Voyager Sick Bay
The Doctor sat at his desk, stroking his chin and scanning his notes on the pathogen.
"Bella figlia dell'amore / Schiavo son dei vezzi tuoi," he sang to himself. Music helped him think, and Verdi's Rigoletto was always one of his favorites.
Seven of Nine stood at an electron microscope reexamining the germ's biostructure. Although she did not have the requisite medical knowledge, the Doctor insisted that she take a look, hoping perhaps her enhanced visual acuity may give her some additional insight. See something that he did not.
"Doctor," Seven summoned the EMH from his work. "Please come take a look at this."
"Find anything?"
"I do not know," she admitted, "but I do see something that appears irregular." She moved from the microscope so the hologram could take a look. "See that mark there on the pathogen on the upper left hand corner of the sample," she directed the EMH.
"Yes," he replied. "Magnify our resolution scanners by one thousand," he told Seven who entered the command into the computer. "This is very odd," he admitted. "Everything I have examined, understood about this disease, is that it clearly comes from humans, transmitted airborne. And it looks to be a…and for all intents and purposes…is a human common cold, but proves deadly to the Virocans."
"Yes, that is your established theory," Seven noted, shaking her head in agreement.
"But theories are just that - theories." The Doctor turned to his viewscreen at his desk. "Computer, show an image of the human pathogen for the common cold. Magnify by 1,000. Now, copy the image of the Virocan germ and show it on screen."
Seven studied the two images, raising an eyebrow. "They are almost identical," she replied.
"Almost being the operative word," the Doctor replied. "There appears to be a black mark of some type on the Virocan pathogen - almost undetectable. No one would ever notice unless they were looking for it."
"What is it?" asked Seven, looking at the odd triangular symbol on the magnified image.
"I'm not sure," the Doctor admitted. "Almost like some kind of label or logo, something."
"Can we determine its origin or what exactly it is? Is it biological?"
"I'm not sure. Perhaps," the Doctor said. He looked at Seven and smiled. "You know, I am glad I had you look at those slides."
Seven nodded. "I do have superior visual acuity. A wise decision on your part."
"Let's just hope it leads us somewhere," the EMH replied. "Computer, play the Quartet from Verdi's Rigoletto - instrumental accompaniment only." His rich baritone picked up from where he left off "Con un detto sol tu puoi / le mie pene consular."
…
Prison Cell 8432
Her feet skidded across the floor, ramming into the wall on the other side of her cell when the guard threw her back into the room.
Kathryn rubbed her upper arm. She hoped that wouldn't leave a bruise.
What I wouldn't do right now for a bath…
She felt grimy, flushed with sweat from the humid day carrying pails of sulfur up and down the mine.
I'd even settle for the sonic shower.
Perhaps, if her water allotment ever did come, she'd use it to clean off.
She slid down the wall and sat on the floor. Her feet were yellow - caked with the powdery like substance.
Frankly, she looked a mess, and she chuckled to herself.
I haven't been this dirty since my parents forced me to go camping. But…at least I got to see the sun - if only for a little while.
She closed her eyes and tried to massage the kinks out of her stiff neck.
I even wouldn't mind the Doctor's intense therapeutic pressure at this point. Though…he's not as gentle as Chakotay.
Kathryn's eyes shot open. Where the hell did that thought come from?
She tried to push it out of her mind, but, in truth, she'd take the situation she had been in New Earth any day over where she found herself now.
At least I wasn't alone then…
A small slot in her door slid open to reveal a tray.
A glass of water and a small bar of some sort of protein maybe, Kathryn guessed, had been provided for her meal.
Well…it's not enough to even clean a foot…let alone a bath.
She took a bite out of the bar. It was hard, crunchy, almost like chalk in texture. She likened the taste to stale bread. But…she did eat it. She had no choice if she wanted to maintain some strength.
As the hours ticked slowly by, Kathryn finally decided to lay down in the cot. She wondered what time it was - not that she could tell.
She never really knew how much she would miss the stars until they were no longer visible.
And then…she heard something.
It was faint, but she did hear it.
I'm not going crazy…not yet anyways.
It was a muffled noise, and Kathryn was almost positive that she heard a woman crying. There had to be others within earshot. She understood that she was a prisoner in a cell block - so it would stand to reason there would be many rooms in this corridor.
Wouldn't there be?
"Hello," Kathryn said.
No answer.
She raised her voice an octave.
"Hello! Can anyone hear me?"
No answer.
…
Viroca Planet - Outskirts of Central City, Veran
Tuvok's shuttle landed on the outskirts of the Virocan city of Veran. He hoped no one would discover the vessel, though he deemed his location far enough away from prying eyes in what appeared to be a deserted field.
And…with 750,000 dead…he knew there were simply not enough people to send to investigate even if the Virocans did detect his descent into their atmosphere.
He took a deep breath. The needs of the many outweigh the search for one. They are devoting every available resource and person to contend with the pathogen.
In the silence of his shuttle, the Lieutenant Commander began to pour through the data Voyager had collected on the planet.
He also formed a list of Virocans who had seemed friendly to Voyager, at least those aliens he did not deem an immediate threat.
Something had to give.
And the Vulcan was determined to find it out.
…
Viroca Penal Colony
It was the same every day for the last three days. The Virocan guards would herd her and other prisoners onto the transport vessel and take them to the mines.
She never could get a clear heading of where they were going. It seemed that the guards would switch directions to confuse the prisoners, lest they try to escape.
They're good at this, Kathryn mused. Keeping us on our toes, playing mind games, making sure no way is ever the same.
As she lined up again with the other prisoners at the entrance to the mine, she saw the Commandant arrive on a transport vessel.
For whatever reason Vernard took great amusement in taunting the youngest female prisoner. He stopped in front of her as he examined the line-up. "And did you get enough to eat last night?" he asked, his voice like ice, cold and calculating.
He knew she hadn't.
His green eyes met hers. "A pitiful excuse for a Virocan, you are," he said.
So…she's Virocan, Kathryn noted to herself.
"Please," the young girl voiced, "it's just such a heavy load."
Vernard slapped her, and she stumbled backwards. Another woman rushed to her side, helping her back up.
"Back in line," he snapped to the other prisoner.
"She can't manage the quota. She's too young!" the woman shouted, anger festering to the surface.
"Prisoners who do not meet their quota will not last long here," Vernard stated. His voice raised an octave. "And prisoners who break ranks and disobey orders are punished." He snapped his fingers, and two guards grabbed the older woman. "Take her away and make sure she never speaks to me again!"
"No, please," the younger, smaller female pleaded.
"Enough!" Vernard commanded, and she went silent. "To the mines, all of you!"
Kathryn took a pail and made her way down the scaffolding, determined to talk to the young girl if she could steal a moment away from the guards' unfeeling eyes.
She thought for sure that hers were the same cries she heard the previous night.
As luck would have it, the young Virocan stood beside Kathryn working to break down a chunk of sulfur.
"I'm Kathryn Janeway," she whispered softly. "I think I heard you last night. Was that you crying?"
The girl shook her head. "Veranna," she murmured. "My name's Veranna."
Kathryn was no great judge of alien ages, but the girl was young - very young, a teenager, she thought.
"Who was that older woman with you? The one they took away…" Kathryn asked, watching closely to ensure that the guards were otherwise engaged.
"My…my…sister," the girl blubbered, tears falling again.
"Ssshhhh…" Kathryn hushed the girl, placing a hand on her back. "I'll help you." Kathryn poured the contents of her own pale into the Virocan's.
"Why?" the girl asked.
"Because I can meet my quota. You can't," she said simply. "And plus, I wouldn't mind a friend." Kathryn smiled at her, and the girl's eyes shone for the briefest of seconds.
When Veranna lifted her arms to chip more of the sulfur away from the land, Kathryn noticed it.
Two long scars on both of the girl's arms appeared where her spikes should have been.
She wondered what happened.
"Listen," Kathryn said, "I believe our cells are close by. I may be able to hear you. Would you want to talk with me tonight?" she asked, hoping the girl would be agreeable. Kathryn was tired of having conversations with only herself.
Veranna shook her head in agreement. The smallest of smiles upturned her lips.
"No talking," a guard shouted, breaking up the two women. "Back to work - both of you."
Kathryn returned to the arduous task of breaking off chunks of sulfur with only a flat blunt instrument, no bigger than a pen, and a rock to help chisel as her only tools.
At least I have someone to converse with tonight…. but I wonder how much these guards can hear. But who cares what they can at any rate.
Hello again readers! I hope you are enjoying reading this fic. I had to include some opera from Verdi's Rigoletto, one of my favorites (yes, I am a fan of opera). I hope I am capturing the right tone for this story. And I really hope that everyone seems in-character, at least relatively speaking. I have more planned, and the story could take a darker turn. We'll just see where the characters lead me though. Please, as always, leave a review. I treasure each and every one of them.