INTERLUDE FROM PART ONE: Depark watched as his men and Chakotay were transported off of Voyager. No doubt he couldn't stay long before questions would arise. Damn Chakotay, and damn his alliance to that woman. He glanced down at Kathryn Janeway who was in his arms, looking at her tousled hair that had come loose in the fight, at her small form that projected what weaknesses he knew he himself could never show he had. Holding her limp form he realized he could, at any moment, slide a smooth blade across that fragile white skin of hers, or set a phaser to kill . . . but, she was Chakotay's . . . and even the pleasure he would take from her death was not worth losing the temporary support he had from the former Maquis man. No, no woman was worth that in Depark's mind. Letting go of her, he watched her body drop from his and land with a thud on the floor. He looked down at the hands that held the warmth of her skin to his own and wondered why he couldn't see the wounds he was sure she had burned into his flesh. Taking the altered tri-corder they had stolen weeks earlier from a Starfleet barge ship, he set it against the main command console . . uploading the information before downloading the falsified information that would damn Captain Kathryn Janeway within and from Starfleet. END INTERLUDE From Part One
Kathryn Janeway groaned as the sounds of red alert echoed with a vengeance in her head. Forcing herself to open her eyes and face reality, she looked around from her fallen position on the bridge floor. Most of her crew were struggling to awaken themselves . . . no doubt they had been gassed with the final transport of the intruders from Voyager. She, herself, hadn't had that pleasure of gas and instead had to bear the burden of her body fighting the after-effects of a phaser fired directly at her form. She winced as she pushed herself up to stand, and had to lean unsteadily against the arm of her chair to catch herself from falling. The room was spinning and all hell had broken loose against her will. Harry Kim caught his Captain's eye as he steadied his own bulky body against his console. He nodded an affirmation of awareness in her direction. "Status?" Kathryn stated hoarsely as her body finally gave in and she seated herself as easily as she could in her chair. Although she hurt like hell, she was glad to have woken from enemy fire. Groans from other members of her crew were continually filling the thoughts that were rushing through her dulled mind. "Shields are still down," Harry caught the words in a fit of coughing. Kathryn turned, as best she could, to make sure he would be able to continue. "We're stuck dead" he finished his original statement, nevertheless pain was still evident in his voice. "There's a minimal hull breach on deck seven, injury reports are filing in; Engineering is currently sending relay messages to the systems to vent the remaining gas . . .I can't get into the main computer . . . some of the database relay systems are malfunctioning with 'access denied' stats. And . . . the warp core has been ejected by an unknown signature." Kathryn's back tightened at the thought of her core floating in space. The list went on and on and she grew more and more angry with each report, "How many crew members are missing?" She asked the question with a tight reign on any emotion. "A Total of three . . . Pelpken, Bradon and . . ." he swallowed, "and the Commander." Three. It had taken only three. Kathryn closed her eyes in misery and swallowed. "Captain?" Harry questioned. Kathryn pushed her body up from the chair against its will, "All able-bodied crew are to start sealing off the hull breach. When engineering is done venting the gas, I want them to start working on database relay systems. I want constant stats on all injuries incurred . . . the Doctor has my permission to transfer energy *if* he needs it in sickbay." Taking a deep breath she noted that Ensign Bullock had regained strength to stand and, thinking about another pressing matter she moved with precision to where Tom was hunched over his piloting console. Lifting his head up gently, she patted his cheek, "Mr. Paris?" She shook him a bit, hoping there wasn't any serious damage to his body from the gas that had been inhaled. One never knew who was allergic to what chemical an enemy came up with to use against them. "Lieutenant?" her shaking and loud voice woke him in a groggy state. "Captain?" Tom Paris moved to support his own body weight and held a hand to his head. "Mr. Paris . . . I need you to come with me in the Delta Flyer. Are you capable of piloting?" she asked knowing that even if he said no she would drag him to the ship in the next moment. "I think so . . . yes . . " he stated looking more alert and reassuring Kathryn, just a bit, in the process. "But why--" he had yet to hear the stats of their ship. Janeway turned back to Harry Kim, "See to my orders. In the meantime, Tom and I are going after the core."
Kathryn Janeway moved as best she could with an aching body down the corridor toward shuttlebay one. "Captain!" Tom kept after her as best he could in his confused state as well. "You need to report to sickbay first." "There's no time," she stated. "I will not delay in retrieving the core or risk having it taken by some alien species when we're so close to home." She had to stop a moment to lean against the wall as another spasm clenched within the walls of abdomen muscles. Tom moved forward and helped to support her body, "You're in pain." "Just," she paused swallowing back any groan that wanted to depart from her, "get me to the shuttle, Tom." The pilot pursed his lips, but knowing full well it was a battle he wasn't going to win, he nodded and put her arm around his shoulders, moving them along back toward their destination.
Tom looked at the woman who had focused her attention on salvaging what was left of her ship and dignity. He wondered how she did it and he bit back the questions he had been wanting to ask her since she had pushed her injured body toward the shuttlebay. Instead, he focused his attention on moving the Delta Flyer toward where their core hovered in space. "There she is," Tom sighed. "Any sign of destabilization?" Kathryn asked, working her own console. "Negative," Tom turned in his chair, "seems stable enough to tractor." "Do it," Kathryn stated, not looking at the man. Instead she stood up and quietly went to the back of the ship. "Yes, Captain," Tom stated quietly to himself. He watched as the green light of the tractor beam extended itself toward the still-shimmering core. With it in tow, he turned the Delta Flyer and plotted a course that would get them back to Voyager. Hearing a loud clatter from the back of the small ship, he decided to forgo minding his own business in order to check and make sure Janeway was okay. Kathryn looked up to meet Tom Paris' quizzical gaze, "I can't find the medkit." Tom could see her hands were shaking and he couldn't help but grimace at the amount of sweat that covered her body . . . covered her body due to the amount of energy she had to exert in order to keep going after a major, high energy phaser hit. "It's over here," he stated softly as he turned and knelt toward the bottom compartmental row of supplies. Opening a kit, he took a hypospray from its confines and went to his Captain. Administering it to her neck he knew it would do little to help the pain. "I wouldn't be surprised if you have internal bleeding." "Don't be too overbearing in your positive assumptions, Lieutenant," she shifted positions wincing, "I doubt I could handle it. Are we towing the core.? "Yes," he nodded, "we should be back in another five minutes." "Oh," Kathryn stated suddenly and blinked trying to steady her vision which was suddenly spinning in circles. "Captain?" Tom asked with worry. "Help me lie down," she stated shakily and was happy to find his arms immediately guiding her toward a more restful position. "Hang in there, Captain," she heard his words evenly and soundly. "Everything will be fine." Kathryn had her doubts about that. "You know Mr. Paris," she grumbled, "in all my years I've known you I thought you were a better liar than that!" Tom smiled and lifted his eyebrows, "Sorry." Kathryn chuckled and then groaned in pain. Tom ran a hand across her brow in concern, "What can I do, Captain? Tell me what I can do." "You can tell me this never happened," she whispered in anguish letting her guard down but not regretting it. Tom closed his eyes together in frustration wanting to be able to do something . . anything . . . but his next words were lost as the Delta Flyer shook violently throwing him off balance.
"Doctor!" Lieutenant Baker was stumbling, as best he could through the sickbay doors, trying to support Lieutenant Tuvok's weight. "He's severely injured! I found him only a while ago . . . I don't know how long he's been unconscious!" The Doctor frowned and rushed forwards. '*And so the plot thickens,*' he thought sadly to himself as he helped the other man take the Vulcan's body over to a biobed amongst many other injured.
"Oh I can't believe this!" Tom's voice held more than an ounce of sarcasm and agitation. He punched in a hailing frequency and waited. He tried again when there wasn't an immediate response, "This is the Federation Ship Delta Flyer. Release your tractor beam from our core before you cause an explosion!" Suddenly an all too familiar face came to the screen. "I am Rotnai of the Bangar. We've been waiting for you to have a moment of weakness!" "Great, what a line. Sounds like my Captain Proton simulation running on a faulty energy bank," Tom muttered under his breath as he transferred more energy into the Flyer's tractor beam, "And yet another person seeking vengeance." He redirected his attention to the screen again, "DEACTIVATE your tractor, now! This tug of war will destroy us both!" "No!" Rotnai stated and ended the communication. The Bangar were more fluff than action. When they rammed Voyager in the last month, it had been because their fire power couldn't secure or match the Federation Starship's own. All for technology that, in the end, they didn't get. "Send an energy pulse times three back at him," Kathryn Janeway was in the archway of what separated the front of the small ship from the back. Tom was surprised to see her standing but when he caught a glimpse of her face, he knew where she had found the energy . . . pure anger. "Times three?! Captain--" "DO IT, Lieutenant. That's an order! I'm in no mood, no mood at all for this!" she stated and turned her back to him. "Times three," he stated quietly and watched as the pulse followed the tractor beam's trail up through theirs and into the small Bangar ship. A small explosion resounded and Tom sighed as the core was not only knocked free from the Bangar's grasp but also their own. "Well," he stated, "we're back to where we started Captain." He waited for an answer, none came. "Captain?" he stood up and saw her collapsed on the floor. "Captain Janeway!"
"Captain?" the Doctor leaned over the woman who he had just treated for severe injuries. Kathryn came-to in a semi-conscious state, but nevertheless didn't let it betray her, "St--status . . " "You're in sickbay," the Doctor sighed, "and as such there will be no status reports until you are well." "I'm well," Kathryn stated as she tried to push herself up. "You most certainly are not well," the Doctor gently pushed her back down. "Now please, Captain," he looked . . . almost . . . sad for a hologram . . "don't make me restrain you." Kathryn blinked and then closed her eyes. "Just tell me we have shields." "We have shields," a soft feminine voice said from behind the EMH. The Doctor moved aside and smiled softly as B'Elanna Torres came forward. "I only came to tell you, Captain, Engineering is reinstalling the Core and everything else is already being taken care of. I knew," she stammered slightly before regaining her composure, "I knew that you wouldn't take care of yourself until you knew everything, and everyone, else was taken care of first." Kathryn smiled with a tired spirit, shaking her finger gently, "You know me too well, Lieutenant. But then," she chuckled, "that's why I put you in charge in the first place. Who else could say 'warp particles' at the same time as I did?" B'Elanna smiled, and folded her arms to ward off the embarrassment, "No one." She nodded to the Captain and then to the Doctor before leaving. Kathryn opened her eyes and looked around. She was startled to see Tuvok on a biobed across the room, "Tuvok?" she started but the Doctor put a calming hand on her chest. "He is sedated. Lieutenant Tuvok suffered a blow to the back of his head . . . it was rather serious but I believe he shall recover in due time." Kathryn nodded her understanding and relaxed her body back into a state of sleep where reality disappeared into something that had never happened.
Harry sat with B'Elanna and Tom, in main engineering, on the floor in front of the warp core that they had just spent seven hours reinstalling. Now that most of the ship's business and the Captain's health had been taken care of, they were left with time to reflect on what was still missing. "I knew that he still held an incredible amount of anger inside of him, but," B'Elanna shook her head, and continued with a quiet voice, "I would never have guessed he would have left Voyager to find retribution in this fashion . . . or at all." "Some people can't find peace, B'Elanna until they hunt down the past," Tom stated. "How could he do that to Captain Janeway?" Harry asked the question that perplexed them all. B'Elanna bit her bottom lip, without saying a word, and wondered how her best friend could do that to Kathryn Janeway after the love they shared on the Nebula excursion. She pushed her face into her hands and tried to remember to breathe. "This seems too simple," Tom stated something drawing his companions attention again. His voice echoed off of the walls of engineering as they had sent the rest of the shift to bed hours ago. "What do you mean?" Harry asked. "Someone like Depark doesn't just come aboard, take what he wants without causing a *serious* amount of damage--" "'Serious amount of damage?!'" B'Elanna practically shouted, "You don't call taking Chakotay from Kathryn a serious amount of damage? You don't call his leaving us in a state of vulnerability to any number of enemies a 'serious amount of damage'?! After all the years we've forged together as a family?!" "No! No! B'Elanna," Tom threw up his hands a moment before continuing, "you're missing the point. I don't doubt that Chakotay has caused a lot of damage . . . but what about Depark? Do you think he'd be satisfied with just getting Chakotay?" "You're saying that maybe he wanted something more?" Harry asked. "From us?" "I wouldn't doubt it," Tom stated and looked at each of them.
Kathryn Janeway sat at her readyroom desk going over the reports that had been delivered to her in the past week since Voyager's sabotage. She yawned and tried to take a sip from her coffee mug. Getting only air and no liquid, she looked down into the mug to see that she had gone through her fourth cup of coffee without even noticing it. She still had to work on trying to understand why Chakotay had done what he had -- sacrificed everything as he had. At first, Kathryn had believed Depark solely responsible for what had transpired, for taking Chakotay from Voyager, but after Tuvok's report on Pelpken and Bradon's actions and the information they had viciously shared with the Chief of Security before knocking him unconscious, she had realized that he had been a part of it from the beginning. Standing, she stretched her back and started, mug in hand, toward the replicator when her door chimed. "Enter," Kathryn stated pausing. B'Elanna and Tom produced themselves together, bringing an immediate smile to Kathryn's mouth for a moment's time. "Well, what a pleasant surprise," she stated evenly. "Captain," Tom nodded. "We've been working on those database 'access denied' stat malfunctions," B'Elanna handed her a PADD . . . "it seems to be some sort of specified, active/ dormant virus that effects a specified region of the Computer's memory -- it keeps rotating itself through the bio-neural circuitry." "Not another sick gel-pack syndrome," Kathryn sighed and tried to process the information through her sleep-deprived mind. Ever since Chakotay had . . . gone . . . she had been stuck with two levels of active duty . . . Captain and Commander. Tuvok had volunteered, readily enough, to take over the second command responsibilities but Kathryn couldn't relinquish them. In relinquishing them she felt as though she were relinquishing . . him . . . Chakotay. And in realizing that, she hated herself because she felt as though she were betraying Voyager and her crew even more. Not to mention her own heart. B'Elanna must have noted the dulled expression on Kathryn's face as she proceeded to translate the words more clearly, "Not exactly . . . but, I think, with everything else that has to be taken care of, I won't be able to handle this one before we reach the Alpha Quadrant." It was a first for Torres and, no doubt, hard for her to admit. Kathryn nodded, "I understand." "No I don't think you do--" B'Elanna moved forward, shrugging off Tom's grasp, "I'm sorry." "We all have limitations, B'Elanna," Kathryn affirmed. "Besides, another eight days and Starfleet can handle this one for you." She smiled at the thought of returning home. B'Elanna caught on to the prospect and produced a smile of her own, "It'll feel good to hand off an Engineering problem to someone else . . ." she turned to Tom as Kathryn was heading back toward the replicator, "Do you think I can say 'you deal with it, Ensign' and walk away?" "I think you can," Tom smiled. "Well," Kathryn turned, a fresh cup of brew in her hands, "keep me posted on all of the other ship repairs." She nodded at them both, "Dismissed." They promptly took their leave, smiles of goodbye sent in her direction. Returning to her desk, Kathryn Janeway sighed and frowned down at the mountain of PADDS that didn't care whether or not she was well rested or sleep weary. Moving to rub her temples which had started to protest the idea of more work with their insistent pounding, she wondered how she was going to explain Voyager's final conflict, on their journey home, to Starfleet Headquarters. Not to mention that the . . . enemy . . . had, after seven years, gotten away. She wished that none of it would be relevant.
"What do you think is going on with her?" B'Elanna asked Tom and then scowled when he just shrugged. "A lot of help you are." "I just don't know, B'E . . . that's all. And the minute I run my mouth and guess at anything on this ship, things start to go wrong . . ." he slowed his pace, "or haven't you noticed?" "Quit feeling sorry for yourself, Tom," she glared. "We should feel sorry for the Captain." "Have you noticed, she doesn't want our sympathy!" he stated. "Because no one has tried to give her any," B'Elanna stated it with more of an effective realization than fact. "B'Elanna--" Tom asked warily. "What's running through that mind of yours . . . " She pulled him along at a quicker pace back toward their quarters, "Nothing . . . just . . follow me. Perhaps Seven of Nine will serve the purpose . . . . for once." "Ouch. But, what do you mean?" Tom asked. "Oh, I just thought of some people who could share in a moment of confusion with each other, " B'Elanna sighed.
Part One of the Trilogy can be found at
https://www.angelfire.com/trek/newvoyageshome/retribution.html
(Warning: Part One is rated NC-17)
"Young lovers seek perfection, old lovers learn the art of sewing shreds together, and of seeing beauty in a multiplicity of patches"
PART TWO: INNOCENCE: ALPHA ARRIVAL
