AN: Here we are, another chapter here.
This one is a little longer than usual, but this was all that I felt needed to be included.
I hope that you enjoy! Please let me know what you think!
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"What do you think about your son, Chakotay?" Seska asked. The words were hard enough to hear, but Chakotay found that the expression on her face turned his stomach worse than anything else. "He has your eyes, don't you think?"
Chakotay tried to swallow back his anger as much as his disgust.
Around him, the remaining members of the bridge crew that hadn't been grievously injured in the firefight or killed by the Kazons, knelt on their knees. He glanced at them. He saw the injuries they'd sustained. He saw the fear in their eyes, even when they tried to conceal it. He saw the absolute insecurity. In Kathryn's eyes—which she tried to keep from lining up with his or anyone else's—he caught snatches of the overwhelming grief and guilt she was feeling.
This was his fault as much as it was Kathryn's fault. It was more his fault, really. If he had been able to turn his back on the child—a child he never consented, in any way, to bringing into the world—then none of this would have happened.
"May he never know the contempt his father has for his mother," Chakotay offered.
"It would be very unlikely that he would," Culluh offered, turning around in his spot as he surveyed the damage of the bridge at a glance. He turned back to face them all—everyone remaining still and quiet, as requested, with multiple phaser rifles pointed at them from every direction. "I intend to raise him as my own. He'll be a great soldier for the Kazon-Nistrim. He doesn't need to know about a man who had so little decency as to violate a woman serving under his command."
Chakotay's stomach clenched. He saw Seska's facial expression. He saw the nerves that flashed there, for just a split second, before she got them under control. She was afraid that her little sandcastle made of lies would crumble. The only reason it wouldn't, honestly, was because Culluh wasn't likely to believe anything that any of them said—and he didn't care what they said.
"Is that what she told you?" Chakotay asked. He didn't say anything more. He didn't have to. Culluh wouldn't listen and Seska knew the truth. If anyone had been violated in the creation of the child she held in her arms, it was Chakotay. He turned his eyes away from the woman, unable to even look at her for the anger she caused to boil in his chest.
"Culluh," Kathryn said, quickly getting to her feet to get the Kazon's attention, "I want to talk about what happens next…"
Culluh's response to Kathryn was to land a slap, hard across her face, that took her off of her feet. Chakotay moved forward in time to catch her and break her fall. The surrounding Kazons closed in on them all, a little, sweeping their phaser rifles in one direction and then the next, to make it clear that they were ready to fire on anyone that was moving in a manner of which they did not approve. Kathryn was out of Chakotay's arms nearly as soon as he'd caught her, and she took her position on her knees, again, this time facing Culluh.
"It's time that you learned your place," he said. "All of you Alpha Quadrant women—that's the problem with you. Seska was the same way, at first. You don't know your place. But you will."
"What do you intend to do with them?" Seska asked.
"Yeah, what exactly do you plan to do with us?" Tom echoed.
Culluh turned to face Tom, and an extra rifle pointed in his direction, but Tom had really done little more than ask a question, and there was very little reason to shoot him for that. Culluh smiled, but it was the smile that could never be believed on a Kazon.
"I have so many options," Culluh said. "The most appealing, of course, is finding you a new home. There's a planet in the Hanon system where I often leave slaves who just won't seem to learn how to behave. To date, none of them have been alive when I've returned for them."
"Are you fuckin' serious?" Daryl said suddenly and sharply. "We're just gonna sit here and let these Dollar Tree Klingons take the damned ship?"
The response he got for his outburst was a quick swat with a rifle—enough to warn him, but not enough to seriously injure him or—and a verbal warning from the Kazon who had hit him. He brought the rifle up to point it directly at Harry, who was kneeling directly next to Daryl.
"I would suggest that you all carefully consider your actions," Culluh said. "The Kazon-Nistrim prefer to act without warnings. We're showing you great constraint while we decide what to do with you."
"We could kill them on site," one of the Kazons offered. "There's no need wasting time in travelling to the Hanon system just to leave them for dead."
Chakotay glanced around the circle again. Everyone looked defeated—at least to some degree. Some were more stoic than others, and some were better at hiding it, but it was clear that they could have hardly scraped together enough morale, between them, to have registered on some kind of tricorder. Daryl looked duly scolded for his outburst and, in response, he held his hands up in the traditional Terran signal of surrender, while he kept his eyes on the Kazon warriors that had been chosen to circle them and threaten them with death by phaser rifle.
"How long before we're able to move?" Culluh asked one of his men.
"We'll have several teams working on repairs," the Kazon offered. "The technology is new to us. I would estimate that we're at least several days before having complete control of the ship."
Culluh sighed. It was a bit overdramatic and clearly put on a little for emphasis.
"I guess I'll have a few days to decide what's best to do with you. Of course, I would have preferred to have kept the ship in good working order," he said. "You put up quite the fight. More than we expected. It seems a shame to simply kill such good stock—or to leave you to die."
"They're not worth anything to you, Maje," Seska offered. "They'll be more trouble than they're worth. They've proved that by fighting against the Kazon."
"Please! Please…don't do this…please…please…you can't do this…please…I'm begging you. Don't do this…please."
The tear-soaked string of pleaded words poured out of Carol like a dam had been broken. She turned toward Culluh and, instead of remaining fully upright on her knees, she leaned forward a few times like she was bucking under the sheer weight of her sadness.
Chakotay felt for everyone in this situation. How could he not? But he especially felt for Carol and Daryl because they were not Starfleet. They had not signed up for this. They'd been snatched out of their world and their time. They'd been forced to accept everything in an instant, and now they were facing being captives of an alien race. Unlike Kes and Neelix, they didn't even have the advantage of having spent their lives knowing of the existence of these other races.
The strain of it all, clearly, was weighing very heavily on Carol. She sobbed, tears rolling heavily down her face, and bowed toward the Kazon Maje. Culluh looked more pleased than he had since he'd walked onto the bridge. The smile he wore, for a moment, was sincere. He stepped forward, reached a hand out and shook it at Carol when she didn't immediately take it. She hesitated, but finally took his hand when he shook it at her a third time. He helped her to her feet with a movement that was more delicate than most that he had employed previously.
"I take it that you'd like to beg for your life? For the lives of—your companions?" Culluh asked.
"Don't hurt her," Kathryn offered suddenly and sharply. "Culluh—they were only doing what I ordered them to do. They're all innocent. Let them go—it's me that ordered them to attack."
Kathryn's tone was not as pleasing to the Kazon as Carol's had been. Holding Carol by the wrist as though she might step away from him—her demeanor making it clear that she intended to do no such thing—he reached the other hand out and backhanded Kathryn a second time. She recoiled from the blow, but it didn't knock her down.
"Silence!" He barked at her. "Or you'll learn to beg in a way that's proper of a slave!" He turned back to look at Carol—to admire her.
"Please," she sobbed again. "Please don't do this. I'm begging you…please don't do this. I'm pregnant…I…I wish you wouldn't…please…"
The more she begged, the happier Culluh looked. The more satisfied. The more relaxed, even.
"Pregnant?" He asked. She nodded. He backed up to look at her, but seemed to accept that there were times when gestation wouldn't be too obvious to the naked eye. "There's really no need to kill everyone," he said, to himself as much as he said it to anyone else. "The Kazon-Relora and the Kazon-Ogla are in desperate need of more slaves after some recent losses, and our own numbers are low for our needs."
"Culluh…" Seska started.
"That's Maje Culluh," he corrected, quickly, to demand respect.
"Maje Culluh," she stammered, bouncing the baby in her arms that was beginning to grow restless with the situation, "they'll never make suitable slaves."
"I think they can learn," Culluh said. "They have potential. Those who are slower to learn can be traded and unloaded easily enough. If nothing else, we can always be rid of the most problematic. I want teams working constantly to get the ship up and running. Keep the other ships surrounding us in case we have any visitors. I'd like to have a look at the ship and its technology. To start surveying damage and making plans. Have quarters prepared for me—the captain's quarters should be the nicest."
He reached his hand out and touched Carol's face. He cupped it, almost affectionately. She continued to sob—snatches of her earlier upset coming through—but she wasn't actively crying too hysterically. She ducked her head gently when he touched her face.
"Infants are the best slaves for trade," Culluh said. "We get the best in exchange for them because they can be trained to be anything. They're worth a great deal to us."
Carol visibly stiffened at the suggestion.
"Please…" she begged again. "Don't. Do. This. Please!" She stressed each word with renewed sobs, and Culluh looked amused at how quickly he could bring her back to begging for his mercy. He smiled, again, and Chakotay found that a shiver crawled up his back at how thrilled the Kazon looked to have a woman groveling before him. Chakotay cast a glance at Daryl. He expected him to be upset. Maybe he expected another outburst from him. Instead, Daryl seemed somewhat relaxed. He maintained his gesture of surrender, with his hands up in the air, but they'd fallen slightly. His jaw was set, and his eyes were narrowed. He watched the scene in front of him, but that's all he was doing. He was watching—practically without blinking.
Chakotay didn't know what to do, or what might happen, but he took an odd sort of comfort from Daryl's apparent calm in an otherwise stressful situation.
"You'll do nicely," Culluh mused, still holding Carol's face. "And you'll be perfect for helping the others learn how to behave. And with so little training. I lost many of my personal slaves in a recent battle against the Kazon-Pommar. The damage to one of our ships cost us a lot of lives—particularly those of slaves. I'll keep this one for my personal slave."
"Maje Culluh," Seska stepped in to argue. Culluh's expression, alone, silenced her.
"I want this one taken to my quarters," Culluh said. "Keep a guard on her, but be careful with her. I don't want her damaged if she's not misbehaving. The child she carries could be as valuable as any four of these others as slaves."
"Captain Janeway's pregnant, too," Chakotay blurted.
He hadn't actually intended to say the words—at least he hadn't held the intention to speak them for a long time. They had practically bubbled out of him. He realized this was a way to keep Kathryn safe—at least safer than the rest of them. It was a way to, if nothing more, buy her a little more time to figure out what she might do to get herself and the baby out of this. Chakotay had a feeling that things might not go so well for himself or the others, but at least he could buy her some time.
More than that, at least he could imagine that things had gone well for her—wherever he ended up. That would help him find peace, even if he was only finding it in his final moments of being tortured to death at the hands of the Kazons.
There was a collective sound of surprise from those surrounding them at Chakotay's announcement.
"Captain Janeway?" Seska mused. "How did that happen?"
Everyone ignored Seska, but Culluh didn't ignore Chakotay. As soon as he passed Carol off to one of the other Kazon warriors, who held her tight by the wrist, Culluh pulled Kathryn up to her feet roughly.
"Is this true?" He asked. Kathryn looked over her shoulder at Chakotay. That was answer enough, apparently.
"I'm sorry, Kathryn," he said, truly meaning it. He was sorry—he was sorry for a great many things. He wasn't sorry, though, if this bought her anything—time, freedom, or better treatment.
"Chakotay?" Seska mused. "Looks like somebody's been busy."
Culluh smiled at Kathryn as he held onto her.
"You'll take a little more breaking than my other slave," he offered, "but perhaps she can teach you the way to behave. I wouldn't want any harm to come to you—at least not until we've gotten the rest of our goods from you. Take her to my quarters. I want a guard on each of them until we've had a chance to work with them."
"She is, too," Daryl said quickly and loudly. He moved his hands only out of the surrender position long enough to indicate B'Elanna. She looked at him, wide-eyed and started to stammer something out. "Sorry—sweetheart," he said, drawing out the affectionate title that must have tasted strange on his tongue. "It's for your own good. For—the good of the baby. I couldn't stand not knowin' you were doin' everything you could to…help take care of my kid."
"What has been happening on this ship since I've been gone?" Seska mused.
Still, Culluh took the bait. He gestured a head toward B'Elanna, and that was enough for another of his soldiers to drag her to her feet. Her mouth was partially open, and she looked surprised, but she didn't do anything to discredit what Daryl had said. She grimaced at Culluh, but she didn't fight him. There would have been little use to fight. She was quickly given her own guard, armed like the others, and Culluh gave the order that she was to be kept under close watch with Kathryn and Carol. Then Culluh turned to the rest of them.
"Is it safe to assume that there are no other gestating females, of your various species, on the ship?" Culluh asked.
"That's impossible for us to say. We're trying to become a multi-generational ship," Chakotay offered. "We're promoting procreation."
"And I'd say it's working," Seska mused. "Maje Culluh, I don't know if it's wise to keep so many personal slaves for yourself until you know how they'll behave."
"Are you questioning my decisions?" Culluh asked, anger showing up in his voice.
"No, Maje," Seska responded. "It's only that…"
"They'll be heavily guarded," Culluh responded. "I won't have you questioning my decisions. You can easily be made a slave yourself!"
"No, Maje," Seska accepted. "I didn't mean to question your—wise authority."
Culluh silently accepted her apology with a slight nod of his ridged head.
"Now—we have a few days before we're ready to make for our next location. Where can we store the rest of these potential trade goods until we're ready to find a use for them? We'll need somewhere that's easy to secured and large enough to fit everyone except my chosen slaves."
"The cargo bays," Seska offered. "They'll be easy to guard, and everyone should fit—even if it is a little crowded."
Culluh looked pleased with the suggestion.
"Get them on their feet," he commanded. "Seska will show you where to put them. As for my personal slaves, I don't want them left alone—not even for a minute. Take them to prepare my quarters and a meal for me."
Chakotay got to his feet with the others. He accepted, along with the others, that they would be herded, like cattle, to the cargo bays. There was nothing they could do right now. To try to fight back would be only to die—and to cause other deaths in the process. Everyone seemed to understand that truth. Now wasn't the time to fight.
Chakotay was oddly hopeful, though, that all wasn't lost.
