Title: Kiss of the Spider People
Series: Star Trek: Voyager
Author: Singing Violin
Rating: T
Summary: Janeway gets into some hot water with some hostile aliens. Set shortly after "Coda."
Disclaimer: They're not mine (except the aliens), so don't send me money for my story. This one might count as parody, though it's not funny.
Feedback: Yes please.
Archiving: Anywhere.
Author's note: This chapter was brought to you by Turkish delight and the New England Patriots, and is dedicated in memoriam to the story "Broken" by quantumsilver.

Chapter 3: The Plan

Her heart pounding, Kathryn entered the turbolift and was relieved to find it empty. She wasn't sure she could manage friendly small talk with one of her crewmen right now. Ordering the bridge, she briefly leaned against the wall, hoping to anchor herself against the tidal wave of reaction that was sure to come.

It wasn't enough.

Her head was spinning and her stomach flip-flopped. Unbidden, her body convulsed, and suddenly, she found herself doubled over, her meager breakfast all over the carpeted floor.

"Halt turbolift," she ordered when she'd regained her breath. Slowly, she slid down against the wall until she was seated on the floor, her knees against her chest, her mind filled with an unshakeable uneasiness. Her face screwed up, and instinctively, she covered it with her hands.

Her meltdown lasted only a few seconds, however, and when her hands fell back down, taking with them the solitary tear that had escaped from her eye, she had calmed her breathing and her heart to the point where she could at least think. As she gazed upon the turbolift floor, her first thought was of the necessity of cleaning up.

With that, she redirected the turbolift to Deck Three without standing up. When it arrived, she slowly rose, then took the lift offline and sealed the doors. After hastily rinsing out her mouth, she gathered cleaning supplies from her quarters and returned to make her best attempt to erase the evidence of her illness. There was one thing for certain in her mind: nobody was going to find out, at least until she had figured out what was going on, or was unable to hide it any longer.

When she was satisfied that she'd done the best she could – the chemical powder would eliminate any odor, and only a careful inspection of the floor would reveal the faint stain – she returned to her quarters where, spent, she flopped down on the couch, the bed still unavailable as she hadn't yet had the opportunity to replace her sheets. Her eyelids heavy, she realized that she ought to warn Chakotay she had been detained, lest he worry and investigate.

Sighing, she tapped her communicator. "Janeway to Chakotay," she called. "My errands are taking longer than expected. You have the bridge for the remainder of the shift. Let me know if there is a situation that needs my attention."

"Acknowledged," he answered, though there was an odd note in his voice; she hoped her own had not been too obviously unsteady over the comm.

With that, she found herself drifting off, the images of the last few days running through her mind, an involuntary review session for the upcoming final exam.

Final, she thought. That's apt.

At the edge of consciousness, her eyes suddenly flew open, drawn to the object on the coffee table. It had been carelessly left there last night, both occupants of her quarters too exhausted and preoccupied at the time to consider examining it.

Quickly, she grabbed the device and began to explore. Apparently, it had not been blank when the download of Federation material had commenced. Interfacing it with a padd, she initiated translation protocols.

It was soon apparent that she was going to need help.

She tapped her communicator once again. "Janeway to Torres," she ordered. "Please report to my quarters."

A few minutes later, the half-Klingon was standing at attention before her. She handed the engineer the padd.

"What's this?" asked B'Elanna curiously.

Janeway raised an eyebrow as she thrust a finger towards it for emphasis. "This," she replied, "is a translation of everything that was on that device our guests so courteously left for us."

She waited as the other woman began to scroll through, her eyes growing wider with every screenful of information scanned. "This is –" Her voice trailed off as she continued reading.

"Indeed," answered the captain. "They have given us detailed schematics of their ship. We're going to figure out how to disable it."

At that, the engineer looked up askance at her captain. "What if it's a trap?" she asked suspiciously.

Janeway nodded knowingly. "I considered that," she answered, "but look here." She wrested the padd from B'Elanna's hand, pressed a few buttons, and returned it to the engineer.

B'Elanna, rendered speechless, could only listen as the captain continued. "This could still be an elaborate ruse," Janeway warned, "but it looks like they have a traitor in their midst."

After a moment, when the fundamental situation had been digested, B'Elanna found her voice. "So, what would you like me to do?" she asked.

"We don't have much time," Janeway answered quickly, hoping that the other woman would not think to ask why. "I'd like you to find me the easiest way to disable as much of their ship as quickly as possible, preferably without killing them in the process. We're just trying to get out of here without incident."

"Understood, Captain," the lieutenant acknowledged. "I'll have that for you as soon as I can."

Janeway nodded to give her permission to leave, and she turned and exited the captain's quarters, attempting not to bump into walls as she continued scrolling through the plethora of information on the padd.

"Hurry," Kathryn whispered to the closing doors.

A voice was calling to her. It seemed the source was quite far away, separated by a lengthy tunnel filled with a thick haze. Her eyes fluttered open and struggled to focus as she felt a gentle touch on her shoulder.

"Kathryn," it called again.

The mist cleared, the tunnel contracted, and a handsome, concerned face coalesced in her field of vision as, using the back of the couch for leverage, she sat up.

"Chakotay," she acknowledged, still shaking the remnants of sleep from her muddled mind. "What are you doing in my quarters? Why aren't you on the bridge?"

He smiled. "The shift is over, Captain. And B'Elanna tried to comm you, but you didn't answer. She was concerned; said you looked really tired earlier."

Suddenly alarmed, Kathryn's hands drew up to her face, as if she could feel whether or not she looked fatigued. Realizing the absurdity of her action, she lowered her arms to rest in her lap. "I didn't sleep well last night," she admitted carefully, "but I feel much better now."

He wasn't convinced, but forewent further questioning in favor of the pressing business he'd come to discuss. "Captain, we heard back from the aliens. They're arriving in about two hours, but it doesn't look promising. I don't think they have any respect for the Prime Directive."

Janeway raised an eyebrow. "And why would they?"

Before he could attempt to answer the rhetorical question, she spoke again. "What did B'Elanna want?"

"I'm not sure," he answered, "but it sounded urgent. Would you like me to call her here?"

The captain thought for a moment. "No. In fact, if they're returning in two hours, we'll need to prepare. Let the rest of the senior staff know there will be a meeting in Conference Room Two in one hour. I'll meet with Lieutenant Torres first."

"Aye, Captain," he acknowledged, but lingered for a moment, contemplating whether to inquire about her well-being.

She anticipated his remark, however, and cut it off. "Dismissed," she ordered, realizing that she was being particularly brusque, but knowing that she couldn't afford to have him worrying about her. For all she knew, it would fall upon him to complete this business with the aliens after she succumbed to the poison inside of her.

As he left, she shivered at the thought, but quickly returned her mind to the task at hand. She tapped her communicator. "Janeway to Torres," she began. "Please report to Conference Room Two ASAP."

"I'm on my way," she heard.

Then, after a quick trip to the bathroom to empty her ever-full bladder and revitalize her appearance, she exited her quarters and headed over to meet her engineer.

She tried not to dwell on the unsteadiness of her feet.

Janeway reluctantly sipped from a coffee cup full of water as she peered at her Chief Engineer. Her head had begun to pound on the way over, and, although it seemed that any fluids she took in were coming back out at an alarming rate, the signs of dehydration were obvious and she resigned herself to imbibing enough water to stave off the inevitable: she hoped to live long enough to see Voyager safely out of this quagmire, even if it meant she was going to have to run out in the middle of a meeting.

"I hope you have good news," said Janeway, though the engineer's expression didn't bode well.

The lieutenant took a deep breath before reporting. "I think I know how to disable their main computer," she answered, "which should hinder propulsion and weapons … anything that's not on independent systems. They're not very good about backups, maybe because they'd rather have more functionality and consider redundancy a waste of space. In fact, it looks like life support is the only function that persists if the main computer is sufficiently broken." The captain's eyes lit up, but Torres continued with a sentence that dampened her spirit. "There's a problem though."

"Oh?" Janeway prompted.

"I don't know how to do it remotely," B'Elanna admitted. "As far as I can tell, someone needs to be inside their ship to physically alter the configuration of the circuitry."

"Hmm," answered Janeway, immediately putting her mind to task as she placed her mug on the conference table, grabbed the padd, and began to pace while she scanned through the chief engineer's calculations.

After a few minutes, she looked up, and her words were plain. "I suppose we'll have to get someone aboard that ship," she concurred.

Torres looked astonished. "But how? Their shields won't allow us to transport …"

At that, the captain smiled slightly. "Just show me exactly what needs to be done. Let me worry about how to get someone over there."

Baffled, but trusting her captain – who more than once had achieved the seemingly impossible – B'Elanna nodded obediently and began to explain.

The captain was quite certain she knew how to accomplish her task by the time the others arrived. As they began to trickle in, she excused herself, and when she returned, she was set upon by five pairs of expectant eyes. The Doctor had declined to attend on account of a "very important project" that needed his immediate attention – the project, of course, being the cure for Captain Janeway's condition, though his program's doctor-patient confidentiality subroutine did not allow him to reveal it specifically. Luckily too, Chakotay hadn't thought to ask.

"Greetings," she started. "As some of you may know, the aliens are returning within the hour." She saw several nods in response. "Rumor has it that they are not going to accept our offer."

At that, Ensign Kim frowned, crestfallen, while Lieutenant Torres appeared just about ready to hit someone. Tuvok merely raised an eyebrow, wondering about the source of said 'rumor.'

"I don't know that for certain," she continued, "so we'll give them another chance first. They may be coming back to tell us we can have what we need, but I don't think so."

She lifted her mug from the table and sipped before speaking again. "We believe they know about Voyager's history, probably from the Kazon or the Vidiians. Assuming this, I have devised a way to combat them." She paused for a moment, letting her words sink in. "It's plausible that, were Commander Chakotay in charge of this vessel, he would not be beholden to the Prime Directive, and would therefore be willing to provide them with the technology they've requested."

She looked over at her second-in-command, noting his alarmed expression, but he wasn't objecting aloud … yet. Good, she thought, I may just be able to pull this off.

Lieutenant Paris spoke up then. "So, you're just going to pretend to resign? Then what?"

She smiled at his outburst. "No, Lieutenant, I'm going to pretend to die," she responded, then paused again as a collective gasp pervaded the room.

Before anyone could respond, however, she began again. "Lieutenant Torres has found a way to disable their ship … but it can only be done from the inside. So, we can kill two birds with one stone, so to speak. With me 'dead,' I will be free to board their ship and sabotage it from the inside. Meanwhile, Commander Chakotay can distract them with an offer they can't refuse."

"But how will you get onto their ship?" repeated B'Elanna, frustrated because the captain hadn't answered her question before. "The shields …"

Janeway wasn't deterred by the interruption, and answered excitedly, quite proud of her plan. "They're going to take my body onto their ship themselves. Based upon their speech patterns and … other clues," she continued, not wanting to elaborate, "I believe they will want to consume it."

At that, Harry Kim looked like he was about to be sick. She walked over to him and put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, Ensign," she offered quietly, "I'll be quite alive and able to escape that fate."

Chakotay spoke up then. "What if you're unsuccessful?" he wondered.

She lowered her hand from Harry's shoulder and turned to glare at her first officer. "I don't intend to fail, Commander," she responded pointedly, then lowered her voice slightly, "but I did consider that possibility. If I am unable to disarm them, I want you to offer replicator technology, and ensure that it fails in the same way it did for the Kazon."

Now it was B'Elanna's turn to appear ill, remembering the gruesome scene on the Kazon ship. "Why don't we just do that?" she asked. "Why send you over? It seems like an unnecessary risk … and if you're still there when the replicator fails …"

"I concur," agreed Chakotay. "It's too dangerous."

It was time to put her foot down. "This is not up for debate," she answered. "We don't have time to devise an alternate plan, and I am certain this will work. Furthermore," she added, "I don't want to hurt them unnecessarily. They're sentient beings, and their lives are worth just as much as ours. Our goal is to get everyone home alive – and that includes our returning guests."

"But if you disable their ship, they will be vulnerable to attack," came Tuvok's logic.

"Yes," Janeway countered, "but I'm not going to do any permanent damage, and presumably, within the boundaries of their territory, they are fairly safe. The goal is to prevent them from chasing after us while we escape. By the time their next enemy arrives, they should have repaired their ship. Now, I will see you all back in this room in," she checked the chronometer, "half an hour. Dismissed."

Reluctantly, they filed out, until only Chakotay remained, looking rather irate.

"I don't like it," he stated bluntly.

She blinked. "I know you don't, but you don't get a choice."

He frowned. "Can't you send someone else? Isn't there another way of getting onto that ship?"

"There might be," she acknowledged, "but I don't know it, and we've run out of time. As for sending someone else … that would leave me in command of this ship, and I can no more abandon the Prime Directive than B'Elanna can abandon her temper. It has to be you in command. It's the only way."

He was visibly unsatisfied. Deciding a more personal approach was necessary, she placed a hand on his shoulder. "You can do this," she stated simply.

Suddenly, he took her hand and lowered it to a position in front of him, stepping back slightly to examine it. "You're trembling," he observed.

She looked up at him while she searched frantically for an excuse. Luckily, he provided one for her.

He raised a hand to her cheek. "Are you … frightened?" he asked incredulously.

"Maybe a little," she whispered. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His arm moved to encircle her shoulders, and she allowed his embrace. With her head on his chest, she felt better than she had all day. If she didn't survive, she was glad to have the recent memory of his hug to take with her to the grave.

The alien ship was an assault on the eyes and the olfactory senses, yet inside it was the promised treasure he had yet to obtain for the good of his people and the pleasure of his queen. The aliens themselves were disgusting creatures – externally, at least – but, if they resembled on the inside other species which they resembled on the outside, they would prove quite delectable treats when properly cured. His orifice trembled and emitted small amounts of digestive juices at the thought of tasting one of them.

The second visit was less arduous than the first, as he expected the negotiations to be easier. The alien leader was sure to be close to death, if not dead already, assuming the venom had been successfully delivered. If it had not, he need only stall and make another attempt. He would not return to his mother empty-handed; as it was, his young assistant's life was forfeit – a token of good faith to the aliens' second-in-command as punishment for attempting to steal the technology he hoped would now be freely given in return for their freedom.

And if they refused, a feast was in store for all of his comrades. He marveled again at his own ingenuity as he allowed the aliens to once again guide him towards their conference room. He regretted only the necessary presence of the tinkerer, whose expertise could be the sole foil to his glory. He hoped that the credit for the plan would be his, even if the aliens' technology required the tinkerer's assistance to implement.

He repeated his demands, noting the odd pallor of the alien leader. Despite its color, it was as adamant as ever, and he fought to control his frustration, praying that it would succumb soon, for he was running out of patience.

At last, it collapsed, and the dark one knelt beside it and pronounced it dead. He rejoiced at the fortuity of the event, though outwardly, he showed no emotion, waiting to see whether the reaction from the second-in-command would meet his expectations.

The tall second-in-command also knelt by its former leader, then looked up and requested some time to prepare a burial. To his delight, the body was to be released, in tact, into space. That meant that in addition to the technology, he would be able to deliver a delicacy to his own revered leader. And he and his team were invited to attend the ceremony.

She would be very pleased with him indeed.