Voyager, Torres and Paris Quarters

"Tom," B'Elanna yawned, "it's 2 o'clock in the morning. I don't think you'll find anything any different. Come to bed." The Lieutenant had been curled up in bed, a blanket haphazardly thrown over her head to block the light coming from her husband's desk lamp.

"Give me a minute," Tom waved. "I'm so close to something. I can feel it." He had been reviewing the history of Viroca.

To say that the Virocans adhered to order and structure was an understatement. It was as if they had tried to control their history, Tom thought - if that was even possible. Everything seemed too neatly planned - the cities, the jobs, the laws, even the population.

Tom snapped his fingers as the lightbulb clicked on.

The population!

"Somehow it all has something to do with the population," Tom exclaimed, leaning back in his chair.

B'Elanna let out a low growl from her bed. She took a breath and sat up. "We know that Tom." The half-Klingon rolled her eyes, wanting to get back to sleep. "Pandemics generally affect a planet's population," she deadpanned.

"Yeah," he agreed, "but what if this is more than just a disease…." He stood up and began to pace. "What if this is a method of control?"

B'Elanna cocked an eyebrow. "Okay, so how? And why?"

"I don't know any of that yet…" Tom began, "but I did see something in their records referring to a purge…"

"Purge?"

"Yes," Tom affirmed, "And it coincides with a time of great hardship for the Virocans, but the purge itself is praised. Like it renewed their society somehow?"

"I don't know," B'Elanna rubbed her forehead, "but when I hear the word purge I don't think of anything good."

"Me neither," Tom admitted, returning to his desk and pulling up the record on his viewscreen. "But…I did some cross-referencing with twentieth-century Earth's history, and purges quite often were code for genocide."

"Genocide?!" B'Elanna was shocked. "But…but…there's no proof of that. We don't have any proof." She got up from bed and joined her husband at the desk. She took a look at the record referring to the purge. "Something doesn't add up," she mentioned. "The Virocans praise the purge, like it's some sort of great force in society. I don't understand."

Tom rubbed his temples. "I don't either," he repeated. "Yet I think there's something to it…"

"How can there be when Voyager clearly brought the disease to Viroca?" B'Elanna reiterated, staring at her husband.

"Again, it's another question I can't answer," Tom admitted. "But, I do want to bring this up to Chakotay and Tuvok. We're still in comm range…maybe the Commander can investigate."

….

Cell 8432, Virocan Penal Colony

Kathryn sat on the floor of her dank cell, chewing on what she could only describe as a protein bar. At least she hoped it was a protein bar.

The light above her head still flickered intermittently. She could almost time when it would so.

Finishing her rations, she thought now was as good a time as any to see if Veranna could hear her.

If they monitor me, what the hell do I care? What do I have left to lose?

"Veranna," she said loudly, hoping her voice could be heard outside thick walls.

No answer.

"Veranna," she repeated. "Can you hear me?"

It felt like an eternity before Kathryn heard a tiny peep.

"Yes," the voice answered. It sounded far away, and Kathryn strained to hear her. But she could, in fact, hear her, albeit softly. "It's Veranna," she said.

"Are you okay?" Kathryn asked.

In cell 8431, a young Virocan girl shook her head, relieved to talk to someone - even a stranger. "I guess," Veranna said loudly. She hoped the woman in the other cell could hear her. She had no idea who else could.

"Are you Virocan?" the woman continued to talk.

"Yes," Veranna said, "I am."

"You're very young," Kathryn stated matter-of-factly.

"Yes," Veranna repeated, "I am what your species refers to as a teenager."

Kathryn's breath caught behind her throat. "Why," she began, "why would someone so young be in prison?"

"Not for any good reason," Veranna responded, wondering if she could trust this woman in the other cell.

"Then give me one," Kathryn answered, "good or bad."

The girl thought back in her mind. Her father's shuttle. Her sister. The religion. The science. How nothing made any sense….How everything did make sense….Their attempted escape. Their capture. Her arms. Her spikes.

Father.

"My father was never a favorite researcher," Veranna admitted. "His beliefs never aligned with the Virocan Council on Religion nor the Military Council. Commander Veilor did not like him or anything he stood for. I guess you could say they were rivals."

"Commander Veilor?" Kathryn raised an eyebrow.

"You know him?"

"He handed down my sentence," Kathryn replied, "but go on."

"Anyway, my father told me and my older sister Verla to always question. Never take anything for face value," Veranna sighed. "I miss him."

"Sounds like a good scientist," Kathryn remarked.

"He was," exclaimed Veranna, shaking her head rapidly. "That's why we had to leave. We had to escape." Her voice cracked. "But…but…when Verla and I tried to make it to his shuttlecraft at his research office outside the city…" She let out a sob and paused. Composing herself, Veranna continued, "Papa told us to meet him there. We never did. We were captured and put on trial." She wished Verla was with her now, but she didn't know what the guards had done to her.

She feared she would never see her sister again.

"What for?" Kathryn questioned, rapt in the story. "What could they have possibly charged children with?"

Veranna hiccuped. "On Viroca, age doesn't matter when it comes to the law. There's no difference between me and you. Order is expected to be maintained by every Virocan or else society will crumble, or so we have been taught."

"I see," Kathryn murmured. "So what were you found guilty of then?"

"Conspiracy," Veranna replied, "to overthrow the Virocan Councils."

"What? How?" Kathryn could feel a headache starting to form.

"I don't know," Veranna replied. "My sister and I never knew what my father was researching. He never told us. We knew he just wanted us to leave. He had to get us out. We had to abandon our homeworld." Veranna took a deep breath. "But he never told us why," she repeated solemnly.

"For what it's worth, I believe you." Kathryn really didn't know what to say. All she could tell was the pain in Veranna's voice was real.

Kathryn also wanted to know about those scars on the young Virocan's arms. What happened to her spikes? Don't all Virocans have them? She dared not ask.

"Veilor took mine and my sister's silence as lies. He said our failure to provide information on what our father had been planning was just our attempt at keeping him safe. Protecting him," Veranna continued. "I hope he is safe. I hope he got out. I don't think I'll ever get to see him again." A tear escaped her eye.

"If he is as resourceful as you say he is," Kathryn hoped to reassure the girl, "then I am sure he is okay."

"That's what I like to think anyway," Veranna agreed. "And…Kathryn…I didn't get a chance to thank you earlier. You know, for filling up my pail."

Kathryn smiled. "You're welcome," she said. "We should get some rest before they come get us."

"Right," Veranna replied. "I'm glad you're nearby."

"Me too," Kathryn replied, moving back away from the wall. She rubbed her throat. She hadn't realized how loudly she had been barking for Veranna to hear her. She swallowed the rest of her glass of water then laid down on the cot.

So what does Veilor have to hide? What does Veranna's father know that the Commander does not want to find out?

…

Voyager Bridge

Chakotay sat in his chair on the bridge. He did not want to sit in her seat. He never asked to occupy her position.

He never wanted to replace her.

But, for all intents and purposes, Voyager was now under his command, and he had little choice in the matter.

"Commander, a Virocan shuttlecraft has just appeared on sensors," Ensign Kim noted at his con station.

"On screen and raise shields."

At his usual spot at the helm, Paris turned around in his chair. "It doesn't seem like it's doing anything. Just hanging out."

"Hanging out, why, Lieutenant?" Chakotay responded.

"They're scanning us," Kim announced. "And…hailing us."

"Open a channel, Ensign."

"Voyager." A white-haired, older Virocan appeared on the screen. "I mean you no harm. I am Ventron, and I need your help."

Chakotay rested his chin on his hand. He had no reason to trust any Virocan…not anymore. He decided to be blunt. "We have attempted to help your people before. It did not end well. Your Councils made it very clear they wanted us to leave your space. We have done so. I don't think that…"

"I realize that," Ventron interrupted. "But, let me assure you, the Councils did not send me. I am a fugitive, I suppose," the Virocan admitted, defeated.

"A fugitive?" Paris questioned.

"Yes," Ventron replied. "I come to you as a father pleading for aid for his daughters…for his people. You do not understand the trouble that they are in. That they are all in." The desperation in his voice was palpable.

"If you are referring to the pandemic that now threatens your species," Chakotay replied, "my people feel nothing but remorse. We regret that we could not stop it. I am sorry about your daughters, but my captain is now paying the price." Chakotay steeled himself, hoping to mask the emptiness he felt without her.

Ventron took a breath. "I am a researcher and scientist. I know full well about this so-called pandemic, this disease. But," he enunciated clearly, "it is not your fault. I do not blame Voyager. Kathryn Janeway does not belong in prison. Nor do my daughters."

Chakotay and Paris exchanged looks.

"What if I told you I could prove your Captain's innocence? Would you help me then?" the scientist pleaded.

"Ventron," Chakotay replied, "if you know something about this disease that we do not, then please tell us."

"I will if I have your promise to help rescue my daughters."

What would she do in this situation? Chakotay wondered and then considered his next words carefully. "On my honor, I will. If it is alright with you, I'd like to beam you aboard Voyager where we can discuss in more detail."

"Yes, absolutely," Ventron said, relieved to have found an ally. "Please do so."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Chakotay," Lieutenant Paris spoke plainly.

"Me too, Lieutenant. Me too."

…

Sulfur Mines, Virocan Penal Colony

Kathryn had decided that the only good thing about her duty in the mines was the fact that she got to see the sun.

The beautiful, bright sun shone on her face for the briefest of periods until she climbed down the scaffolding to the sulfur below.

She had gotten to know young Veranna over their evening talks. In all truth, it was the only thing Kathryn looked forward to at the end of her shift.

And neither the human nor the Virocan cared who may have been listening to their conversation.

What could be used against them anymore? Both were prisoners.

The young Virocan was smart with a quick sense of humor. She also had an incredible curiosity - that sometimes bordered on the uncomfortable for Kathryn.

Veranna wanted to know about Voyager, about Kathryn, about life outside of Viroca.

She laughed when Kathryn told her about the time she had to play a rather overdone and dramatic character named Arachnia to placate a hologram who seemed to think he was an evil genius.

The girl also wanted to know more about Chakotay - the Maquis rebel turned Janeway's first officer.

"Kind of romantic when you think about it," Veranna had shouted, a mischievous grin on her face as she tried to convey to Kathryn what she thought about the captain's relationship with her first officer.

It was difficult to communicate with stone walls separating you.

"Nothing romantic or otherwise about it," Kathryn replied, chalking Veranna's enthusiasm up to being a teenage girl. "I needed to unite my ship, and he had the experience to be first officer."

"Still…you miss him."

Kathryn thought there was no harm in admitting it. "Yes, I do."

The conversation stayed in Janeway's head longer than she intended. As she descended down the scaffolding, Chakotay stayed in her head.

I wonder what he's doing right now. What he's thinking….I miss him.

Should I ever have defined parameters? It's not like any of that matters anymore.

Perhaps…I wasted a chance.

Kathryn shook the thought from her head, but that twinge of regret had already started to form.

She joined Veranna next to a large deposit of sulfur. The young Virocan had become quicker at extracting the element than she had been previously.

"You better work swiftly," she whispered to Kathryn. "The guard is in a mood today."

"Noted."

Hours passed as the prisoners worked in silence. Climbing with pails of sulfur up and down the scaffolding. Up and down. Becoming coated in the thick, yellow powder. Breathing in the acrid air.

Kathryn determined that she would never eat eggs again if she ever got out of prison.

Suddenly, a great kathunk echoed as the prisoners turned their attention to a Virocan female who had just been thrown back into the mines.

"You will return to work," Vernard menaced. "And you have a rather large quota to make up." He released her arm, and the woman tumbled back.

"Verla!" Veranna shouted, running towards her sister and helping the older woman to her feet.

"Get back!" Vernard yelled, grabbing Veranna. "Get back or your spikes are not the only thing I will remove," he threatened.

Veranna refused, holding onto her sister as if her life depended on it.

So…that's what happened to her spikes. He removed them. Kathryn glowered at the Commandant. She had just about enough of him.

"Let them have a moment for pity's sake," Kathryn spoke calmly, approaching the Commandant.

She had not anticipated the swift left fist connecting with her eye.

She stumbled backwards, clutching her bleeding and rapidly swelling eye.

"You, Prisoner 8432," he pointed to Kathryn, "will learn your place." He turned and climbed back up the scaffolding, leaving the prisoners under the careful watch of the guards.

"All of you," shouted the guard, "back to work or your quotas will increase tenfold for this week!"

Kathryn walked to her spot - her pride wounded more than anything else.

Damn that hurt!

She wished she had some ice or something to clean up the cut.

Her distaste of the Commandant festered.

At least Verla is okay, and Veranna did not lose her sister.

Janeway watched the sisters as Verla began working alongside Veranna.

"We'll get through this together, won't we?" Veranna asked her sister.

Tears streaming down her face, Verla opened her mouth as if to reply.

That's when Veranna and Kathryn saw it.

She no longer had a tongue.

Make sure she never speaks to me again.

And with that, so ends another chapter. I hope you still like it. Let me know. And thank you very much for all the reviews so far. I love reading them and seeing your reactions.