn't feel any pain, which was odd as the last thing he remembered was getting a message to Seven and Kim and being in a lot of pain.
So waking up to the brilliant illumination had scared him at first thinking he had entered some form of afterlife. With the many close-calls he'd had in his life he had never really addressed death and what lay beyond it. The type of past he had meant that he hoped his life didn't flash before his eyes as that would cause more pain than the act of death itself. Paris had always been a man of living in the now. With a past he didn't want to revisit and believing he had no future, gave him no choice. Now was different he had a family on Voyager and B'Elanna. She consumed all he could remember of what he thought were his final moments. Thinking to tell her how much he loved her when he got back, he was determined to beat whatever trouble lay ahead of him.
He winced at the dull pain around his chest as he sat up. Assessing his injuries he noticed a scorch mark adorning his uniform. Peeking through the charred hole of the fabric he could see the recent wound. Whatever had caused it was sharp as it punctured and then burnt. Feeling it he noticed that some sort of salve had been applied. Further evidence to suggest that he had received some sort of medical attention was when he saw his leg. There was no real pain but an ache that was beneath a wrapping of white fabric that covered the majority of his thigh. Not wanting to disturb what little healing may have occurred he left the bandaging alone and just flexed his leg. Not ready to try putting weight on it yet, he swung his legs off his temporary white bed and remained sitting there.
Looking around at his new environment he found that it wasn't that different from a Starfleet brig. He sighed, another cell, jail, prison, lock up...was he destined to spend most of this journey to the Alpha Quadrant in some sort of captivity? He shrugged off the impending shudder I could design the best maximum-security prison in the galaxy – literally he thought.
Assessing his cell one of the first things his keen piloting senses noticed was the lack of movement, the stillness. Either it was a very advanced warp capable ship that produced no vibrations or he was on the ground. His money was on the latter.
The cell itself was cubed with the block-like bed spanning the back width of the room. Parallel to this was a floor to ceiling window which Tom presumed was the only exit and entrance to his accommodation. From his position he could see another cell across the way. It was empty.
Steadying himself as he stood he tested his leg and made his way towards the transparent wall. He found that he could walk adequately with only a slight limp marring his gait. Tentatively touching the clear wall he found that it had no charge or force to repel or harm him. With his nose to the glass-like material he could see a corridor with cells either side of it in rows. Of the cells he could see to some degree, appeared to be occupied. He had various glances of feet and pacing bodies when the beings moved into his line of vision. A part of him maybe the explorer or curious side wanted to call out to them and ask where he was and what sort of things he could expect? However experience had taught him not to draw too much attention to himself unless it was necessary. Without his combadge he didn't think that he would be able to get "hello" across let alone a conversation. He was a pilot not a linguist!
Looking into the opposite cell and to the right of him Paris observed a fellow captive. It was blue in colour and looked like its species had evolved from sea creatures finally producing the humanoid form before him. It had a set of gills on its neck that fluttered rhythmically. The alien noticed Tom observing him and returned an evaluating gaze. The alien's eyes were big and black like a shark's but Paris noticed some sort of eyelid as it blinked. Keeping eye contact, the human tried to convey a non-threatening attitude in his features. He eventually drew his mouth into a smile making sure his teeth didn't show. The alien didn't seem to take offence only stare back with curiosity. It opened its rounded mammalian beak; that reminded Tom of Dolphins; as though it were about to speak when a noise down the corridor to its left startled it.
Noticing the glances towards the sound and then back to him, Tom took a step back from the glass. Footsteps sounded and he knew that they were coming for him. His hunch was confirmed when two armed humanoids stopped outside his cell. They were the same shape and build as the group that attacked him, only this time he could see their faces and their uniform was grey. A crown of horns adorned their heads, piercing through layers of thick coppery scales. For a fleeting moment Paris grasped at a memory, but as quick as it had come it was gone. With their beady eyes not leaving him as they glared at him from heavyset sockets Paris returned the wariness with casual confidence. Still weary but not intimidated by the blonde unarmed stranger one of the guards accessed something on the wall out of sight. Instantly the transparent door slid to the side and two weapons were set on him.
Interpreting their jerking sideways gesture Tom stepped out of his cell. Another gesture- a poke in the back with the weapon made him move forward between the guards. Sparing a quick glance to his left he saw the blue alien look back at him with a solemn expression. Nudged forward he continued moving.
Taking careful observations he found the cell door's operated on a touch panel. The correct button would open the door - the others he didn't want to find out their function. He also discovered that he and the blue alien were among a few inmates in the cellblock. Each one was physically different, a new race in each cell. However they all acted in a manner that he expected. Some ignored the guards and shrinked away while some glared, hissed and clenched teeth to express their displeasure. The venom filled atmosphere unnerved Paris and the room felt a few degrees colder. He was almost glad to be out of their path of hate even if it wasn't aimed at him. At the end of the corridor they went through a door locking the tension filled cellblock behind them.
To be continued...