Disclaimer: Please read Prologue for all disclaimers.
Chapter I: PetaQs and Storms
Strike. Time lapsed. The pain begins the dance of convulsions. Lost in the flight of molecular dispersion, a new cell is born to deliver a blankness of being. Tingling, sizzling, rolling volts of electricity overwhelm the body again and again. One strike becomes 5. The plasma rips through the mocha skin to blend it and craft it into a new sculpture of unknown variety. The pool of liquefied metals attach to the forming sculpture of blood, bone, metal, muscles, and skin. Another bolt, then, another, electrifies the body as the pain rips further and further into the now scarred light caramel skin. Ripples of plasma run along the body and reaches the four ridges on the gravely pale face of the regally beautiful Klingon hybrid.
Memories entrench as the devastating and encompassing pain shifted through the Chief Engineer of Voyager, Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres. All sides of her body dissolved and evolved at an increasingly, deadly rate. Her life would be different from the 15 strikes so far. How many more bolts of lightning, electrified plasma, orderly chaos of matter, would evade her body and change its very nature? Did she even want to survive? So much pain and her thoughts were on a life half-lived. Were her engines enough? Would she face the shores of death on the Black Fleet or sail towards Gre'thor on the Barge of the Dead? Heghlu'meH QaQ jajvam. Was today, really, a good day to face death and uncertainty? Embracing her Klingon heritage is far from a comforting thought as the pain seizes her into another convulsion.
Batlh. The Day of Honor was 3 weeks and 3 days ago. That day had also been a day close to death. Bang. Love. Had she ever really experienced it in full, and unequivocally, with another? Did she find her third heart? Would she ever know the love of Kahless's fame? Batlh Bang Hegh je. Death mixed with love and honor wrapped her mind to her undeniable reality. These moments of intense numbing, tingling, expanding wattages of shocks encased her mind as well as her body. The pool of metals shifted after every strike. Her chocolate brown eyes were open in shock from the coursing pain. It felt like plasma, lighting and tiny shock waves of volcanic lava shooting through every fiber of her being. How could it all go so wrong? Her temper lost once again. She walked, ran and cursed every fucking petaQ that had dared be an annoyance over the last months. The rage carried her into a storm of unknown magnitude, into a pool of unknown metals, and to a living death of extreme pain. Where was the peace before the end? Where was her warrior's death?
The former Borg drone, Seven of Nine Tertiary Adjunct of Unimatrix 01, was infuriated. Her separation from the Borg Collective still caused her many moments of distress. 3 months, 10 days, and 11 hours, amongst the crew of Voyager have led her to conclude that humanity was chaotic. Order, function, perfection were not things that humanity could accomplish in the chaos of their minds.
For instance, why was she sent on this mission? Was she being punished? The Chief Engineer was one of the most hostile people against her presence on Voyager. Yet, Seven of Nine did appreciate that the Lieutenant's comments were not whispered behind her back, and the Klingon/Human hybrid did not cower in fear of her presence. The volatile Lieutenant made her dislikes known without hesitation. Honesty and effectiveness were two things that Seven of Nine did appreciate about the illogical woman. Now, if she could only get her to be more efficient and less erratic, progress could really be made. Maybe, a partial assimilation would help the Lieutenant to mitigate her rage and bring her closer to perfection.
With all these thoughts, Seven continued her search as she moved closer to the area of the storm. She was searching slowly with her modified tricorder and heading towards the faint reading of a lifesign. It was not precise enough for her, but with the atmospheric disturbances, she could not get a lock on the Lieutenant's lifesign to beam her back to the excavation site. She had traversed 5 kilometers and had another 500 meters to go to reach the edge of the storm. How could the computer not be able to pinpoint the Lieutenant's last known position closer than this? Many updates needed to be made. This was unacceptable. In fact, Seven felt this trip was inefficient and unacceptable in many ways. These resources were needed. In addition, there were new metallic substances and crystalline minerals to be catalogued, tested and harvested. Why was a larger team not sent to scout this location and to help in the mining of resources? The possibility to improve Voyager's circumstances could be great, and yet, only two people sent. Her new Collective could benefit from Borg efficiency. The wayward engineer would comply. Resistance is futile.
As Seven entered the storm area, she thought more about the confusing humanity surrounding her on Voyager. Was this mission a test of some kind? Were they hoping that she fail? She refused to fail on her first away mission. More failure was not an option. She had already failed in her plans to return to the Borg Collective. Somehow, the small Ocampan female, Kes, had thrown Voyager 9,545 lightyears closer to the Alpha Quadrant and away from Borg space. Now, she was committed to being a success in her new Collective. She would adapt. She would add her biological and technological distinctiveness to Voyager to help in their success on their journey. The Chief Engineer was needed for the next phase of extracting the metals and minerals. Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres would be found.
Her eidetic memory replayed their conversation from earlier. The Lieutenant's behavior was illogical, and maybe, she could use the faults in logic to bring these unnecessary inefficiencies to an end.
The last part of their conversation flashed back from her cortical node. She needed more data. A review of the conversation could help.
"Damn it, Borg! What did I tell you yesterday and the day before that? We need to gather the rest of the data from the various probes to make sure mining is safe. Why won't you listen, drone? Do we have to have this argument every day?" B'Elanna was livid. This procedure was to ensure the safety of everyone involved. Yet, Seven of Nine refused to see it as necessary. Now, she realized that Seven had not totally disregarded the safety procedures before, because production was satisfactorily and they were on schedule. B'Elanna should have guessed the parameters had now changed.
"Unacceptable. We have been slowing our progress due to the interference with our equipment from the various atmospheric disturbances. Cutting out this inefficient process would increase productivity by 15.2%." As Seven spoke, she moved over to the mining equipment to bypass some of the safety measures and begin collecting samples. This was the last day of their 3 day mission, and she intended to be finish with survey as planned.
"Unacceptable! I tell you what is unacceptable! Your arrogance and stupidity in not realizing the danger in mining is fucking ridiculous! We have a shuttle full of dilithium crystals, duranium ore and some of the crystalline minerals found native on this planet for testing. Now, you want to skip steps to gain access to more minerals and these metals. What the fuck is your hurry? Voyager will be here in less than 24 hours." She wanted Seven of Nine to listen to her. Maybe, if she could curse her way through some logic, the drone would stop acting like this was the Borg Collective and lives and injuries were acceptable.
"Irrelevant. Our Voyager Collective expects these materials to be collected and tested. Then, the Voyager crew could possibly prepare for the use of these minerals and metals and further extraction to meet those uses. If our goals are not met, the crew would be delayed in this system. We shall not be the cause of such a delay. I can adjust the mining equipment simultaneously with the collection of data. The storm is spreading across this sector of the planet. In approximately 8 hours and 20 minutes, our equipment will not function. We need to clear this atmosphere as quickly as possible. Comply."
As Seven spoke, she moved to take over the controls from the Lieutenant. She knew the conditions of the planet would create frustrating delays. Even with the removal and streamlining of several safety procedures, it was only 20.5% likely that they would finish gathering materials before the storm reached them. She would not fail, and the Lieutenant would cooperate to create a successful mission.
"Borg! Do not try it, petaQ. I'm in charge of this mission, and you need to follow orders." Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres was beyond angry at the frustrating, arrogant and know-it-all attitude of the Ice Princess. Seven stood before her with a cold, blank, empty, emotionless look in her blue eyes. Then, she turned and continued making adjustments to the scanners to begin the extraction of the remaining crystalline minerals.
B'Elanna fumed. "Fine! Skip safety procedures you fucking drone! I need a break. I will be back in 2 hours." Before Seven could utter a word in protest, B'Elanna stormed off in the opposite direction at a run.
The likelihood of success dropped to 15.5% with a 2 hour delay. Seven turned to the equipment and rerouted even more equipment to increase efficiency. She would use the 2 hours to produce as much as possible without the illogical woman. Then, the Lieutenant would recognize the logic in her suggestions.
Seven's attention moved back to the present as she used her implants and the modified tricorder to scan all around her. The tricorder was producing erratic readings. The lifesign ahead of her was fading in and out. The former Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix 01 had spent 2 hours and 20 minutes searching. She believed the Lieutenant to be in some sort of danger, because she was dedicated to the Voyager Collective. During the first 2 days on the planet, she had been highly productive when she was not screaming at her. The Chief Engineer was focused, efficient in her work and produced innovative and somewhat illogical solutions to some of the problems met on the volatile planet. When Seven was not frustrated with the delays, she realized she would like to study the engineer more closely. Her emotions were so close to the surface. She even found herself wanting to argue with her to just see the emotions come to her face. It was fascinating.
Seven had beamed to the Lieutenant's last known location according to the tracking device in her commbadge. With the constant and volatile atmospheric disturbances, the shuttle could not pinpoint the Lieutenant's exact location nor get a transporter lock. It felt inefficient to only use a commbadge as a locator. This was one more reason to rebuild the entire sensor section on Voyager and all shuttles. With some Borg enhancements and improvements in components and overall structure, she was sure that sensors would have been able to triangulate positions based on the Lieutenant's biosigns as well as the commbadge. This feature must be added. She would add it to the list of suggestions that she was planning on giving the Captain.
As Seven approached the lifesign, she had already traversed 10 kilometers with 4.5 of those kilometers in the storm. She could barely make out the face of the Lieutenant. The Chief Engineer was floating in some sort of glowing substance and most of her body was submerged. She seemed to be unresponsive.
"Lieutenant. Are you functioning within acceptable parameters?" Seven was hoping for a response. She did not like the idea of losing a member of her new Collective and being alone of this planet.
B'Elanna's eyes opened when she heard the voice. She had no idea how long she was in the substance. Her body was still in shock. As if floating from above herself, she heard her voice call out."Seven."
"Lieutenant. I am analyzing the substance now. Many of the elements within it are unrecognizable to the tricorder and the shuttle's scanners are malfunctioning due to the storms." Seven watched as the Chief Engineer lost consciousness again. She was worried. The engineer might be illogical, but she had highly desirable skillset that added to the Voyager Collective in unique ways. They would not be as effective without her. Seven was determined to prevent the death of the hybrid.
Nevertheless, Borg drones do not worry. Seven felt uncomfortable with this sensation. She filed away the emotion to study at a later time. She needed to act now. Drones could be replaced, but her new life was not abroad Borg vessels. The Chief Engineer was vital to the continued functioning of the Voyager Collective. Her decision made. Seven started to survey the area for any materials to pull the Lieutenant out of the substance. Logic prevented her from just reaching in with her Borg enhanced strength and hoping for the best. The readings from the tricorder noted high amounts of electric currents throughout the substance. Any direct contact would damage her systems. They both could not be incapacitated and stranded on this planet. Thankfully, she had packed all the equipment and moved the shuttle when the Lieutenant did not return after 2 ½ hours. She was uncertain how long it would take to locate the engineer, and she wanted to ensure the supplies, equipment and shuttle were a safe distance away from the growing storm.
As Seven was calculating the appropriate course of action, B'Elanna's eyes opened. She could barely make out the form of the former drone. She forced herself to speak. "Seven." B'Elanna's voice was weak, a mere whisper. It was only Seven's Borg enhanced hearing that allowed her to hear the Lieutenant.
"Yes, Lieutenant. I am searching for some way to remove you from the substance. I will need to move further away for resources."
"Transporter?" B'Elanna was still in considerable pain, but she wanted out as soon as possible. Her foggy mind was clearing despite the pain, and she knew that Seven's Borg systems could be severely damaged from the electricity surrounding her. She wanted to know other options.
"Unfortunately, Lieutenant, the shuttle could not locate your lifesign. The storm is interfering with the sensors. Further, the substance has merged with your body. It will make your biosign more difficult to detect. It is imperative that you are separated from the pool of metals. The shuttle will not be able to lock onto your lifesign otherwise." Seven was feeling worried again. She recognized the pain on the Lieutenant's face. She had closed her eyes again and starting convulsing. Then, she spoke.
"Move shuttle. Use rope and suit to protect implants. Need to ..." B'Elanna's voice faltered, and again, she was only able to whisper the last part. Seven did not want to leave her. Yet, wants were irrelevant. The Lieutenant was right. She would have a better chance with the shuttle, medical equipment and emergency gear nearby. Also, the storm clouds were clearing. However, she could not bring the shuttle closer until the storm cleared the current area to move to the area that they had previously been working.
Seven looked once more at the Lieutenant. She decided that she would clear a small area near the Lieutenant and press her own commbadge into the dirt to have a fix on her location. Then, at a fast run, she moved through the storm to get to the shuttle. She approximated that it would take her 2 hours and 48 minutes to get to the shuttle and back due to conditions. She should be able to land the shuttle within 50 meters of the Lieutenant. The timing was unavoidable. The storm was too powerful to ignore and count as irrelevant. She must use caution. Ending up in a substance like the Lieutenant would be certain death for her with mechanical components.
She leaned forward to try to tell the Chief Engineer of her plans, but she was unconscious again. At least, her lifesign was stable in the substance. Seven hoped that her approximations were wrong. She needed to get back to the woman faster. Quickly, with her tricorder, eidetic memory and optical implant, she guided herself back to shuttle.
B'Elanna opened her eyes 2 hours after Seven left for the shuttle. She felt a bit more rested despite being in the substance. Her gut told her that she had been hit by even more strikes while unconscious. In her mind, she tried to not concentrate on this fact. She hoped Seven had followed her whispered orders. Her strength was failing. Consciousness was fleeting.
This was supposed to be a simple resource gathering mission with their very irritating resident Borg. Voyager was low on dilithium, food stores and other supplies. The planet did not have much in terms of vegetation, but it had an abundance of dilithium. However, there were 2 M-Class moons orbiting the planet with vegetation. Voyager would be coming soon to study their results, refine the dilithium, and gather more supplies as needed from the moons and the planet. B'Elanna had even thought on suggesting a brief shore leave on the moons if everything checked out. They all needed a break. Especially, if she survived, she would need to recuperate from near dying once a-fucking-gain.
Seven of Nine and herself were sent ahead as Voyager studied some nebulas and a dying star on their flight path. The Captain wanted to get a jump on the analysis of the planet while the other scientists including the Captain got to study to interesting space phenomenon. B'Elanna had volunteered soon after the plan was made about 3 weeks ago. She had decided that a much needed break from the ship would be best.
However, there had been delays like usual in this infuriating Delta Quadrant. They had been attacked by a random group of small ships on 3 separate occasions. They didn't even get the name of their attackers. Unfortunately, the ships had been so unstable that during the battles, the ships were destroyed. It had been an unhappy outcome for the Captain and crew. They hated unnecessary lost of life. Why hadn't the ships responded to hails? These were questions that no one on board could answer, but the damage to the Voyager had been real. They had to drop out of warp for some of the repairs after each attack. The unknown aliens had targeted the deflector dish, weapons and warp core over and over again. The last attack had the deflector dish close to being destroyed before the ships exploded from Voyager's weapon fire. The attacks were organized, and she had a bad feeling that it was not the last attacks from this species. It had been a week since the last attack when the Captain decided to go ahead with the original plans.
During this time, the Captain and First Officer had assigned Seven of Nine to Engineering with increasing regularity. She felt annoyed and irritated so many times that she lost count. As she threw spanners, hit equipment and yelled a full range of profanities, the cool Ice Princess would just stare through her as if she was insignificant. It made her even madder. How dare this drone come to her territory and strut around as if she owned the place? No one took over her engine room. Yet, her complaints were falling on deaf ears. The Captain said that repairs could be used as a time for some small upgrades to be made as well. Seven of Nine's expertise was needed and B'Elanna would have to get used to working with the Borg. This made her rage even more. She had needed to go to the holodeck for a few hours to unleash her rage in one of her Klingon fighting programs.
Now, with excruciating pain rippling through her body, her mind flashed back to the injustice of being forced to even help the bitch of a drone make a small prototype portable regeneration unit for the mission. She had repairs to do, but the First Officer had insisted on it for safety. They had worked on it on and off for two weeks between repairs and small upgrades. What had she done to deserve this shit? Also, why did Seven have to smell so good? Fuck. Where was that fucking thought originating? She must really be getting delusional. How long has she been in this Gre'thor of a substance anyways?
As B'Elanna processed her last question, she was hit by another strike and fell unconscious once again.
Seven had reached the shuttle in the anticipated time. The storm had dissipated from the Lieutenant's location, and she had landed with precision to be as close to the Lieutenant as possible. As she approached, she noticed the Lieutenant was still unconscious and her pulse was weakening. She held a medical tricorder out to get a better reading when the Chief Engineer started convulsing over and over again. Then, as in a nightmare, the illogical woman ceased to function. The medical tricorder gave several urgent alerts. The Lieutenant's breathing stopped, and Seven hesitated. Death. How could she have failed her new Collective?