PART 2
"As always, with the entity known as Q, the course of events leads to a logical solution," Tuvok stated as he finished searching, with little or no dignity left intact, through Lieutenant Brandon Lebeaux's underwear drawer.
B'Elanna and Harry stopped sorting through endless amounts of Brandon's clothing, that were heaped into two large mounds on the floor, to glower at the Vulcan.
"For seven hours now," B'Elanna bit out, "we have been searching every single deck, every single room, looking for a P'tak of a clue that Q 'supposedly' left behind for us to find!"
Harry held up a large T-shirt that read 'Celia's Voyager man' on it and quirked a smile. "How do we even know he's telling us the truth?" Harry asked, still staring at the article of clothing.
"For an omnipotent being, there is no ultimate possibility of personal gain by telling a lie," Tuvok explained as he walked out of Lebeaux's bedroom.
B'Elanna threw down the last bit of clothing she held and stood, with Harry, to follow their insane Vulcan leader out of the room.
"But," Harry argued, as they caught up to Tuvok out in Voyager's corridors, "there's also no potential loss."
"Perhaps," Tuvok concluded.
"Where next?" B'Elanna sighed. "We've covered every inch of the ship."
"Not exactly," Harry pointed out.
"The Captain's quarters," B'Elanna perked.
"As I stated earlier, Ensign . . .Lieutenant," Tuvok remarked. "It would be highly illogical that the clue to saving the Captain would be left in the Captain's domain."
"Well, that's okay," B'Elanna smiled. "We'll just finally have an opportunity to prove that Vulcan logic of yours wrong."
"Highly illogical," Tuvok stated.
"I'll flip you a phaser for the bedroom," Harry asked B'Elanna.
"Top side up I win, top side down you win," B'Elanna specified.
"Ensign . . . Lieutenant . ." Tuvok stated again, not losing his calm.
"Deal." Harry stated as the shook on it.
The marketplace was busy and, from the looks of things, dangerous.
"It's all your fault you know. They're staring at your skirt," Tom said quietly to Chakotay as they tried to maneuver past crowded vendor booths and human bodies that probably hadn't been washed in over a year.
"Kilt, Tom. Kilt. And the English weren't very found of the Scottish during this time frame." Chakotay murmured. "Much like the European Settlers regarded the Native Americans as a 'wild breed,' the English resolved to convince themselves the Celts were just as savage a group of people." He was happy that his 'costume' had come with a broadsword strapped to his leather belt. His hand played tentatively with the hilt of the archaic weapon as he caught a menacing glance here or an angry stare there from more than a few men and women in their surrounding environment.
"Just walk like a laird; talk like a laird; whatever you do -- don't draw your sword," Tom instructed.
"Stop giving me orders," Chakotay reprimanded. "There," he nodded ahead, toward where the castle loomed in the center of things. "Must be a summer residence," he smirked.
"What do you mean?" Tom asked, rubbing his hands nervously over the rough wool cloth of his pants.
"Not too many defenses. Very little guards," Chakotay explained.
"Then the next question is, how do we get by what little there is?" Tom inquired.
"Simple," Chakotay shrugged. "We cause a distraction."
Tom paused with thought, "'We'? Why do I have a strange feeling 'we' means me?"
I heaved a big sigh and tried to remind myself that this was all a very silly game to some omnipotent beings. Yet, as my life was suddenly a part of the win-all, lose-all perspective, I found myself having to tighten my grip on the cloth rope that hung out from the window above.
A cool breeze went by, sweeping itself smoothly up my heavy skirts to tickle my bare feet and the skin of my legs. With the gust, there came a back and forth movement as I dangled from the rope, the knuckles of my hands pure white from lack of circulating blood.
I, Kathryn Janeway, was hanging onto the ‘rope’ for my life. Another part of me wondered if I just let go, would I plummet to the ground below and the game would be over? Would I suddenly reappear on Voyager again? It was a chance I wasn’t willing to take.
“Inch by inch Kathryn,” I ground out to myself as best I could. My arms were burning from the strain of supporting my body. My fingers bled as I slid the skin that had once seemed so tough, tightly across the fabric that was my escape route. “You can do this. Think of it,” I stopped and winced as a tearing sound resounded from above my head, followed by a screeching of wood against stone. No doubt it was the bed frame being dragged harshly across the floor due to my weight dangling from the rope that had been tied to its solid structure. How much longer until its structure gave way and it let me go, all the way to the cold ground below. But my mind raced back to focus, “Think of it,” I continued, “as a training simulation at the Academy.”
The wind picked up and my world swung right and left, over and over again. My hair blinded my eyes and my cheeks tingled with the imprint of needles produced from the harsh environment of a brisk English morning.
There was only one way out – and that was down. Where I would go, if I made it out of the surrounding grounds, was beyond me. But I had to figure that every action I took, Q was ready with something; in that there would be, more than likely, a chance to contact Voyager. Besides, there was no way I was going to stay in that room, in the castle. Especially since Henry was going to ‘come’ to me in the evening and take what remained of my life that I had left to freely give.
Tom Paris kept his head low, as he moved into the main archway that gave select people access to the interior courtyard area of the castle. How he was going to cause a big enough distraction for Chakotay to sneak through after him was something he was still working out at the moment.
“So you have an idea,” Chakotay had asked before they had started to make their move.
“I think it’ll work, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Tom had replied.
“Good,” Chakotay had hit him soundly on the back with what was supposed to have been an encouraging thud. It had felt more like the hand of death.
He really didn’t have any sort of plan. He was playing things out by ear. But what else could they do? This wasn’t a vacation or a simulation. It was life – as archaic as it may be.
“Eh, you . . .!” came a voice from somewhere in front of him.
Two large feet, in worn leather boots, produced themselves in front of his downcast vision. Paris lifted his head slowly to meet the gaze, as best he could, of a man taller than he; no doubt a guard who had taken his own pleasure in stopping helpless souls at the front door to a rather appropriate inferno.
“Me?” Tom questioned innocently.
“Yeah, you,” he stated in a coarse version of the English accent. “No weapons allowed in here you fool.”
“What, this thing?” Tom lifted the bow that had been in his left hand and held it up to the sky. “Now how’d that get there?” He registered that two other men were heading over toward his direction. Things weren’t good. In fact, they were about to get bad.
“Give me the bow,” the guard made a move for Tom but missed him. Tom Paris jumped backwards.
“Don’t worry! I honestly don’t know how to use this sort of thing. In fact, I’ll show you how bad a shot I am!” he rushed as he aimed, with quick speed, toward a rope that was being used, by three guards, to hoist up a huge carcass of meat that dangled, fortunately enough, above the commotion on the ground. In that instant, he understood why his father has insisted on him taking an archery class – every skill counted – especially in situations where you had to improvise with time and little or no futuristic resources.
Within a second that it took for the guard to tackle Tom, the arrow had been released to fly and snap the rope. The carcass fell through the air and landed soundly on the two other guards who had been advancing on his situation only moments earlier.
“Get off of me!” Tom growled as he swung at the guard, catching the heavier man soundly in the chin. Tom winced and shook his hand that had made a sound crack of its own upon its connection with the guard’s face.
The guard toppled backwards, away from him. “Now Chakotay!’ he hollered and watched as in the crowd that was quickly scattering, due to the surprising events, the Commander made his way through the mayhem into the castle.
“Son of a – “ the guard had gotten shakily to his feet and was rushing toward Voyager’s pilot.
“This is going to hurt,” Tom winced as his eyes focused on the fist that hit him soundly in the face. After that, there was nothing left but darkness.
The quiet inside the castle was a striking contrast to the mayhem that Tom had just caused outside. He hated the fact that they had been separated – but no doubt there would be a way to rectify that as well in the near future. Chakotay took a deep breath and slid against the shadows of the walls, trying to remain undetected. Three guards rushed past him, their heavy armor doing nothing to conceal the sound of their movements from any unwanted guests, such as Chakotay himself.
Checking first left, then right, he moved toward the sound of women chattering. It would be too much to hope that Kathryn was on the first floor; no doubt Q had put her somewhere special for the King’s own keeping. His blood rushed furiously with the thought. His mind nipped at the idea that what he had worked so hard to know and to gain over the past seven years, with Voyager’s lady master, had been stolen from him, so easily, in as short a time as two seconds.
Stopping at the arch of the doorway to a back room, he noted two scullery maids working flour and dough. One had a crown of golden curls with cheeks flushed a rosy red from the effort it took to produce the food. The other was a chubby girl, with red hair and a constant chatter that seemed to bounce off the walls and proceed all the way up to heaven above. Neither one of them had caught sight of him. It was now or never.
“Excuse me,” he stepped forward.
Neither the blond nor the talkative redhead stopped.
“Ladies?”
The bread kept getting pounded and the words kept resounding.
“LASSIES!” he let the bravado loose. Chakotay wanted to turn a vibrant shade of red with embarrassment.
Both women stopped. The blond wiped her hands on her apron and regarded him suspiciously. The redhead let a smirk file onto her lips.
“Milord? Come for some ale?” she moved toward him and it took everything Chakotay had in his line of bravery not to retreat. “Or better yet, a wee bit of attention?”
“You’re not afraid—“ Chakotay stumbled out as her small, chubby hands moved out to caress his chest.
“Of a Celt? Bah no,” the redhead sighed. “Me own mother was an Irish lass.”
“And her father a rogue,” the blond bit out as she moved over to drag the other girl away. “How can we help you milord?”
“You always ruin me fun,” the redhead sighed.
“I’m looking for a woman,” Chakotay started and moved aside, motioning the women to follow him away from the doorway and off to the side of the room as yet another clammer of guards moved somewhere in the distance behind him.
“You see –!“ the redhead started again.
“They’re searching for you aren’t they,” the Blond was swift in thought as she referred to the added commotion that was happening outside of the kitchen.
“Please,” Chakotay stated, holding up his hands in a defenseless state. “She’s . . .” he paused.
“She’s --?” the blond maid folded her arms and waited. She wasn’t buying anything until the words were fully out of his lips.
“She’s the love of my life!” he quickly fumbled for words. “She was taken from me – and is – going to be subjected to a marriage she doesn’t want! She is loved and needed where she comes from. Without her – all hope is lost.” Maybe they’d understand that. It certainly was better than explaining that a Q had taken a starship Captain and was trying to marry her off to their King.
“Ach, what a heartfelt tale. Surely—“ the redhead stated.
“Shhh. Why should we help him. Surely he might be the villain in disguise –“ the other stated.
Chakotay took a moment and with a deep breath, knelt down on one knee. “Help me find my lady fair. To reclaim her heart is all I need in order to save the day.”
Both women blinked.
“I need your help, damnit!” Chakotay tried again. “Please.”
The blond headed back to her flour and dough. The other red haired girl smiled sadly at him and went to follow the other woman.
Chakotay turned to leave, to once again search via the shadows of the castle.
“I would start with the tower,” the blond stated as her hands pushed the dough against the wood of the table. “To the right as you leave this kitchen, then up four flights of stairs is where the section begins. Henry likes to keep his treats locked away.”
“This is weird.”
“This is exciting.”
“This is illogical.”
B’Elanna Torres, Harry Kim and Tuvok entered the quiet and dark personal quarters of the Captain.
“You only think this is weird because I won the Captain’s’ bedroom on that phaser toss,” B’Elanna smirked.
“Need I remind you both that this is strictly for the purpose of efficiency and business,” Tuvok stated as he moved toward the living room.
“Well at least the bathroom is still mine,” Harry reminded.
The two separated from the Vulcan and moved toward the back area. Inside the room, they asked for 50% illumination.
Harry and B’Elanna regarded the scene before them. A cold coffee mug on the bedside table, pajamas, from a quick change, on the ground beside the bed and rumpled covers littering a quick, but reluctant, escape from a safe and comfortable haven.
“I hope Tom and Chakotay are alright,” B’Elanna sighed.
“They’re probably having the time of their lives,” Harry smiled sadly and squeezed B’Elanna’s shoulder in hope of reassurance.
“Oh no,” Q whined as he lifted up Tom Paris’ limp form by gathering the man’s shirt into a tight grasp of reluctant hands. “Not you.”
“Don’t look so happy to see me,” Tom murmured as he tried to get his senses back from being knocked unconscious.
“Henry is in a fuss. And it’s all your fault!” Q hissed as he pushed Tom back to the ground. Six guards bearing heavy arms encircled them.
“SIR Q!” a roar reached them through the human barrier.
Q rolled his eyes, “That fat, beheading human King is getting on my nerves.”
Tom grunted and sat up as best he could.
“Yes, your majesty?” Q stated sweetly as he stood up and came face to face with the USS Voyager’s Commander bound and gagged in front of him and in Henry’s grasp. Q’s smile dropped to a frown, “Oh damn. The other bipedal. Why couldn’t you have scurried off, Chuckles?”
Henry pushed Chakotay’s bound body to the floor where Tom sat. Moving furiously toward what he did not know was an omnipotent being, the King towered on his chubby frame as best he could to bellow. “You told me the holding was secure!”
“Well, it seemed to be secure –“
Henry roared on, “We are infested with vermin—“
“Bathing and using a sewage system always helps with –“ Q started with a ‘matter-of-fact’ attitude.
“And they seek to take what’s mine!” Henry started to pace, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in league with my enemies!”
Q gasped, “I beg your pardon! I wrote this plot! How dare you thicken it!”
Henry the VIIIth stopped. Everyone was quiet. No one moved.
“You’re so quick to lose your head,” Henry stated quietly.
Tom winced. Chakotay sighed. The guards took in a deep breath.
“Obviously,” Q laughed with grandiose and then turned to look at Chakotay and Paris, “he has NO idea who I am!”
“Get me Verkanian!” Henry hollered.
“He’s going to drink at a time like this?” Tom muttered.
“I don’t think that’s a drink,” Chakotay replied.
“Verkanian – Versmanian,” Q rolled his eyes. “With one little snap of my fingers –“
“By all means,” someone stated from behind the King and a quick snap from someone in the distance followed. “Try it.”
Human bodies moved like the biblical parting of the sea and a man in deep red robes came forward. He towered at six feet and his eyes, which peaked out from behind white whiskers of a thick beard that surrounded a narrow face, compromised nothing and held a hidden menace that one could only say came from the depths of a pitch black nightmare.
Q paused for a moment then snapped his fingers sharply together. Nothing moved; nothing changed; nothing altered. “YOU?!” Q gasped.
“What just happened,” Tom asked quickly.
“Nothing good,” Chakotay murmured.
“Damn alchemist renegade!” Q muttered.
“You know this man?” Tom asked.
“He’s not a man, you idiot. He’s a renegade Q!!! And he’s spoiled my timeline!” Q whined as a guard or two grabbed him.
“OFF WITH THEIR HEADS!” Henry glared.
“Why do I have the distinct felling that we’re being led to our deaths,” Tom muttered as he was shoved, to move more quickly, yet again.
The renegade Q, Verkanian, who was at the head of their group, led the group of them, Q, Tom Paris, and Chakotay. Flanking the rear of any possible escape route were two guards.
“I can’t believe he took away my snap,” Q bitched. “Without my snap,” he frowned rather visibly, “I’m one of you. Oh, ewe! I have bi-pedal syndrome!”
“Q,” Chakotay stated. “How do you know ‘Verkanian’.”
“He likes to muckle around in human history,” Q sneered. “You know – Alexander the Great, Cleopatra, Merlin. He’s done it all. Anyone who would make a difference in the course of huuuuman history – that’s who he has been with. Influencing human behaviors and egos alike.”
“Hasn’t the continuum had a problem with that?” Tom asked, confused.
They were being led to the outside of the castle and around to the back where their heads would be conveniently taken from the rest of their bodies. A cold, crisp air blew and the sun was shining. Why did it have to be such a beautiful day to die on?
“Of course!” Q responded. “He continually ruins our good name of interference.”
“You have a good name, Q?” Chakotay asked seriously.
“Remind me to rid you of that nasty behavior when I get my snap back, Chuckles,” Q stated as he walked on his own shaky and suddenly human legs.
“Enough!” the Alchemist, renegade Q turned around to face them in one grand sweep. “Q you’ve always annoyed me.”
“As if you haven’t always annoyed me as well!?” Q stood tall against the other being. “You’ve been a pest in our foremother’s hair since the time you were . . . since the time you were . . .” Q frowned. “That was too long ago for even me to recall.”
The other Q nodded to the two burley guards, who were dressed in chain mail, and smiled.
In response, they both pulled their swords and advanced upon the two men and one uniquely indisposed, former Q.
Kathryn was getting annoyed with the fact that over the course of thirty-three minutes, she had only slid her way down her tearing bed-rope by about six inches. She swayed, once again, precariously about in the wild weather of the afternoon.
“Stand there!” Some gruff man hollered from below where she hung.
“What now?! A picnic?” Kathryn muttered as she lowered her head, trying to direct the gaze of her vision past her shoulder and past the full billowing expanse of her skirts.
The sudden amount of movement must have been the last straw for the make-shift rope. It gave one utterly disconcerting rip as Kathryn began to fall inch by inch.
“Oh hell,” she muttered as the rope finally broke completely and her body went sailing, though the air, to the ground below.
“B’Elanna,” Harry hissed quietly as not to attract Tuvok’s attention. “What are you doing?!”
“Searching!” B’Elanna hissed back at him just as quietly. “What the hell else does it look like?!”
“That’s the Captain’s bed though!” Harry bit his lower lip and looked at his friend with emphasis behind his words.
B’Elanna stopped, after checking underneath the bed and then looked back up at him, “Your point being?”
“Isn’t that a little . . . personal?” Harry stammered.
“Typical male,” B’Elanna muttered then sighed. “Oh fine. But you have got to be wondering too if the Captain has any secrets. And if she does, then where did she hide them?!” She took a deep breath and sat down on the bed. Just as quickly as she sat down she shot back up to stand again. “Owe!” she growled as her hand want to rub her bottom.
“What’s wrong?” Harry set down the jewelry box he had brought out from the bathroom during their conversation and moved towards B’Elanna.
“I sat on something . . .” B’Elanna said quietly as she turned around to glare at the rumpled covers. After only a moment of consideration and hesitation she pushed back the sheets and blankets, her hands running over the soft surfaces as quickly as possible to find an answer to the cause of her sore bottom.
B’Elanna paused. Her hand grasped something.
“What?” Harry looked to where she had quit her search. “What is it? Should I go get Tuvok?”
The Klingon-Human withdrew her hand and in her grasp was one rather out-of-place PADD.
One moment Chakotay, Tom and Q had their backs turned toward the renegade Q as they stared at two deadly swords; the next they heard a big oof! and a thud resounded from behind them. Whirling back around, and praying that they wouldn’t be slaughtered from behind, the two men and one former omnipotent being spied what had caused the commotion. The renegade Q had been toppled by an angel from high heaven above.
Kathryn Janeway had fallen from the stories above to land with a thud on top of some direly old man with a beard.
“Oh God, I killed someone.” She paused noticing the crowd before her. “Chakotay?” she blinked at the man who was in front of her. “Since you’re suddenly here , Commander, I suppose I should ask why didn’t you catch me?!” Kathryn glared for all she was worth as her buttocks throbbed from her recent fall.
"I really like it when she squeezes the rope with her thighs and wiggles her bottom like that," Q remarked.
Without thinking to reply, Tom Paris and Chakotay, thinking as one, turned with their fists ready and hit the two suddenly shocked and distracted guards square in their faces.
Q was still staring at Kathryn, his jaw agape as he realized that the other Q wouldn’t be waking up any time soon and it was thanks to the one, the only Captain Kathryn Janeway.
“Kathryn!” Chakotay turned back to the Captain and moved forward to where she sat with the wind knocked out of her lungs. She was dazed and solidly sitting on top of the menacing Q.
“Chakotay,” she said pointedly and a little shocked, extending her hands to him for assistance in standing up.
Chakotay took Kathryn’s hands and pulled her up to stand. When her legs nearly buckled beneath her, he pulled her to him, his arm encircling her waist for added support and comfort.
Kathryn didn’t try to hide her relief as she leaned in and took Chakotay’s physical reassurance for all it was worth. “I’m rather glad to see you, Commander,” she sighed against his chest.
“If you hadn’t fallen from . . . where did you fall from?” Chakotay paused.
“The tower,” Kathryn supplied. “But only four stories up. No big deal. Really.”
“Well if you hadn’t fallen, you wouldn’t have caused an ample distraction for us to save our own lives,” Chakotay said thankfully.
Kathryn pushed herself gently away from him and tried to steady herself on her own two legs.
“But I landed on –“ she started.
“Him?!” Q whined, “You’re worried about him?! When I’m the one who is suddenly huuumaaan?”
“Be quiet Q. I’m not happy to see you. Who is this man?!” she pointed to where the other being lay unconscious.
“It’s a renegade Q, Kathryn,” Chakotay stated. At her confounded look he added, “I’ll explain later.”
“Aren’t we worried he’s going to wake up?” Tom reminded. “We should be on the run.”
“Mr. Paris,” Kathryn smiled and moved to be near her pilot. It was good to see another face. “I didn’t expect to find you here with the Commander.”
“Chakotay was scared to travel alone,” Tom smirked. “What are you wearing, Captain?!”
Kathryn looked down at her own apparel and then smirked. “Well at least I don’t smell like a peasant. She turned and noted Chakotay’s own garb. He looked rather hot in that skirt, er kilt.
“I heard that Paris,” Chakotay stated and wondered why Kathryn was looking at him as she was.
“Are you all done with your Hallmark Greeting Card Moments?” Q asked.
“Answer me this Q,” Chakotay moved forward with intent and he was pleased to see the other being retreat at his advance. “How was she able to knock someone as powerful as that Q unconscious?”
“Can’t you guess?” he teased but then drew a steady breath. “All of a sudden I am a continuum dictionary. That Q left before any of you were running around on two legs. In the time that he has been away from the continuum . . . yes he has had more freedom of reign than any one of us would like to admit . . . But, with each millennium or so that he is cut off from the continuum, his physical nature reasserts itself more and more.”
“Did anyone get what that meant?” Tom Paris rolled his eyes.
“What it means, blondie—“ Q started.
“Stop calling me that!”
“Is that the longer a Q is separated from the continuum, the more fragile he becomes. Especially in a physical form,” Kathryn Janeway stated calmly, stepping between her pilot and their obnoxious dictionary who was anything but user friendly.
“Well then, I suggest we put some distance between us and him before he wakes up,” Chakotay stated and they all silently agreed.
“Listen to this,” B’Elanna stated as she walked with the PADD in hand and Harry on her heels back into the main living room of the Captain’s quarters.
Tuvok looked up from a corner of the room where he had been searching, “Lieutenant? Did you resolve to find something that would be of assistance to us?”
“I’m not sure. But it’s definitely out of the ordinary. I’ve only read the first two lines,” B’Elanna explained.
“Start again,” Harry encouraged.
“Once upon a time . . .”
Tuovk and Harry Kim tuned to each word that B’Elanna Torres proceeded to read to them.
