AN: Here we go, another chapter here!
I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!
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"I'm just sayin' that if we can find somebody in here that trips that little Vulcan's trigger, he might just get horny enough to rip these panels up if we can convince him it'll buy him a piece of ass," Daryl said.
"The Pon Farr happens only every like seven years," Tom offered. "Without other interference, of course, to the natural cycle. And you can't conjure it up to exploit it like that."
"OK," Daryl accepted. "Then what if we piss him off? Make him really fuckin' angry? Then we let him rip these things into strips, and then we use 'em as weapons."
"That's not exactly…" Chakotay hesitated. He looked at Tom. Daryl looked at Tom, as well.
"That's not the way Vulcans operate," Tom said.
"More Klingons?" Daryl asked.
"Definitely more Klingons," Tom offered.
"Shit—we give our only one away," Daryl said. He leaned against the wall and stopped trying to pry the sheeting off the wall. "Got any other species around here that's got like some incredible Hulk thing going on?"
"I remember that," Chakotay mused. "The Hulk thing he's talking about."
"It was from one of the movies we watched," Tom said with a sigh. "Everybody liked it. I remember you and the captain both enjoyed it. Back when our ship was our own and not overrun with Kazons."
"No Hulk aliens, then?" Daryl asked again, laughing to himself. He lit himself another cigarette. Neither of the men were bothered by it. "That's fucking disappointing."
"The Vulcans would be the closest we could come," Harry offered, leaning against the wall next to Daryl. "And they're trained to control their emotions. They spend their whole lives perfecting emotional control."
"No way to talk 'em out of it?" Daryl asked. "We need some kinda weapons, and they stripped this fuckin' room clean. If we had somethin' to fight with, we'da been outta this room ten times by now."
"I thought you were confident that all we had to do was wait," Chakotay said, crossing his arms across his chest. He wasn't really challenging Daryl. The smirk on his lips said he was looking for entertainment, more than anything.
"I am," Daryl said. "Don't change that I'm getting restless as hell just waitin' around."
"What would you have done in the Millennium Plague?" Tom asked. "If you'd been surrounded by the Dead and you'd needed to get out of somewhere?"
"I'da used a weapon, and I'da got out," Daryl offered.
"But what if you didn't have any weapons," Harry asked.
"I weren't never this outta weapons," Daryl said. "Not in a normal circumstance. There wasn't ever anybody just strippin' the place clean. And the couple of times I was a prisoner anywhere—I either made weapons, or I had to wait until there was an opening. You know? An opportunity."
"Well, it doesn't look like we can make weapons," Tom said. "So, I guess we better start looking for that opportunity."
Daryl hummed his agreement, and settled back against the panel with a sigh. People were getting antsy. Some were going stir crazy. Others were starting to fear for their lives. Chakotay had made the rounds, like a good first officer, and done his best to calm people down. He'd assured them that this was all going to be fine. They were going to figure things out, and they were going to come out on the other side of things.
But people still got antsy in situations like this, especially when there was nothing to do, and there wasn't even a fake job that they could give everyone to make them believe that they were making some kind of a difference.
They simply had to wait for something, and they weren't even sure what they were waiting for.
They didn't have to wait long, though.
Daryl looked up at the same time that Chakotay looked up, even though it was Chakotay's name that Kathryn hissed down from the ceiling. She'd removed a panel from the ceiling, it appeared, and she was peering down.
"Kathryn!" Chakotay called up. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," Kathryn assured him. "We're all fine. Is it safe?"
Chakotay looked around.
"We're alone. There are guards outside the doors, but none of them are standing guard in here. What happened?"
"Carol OK?" Daryl called out.
"She's fine," Kathryn assured him. "She's here. Just a few feet behind me."
Daryl felt his pulse pick up. Kathryn had to be in a duct of some sort. He could see the top of the duct just above her head—a metal tube and nothing more. She barely fit into the space.
"Carol's claustrophobic," Daryl said. "Can't breathe when it gets too tight."
"I know," Kathryn said. "Here—take these."
She grunted, clearly struggling to move at all. There was some noise coming from the space where she was wedged in. They'd moved rather quietly until this moment. Daryl hadn't heard them approaching, and he hoped that meant that the Kazon guards hadn't heard them, either. Whatever they were doing now—whatever shift was taking place—caused a great deal of racket, though. He worried that the Kazon would hear, and become curious, before they managed to have some kind of plan in place. He resolved himself, if there should be any attempt of the guards to enter, to simply swing on someone nearby and shove them into someone else. With the unrest that was already growing among the exhausted crew, it wouldn't take much, and it wouldn't take long, for a fight to break out. It would cover over noise and keep the guards at bay for a least a little while—and, hopefully, they wouldn't decide to just fire on the whole group of them to stop the ruckus.
Soon the bumping above them was done, though, and Daryl didn't have to slug any unsuspecting crew member to try to save them all.
"Here," Kathryn said, pushing a large bundle through the hole the removed panel had created. Chakotay reached up and caught the bottom of the bundle. Daryl moved close to him and helped him move it downward. They passed it off to Tom and Harry who were waiting nearby. "Wait," Kathryn said. After a little less struggle than before, she passed them another bundle, and then two more. She was panting, out of breath, when they were all through the hole.
They opened the bundles to find that they were packed with weapons. There were large rifle type weapons, and there were smaller hand phasers. There might not be enough for every person there to be armed, but there was certainly enough for a good start.
"It looks like you cleaned out the armory," Chakotay mused.
"It's all we could drag with us," Kathryn said. "Ventilation hasn't been the fastest way to travel. It's tight, and we're crawling—practically slithering in places."
"Carol—is she OK?" Daryl asked. "I gotta—can I see her? She can't breathe in spaces like that."
Kathryn smiled at him and looked over her shoulder.
"There isn't enough room for her to crawl over me," Kathryn said. "Or even beside me. Carol—are you OK? Daryl's out here. He needs to know."
Daryl heard Carol's voice, very faintly. She was clearly some distance back in the tunnel—probably where she wouldn't be accidentally kicked by Kathryn, and would have a bit more air to breathe than she would have if she were practically on top of the woman. She was also, more than likely, keeping her voice low so as to keep from catching the attention of any Kazon.
"I'm OK."
He smiled to himself. The sound of her voice made his heart leap wildly within his chest. Suddenly, his throat felt like it was closing up and he couldn't remember the last time he'd wanted to see her face as absolutely desperately as he did at that moment.
"She's OK?" He asked one more time. "Don't you lie to me."
Kathryn smiled.
"She's fine," Kathryn said. "B'Elanna and I let her know about the—the fact that none of this is strong enough to withstand a determined Klingon. If B'Elanna needed to break us out of here, she could."
Tom laughed quietly behind Daryl.
"Like the Hulk," he offered quietly.
Kathryn smiled, knowingly. Daryl's stomach tightened. He would have to ask Tom about movie night, sometime. It seemed that it might be somewhat popular among the crewmembers. Daryl was suddenly thankful for the fact that Tom enjoyed everything old-fashioned, at least to the natives of this time period, and would have introduced the crew to something like the Hulk.
"Listen, Chakotay," Kathryn said, drawing Chakotay's attention to her. "I don't know if they know what's happened yet, but they're going to realize, very soon, if they haven't, that we're loose somewhere on the ship. Carol killed Culluh. She killed two of his private soldiers and Seska."
"What happened to the baby?" Chakotay asked.
"He's fine," Kathryn assured him. "I have so much to tell you, but we don't have time for all of it. Not right now. There will be time later. I need you to listen to the plan."
"I'm listening," Chakotay assured her.
"B'Elanna has tampered with everything," Kathryn said. "The sensors on the ship won't indicate any internal problems. The Kazons are cut off from each other as far as the computer is concerned. That buys us some time. She has warp drive ready to go when we need it. We're going to circle back. B'Elanna knows where there's an exit into a Jefferies tube. We're going to do our best to get near the door and help you clear the way. You've got weapons. You need to get to the bridge, if possible. We'll get B'Elanna into a console to open up the helm controls and the warp drive, but we don't want to do that until we're sure that you're back on the bridge. When we get the chance, we're going to warp. We're leaving the three Kazon ships behind. I don't think they'll follow us as soon as they know that Culluh is dead. There's not enough here to make them really want to give up their lives for the ship."
Daryl waved to Tom and Harry, after selecting a weapon for himself and one that he passed to Chakotay. The two men understood his direction, or anticipated it, and immediately took the bags of weapons to begin passing them around. At the rate they were going, the majority of the crew would be armed in a matter of minutes. They'd likely be out the doors before Kathryn, B'Elanna, and Carol made it somewhere to be able to offer them help in escaping the cargo bay.
"What about the Kazon?" Chakotay asked.
Kathryn's countenance was very serious. Daryl could practically feel the iciness of it. There was something else, there, though—something he knew well. Kathryn didn't relish what she was about to say—what she'd done or was going on to do—but she accepted that there was no choice in the matter.
Daryl accepted it, too, the moment that he heard it.
"Our weapons are set to kill," Kathryn said. "The transporters are online. We're leaving a clear line of access to the transporter rooms. If they want to beam to their ships, we're allowing them to save themselves."
"But we're showin' no mercy," Daryl offered.
"I wish it could be different," Kathryn said. "But…"
"We've come too far. Everybody—Kazons, too. They done too much. We done too much." Daryl offered, filling in for her. She seemed grateful to simply be excused from saying the rest.
"There's a chance they'll fire on us when they return to their ships," Chakotay said.
"There's a chance," Kathryn said. "But they don't know how many of their people are alive and how many are dead. Right now, we've got the upper hand. We need to move quickly, though. We've already lost too much time, and time is what's really going to give us the upper hand."
"Get B'Elanna to a control console," Chakotay said.
"Will do, Commander," Kathryn said. She winked at Chakotay—the greatest sign of affection she seemed willing to give him right now, and Chakotay smiled up at her.
"We'll see you on the bridge, Captain," Chakotay offered, before he waved Daryl forward and got the attention of the crew to start putting everyone into their positions so that they could fire on the Kazon guards that would be waiting outside the doors when they forced them open.
Daryl gladly took a position to fire as soon as the door was opened. He felt good. He was optimistic that he'd be sleeping in his bed that night and, like the others, he was ready to get the show on the road. He'd seen just about enough of Kazons to last him a lifetime.
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AN: I'm just going to let you know that we're going to have a bit of a jump over some of the upcoming details. You've got enough of the proverbial game plan that I don't think we need a play-by-play. I'll let your imaginations fill in some of that.
