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Kath's Notes: The following may run contrary to some established facts, such as the friendship between Seska and B'Elanna. I took poetic licence there. Also, the final scene is derived from "Caretaker" by L.A. Graf, used without permission, retold from B'Elanna's point of view. Nothing pretends to be canon, it is merely here for your enjoyment. :-)
*****
maquis (m�-k�) noun plural maquis
French, from Italian macchie, pl. of macchia, thicket, spot, from Latin macula, spot.
The American Heritage� Dictionary of the English Language, Third Edition copyright � 1992 by Houghton Mifflin Company.
*****
Torres approached the group cautiously, staying in the shadows. She’d been drawn to them out of hunger, out of cold, out of fear ... They had a fire; she could feel the warmth even from her distance. It didn’t stop her shivering.
Their voices were low, marked occasionally by some laughter. She couldn’t hear exactly what was being said, only snatches here and there.
Torres kept a nervous watch around her. They didn’t appear to be worried about the terrorists, but she was. While she could fight like a lionness, she had no wish to take on a band of rebels single handedly. How did she get herself into this mess?
She nearly lost it when she saw the food. It had been so long, her stomach cried out to her to do something about acquiring some of that meal they were now sharing. But how could she approach without being seen? If the light of the fire wasn’t already casting a bright glow around them, they had also placed some lanterns on a makeshift table right opposite her. Apparently they were making repairs on something and needed the extra light.
There was no way she could sneak into their camp to steal their food right now. She would have to wait until they settled for the night.
The group seemed to have an easy familiarity about them, although they were obviously not family. She could spot a few Bajorans, several humans, and some of indiscernible species. Travelers? Friends? Smugglers?
After observing their weapons, she guessed the latter.
Things were getting quieter, after the meal. Most sat in an informal circle around the flames, while two remained at their table, intent on their task. A few started singing, but Torres couldn’t make out the language.
The fire must be dying because it was getting colder still. She hadn’t realized she’d been edging closer until the man at the table looked up and stared right at her. Torres held her breath. His dark eyes seemed to be peering through her. She noticed two things about him: he was human, and he had a tattoo above his left eye. She waited for him to alert the others. But then he spoke to the woman seated in front of him and she passed him a tool from a bag at her feet. Cautiously Torres moved back several feet.
Torres must have dozed off because the next thing she was aware of was that it was pitch black and very cold. She clenched her jaw, afraid the sound of her teeth chattering could be heard by the group. Either that or the sound of her stomach grumbling.
She peered into the small camp. The fire was still burning, but so low as to cast a much smaller circle of light. They had bunked down near it, bundled in blankets and close together for warmth. Whatever held their attention at the table had been either repaired, or packed away. There was no sign of any guard.
She waited, watching the sleeping forms for several minutes before being convinced that they were all slumbering. Then she moved forward slowly, skirting the camp to view it from all sides, trying to locate their food storage.
The cold made her clumsy, she didn’t feel as though she was being as quiet as she could. But her hunger made her continue her search. Then she spotted it. A small bundle, on the corner of the table. She pounced.
Perhaps the discovery of the food made her less cautious than she’d previously been because she didn’t even hear the man behind her until he laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
Instinctively she lashed out, whirling around and punching him on the jaw. He must be a lot tougher than he looked, as he recovered quick enough to make a grab for her. The noise of their struggle woke the others, who gathered around swiftly. What a fool she’d been to think they wouldn’t have a guard. If they were smugglers then of course they wouldn’t leave their camp exposed.
Even outnumbered and with one hand out of the battle, as it was clutching the food she would not give up, she was putting up a good fight.
"Stop!" commanded another voice from behind her, causing the group to back away, all but her initial victim, "Stop it! Gerron! Stop!!"
Strong arms gripped her upper arms in an attempt to pull her away from the other man. Without a thought, Torres wrenched free, turned and pounded this new assailant in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping for breath. Gerron, from behind her now, made another attempt to restrain her, and he had help this time. She wiggled in their grasp, even resorted to dropping the food bundle to gain some leverage.
"Stop it," gasped the other man now clutching his stomach. Getting a better look at him, she realized he was the one who had been at the table earlier.
"Chakotay!" protested Gerron, whose lip was bleeding from her first punch, "I caught her stealing our food!"
"Maybe she’s hungry," Chakotay said, reasonably, standing finally but still breathing heavily. He tried a smile but Torres snarled at him. "Let her go." When Gerron and his partner didn’t budge Chakotay raised his voice a little. "I said let her go!"
Hesitating a moment they finally obeyed, giving her enough of a shake that she lost her balance and landed on her knees. Having no more dignity, Torres scrambled for the food bundle but it had been picked up by another member of the group. She remained crouched on the ground, wanting nothing more than to have the earth swallow her up so she could forget the cold, the hunger and the shame of defeat. Retreat was not an option; they had her surrounded.
Chakotay took the bundle from his cohort’s hands and, crouching beside Torres, handed it to her. She snatched at it and began to tear into it.
"Chakotay!" the woman who’d been holding the bundled admonished softly. He turned slightly to face her, but remained on the ground.
"Why do you think I left it out there?" he asked.
"Well, you might have warned me," grumbled Gerron, wiping his split lip with the back of his sleeve. "How was I to know you were feeding the neighbourhood?"
"How was I to know you’d attack her?" asked Chakotay with a teasing voice.
"Me?!" cried Gerron, "I didn’t attack anyone! She clobbered me when I tried to ask her what she was doing in our camp!"
Chakotay’s eyes returned to Torres watching her with a careful expression, the way one might examine a bomb.
"I can believe that," he said, his fingers lightly pressing on his own abdomen where there would be a nasty bruise in the morning.
"Why did you leave me the food?" asked Torres, speaking to him for the first time.
"You looked hungry," he answered simply. Her eyes widened with amazement. So he *had* seen her in the bush. "And I figured you must have had a reason for not joining us."
The others, now that the excitement was over, were moving back to the warmth of their blankets by the low fire. Chakotay stood and offered Torres a hand.
"Why don’t you come a little closer to the fire, you must be freezing."
Torres was suspicious at first, but his face showed nothing but kindness and he had offered her the food. She accepted his hand and they moved to sit with the others. Gerron mumbled something about checking the perimeter and shuffled off.
"My name’s Chakotay," he told her, though she’d already known. She shook his hand warily.
"B’Elanna Torres," she said shortly.
"How did you come to be here, B’Elanna Torres?" Chakotay asked, gently, handing her a canteen of water.
"That’s a long story," Torres said, not wanting to tell him all the shameful details, "let’s just say that my ride off this holiday resort will be a long time coming."
"I’ve never heard of this outpost referred to as a holiday resort," murmured Chakotay, "but perhaps it’s acquired a reputation outside of the DMZ."
"Why didn’t you approach us earlier?" he asked, when it appeared she was not going to be forthcoming with the reason she was there.
"I’m familiar with the local hospitality," she said bitterly. When he looked surprised she added, "I didn’t think I’d be welcome."
"Well," he said sadly, softly, acknowledging her caution, "we are in the middle of a virtual warzone."
"Aren’t you concerned about ..." Her voice died. He looked over at her his face a question.
"Concerned about?"
"About the terrorists?"
For a moment his face was a total blank and she thought maybe he hadn’t understood her. But how could anyone not know of the Maquis?! Torres’s mind had been filled with grisly stories about their ruthlessness, their lawlessness. She’d been warned to avoid them at all costs. While she was not one to fear a fight, she also didn’t go looking for them either. She missed the look that passed from Chakotay to the others.
"The terrorists?" he repeated, thoughtfully, "Well, no, we’re not all that concerned about them."
"I heard that they use this outpost sometimes. They could take your camp easily," she spoke with her mouth full.
"You think?" Chakotay asked. Something about his tone made her wonder if he was playing some kind of game with her. Surely he couldn’t be that na�ve!
"Well, I gave your guard a pretty good run, if I’d been armed you’d all be dead!" she snapped. Then, more softly, "Sorry. You must think I’m terribly ungrateful. Thank you for the food, the fire..."
Chakotay looked intrigued by the contrast in her speech.
"You’re welcome," he said gently, "and you’re right B’Elanna Torres, you could have killed us all. You’re not a full Klingon, are you?" he guessed.
"My father was human," she said after a pause, without looking at his face. Sensing her discomfort, he dropped the matter.
"Gerron!" he called to the man who’d returned, "Are we afraid of the Maquis?"
"Never!" replied Gerron without hesitation.
Chakotay smiled at Torres, reaching out a gentle hand to lift her chin. Her emotions were a turmoil of defiance and vulnerability. Something about his compassion towards her stirred within her; somehow she knew she could trust him. Then he shocked her, his calm voice hinting with a trace of amusement.
"B’Elanna, we are the Maquis."
*****
Torres sat on the door frame of the ship, her head tilted up towards the sun. It wasn't really very warm, but it was bright. After spending so much time in the dark, or under artificial lighting, it was nice to put one's face in the light. She was alone, the others having dispersed to collect supplies.
She had spent the last 3 months with Chakotay and his crew. After accepting their food while starving on the outpost, she'd soon proven to him that she was no freeloader. The very next morning, before anyone had really arisen, she had repaired the generator they'd been working on in the dark.
"Where did you learn how to do that?" Chakotay had asked turning it over in his hands, inspecting her work. He'd been surprised to learn she'd spent two years at Starfleet Academy. But after that, nothing seemed to phase him.
He had offered her transport but she had to tag along until their schedule sent them back in the direction she was headed. Torres had shrugged, easily accepting his terms, not telling him that she wasn't all that sure where she wanted to go anyway. And she knew that she'd been a big help to them. Everyone pulled their own weight in this group, slackers were not permitted. Every once in awhile, Chakotay had asked if she wanted to be dropped off, but she evaded him nicely and he didn't push. But now she had run out of excuses.
They were on Bajor, quite possibly the largest "outpost" for the Maquis. She wouldn't get a better chance to jump ship than this. Here there was the opportunity to grab transport back to Earth, or, via Deep Space Nine, almost any other Federation world. This was her ticket out of the DMZ. Chakotay knew it as well as she. This morning before he'd left with the others he had asked her to hang around just a little longer, to look after the ship. She scowled, remembering their conversation.
"I guess we're going to be losing you, B'Elanna," Chakotay said, as he shuffled through their storage containers. She didn't know what he was looking for, they were almost all completely empty and he knew that. Perhaps it just gave him something to do so he wouldn't have to look her in the face. "Bajor is the best opportunity yet for you to head back to Federation space."
"I guess so," she agreed.
Finally realizing that his search was fruitless, Chakotay stood up his hands on his hips and gave her a frank stare.
"We're going to miss you Torres. You're a whiz with equipment."
"I ..." she began but they were interrupted by Suder, who was waiting for Chakotay so they could leave.
"We'll be back in a few hours. If you don't mind hanging on a little longer, I'd appreciate it if you'd make sure the ship is still here when we return?" Chakotay hesitated in the door frame.
Normally, he would have phrased it such that he was teasing her, challenging her to prove she could babysit his bucket of bolts. Now he was serious, recognizing that she might just want to take off into the marketplace and begin her new life.
"Of course," she said, evenly, biting back a retort. They usually gave each other a hard time, both of them knowing it was only in fun.
That had been four hours ago. She'd spent the time tinkering with the forward shields and thinking. More thinking than tinkering. When she reflected back on the last three months she could hardly believe some of the situations she'd seen. They sure didn't teach that kind of stuff at Starfleet's precious Academy!
But in that time she'd come to respect Chakotay's group and appreciate their talents. She'd even come to a deeper understanding of why they were fighting. As for Chakotay, he'd become her closest friend.
He was still an enigma to her, remaining closed about most of his thoughts and feelings. However, she'd come to be able to read his body language well and sense his moods. She doubted he was even aware of the signals he sent out with nonverbal communication. She had no idea what he thought of her ... really. Oh sure, he would tell she was a "whiz" but she didn't think her engineering skills were all that extraordinary. If it came down to it Chakotay could build generators and repair sensors and tinker with shields ... well, maybe not as easily as she could. Torres allowed herself a moment of pride. She *was* pretty damn good.
She'd poured out her soul to him on more than one occasion. The first one being about a month after joining up with them, when she'd joined a few of the group in a tavern on a particularly bleak outpost. What a night that had been!
It was the kind of place she never would have thought of going only a few short months before. They had all had too much to drink. Chakotay came looking for her when the others returned to camp without her. Suder told her later that Chakotay had been absolutely livid they hadn't collected her before leaving the bar. If she'd been sober she might have resented him looking after her, but as it was she was blind drunk and in trouble and glad that he showed up.
He found her in the middle of a brawl, and doing considerable damage too, not just to her opponents. When he offered his arm to help her up off the floor she nearly attacked him, then collapsed limply into his arms. He carried her out of the bar and set her down on the path. She stumbled on her own for a few steps, then leaned on his shoulder for support. He put his arm around her to hold her up and they shuffled along towards camp.
"Safe," mumbled B'Elanna.
"What's that?" asked Chakotay. She tried looking at his face but everything was a little blurry. Looking up hadn't been such a good idea either as she swayed on her feet. He steadied her again.
"Safe. You make me feel safe," she told him.
"That's a bit ironic, considering," he said, chuckling. They shuffled in silence some more.
"I've never said thank you," slurred Torres, "I've never said thank you."
"You don't have to thank me," Chakotay told her.
"You took me in, you let me stay..."
"You fixed our generator," he reminded her. She stopped and stood upright, trying for some dignity but feeling like her legs were made of jelly.
"Do you mean to say that if I couldn't fix your generator you would have left me all alone?" The words poured out fast. "I don't believe it. I don't believe *you* if you say that."
"No I wouldn't have left you there," he admitted, "but I was reminding you that I have a lot to be thankful for as well. And I don't often say it either."
"Chakotay, you're such a good friend to me," she smiled a lopsided smile, wishing that he would stop spinning so much; it made it hard to focus on him.
"You're a good friend Torres," he said easily, regarding her warily.
"Afraid of a drunken half-Klingon?" she teased.
"I'm afraid of you even when you're sober!" he said. "Let's get back to camp."
The following day, feeling like death was preferable to her hangover, she had gone to him again to talk. They had talked for hours.
She'd never met anyone like him before. He could be so serious, yet he had a wicked sense of humour. He was quite possibly the most spiritual man she'd ever met, so it came as quite a shock to learn he hadn't always been that way. That came out in another of their long talks. Bit by bit she was piecing together the parts that made up the whole of Chakotay. She wasn't nearly all there, not by a long shot. It would take many more chat sessions before she would see the entire picture.
Now she thought of her future, stretching before her like the expanse of space, with no purpose, no reason to be, no friends, no more talks ...
Dalby was the first to return. He quickly left her alone when she snarled at him. He, like the others, had learned to avoid her temper. Something had obviously upset her greatly. Torres left the ship and wandered a short distance to sit with her back against the trunk of a large willowy tree. The sun. The wind. They were supposed to be calming influences but she was in turmoil.
Chakotay and Suder were the last to come back to the ship. They stowed their additions to the supplies and then Chakotay came looking for Torres. He approached with caution, having been warned by Dalby of her mood. But then Chakotay was probably the only one of the group who truly wasn't afraid of her, even if he told her otherwise.
"B'Elanna?" He sat down next to her. "Planning your escape?" he joked.
"Something like that," she mumbled.
"I would have thought you'd be off ..."
"You thought I'd leave without saying goodbye?!" He waited a moment, looking at her calmly, hoping her anger would diffuse itself. She couldn't hold his gaze and remain angry so she looked away clinging to the anger that had served her so well in the past.
"No," he told her, "I would have been upset if you had. But I thought maybe you might have gone looking for transport to DS9 ..."
"Well you thought wrong!" she snapped, interrupting him again. He seemed at a loss for words, wondering what had made her so upset.
"Are you so happy to be rid of me then?" she asked bitterly, her voice low her eyes on the ground. She missed Chakotay's eyes widening with some surprise, as well as his smile.
"Torres I was under the impression that *you* were going to be happy to be rid of *us*. How many times in the last three months have you railed on me about the state of my ship?" he asked.
"Piece of junk," muttered B'Elanna.
"I told you this morning that I'd miss you ..."
"Yeah, yeah, I'm a whiz, I know." There was silence.
"B'Elanna, if you don't want to go, no one is forcing you off the ship," he finally said, gently. "You are an asset to us, a definite asset. And you're a good friend, not just to me, but to all of us."
She looked up at him now, an expression of amazement on her face, and for a moment, joy. Then she pulled on her mask of indifference.
"Why have you been trying to get me to DS9 then?" she asked, with an irritated voice.
"Because I *thought* that's where you wanted to go," he replied dryly.
"I never thought I'd join a group like the Maquis," she confessed, suddenly wanting him to understand her motives.
"Neither did I," he said. "Sometimes we walk down the most unexpected paths."
"But in the last few months I've felt like I belong somewhere, like I was needed. Suddenly there are people in my life I care about and who care about me. I've never felt like that before," she told him. "I've never felt like I was accepted."
"We do care about you B'Elanna," he said slowly, not wanting her to misunderstand, "but we are fighting a war. Are you sure you want to be involved? This is not your fight."
"Chakotay I *am* involved already!" She leaned towards him, her voice intense. "You and the others are the closest thing I've ever had to a family. Your fight is my fight." When he seemed to hesitate she added, "I know there might be consequences to my actions. I'm not afraid."
"You should be," he said somberly.
"Please don't turn me away, Chakotay, please!" She tried not to sound like she was pleading with him. "I've got no place to go. I've got no place to be."
Thinking, he turned his head to survey the tranquil scene. Bajor was always beacon of hope for the Maquis, as proof that the resistance of few against many could make a difference.
Finally, he turned back towards B'Elanna and extended his hand. She clasped it.
"Yes, you do have a place to be. It's with us."
"Thank you," she whispered. He extended his arms and drew her into a brotherly hug.
"I want you to know I'm acting on purely selfish motives," he told her as they stood and walked back towards the others. "I don't know anyone else who could keep that ship flying!"
"You got that right!" Torres agreed, her confidence returned.
*****
Torres rubbed the ridges on her forehead lightly, massaging her sore head. She was trying, without success, to reconfigure their power conduits so that their energy wouldn't drain. It was supposed to boost their engine output. It was supposed to make their sensors more reliable. But it wasn't working.
Kurt wandered over, lightly flopping down on the ground next to her.
"Why don't you take a break Torres?" he suggested. "The light's gone now. Give it a rest until morning."
"That's not what you tell me when we're up in the middle of crossfire," she grunted, pulling so hard on the wire she held that she yanked it right out of the panel. She sat back on her heels with a defeated slump and went back to rubbing her forehead. Kurt came up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders so that he could massage her tense neck.
"Give it a rest, B'Elanna," he repeated softly. "You're pushing too hard."
"Chakotay said that he wanted this working..."
"Chakotay isn't here right now. He's gone with Larson and Gerron to scurry up some grub. Besides," Kurt smirked, "even that slave driver doesn't expect you to perform miracles."
Torres said nothing. She decided not to tell him of the nightmare she'd had recently. In it, Chakotay had been in a fit of rage. She'd woken up shivering. Of course, she knew Chakotay would never act that way, but that didn't stop her from wanting to ensure everything was working. Working *better*.
"Oh I don't know," she mumbled, not willing to tell him that she put most of this pressure on herself, without Chakotay's expectations.
Kurt knew Chakotay probably better than any of them in the group. Certainly he was comfortable enough around their leader to tell him to piss off now and then. She admired Kurt's easy-going relaxed attitude, nothing seemed to upset him .
"Then tell him to go to hell," Kurt suggested, laughing. "I'd like to see you do that, just to see the look on his face."
B'Elanna thought about the expression on the face of the Chakotay in her dream and decided maybe it wouldn't be such a good idea. She was still too unsure of her positioning in the crew
"Soup's on!" called Gerron, as he, Larson, and Chakotay walked into camp, their arms full. The group crowded around, hungry as always. Torres and Kurt stayed were they were, watching.
"Eh, Chakotay!" called Kurt. Chakotay head jerked up from where he was handing out fruit. "Go to hell!"
"Lead on Bendura!" he threw back at his friend. Kurt laughed.
"You two are quite the pair," muttered Torres, pulling herself up off the ground stiffly. She might as well get something to eat, since her experiment had failed. Kurt's hands dropped from her shoulders; he looked up at her with a goofy expression.
"That's us!"
"How did you ever hook up together anyway?" she asked him, as they made their way over to the others. Kurt laughed again.
"Has he never told you? I'm surprised. It's one of his classic stories." Reaching the circle, he gripped Chakotay's shoulder and squeezed. Chakotay winced slightly, looking at Kurt with mock worry.
"What's gotten into you?"
"Chakotay, you've been remiss in your storytelling. Torres here was just asking me how you and I met." Kurt's eyes were dancing with merriment. To B'Elanna's surprise Chakotay started laughing as well.
"Sounds interesting," she said. "Tell all."
"Kurt found me," Chakotay started by way of explanation, "when I was in a bit of a *situation*."
"Situation?!" Kurt hooted. "You would have been killed if I hadn't been there!"
"Let's not exaggerate," Chakotay murmured, calmly.
"Chakotay had deeply insulted the ugliest looking aliens I have *ever* *ever* seen, in all my travels, in my *entire* life..."
"Haven't looked in a mirror recently, have you Bendura?" called out Dalby. There was more laughter.
"The cheek!" exclaimed Kurt, pretending to be hurt. He grinned. "These guys were no relation to me, though."
"I was telling a joke," protested Chakotay. "Was it my fault they didn't get the punchline?"
"You are no comedian my friend," Kurt told him.
"So what happened?" asked B'Elanna, as the two of them lapsed into memory. Chakotay took a bite, looking to Kurt to continue the tale.
"Well, I'd never seen the guy before, but his joke was pretty funny, so I hated to see him get the crap beaten out of him over it," Kurt said. "Things evened up when I jumped into the fray."
"That's not *exactly* the way I remember it," Chakotay put in. "I seem to recall things didn't even up until after I broke a chair over the head of one of them. The bartender wasn't too impressed with us for that!"
"You guys were fighting in a *bar*?" asked B'Elanna. She gave Chakotay a long look. "Why Chakotay, I didn't know you had it in you."
"What, you think you're the only one who's gotten into a barroom brawl Torres?" he asked dryly.
"It seems to me," Kurt continued, looking up to the stars as though thinking, "that we ended up spending a bit of time with the local constabulary."
"You went to *jail*?" Now B'Elanna was truly amazed. She gave Chakotay a playful punch. Playful for her, but he rubbed his arm absentmindedly, knowing he'd have a bruise later. "How come you've never told me this story before?"
"I didn't want your opinion of me tainted by the sins of my youth," he said with as serious a face as he could muster. Now everyone in the group was laughing. It was a good evening, when they could relax and be happy for a change.
Later, B'Elanna was about to crawl under her blanket, when she remembered she'd left the access port open from her failed repairs. Grumbling to herself about her forgetfulness, she went back to the ship to close it up. Kneeling on the ground by her tools she paused, hearing voices. Chakotay and Kurt were just around the corner.
"Chakotay you are too hard on her," Kurt was saying.
"Since when?" Chakotay asked.
"Since always!" Kurt retorted. Then he added, "You are hard on all of us."
"I keep you alive, we keep each other alive. Someone has to take charge around here."
"You should have seen her before supper this evening. She was wound up tighter than a screw over this project. And why? Because she doesn't want to disappoint you! Because she's carrying the burden of *your* expectation! I say, lay off her for a bit and let her do her work." Torres could almost see Kurt jabbing a finger into Chakotay's chest to emphasize his words.
"I think you're being a bit hard on me, Bendura," Chakotay's voice was cold. "I haven't placed any more expectations on her than she does on herself. I don't ask her for more than she is able to give. She is the one who should learn to lay off."
Torres blinked with surprise. Did he really know her that well? Was she *so* transparent?
"I think you should remember who it is that does the yelling when things break down." Kurt's voice was equally cold.
"Well then Kurt, I think you should pay more attention. No one around here yells more than *Torres* when things break down."
Kurt broke off their discussion and rounded the corner so quickly that Torres didn't have a hope of getting out of the way. He looked surprised to see her, but did not stop. She turned to find Chakotay leaning against the hull, just beside her open access port. He looked at her, gauging how much she'd overheard.
"Are you feeling under a lot of pressure, B'Elanna?" he asked, gently.
Uncomfortable about the topic, and embarrassed at having been found eavesdropping, Torres picked up her tools and started to close the port.
"Sure, isn't everyone?" she mumbled. He crouched down next to her.
"I gather it wasn't a success?" He gestured to the port, meaning her attempt to boost the power.
"No," she admitted, shortly.
"Do you think I put unfair pressure on you?" he asked.
"No," she whispered.
"Because I know I'm demanding, and maybe I don't tell you often enough how much I appreciate what you do..."
"Chakotay," she put up a hand to stop him, "no, you were right. *I'm* to blame for a lot of my own stress. I'm too impatient I guess." She returned to the task of closing the port. He was silent.
Finishing the job, she sat with her back to the hull, examining the tools in her hands carefully.
"Two nights ago I dreamt you pushed me off the ship because of an engine problem," she admitted quietly. "Into space." He eyes grew wide with amazement.
"B'Elanna! You're not thinking that I'm going to ... you don't really believe that I .... I mean, surely you *know* that I'm not going to do anything like that ...." he spluttered. She had to laugh, softly.
"Of course you're not! But it was disturbing nonetheless."
He reached over to put a hand on her thigh. She laid her own hand on his.
"We're all in this together, Torres. We're a team. We're a family."
She nodded. He turned his hand over to lightly squeeze hers, pulling her up as he stood.
"So please don't kill yourself over this ship, B'Elanna, because I need you for other projects!"
*****
Torres yawned, bleary eyed, and tiptoed her way out of the cramped quarters. For someone who had spent most of her life as a loner, she had adapted to being in a crowd more easily than she might have thought. But sometimes ... sometimes she just had to get away.
The bright sunshine that hit her eyes when she stepped through the door only accentuated her pounding headache. Why on earth did she ever let Jonas do the pouring? The man was a lousy bartender. Plus he had the added sadistic trait of actually wanting to get her drunk just to see if she'd do anything wild. Idiot!
The weather was so nice here they would have done better to crash outside, rather than in the small shelter. Taking a deep breath, hoping to clear the fuzziness of her mind and take away some of the hangover's more obnoxious symptoms, Torres started down the path at a leisurely pace.
If she had been more alert she would have been aware of them sooner and stayed away. If she hadn't been feeling so ill she probably would have been walking faster and passed them by without even knowing they were there. As it was, she stumbled onto a scene where she was as uncomfortable as she was unwanted.
She first realized she was not alone when she heard the woman's laugh. Pulling up to a full stop, Torres frowned. Who else would be out here this early? None of her companions was near being conscious, she was sure of that. Then her brain caught up to her.
Chakotay.
He hadn't been drinking with them last night. In fact, she rarely saw him drink in the wild manner of the others. At first she thought maybe he remained sober as a way of making sure everyone stayed alive and well; a sort of parental protection of the group when they were so foolish as to lose their senses. She'd never forget that he came after her the first time she'd gone drinking with his team. But then she realized that more often than not, Chakotay didn't join them at all. He just wasn't there. Where he went was anyone's guess.
And last night, it seemed, he hadn't been alone.
Of course it made a lot of sense, in a way. Chakotay was a private enough person to not bring someone back to the shelter. If the crew was blowing off steam with some alcoholic R&R then he would take the opportunity for a break as well.
Torres didn't mean to investigate. But her feet turned her off the path to see who was laughing before she'd put together who it must be. Once she saw them she found it hard to turn away.
They were swimming, Chakotay and a Bajoran woman, the source of the laughter. He was laughing too, Torres discovered. She was amazed at the sound of it. Here in the early morning sunshine, listening to them laughing, it was easy to forget the darkness.
The woman dove under, disappearing for a moment then resurfacing to splash him from behind. He turned on her, his strong arms reaching out to pull her under and pull her up again with a wave of water. Their arms wrapped around each other tightly and their lips met with a sudden forcefulness that was more urgent than loving.
Suddenly Torres realized what she was doing. She didn't want to be here; she didn't want to witness Chakotay making love to this strange woman. But it was hard to tear her eyes away from the couple, wondering at the passion of her friend. There was obviously a lot about him she still didn't know.
Torres wondered what it would be like to lie in his arms under the stars, just the two of them ... She shook her head to clear it. Where had *that* thought come from? She must still be feeling the drink. Cautiously, not daring to breathe, she took a step back the way she had come, hoping that neither had noticed her presence. A twig snapped, the sound extraordinarily loud in the still air.
The woman, intent on nibbling at Chakotay's ear, looked up and locked eyes with B'Elanna who was suddenly frozen. Chakotay, noticing the distraction of his lover, swung quickly around in the water. He kept his arms around the woman, his first instinct to protect her. B'Elanna was sure that he must hear her heart beating, it was pounding so loudly in her chest. Not nearly as loud as her headache, which seemed to have redoubled in intensity.
"Can I help you with something Torres?" he asked shortly.
B'Elanna opened her mouth but found to her shock that no sound could come out. She ducked her head and fled back towards the path, not quite out of earshot to hear the woman's question.
"Who was *that*?"
Out of sight now, Torres stopped to gather her scattered wits, closing her eyes as Chakotay identified the voyeur as a member of his crew.
"You picked a great day for a morning stroll Torres!" she growled at herself, turning back in the direction of the others.
*****
Seska was really annoying her, B'Elanna thought, as she moved as far away from the Bajoran as possible. Torres wasn't ready to accept that she felt uncomfortable around Seska because of the scene in the lake she'd witnessed all those months ago. No, it was something about the way she hung her arm over Chakotay's shoulder. Possessive. Territorial. It was bugging the hell out of B'Elanna and she'd rather not watch.
Seska was no stranger to the group now. She joined them whenever they made a stop on Bajor. Although Torres hadn't been calculating, she suspected they stopped on Bajor more frequently now than they had in the past. While she could not begrudge Chakotay his moments of light in such a dark place, she also couldn't quite understand the relationship between her friend and Seska. But then maybe she just couldn't get past her embarrassment of her first introduction to the woman.
When they had finally met face to face, a few weeks after the swimming incident, Seska had beamed with a charming smile.
"Oh yes, Torres isn't it? I believe we've already met."
B'Elanna still seethed thinking about it.
They were celebrating. It was supposed to be a joyous occasion. She felt like punching someone.
Suder turned around suddenly, bumping into her and spilling his ale. It slopped onto her boots.
"Oh, sorry B'Elanna, I didn't see you there," he apologized.
"That much is obvious," she agreed shortly. He decided, wisely, not to pursue a conversation with her.
"I really cannot believe that this ship can even fly!" Seska's voice carried across the clearing. "It looks like it belongs in a museum!"
Torres couldn't hear Chakotay's response, but she did hear Seska's laughter. For a moment the sound etched an image into her mind of Seska's hands clawing at the back of Chakotay's neck, the two of them in the water... Torres felt herself blushing. She forced herself to ignore the other woman and continue on her way, which was to the ship.
B'Elanna had gone inside to seek solitude but found the interior of the ship to be stifling hot. Better she walk away from the party than try to relax in here.
Stepping down off the door frame she nearly collided with the one person she'd been trying to avoid all evening.
"B'Elanna!" Seska cried as if delighted. "Chakotay was just telling me of your *extraordinary* powers."
Torres looked around the other woman, expecting to see Chakotay there, but he was still on the other side of the party.
"Oh yeah? And what powers are those?" she asked in a clipped voice.
"Why your ability to keep his ship in top shape of course!" said Seska. The Bajoran woman regarded Torres intently for a moment. B'Elanna was beginning to feel uncomfortable. She felt her cheeks flush under Seska's scrutiny and resented her all the more for it. "You know," Seska said, "a little wisp of a girl like you. It's hard to believe you're a Klingon."
The conversation around them died as heads turned to look at them. Everyone in Chakotay's crew knew how touchy Torres was about being Klingon. Everyone knew not to mention it to her. Either someone had forgotten to mention this to Seska, or maybe someone had...
B'Elanna's eyes narrowed to slits as she matched Seska's intense look. Inside she was trying to calm down, but her clenched fists betrayed her mood.
"Believe it!" she snapped.
"Are those ridges real?" asked Seska with mock innocence. Someone behind her gasped. If the word Klingon wasn't enough to set Torres off, the ridges on her forehead certainly were. Jonas had made the mistake of bringing that topic up once. He'd received a broken arm for his trouble.
Now Chakotay, who had been watching the two of them out of the corner of his eye, began to make his way over to them.
Torres took a step closer to Seska, glowering up at the other woman.
"What about the ridges on *your* nose? Are they real?" she asked, her voice deceptively low. Seska laughed.
Chakotay broke into a jog.
If Seska had done anything else but laugh, Torres might have maintained control. But the Bajoran's amusement reminded B'Elanna too much of the taunts she'd received as a child. She swung out to strike.
Seska might have been provoking her into a fight. She might have been making innocent conversation. Either way she seemed prepared for the attack. Evading the blow easily she grabbed B'Elanna's arm and threw her to the ground. Before hitting contact with the dirt Torres reached up to clutch Seska's wrists, bringing the other woman down on top of her. The two rolled over each other. The crowd around them stood back, no one daring to intervene. They knew Torres and they knew they were more likely to receive an injury by getting involved.
At first, it was hard to tell which of the two had the advantage. The pair appeared to be evenly matched. But it didn't take long for Seska to find her herself pinned under B'Elanna's strong grasp. Torres might be a small woman, but she could take on opponents much larger than Seska. The Bajoran never had a chance.
"Stop this right now!" commanded Chakotay, the only one of the group who wasn't afraid to step up to them.
Seska, unable to break free from B'Elanna's grip, gave a wry smile.
"I guess you *are* a Klingon, after all."
Torres drew back, knowing that any moment Chakotay would be on top of her to pull her away. She hesitated, but only briefly. She brought her head down on top of Seska's with a loud crack.
"Well, look at that!" she said, with mock surprise, "I guess the ridges *are* real, after all!"
Then she felt Chakotay's hands on her arms, pulling her roughly up from the ground. She was in for it. Fighting amongst your own crew was bad enough, at a celebration was even worse, but with your cell leader's lover? She'd be lucky to get back on the ship.
Even so, she felt better than she had in a long time.
*****
Torres looked out over Chakotay's shoulder to the stars flashing past the viewscreen. It was mesmerizing. Her eyes drooped slightly as her body gave way to the fatigue she felt. They all were feeling it. Even Chakotay was sitting slightly hunched over.
"Here," Kurt handed her a mug of something hot. She took it gratefully.
"Galley boy, now Bendura?" she teased. He just grinned and sat next to her, resting his head on arms folded across her console. There was a companionable silence in the cabin.
Seska entered, also carrying some mugs. She went over to Chakotay, handed him his coffee, and then sat on the arm rest of his seat, so that she was leaning into him. He spoke quietly to her. Torres, who was watching them, couldn't hear his words. Nor could she hear Seska's murmured reply, as the Bajoran ran her fingers lightly through Chakotay's short hair, her arm resting on his shoulders.
Torres realized her face must be expressing her disgust when Kurt began to chuckle softly. She turned to look at him and saw he was regarding her with playful eyes.
"Why don't you go over there and give her another head butt, B'Elanna?" he suggested with a smirk.
"How'd *you* like one?" she growled back at him. He chuckled some more. "Actually," she said thoughtfully, "Seska and I get along a lot better since ... our heads came into contact."
Before he could continue teasing her she offered an explanation for the sentiment written plainly in her expression.
"But I'm sorry, I just don't understand his attraction to her. Do you?"
Kurt's gaze wandered over to their friend, sitting in comfort with his arms around Seska. Then his eyes flicked back to B'Elanna.
"I do. She's a very attractive woman. Don't you think? I've always found Bajoran women to be *incredibly* sexy."
Torres turned away, hoping her cheeks weren't betraying her blush. Of course, Bajoran women were good looking. With their tiny ridges on their tiny noses! They didn't have to deal with the ugly Klingon ridges that Torres had on her forehead. Perhaps sensing her discomfort at his response, Kurt added,
"Besides, she makes a mean mushroom soup. And you know how much Chakotay loves mushroom soup!"
"I'm sorry I asked!" snapped Torres. "I should have known I'd never get a straight answer out of you."
"I was with him when they first met, you know," Kurt said, after a moment. She turned sharply to face him. She hadn't known this. "Bold as brass she approached him while we were waiting for one of Chakotay's supply contacts. She came out of the temple, stopped and stared. Her in her Starfleet cadet uniform. I thought for sure the jig was up and we were about to be handed into the authorities."
"Handed into the authorities? On Bajor?" Torres almost giggled.
"You didn't see her expression, B'Elanna," Kurt said softly, still watching the pair. "I don't think he saw it either. It was .... predatory. Like an animal moving in for the kill."
"Oh please!" scoffed Torres, but without her usual bluster. She'd seen that look on Seska's face too.
"I'm serious! Then she walked right up to him, that's when he first noticed her I think, and she grabbed his face with both her hands and pulled him into this kiss ... well, I'd not be lying to say I was blushing watching them."
"Ok, now I know you're joking with me," B'Elanna said, wondering if he was telling the truth.
"Don't you believe me?" Kurt seemed amused.
"What did Chakotay do?" asked B'Elanna, her curiousity getting the better of her.
"He politely disengaged himself, and then asked her who she was and what the hell did she think she was doing. She just walked away with this *very* satisfied look on her face." Kurt smiled, remembering the scene. "I clapped him on the back and congratulated him on yet again proving his sexual prowess. He was totally stunned."
"Poor Chakotay, he never had a chance to resist her," Torres said sarcastically. "You men are a sorry bunch sometimes."
"It's a sad lot in life, Torres," he agreed, grinning, "but someone has to handle these things."
"If you hadn't just been nice to me by bringing my coffee, I'd slug you," she told him, taking a sip from her mug. Kurt laughed.
"Why do you think I brought it?"
*****
It wouldn’t have been so bad if it weren’t for the rain, B’Elanna thought. It had started without warning and now poured down on them mercilessly, reducing their visibility to only a few feet. She wiped her wet hair out of her eyes, feeling the water run down her neck, under the collar of her shirt. She shivered.
"Where *is* she?" Chakotay muttered under his breath, "It’s taking too long."
The two of them were crouched low in a shallow gully, observing the muddy path that led to the east. Having circled around for reconnaissance in the two other directions the path followed, they were waiting for Seska, who’d taken the eastern fork.
The rain had started soon after they landed their shuttle. Landed, B’Elanna would have scoffed if she wasn’t trying to remain quiet. Crashed was more like it. That bucket of bolts wasn’t going to last them much longer.
But that was why they were here. If possible they would be leaving with enough spare parts to repair their untrustworthy vehicle, or better yet in B’Elanna’s mind, another shuttle altogether. Let that thing remain exactly where it lay, sinking in the mud, rusting.
Unfortunately, she had not been able to see a viable way into the shipyard from her scout. And Chakotay had been equally pessimistic about his. Which left only Seska, who seemed to be taking a long time to return to their position.
This wasn't a new kind of mission for them. She and Chakotay had broken into many a shipyard for parts. In fact, they’d gotten to be so good at it that she suspected most of the time their "acquisitions" went unnoticed for quite some time. Usually they took Lon Suder with them. He had a quiet intensity that suited the stealth of the job. But Seska had done all the prework on this one and therefore earned herself a spot on the team.
Chakotay was getting worried, B’Elanna could tell. And if he got worried enough, then they were going to have to head down that eastern path to try to determine what had happened to their comrade.
Suddenly, a bright light shone through the gloom of the weather. Chakotay ducked, putting a hand on B’Elanna’s head to pull her down as well. There was a sound in the distance. Dogs.
"I thought she said there weren’t any dogs," B’Elanna hissed.
"Get back to the shuttle," he told her, "and start the prelaunch sequence. Be sure to compensate for the mud."
"But…" she started and he silenced her with a hand on her mouth.
"There has to be a reason why she missed the rendezvous. And why they’ve released the dogs."
"Chakotay," B’Elanna whispered, feeling cold for reasons other than the rain, "what if that reason is that she was discovered or …"
"I have to know," he said, "and if it were you, I’d have to know too. I’m not leaving anyone behind. Not if I can help it," he added.
She retreated through the brush taking a criss-cross route back to where they’d left their transportation. She felt a bit of fear in her throat at the thought that it might not be able to get off the ground. She repressed it suddenly with another emotion, anger. If she could stay angry the adrenaline might just get her through this.
"Where are the others?" asked Gerron alarmed, as she burst through the door, breathless from her sprint.
"They’re coming," she said shortly, "start the prelaunch."
Gerron tried for a laugh, but it came out sounding strangled.
"I hope you brought something with you to help with that, because the main power grid failed when we landed," he reminded her. She blinked. She had forgotten that. "I've been trying but..." Gerron's shoulders demonstrated a helpless feeling.
"Ok, Ok, we can do this," she muttered to herself, trying not to think about the dogs and Chakotay still out there in the wet gloom. She lay on her back, under the pilot’s console and began pulling frantically on the panel. "Go open the access console by the engine ," she told Gerron. "Let’s hope something has just jerked loose."
A frantic five minutes later which felt like a lifetime she balled her hands into fists and pounded on the panel next to the console. It wasn’t working. No power. No power meant no prelaunch. And that meant no way out.
Clambering out from underneath the console she began to pace. It helped her think. Gerron sat back down in the copilot’s chair, watching her. That helped him think. In the distance there were lights, flickering faintly. She suspected the weather was making them appear much further away than they actually were. Then she saw some movement in the brush.
"Kill all power," she hissed to Gerron, who was closer to the controls. The ship blackened.
B’Elanna hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she saw Seska burst from the undergrowth and sprint towards them. The Bajoran woman landed in the shuttle’s main cabin with enough momentum to hit the far wall. She slumped down, gasping for breath.
"Where’s Chakotay?" asked B’Elanna when he didn’t appear behind Seska. When Seska didn’t reply B’Elanna grabbed her shoulders and gave her a shake, "Where’s Chakotay?!!"
"Leading….leading…..leading the dogs away," Seska finally managed to get out.
"Lot of good that’s going to do," Gerron remarked calmly, "when we don’t even have the main power grid online."
"Here," Seska said, pulling something from underneath her shirt, "see if this will help."
Gerron made a clumsy catch as Seska’s throw caught him off guard. But all B’Elanna could hear was the dogs, their barking seemingly to surround the ship, yet not quite find it.
"You went in without us!" she blasted Seska, "That was not part of the plan!"
"The plan changed!" snapped Seska back, "I saw an opportunity and I took it!"
Not wanting to have this fight, not here not now, B’Elanna swung around and grabbed the piece of equipment from Gerron’s hands. Examining it calmed her slightly. They just might be able to pull this off. She sent Gerron back to the engine and crawled underneath the pilot’s console again.
The silence in the cabin was interrupted only by Seska’s breathing, B’Elanna’s cursing and the faint sound of the hunt for Chakotay. Suddenly, there was another sound. B’Elanna’s head jerked up, hitting the edge of the open panel hard. Another curse.
"What was that? Can you see what’s happening?"
Seska had moved into the vacant copilot’s seat when Gerron had returned to the engine. She was peering out of the windows intently.
"Phasers," she said, matter-of-factly. Then, cocking her head to one side, "and no more dogs."
Did that mean no more Chakotay too? B’Elanna wondered. She pulled herself up as Gerron reappeared.
"Bingo!" he said, "Full power up. Do we start the prelaunch?"
He was asking B’Elanna, but it was Seska who answered.
"Yes," she moved to go to the pilot’s seat but B’Elanna stood in her way, blocking her.
"Wait," said the frazzled engineer, "what about Chakotay?"
"He sent you ahead to do this!" Seska reminded her. When B’Elanna still did not move Seska added, "For all we know he’s not even coming!"
"Doesn’t that bother you?" B’Elanna asked, slowly, "Not even a little bit?"
"There’s no time for that now!" cried Seska, "Let’s get this hunk of junk into the air!"
"Start the prelaunch," B’Elanna told Gerron, still blocking Seska’s access to the helm. "But let’s give him some time."
"We can’t do it running dark," Gerron told her. She already knew that. She remained standing, behind Gerron, a light hand on his shoulder. Peering out into the rainy night she could see nothing but the faint lights of the search party, one on either side of them.
"Well, at least we can be a beacon for him," she said softly.
"Him and who else?" muttered Gerron nervously.
"As long as we can take off, we’re in no danger from them, and if we can’t take off well….." she let the sentence run out. It wouldn’t matter then. It was Chakotay she was worried about. What if he’d been hurt? What if he couldn’t make it back to them? Should they go back for him?
She knew what he would say about that. But knowing didn’t stop her from wanting to look for him.
"All systems a-go," murmured Gerron, "we’re in standby."
"Shut the door," ordered Seska to B’Elanna. B’Elanna stared coldly at her friend.
"We’re going to give him as much time as we can, just like we gave you."
The running lights of the shuttle’s prep for launch did very little to improve visibility. B’Elanna watched the search lights grow steadily stronger as the search party approached. They couldn’t wait any longer. She moved to shut the door. As she hit the door locking key Chakotay leapt aboard, knocking her over. They landed in a jumble on the floor of the cabin, the door hissing shut behind them.
"GO!" commanded Seska to Gerron, who hesitated only to glance quickly back at the newcomer and then set the launch sequence in motion.
Chakotay pulled himself off B’Elanna gently, a worried frown across his face.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked. He fell back to the cabin floor. She noticed then the blood on his tunic.
"Seska! Grab the medkit!" B’Elanna cried, rolling her friend over and examining him. The dogs. The damn dogs that weren’t supposed to have been there!
"What kit?" asked Seska sarcastically, "We left the medical supplies back at the base."
"We’ll be at least 3 hours getting back," Gerron said, anticipating B’Elanna’s next question. "Will he hang on till then?"
"He’d better!" growled B’Elanna, as she ripped the cloth from his shirt sleeves to form a makeshift bandage, "Or I’m gonna kill him!"
*****
B’Elanna was sitting outside alternately looking up at the sky and trying to fix a portable generator. The light spilling from the window of the building was bad, but the company inside was worse. She could repair these things with her eyes closed anyway.
Chakotay stood in the doorway watching her with amused eyes.
"What’s so funny?" she snapped. He was startled, surprised that she’d even known he was there.
"I was just thinking that for someone so impatient you are remarkable with equipment."
She stopped her work to blink at him for a second. She never knew how to take comments like that. She waved it off with a scoff and went back to the generator. Chakotay chuckled.
"Why aren’t you enjoying the hospitality of our hosts?" he asked, knowing full well.
"If I’d known it was going to be so bad, I wouldn’t have brought him any food," she snarled, and then stopped. The shipment they’d delivered had all been distributed to families, some of whom had gone a long time without decent food.
"I’m taking a shipment to my village tomorrow," he said, dropping the subject of the obnoxious owner of the safe house. "I’ve received an all clear from my brother in law so I thought I’d stop by my mother’s for dinner."
B’Elanna grunted acknowledgement while she continued her work. She wasn’t particularly looking forward to spending another day here, but she could take the time to work on the navigational controls of their ship. That would certainly get her out of the way for most of the day.
"Why don’t you come with me?" Chakotay invited. "My mother is a wonderful cook. It might be just what you need." He bent his head to try to catch her eyes. "A good meal, good company……"
"Sure," B’Elanna said shortly, and was annoyed at the smirk on his face. "I’m just surprised you’re not asking Seska."
She immediately regretted her words. Seska had the ability to worm her way into one’s life and cause trouble. She was both a source of joy and pain, and one never knew which one was coming.
"Seska’s not here," Chakotay pointed out, "besides, I’m asking you."
She faced him now, forgetting her work for a moment. They were both tired. It had been a rough couple of months. The Cardassians had targetted crops for their destruction, resulting in near famine on several worlds. Chakotay and several other cell leaders had organized some supply runs, but there was barely enough food to spread around. Several times their routes to pickup supplies had been cut off, sometimes with firepower aimed at destroying their ship. Even when they could get through, it was disheartening to see how little was available for so many in need.
To top it off, B’Elanna knew that his brother had been captured by the Cardassians a few weeks ago. He was crazy with worry, but holding it in. His hands were tied by obligations to run the supply route on the other side of the DMZ. But once they were finished with this batch, B’Elanna was worried that he was going to go after his brother.
"Is it safe?" she asked, thinking that a meal at home might be just what he needed to forget the horrors of the situation. She was sad that something as basic as returning home to loved ones must be thought of in terms of "safe" and "unsafe."
"Nothing is safe," he replied. "But it is as safe as it can be."
Finding herself remarkably curious about the family he never spoke of, B’Elanna agreed to go. If nothing else, it got her out of this house and away from these horrors.
*****
It all seemed so easy when Chakotay mapped it out on the table for them, Torres thought to herself as the wind whipped another blast of sea spray into her face. Nothing about his plan had prepared her for this. He hadn't mentioned the tossing of the boat in the rough open water. He'd neglected to emphasize the bitter coldness of the wind. He'd definitely left out the fact that it would be pitch black.
Torres shook herself to get it together. All those things were a given. He shouldn't have to say them. Casting a quick glance over at Chakotay's calm face Torres wondered if he were thinking similar thoughts, or if this job was unfolding just as he'd imagined.
It seemed straightforward enough. The Cardassian supply outpost of Lovak was located on a practically deserted, nearly inhospitable planet that was mostly covered in a cold dark ocean. The outpost itself was on one of the planet's rare islands, a massive rocky break in the expanse of the water. Because of a sophisticated detection grid it was approachable only by boat. They'd anchor the boat and swim the rest of the distance to the islands' only entrance, a small beach.
B'Elanna was not looking forward to getting into the water.
Dalby handled the anchor well, securing their small craft in the choppy sea. He and Kurt silently checked each other's equipment while Chakotay turned to Torres to check hers. She shivered.
"You going to be okay in that water, B'Elanna?" he asked her softly, securing her pack. She turned around to do him the same favour and gave a snarl of a response.
"Let's just get this over and done with," she added, more civilly. "I'll be happier when we're back in orbit."
Their gear checked and secured the four of them entered the water and began to make their way towards the island. Torres gasped when her body hit the cold wetness. For a second she thought she wasn't going to be able to swim, her body was in too much shock. But then, out of the numbness, she found her arms and legs pumping and she followed the others.
The distance seemed longer than she'd prepared herself for, especially with the strong current that wanted to pull her off in another direction. Just as she wondered if maybe she wasn't going to be able to make it after all, her knees scraped on rock and she found herself at the bottom of the beach.
Because the beach was the only accessible approach to the island, it was also the only one guarded by the small garrison on the outpost. Chakotay had made it very clear when he'd outlined the plan that their main goals were to destroy the supplies on the base, and render the facility inoperable in the future. Killing the garrison was not their primary objective. He pointed out, and rightly so, that four people storming up the beach were not going to be able to take out the entire garrison, and they would not have an opportunity to set their explosives if they were discovered at that point.
"We have to get around the guards using stealth, not phasers," Chakotay's voice said in Torres's mind. She found it somewhat comforting to remember his preparation talks, his quiet tone infusing the team with confidence without misleading them about the risks.
Her eyes accustomed to the darkness she could clearly see Kurt's head, just bobbing above the water line, as he made his way to the far end of the beach. Dalby, his body low, clung to a rock, just around the corner. Taking a first look up at their target, she could see one Cardassian standing on a short pier that had seen better days. He walked the length of the structure, turned his watchful gaze out to the sea and stood on the end as if waiting their arrival. Torres didn't know how he could stand the cold, but remembered he had the luxury of being dry, and wrapped in a warm coat.
Chakotay's team ducked low, under the waves, using the darkness of night and water to camouflage their presence. Torres found it hard to maintain position, with the movement of the sea relentlessly pounding the beach. She found herself being swept away in its current, about to be delivered onto the shore like just one more pebble. Chakotay reached out a strong arm to grasp her ankle, preventing her detection by the guard. But she could tell that he was having difficulty as well; when the next wave struck he was thrown against the rocks with a terrible force.
"Omph!" grunted Chakotay, his groan masked by the roar of the water. Torres faired better that time, having been able to use Chakotay as a buffer between her and the jagged edges of the reef.
Satisfied that nothing but water surrounded him, the Cardassian slowly made his way back along the pier to enter a small shelter at the top of the beach.
Squeezing her hand as a signal, Chakotay started up the beach, keeping low. The four of them met underneath the pier, stopping briefly to pull off masks and catch their breath. The masks went into their packs, with weapons coming out. Then they circled around the guards' hut and headed into the brush. Torres glanced back to note that there were three Cardassians in the shelter. That meant the rest of the garrison must still be ahead of them.
Leaving Kurt at one corner, Torres continued around to her position. They were each setting explosives on one corner of the compound to maximize the impact. She worked swiftly but quietly, her ears pricked for the sound of another Cardassian's approach. All she could hear was the wail of the wind, and more faintly now, the crash of waves.
She had just about finished her setup when she heard the sound of discovery in the distance. She tried to work faster but her fingers were almost numb. To try to keep calm she remembered all the practice drills she'd done with Chakotay. They'd raced each other to see who could set the bomb faster. He'd beat her every time causing her to challenge him yet again. Eyes twinkling with amusement he always took her on; she always lost the bet. Something about his calm nature allowed him to remain totally focussed on the task. She didn't know anyone who could handle explosives better than Chakotay.
Finishing, she heard the sound of someone approaching from the far side. Crouching low near the wall she raised her weapon, wishing her icy hands wouldn't tremble so much.
"B'Elanna!" Chakotay hissed. "Don't shoot me!"
She relaxed her grip on the weapon somewhat and came out of the shadows. He noted that she had completed her task and then jerked his head back in the direction he'd come. She followed him at a quick pace.
"The beach is unsafe. The garrison is alerted."
"So I heard," she replied, trying to remember the rest of the island from the map Chakotay had provided. She could see it, spread out on their table, with his hands brushing over it, pointing out their boat's location, the beach, the buildings, the cliff......
"Chakotay! We're headed for the cliff!"
Before he could respond the dark sky was ripped open by the burning light of a Cardassian weapon fired above their heads. Torres ducked, instinctively. Chakotay, still running, twisted and returned fire but it was unlikely his shot made contact with their assailant. Their path was running out.
Another bright flash of light cut into B'Elanna's vision. With it she could see that they had reached the precipice of the far side of Lovak. She could hear the angry sound of the ocean far below. Torres drew a sharp breath.
"Talk about a rock and a hard place," muttered Chakotay, coming to an abrupt halt. His dark eyes scanned the water, and the cliffs for some easier method of descent. Grabbing B'Elanna's arm suddenly, he continued their escape flight along the top of the ridge. She could hear the Cardassians in the brush behind them.
"We'll never make it off this cliff," B'Elanna warned him, not sure where he was headed.
"Ever been in a Cardassian prison, Torres?" he asked, knowing full well she had not.
"Are you saying that I'd rather splatter my bones on the rocks below than allow myself to be captured?" she asked, breathing hard both from the exertion of their flight and fear.
"Something like that," he replied. "And this place is going to blow any minute now. I don't think we want to be on this rock when it does."
Now Torres was the one to turn around and fire some shots into the dense bushes in an attempt to hold off their pursuers. Chakotay's scramble along the rough path of the ridge had put them down somewhat from the peak where they'd originally been trapped. But it was still a long drop to the sea.
"We need to get some momentum to get out from the ridge, or the waves will throw us back into the cliff's wall," he told her. She nodded agreement, firing another few shots.
"Ready?"
Was she? Was she ready to die at the bottom of a cold sea, her bones broken by the craggy rocks of this unfriendly island? Another blast from behind her settled the matter. She was far less ready to allow the Cardassians to kill her than to take a leap off a steep ledge in the dark.
The two of them ran towards the edge, Chakotay no longer needing to pull on her arm to help her speed. Torres felt the solid ground beneath her feet disappear as suddenly she was flying into the wind and the wet. The last thing she recalled before hitting the cold water was that she hadn't said any parting words to her friend. If they made it through this she would have to say them to him.
The cold of the water was no less shocking the second time around. It was made colder still by the depths her body plummeted, being propelled by the force of her leap. Fighting off panic, she pushed her arms down in an effort to reach the surface again. She had to gain control before the current dashed her against the rocks like somebody's wet laundry. Just before her head burst free of the water's edge there was a deep rumble and a blinding flash of light.
The explosives were going off.
Torres took some satisfaction in knowing that despite being discovered, the team had accomplished its mission after all. Then her head hit the slab of stone and she thought no more.
*****
The sound of water lapping and someone breathing cut through the fuzziness of B'Elanna's brain. Her eyes fluttered open and her whole body shivered. Slowly she became more aware of her surroundings. She was lying on her back, her body curled up and being held tightly. Moving her head slightly she realized she was on top of Chakotay, whose arm was holding her in place. His other arm was doing the back stroke as he tried to maintain them both afloat.
Torres opened her mouth to speak, but choked on a mouthful of water instead. As she coughed, Chakotay paused a moment in his swimming attempts.
"Torres? You still alive?"
"Very funny," she croaked. "Especially coming from the man who tried to kill me."
"You hit your head pretty hard on those rocks. But I guess I always knew you were hard headed...." His words came out in gasps, as he held his head above the water, trying to breathe, trying to swim. 'I thought you were dead,' is what he didn't say, but B'Elanna heard him just the same. She felt nearly dead.
She made motion to move out of his grasp only to have his arm tighten like a vice.
"Chakotay, you can't swim for both of us," she said, fighting dizziness and nausea. Could one get seasick without even being in a boat?
"Torres, you've got a concussion and you're probably suffering from hypothermia. Let's conserve some body heat, okay?" Surprisingly his voice was not the harsh tone she'd expected, but rather gentle and persuasive.
"The others?" She let the question hang in the air, not fully formed but understood nonetheless.
"I'm hoping they're at the boat," he answered quietly. "That's where we're headed in any case."
The blackness of the planet was made brighter, slightly grey, by the burning of the outpost's buildings. Through blurry eyes B'Elanna watched the island, looking for any sign of the Cardassian garrison, or any sign of the other half of the team.
"We did it." She hadn't meant to speak aloud.
"Yes, we did," he agreed.
"Tell me again why we couldn't have just flown over and dropped a few photon torpedoes on them?" Torres slurred.
Chakotay smiled. Even though she couldn't see his face she could tell he was smiling.
"You're the one who analyzed their detection grid, Torres. You tell me."
"Bastards! They don't make anything easy do they," she mumbled. Chakotay gave a grunt of agreement.
There was silence for awhile with only the sound of water all around them, and Chakotay's laboured breathing. His strokes were becoming slower and further apart. B'Elanna first became aware of this when she felt a wave flap over her face and she realized they were lower in the water than before.
"Chakotay? How are you doing?"
When he didn't respond she twisted out of his grasp. Uncurling her body proved to be a mistake. Cold shivers running up and down her body resulted in violent trembles. Moving into a more vertical position caused her head to swim. She would like nothing better than to curl back up on top of him and go to sleep. Except Chakotay was sinking. His head was fully beneath the water now.
"Hey! Hey! Chakotay!" Alarmed she pushed at him, pulled his arm, grabbed him by his short hair to raise his head above the waves again. He choked, gasped and coughed, shaking his head to clear it from its dazed look. Looking at him now for the first time, Torres could see, even in the gloominess, that Chakotay had hit the rocks pretty badly as well.
"We have to stay afloat," she told him, holding up his chin, "or they won't be able to find us." While this would normally have been considered obvious, it now seemed imperative that she get this idea across to him. He nodded, eyes closed, his head still in her grasp. "I can't do this without you, Chakotay! So don't you go under on me!"
Now that she was more upright she could better appreciate the difficulty he'd been having at getting them back to the boat rendezvous. There was a strong cross-current pushing them in the opposite direction. She doubted that either of them was strong enough right now to be able to fight it.
"Torres," he said, spluttering a bit, "I bet I can stay above water longer than you can."
Even in her weakened state B'Elanna's eyes flashed with the challenge, as he knew they would.
"I bet you can't!"
*****
"We have to strike now!" Seska’s voice was low but insistent. "The information we have says they’re getting ready to ship. It will be much easier to take them out on the ground."
B’Elanna looked around table trying to gauge the reactions of the others to Seska’s plan. The Bajoran woman was persuasive in her passion; her style in direct contrast to Chakotay. While Chakotay could match Seska’s passion, he rarely displayed it as vocally as she did.
Sometimes B’Elanna thought that Seska was a little too eager to kill. It could be that B’Elanna resented the stirrings of battlelust she felt while listening to Seska’s plans. B’Elanna would rather reject her Klingon instincts.
It would appear that Seska was winning over the table this evening. B’Elanna saw several heads nod with appreciation of the Bajoran’s logic and her drive. She suspected her own face showed her skepticism. Chakotay - well, his face was unreadable as he listened to Seska patiently.
Finishing her plan, Seska looked to Chakotay to approve it. No one would go anywhere without his endorsement. He took a quick look at the others, noting as B’Elanna had, their support for Seska.
"Something about this doesn’t feel right," he finally said.
B’Elanna alone was not surprised by his reaction. She had been feeling the same way.
"You’re right," she spoke up, before Seska could pounce, "it doesn’t make any sense for them to locate their production plant there. It’s too far away from their warships."
"It would be very poor planning on their part to have the two of them close," sneered Seska, causing B’Elanna’s fists to clench in frustration. She didn’t have to be so hostile all the time. "Otherwise we could take out both too easily."
"Agreed," said Chakotay, in a neutral tone, "but B’Elanna is right to point out the distance between them. It is not efficient for them to ship the torpedoes over such a distance. The life span of a torpedo isn’t meant to last that long."
There were some wry chuckles at Chakotay’s small joke. Torres knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but Seska had really angered her earlier and the disagreement they’d had still hung in the space between them.
There was a pause.
"I don’t think that’s an ammunitions plant," Chakotay finally said. "It’s more likely a factory for building supplies, based on the metal readings."
"What difference does it make?!" Seska burst out impatiently, "Ammunition or building supplies, it will still hurt them if we destroy it. And we can destroy it!"
Torres allowed herself a small inner smile. Seska had lost this battle, she just didn’t know it yet.
"The difference," Chakotay said coldly, "is that ammunition is produced by the military, and building supplies are produced by civilians."
"A Cardassian is a Cardassian!" spat Seska.
"Perhaps," Chakotay said calmly, "but we are only interested in *military* Cardassians. And, if possible, we’re not going to kill anyone, just destroy their depot."
Although Seska’s passion had earlier won the table, they were now firmly in Chakotay’s camp. He was the head of the cell, he had kept them alive through tight spots, he made the decision where and when and *who* to strike. If they disagreed with his ideology they would not have been members of his cell.
Seska was the only anomaly, having become a member not through regular channels, but by having a special relationship with the cell leader. She was his lover.
Torres had been a little disquieted by the shift in Chakotay’s strategies after Seska had joined their band. He seemed more willing now to take on missions that would require killing whereas prior to Seska’s influence he’d been content at gathering and running supplies to other outposts and conducting tactical training for other cells. Now, here they were planning to bomb a Cardassian ammunitions plant.
He, of all of them, knew what the repercussions would be for such an aggressive act of war. If they were caught by the Cardassians, almost certain death; if they were caught by Starfleet, a lengthy incarceration.
Seska looked like she might pursue the matter, then she slumped back in her chair with a defeated look. B’Elanna wondered if she would continue trying to convince him later, out of the earshot of the others. Probably not. Even Seska knew better than to pretend she had any more influence than the others over Chakotay. Decisions were made here, at the table, not in bed.
"This doesn’t mean that the depot isn’t out there somewhere. We just have to keep looking for it," Chakotay said grimly.
*****
Torres was awakened suddenly by a deafening crash in her ear. Dirt from the ceiling fell like rain. She instinctively grabbed the weapon under her bunk, grasping it tightly before she'd even fully opened her eyes. Another crash.
She sat up, fumbling for a light. There was none. She could hear the others, in the darkness.
"What's happening?" she called, alarmed.
The cool voice of Chakotay answered her.
"The bunker is under attack," he informed everyone calmly. He lit a lantern, which glowed with a low light in the gloom. More dirt fell, causing many to cough. "Let's make our way to the west access tunnel."
He led the way, as he was the only one with any light. The others, collecting their weapons but little else, followed in a semi-organized line. Torres joined in near the end. Glancing over her shoulder she could just make out Kurt behind her.
Torres had never been very comfortable in this bunker. Underground she found herself suffering from a touch of claustrophobia. One of the benefits of not being on the ship in space, was being able to breathe fresh air. You never had that feeling in this bunker.
It was becoming incredibly hot down here. That, combined with the falling ceiling, caused streaks of mud to line their faces. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, spreading the mud further across her cheeks.
"Stick together and we won't lose anyone," Chakotay called from ahead. Torres kept her mind focussed only on Dalby's back ahead of her, and her left hand, which was tapping the wall to help her see.
"I wish we had a light at this end," grumbled Kurt, on her heels.
Shouldn't they have reached the west tunnel by now? Was it just the darkness that made the distance seem unreal?
She tripped suddenly. Kurt was so close behind her that he fell on top of her. There was a thundering boom to their right. Bits of a wooden archway splintered and sprayed over them and chunks of the ceiling in the form of rocks rained down. The closest yet.
Crawling out from under Kurt she could tell he'd been hit hard.
"Sorry," he grunted, picking himself up. He clutched at his right arm.
"You're hurt, Bendura," Torres said, squinting in the gloom.
"Nevermind that, keep moving before we get cut off. This tunnel is about to collapse."
They stumbled and tripped their way ahead, keeping their ears cocked for another torpedo blast. Torres could faintly hear the group ahead of them, but they had yet to catch up. Chakotay's beacon of light had completely disappeared. Coming to a three-way fork in the tunnel, she paused.
"Oh hell! Which way?"
Kurt blinked, they stood listening for the scuffling of the others but the only sound was more incoming firepower.
"Left. Go left!" he decided pushing her slightly with his good arm. Something about that didn't feel right to B'Elanna, but there was no time to argue. They forged ahead.
Coming around a bend in the tunnel, a bend which B'Elanna was sure was taking them more south than west, they ran straight into Cardassians. Too shocked to do more than gasp, B'Elanna pulled up her weapon and fired, hitting the first two before the others even realized she was there. Then Kurt was pulling on her shirt and they ran back around the curve the way they had come.
Reaching the fork again, Kurt paused.
"50-50 chance," muttered B'Elanna.
"Wait!" he said, "If we don't stop those Cardassians we'll lead them straight to the others."
"Oh and I suppose you have a plan for this!" she snapped. She didn't get a chance to say much else because he grabbed her arm and yanked her down to the ground, just as the beam from a Cardassian weapon flashed over her head. It carved a gouge out of the wall where she'd been standing a second before.
Kurt returned fired, and his aim was good. But there were too many for the two of them to ward off for very long.
"The tunnel," Kurt hissed to her, "it's collapsing. Let's give it a hand."
With the two of them directing their weaponry on the low ceiling of the tunnel, more dirt and rocks crashed down around them. There was no visibility, even with the light from their phasers. Somewhere close another blast shook the ground. They stopped firing at the same time. The left tunnel was completely blocked now.
"Let's hope we took out a few of the bastards in the process," said Kurt bitterly. All B'Elanna could do was cough. She felt like she'd inhaled most of the dust swirling in the air.
"Now which way?" asked Kurt. "I don't know about you, but my phaser won't last another run-in with the garrison." He didn't look as though he would last much longer either.
"This way," B'Elanna said decisively, taking what used to be the centre fork.
They travelled in the dark without speaking for what seemed like a very long time. Torres was just beginning to think they'd chosen incorrectly again when she spotted a light ahead with great relief. She had not been looking forward to retreating to the fork once more.
"Torres!" Chakotay's voice hailed her. He swung the lantern higher to cast more light. She could see the concern on his features. B'Elanna reached back grabbed Kurt's arm.
"Look, there's Chakotay! We're almost there," she told him. "I'm ok," she said to Chakotay as the three met, "but Kurt's been hurt."
Chakotay offered himself to his friend for support and with Torres leading the way, the three of them exited the west tunnel into the night air.
The sounds of battle were over. Chakotay had scrambled the group, sending them into hiding with standard rendezvous orders, before he'd reentered the tunnel to come looking for Torres and Kurt. Now the three of them moved slowly through the dense woods, Kurt shuffling a bit. Chakotay had killed the lantern once they'd exited the underground passage, but the moon was nearly full, giving them more than enough light. A little too much light, in Torres's opinion. Still, the forest should provide cover, at least until daybreak.
"Stop," Chakotay said softly, as he rested Kurt up against a tree trunk. Torres turned around, to see him sag to the ground. "We need to look at his arm."
B'Elanna remained standing, ever alert to the sounds of the woods, her weapon raised, while Chakotay took his vest and converted it into a makeshift bandage for Kurt's wound.
"You should have seen them, Chakotay," mumbled Kurt, "Torres just barrelling right into them in the dark. They never saw it coming...."
"I know I wouldn't want Torres barrelling into *me* in a dark tunnel," Chakotay said lightly. She gave a snort.
"You should be so lucky!"
*****
Torres caught up with Chakotay in the makeshift shipyard, kneeling before a cupboard to sort through some tools that had seen better days. Everything in the yard had seen better days, in Torres' opinion, including Chakotay. She wondered when was the last time he'd slept.
"Can I talk to you for a second?" she ventured, not sure how he would react to what she wanted to say. He grunted acknowledgement, not taking his eyes from his task. She boosted herself up to sit on the workbench, looking down on him. "Chakotay ... I don't think we should do this job."
He paused for a moment to look up at her, trying to gauge her level of seriousness, then returned to the tools with a weary sigh.
"This is fine time to tell me, Torres. Why didn't you speak up when we were at the planning stage?"
"I didn't really think that you would go through with it," she confessed honestly. "I thought maybe you would lose interest in the project."
"What is your problem with the plan?"
"My *problem*," she snapped, "is that I don't think this is something you really want to do! I don't think that this is something we *should* be doing. This is beyond us. This is ... it's too big. It's too dangerous! It's suicidal!! *That* is my problem!"
Not finding what he was seeking in the cupboard Chakotay threw a wrench back into the toolkit. He missed and it hit the floor with a jarring clang. He sat back on his heels to look up at her again. She couldn't guess at his reaction. He was so closed these days, so withdrawn, so unreadable.
"Let me put your fears to rest over some points. I *do* want to do this. I *do* think we *should* be doing this. We should have done it a long time ago. It is big, it is dangerous, but it *can* be done. And if you had problems with it then you should have spoken up a lot sooner than this!" He was angry.
"Chakotay," Torres leaned forward on her legs, "please, think about what you are about to set in motion. Think about what will happen if something goes wrong. Think about what might happen if you pull it off!"
"Afraid Torres?" he asked, hoping to rile her. But she was not to be provoked so easily. B'Elanna had thought long and hard before coming to him, now she had to make him see reason.
"Of course I'm afraid you twit!" she barked, "And so should you be! You are about to undertake a piece of sabotage on the Cardassian military the magnitude of which has never been attempted. You will most likely kill yourself, and others, in the process. But more than that you might very well tip the balance to start a bloodbath in the DMZ. Do you think the Cardassians will just sit back and twiddle their thumbs after you blow up their ammunition plant? I think it's more likely that they will retaliate. And hard. How can you justify this Chakotay? This isn't providing food for homeless colonists anymore. This is a proactive, massive attack!"
"And this is WAR Torres!" he roared, coming to his feet to look down on her. She sat up straight, not backing down.
"How many Cardassians dead will bring you to your senses?" she cried, "All the worker bees in that factory? Will that do it? Or will you take on Cardassian Prime next? You could kill them *all* and it won't bring your father back. It won't bring your brother back."
He turned away suddenly.
"This has nothing to do with them," he uttered, low.
Torres hopped off the bench to walk around and face him again.
"This has *everything* to do with them! You wouldn't even be in the Maquis fighting the Cardassians if it weren't for them. I remember a time when you were against killing. I remember when you were fighting for *life*, not killing for revenge."
"I don't enjoy killing people, B'Elanna," he said evenly, "even Cardassians. But if we can take out that plant, it will hurt them. It will hurt their war machine ..."
"If we disrupt their trade, it hurts them. If we reestablish supply routes to the colonies, it hurts them. If we strike against weapons depots, it hurts them. If we bomb their main ammunitions plant, it won't hurt them as much as it will hurt us! It will be seen as an aggressive act of war and they will probably repay the Maquis by attacking the colonies. And don't look to Starfleet for any sympathy either! They would arrest you faster than you could blink."
He didn't respond, but she had seen that look on his face before. It was a stubborn face. Damn his obstinate contrary nature!
"Chakotay," she tried to lower her voice, she was pleading, "this is a no win scenario. Please, call it off."
"If we take away their ammunition supplies, they won't have anything to retaliate with. It might just tip the balance in *our* favour, B'Elanna. They might decide to withdraw from the DMZ altogether."
"What kind of fantasy are you living in, Chakotay?" she asked, amazed, "You don't really believe that. You're smarter than that." He said nothing. She had a sinking feeling that her words had fallen on deaf ears. Perhaps all that she had done was antagonize him just before departure. He turned to go.
"The Chakotay I used to know wouldn't kill himself so needlessly. The Chakotay I knew wouldn't put at risk the very people he is fighting to protect," she called after him.
He half-turned back towards her, his parting words cold.
"Who says you ever knew me, Torres?"
*****
Someone once pessimistically noted that if something can go wrong it will go wrong. Torres believed it. The plan which Chakotay had so carefully put in motion, the one which they had been practicing and perfecting for weeks, the one which B'Elanna had passionately argued for him to abandon, had failed.
Somehow, while she waited at the controls of the shuttle, she knew it had failed even before Gerron came stumbling aboard. His face grim, his arm burned from phaser fire, he told her to launch. She hesitated only slightly, remembering a time in the past when the plan had failed but Chakotay had come back to them at the last minute.
"Torres, the others are gone, the guards caught them. I saw it with my own eyes. Now get us out of here before the whole place explodes!"
She didn't respond, merely went about the tasks of launch sequence, glad that her hands weren't shaking to betray her emotions. Glancing over at Gerron, she wondered how he could remain so calm. She wanted to shout, to scream, to throw some heavy piece of equipment against the wall and hear it break. She wanted to break something.
After they cleared orbit, Torres scanned for Cardassian ships, afraid that they might be pursued. But space was remarkably clear. Gerron was still scanning the planet, waiting for the explosion.
It didn't happen.
"Ohhhhhh!" he groaned, giving way to his frustration by lashing out and striking the wall with his good arm.
"After all that they didn't even go off," she whispered, trying to figure out if this was a good thing, perhaps the only good thing that had happened.
"We could detonate them from here," Gerron sat back down, "If we send out a wave of ..."
"No!" B'Elanna said sharply, "We don't know where those explosives are right now! For all we know they are still on the backs of the others. Let's cut our losses."
He didn't push her, which was thankful because in her mood they might have gotten into a large scrap and there had been too many casualties already. Taking a deep breath, she allowed her fingers to touch the console again and take them back to base.
In the chilly air of evening the group gathered to discuss the failed plan. Torres had little to contribute, as she had been on the ship throughout the entire operation. She wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the cold and paced while Gerron told his tale.
It was Gerron's opinion that the guards must have known they were coming. Everything was going just according to the plan, but the reaction time of the guards was too quick for it to have been natural.
"I only managed to get out because I was the last one in, and closest to the door. For some reason, the force field remained down ..."
A few other voices chimed in trying to figure out the reasoning behind this. Torres couldn't care less about the force field, or about the potential traitor in their midst.
"What about Chakotay?" she asked, "And the others?"
"I saw Chakotay," Gerron confirmed. "He was struck down by a guard. I'm ... I'm pretty sure he was still alive. And I heard evidence of the others being rounded up. There was nothing I could do! I was afraid the explosives were going to detonate. I had to get back to B'Elanna."
Someone murmured a soft reassurance that he'd done the right thing. One man against a garrison of Cardassian guards could do nothing. Torres's logical mind acknowledged this, even if her heart wanted to scream at him for not at least trying.
"Where will they take them?" asked B'Elanna, sitting finally in the circle.
"It's possible that they were killed," Suder said quietly, "and not taken anywhere."
"No, I think that they were probably taken to a prison camp. Even if just for a little while, so that they can be used as *examples* of the futility of the Maquis," put in Ayala.
"How do we find them?" Torres wondered aloud. There was an uneasy silence.
"B'Elanna," began Gerron, but she lashed out at him.
"Don't tell me you're not thinking about going after them! Don't tell me that you think we should just abandon them! If they are alive and in a prison camp then we have to get them out."
"There hasn't been a break on Lazon II since ..." Suder began.
"It can be done," Torres said firmly. "It is no more unrealistic an operation than the one we just attempted. In fact, it's a lot *more* rational."
*****
Torres entered his quarters quietly. She wanted to give him a status report but only if he was awake.
"Chakotay?" she whispered.
He answered her, but not as she expected. He was talking in his sleep, mumbling really. Torres hesitated. She knew he hadn't been sleeping well so she hated to wake him. However, it didn't seem as though his sleep was restful. He rolled over, moaning.
That decided it. She stepped swiftly over to his bunk and gave his shoulders a shake.
"Wake up!" she told him.
"No, oh no, no, no..." he resisted. She shook harder.
He sat up so quickly his head nearly hit the bunk above him. Disoriented he looked wildly around, his gaze finally resting on her. It took him a moment to focus and another to remember where he was.
"Torres," he croaked, "what are you doing here?"
"I came to tell you we're clear of the perimeter. No sign of pursuit this time. But I woke you because you were having a bad dream."
He swung his legs stiffly over the bunk and sat, head in his hands. His back injury, suffered while setting the explosives, still gave him pain. But Torres suspected his back would be long healed before his dreams were easy again.
"Thanks," he finally said, just above a whisper. She sat on the bunk next to him, her arm around his shoulders. Without speaking he leaned against her.
They sat that way, in the dark, for a long time.
She knew he was carrying a terrible burden. Not only did his experience at the hands of the Cardassians haunt him, but he was also shouldering a tremendous amount of guilt. Guilt for having initiated the plan. Guilt for having lived when others had died. Of the nine members of the crew captured on Bryma, only Chakotay, Seska, Jonas and Kurt survived. Even then, he'd been so badly injured B'Elanna feared they might have done a break on the prison only to rescue a corpse.
Now, even now, his back was still sore, his sleep still disturbed by terrible dreams. He hadn't been able to take any refuge in mediation. He hadn't spoken to anyone about his experience. He had broken off his intimate relations with Seska shortly before the operation. At the time, Torres had been secretly pleased. She thought Seska was a negative influence on Chakotay, and she never had understood his attraction to the Bajoran. But now she wished he had someone close to him to help. Someone closer than she, who could do little more than offer a shoulder.
*****
Torres was running a quick diagnostics on their sensors when Jonas broke the silence in the cabin.
"I’m picking up a transmission. It’s for Deep Space Nine."
Chakotay looked away from the forward viewscreen which he’d been watching for a visual sign of the ship he knew was out there. Damn the sensors, damn the viewscreen, he *knew* it was there! Torres had had her hide saved too many times by him in the past to doubt his intuitions, but she found them frustrating at times. Especially when the sensors weren't working properly.
"Mailbag?" Chakotay wondered.
"Could be, but it’s heavily encrypted," Jonas remarked. "Do you want me to...?" The question hung there, waiting for Chakotay’s approval. Normally they didn’t bother with the communications for the station, unless there was a Cardassian signal involved, but occasionally something interesting came from Earth.
"What’s the encryption?" Chakotay asked.
"Starfleet," responded Jonas, "It must be for Sisko."
"It could be for any of the officers," protested Ayala.
Chakotay was, on principle, against intercepting communications meant for others. He wasn’t interested in reading other people’s personal messages. However, an encrypted message from Starfleet to DS9, even if it wasn’t for Sisko, could be something useful to them.
"Get it," he told Jonas, "but if it’s a birthday greeting to a family member, I don’t want to know about it." He returned his attention to the viewscreen.
There were a few moments of silence while Jonas decrypted the transmission. It seemed to Torres that it was taking him a lot longer than usual. It must have been coded with something more than the usual security measures.
"Anything interesting?" asked Ayala, when Jonas’s fingers stopped tapping his console. Torres glanced up at them sharply when Jonas didn’t reply. He was looking at Chakotay’s back, his mouth half-open to speak, yet not speaking.
"What is it?" Torres asked, with a more insistent tone than Ayala’s curious one. Her sharp voice caused Chakotay to turn from his search once more. He looked at Jonas questioningly.
"It’s a list of arrest warrants just issued. For Sisko, he is supposed to be on the lookout. Mostly Maquis members, mostly for terrorism."
Chakotay looked thoughtful. Now this *was* more interesting than most of the communications they came across.
"Anyone we know?" joked Ayala. Jonas looked decidedly uncomfortable. Now the entire crew had turned to look at him.
"Uh, you could say that," Jonas said. Torres stood abruptly, leaving her sensors to lean over Jonas’s shoulder and read the decrypted message. She looked back at Chakotay whose face was a neutral mask.
"You’re on the list, Chakotay," she told him. He did not look surprised.
"I guess Starfleet doesn’t appreciate the way I’ve put their good training to use," he finally said, attempting a joke. It fell flat.
"Well so what?!" asked Seska, with her usual impatience. "It’s not like this comes as a big surprise! It’s not like you didn’t walk into this with your eyes wide open!"
"Don’t you see, Seska?" Jonas sounded worried, "This means they will be *pursuing* him!"
"That doesn’t mean they’ll catch him," Seska said, with more confidence than Torres was feeling. It was one thing for Chakotay to elude capture while acting as a Maquis, it was quite another for him to elude capture while being chased by Starfleet. As if they didn’t have enough to worry about with the Cardassian warships.
"Let me see that list," Chakotay finally spoke, moving over to Jonas. He read through the message with a grim expression. "Not only is this warrant for me, but for anyone aiding and abetting me."
"That would be us," Jonas said bleakly.
"Then I guess we’re fighting a war on two fronts now," Torres said softly.
*****
Torres scanned the crowded room nervously. Why had she agreed to come here? She should have just caught up with Chakotay later. But they she spotted him, off in a corner. Hesitating between making a hasty exit and finding an excuse for him later, and pushing through the throng, her decision was made by the appearance of some officers approaching the door.
Torres moved swiftly into the room, ducking around people and squishing by others until she landed in the seat opposite Chakotay with a bump.
"Sorry I’m late," she said, sounding anything but sorry, "and Starfleet off the port bow."
Chakotay’s calm eyes looked up to the pair who had just entered the bar; he nodded acknowledgement. He looked a little amused at her entrance, but said nothing. Waiting until the officers moved to the other side of the bar, he finally returned his attention to the man sitting next to him.
"Tuvok, this is B’Elanna Torres, my engineer. If she can’t get it running then it belongs in a scrap heap."
Torres gave a snort.
"Since when have you left things on the scrap heap? I thought that’s where we got most of our material!"
Then she looked fully at Chakotay’s companion. He was Vulcan, she realized with some surprise. She glanced up and down, noting his build. Vulcans may not be as bulky as Klingons, but they were incredibly strong, and they had other tricks as well.
Torres grabbed a drink off the tray of the server who was moving slowly through the crowd. She tossed a coin in exchange.
"We don’t see a lot of Vulcans in the Maquis," she commented, sipping her drink. Chakotay she noticed, was drinking water. Good thing too, someone had to stay alert, especially if Starfleet was prowling around.
"As I just finished explaining to your commander, I find the Federation/Cardassian border treaty to be a highly illogical diplomatic move on the part of the Federation. War with Cardassia is inevitable. The Cardassians want it. Therefore, prolonging the process with the needless suffering of the colonists in the Demilitarized Zone goes against many of the Federation’s principles," the dark Vulcan replied calmly.
Torres, who was always expressing her emotions, found the evenness of the Vulcan’s tone to be grating.
"Yeah, right," she mumbled, putting down her drink. Chakotay chuckled low. She shot him a glare, which made him chuckle more.
"Tuvok wants to join with us," he informed her, watching her reaction carefully, "He’s finding the maneuvers of his current cell to be...illogical."
"If you can find something ‘logical’ about all this I wish you’d explain it to me," she said, speaking more to Chakotay than to the Vulcan. Chakotay said nothing. "What will you bring to us?" she demanded of Tuvok, "Are you an engineer? Are you a pilot?"
"I was not aware that the Maquis had such strident entrance requirements," Tuvok said. If she didn’t know better, Torres would have thought he was making a joke. Certainly Chakotay found it amusing. She fixed the newcomer with an unfriendly eye.
"Maybe the Maquis will let anyone in, but we don’t!"
"I’m not so sure about that," murmured Chakotay under his breath. Without thinking, Torres shot her leg out under the table and gave him a swift kick. He winced slightly, but otherwise did not acknowledge the pain.
"Tuvok’s specialty is tactics," Chakotay said, getting down to business, "I think he’d be a good addition to our ‘merry’ band."
"You’re in charge," B’Elanna said, coolly. He sat back a bit from the table regarding her. While their eyes locked they spoke without words. He had asked her to come here to meet Tuvok. Not Seska, not anyone else in their cell, but her. Because he trusted her opinion and he valued her judgement? Or did he just need another pair of eyes and she was handy? Torres would have liked it to be the former, but she suspected the latter.
"Sir," Tuvok broke in, "the officers are moving in this direction."
Chakotay knew this, having kept an eye on them from their arrival.
"Time for me to make my departure," he said, standing easily, as though he was not in any hurry. "Torres will give you the rendezvous details." Then he vanished into the crowd. A few seconds later the Starfleet officers walked past their table, and if they noted that there was a glass without an owner they did not stop to investigate.
*****
They were truly in the thick of things now. Torres nearly lost her balance as their ship took another blow from the Cardassian warship on their tail. Each blast seemed closer than the last. Pretty soon Torres expected to see the Cardassians right there in the cabin with them.
Chakotay was at the helm, pulling off maneuvers that even Torres had never seen him try. It was amazing what desperation will do for one's abilities. She glanced up at him, hunched over the controls, his body tense. He told her once that he had to concentrate on the ship in a battle, and not the people on it. One time, she remembered, one of their crew had been injured in an explosion near the helm. Chakotay hadn't even spared the man a glance. That had surprised her, as he was not lacking compassion. He cared a lot about the members of his cell. But he had later quoted to her a saying - "A time to fight; a time to mourn." Chakotay was always quoting sayings.
All of this flashed through B'Elanna's mind in the seconds she stole to cast her eyes towards their pilot. He was right. One had to be focused in a fire fight.
Unfortunately, Torres was not liking what she saw on her console. The engines were spluttering, nearly dying, then giving short bursts of power only to splutter again.
From the weapons console Tuvok, calm as ever, stated,
"Direct hit. The shields are at sixty percent."
Torres had resented his unemotional nature from the first moment she'd met him in that bar. She resented it especially at times like these. The chaos that surrounded them only seemed to accentuate Tuvok's icy demeanor more.
However, her mind was on other problems besides Tuvok. Not only were the shields suffering from that last blow, as Torres soon spotted. Her brow creased with worry.
"Fuel line has ruptured," she informed Chakotay. "Attempting to compensate."
In her frustration she kicked the panel adding another pound with her fists just to be sure. The Cardassians sure knew where to hit them.
"Damn it!" Her report was a direct contrast to the unruffled Tuvok. "We're barely maintaining impulse. I can't get any more out of it."
Chakotay didn't turn around; he didn't pause from his maneuvers. But he did acknowledge her report with an order,
"Be creative."
Hmph! Easy for him to say. All he had to do was fly the ship, Torres had to ensure that he had an engine to do so. Given the choice, Torres thought she should have taken up piloting. Too late for a career move now. Her mind began to examine the possibilities.
"How am I supposed to be 'creative' with a 39 year old rebuilt engine..." Her tirade was interrupted by a new voice coming through the communications channel.
"Maquis ship! This is Gul Evek of the Cardassian Fourth Order. Cut your engines and prepare to surrender..."
Chakotay spared a hand to smack the communications link, cutting off the Gul from any further instructions.
"Initiating evasive pattern omega." He ducked to avoid being sprayed with sparks from a fire in panel above him. "Mark!"
"Shields at fifty percent," Tuvok informed them.
Chakotay finally turned his head slightly to catch B'Elanna's eyes.
"I need more power!"
Torres resisted the urge to start pacing in the small area. She tried to stay focused.
"Okay." Her fingers impatiently tapped the console, culminating in a fist thumping the computer. "Okay, take the weapons offline," she suggested. "We'll transfer all power to the engines."
If Tuvok had been anyone else he would have looked appalled by her plan.
"Considering the circumstances, I'd question that proposal at this time," he stated, directing this to Chakotay. Torres snarled slightly at him.
"What does it matter?" she pointed out. "We're not making a dent in their shields anyway!"
From the helm Chakotay let out an unhappy sigh as he considered her proposal. He looked up at her, hoping for another suggestion. She had no plan B.
She gave him her fiercest glare, looking almost full Klingon in the half-light of the command centre.
"You wanted 'creative'!" she snapped.
Chakotay swung around at the helm to face the weapons console.
"Tuvok shut down all phaser banks." He trusted Torres, even if her plan went against all instinct. She was right about one thing. Their weapons were not very effective.
"If you can give me another 30 seconds at full impulse, I'll get us to the Badlands," he told her, returning his attention to the helm controls.
"Phasers offline," stated Tuvok, with a hint of disapproval.
Torres rerouted the power from the weapons system to the engines and felt justified with a little smirk of pleasure when the engine output increased slightly.
"Throw the last photons at them," Chakotay called to Tuvok. "Then give me the power from the torpedo system."
"Acknowledged. Firing photons." Tuvok might dislike the plan, but he did not hesitate in following Chakotay's orders.
Torres was able to bring the engine power up to full impulse, but she knew she wasn't going to be able to hold it there for very long. She wished she knew how far ahead the Badlands were, but she couldn't take her attention away from the engineering console to check the sensors.
"Are you reading plasma storms ahead?" Chakotay asked Tuvok.
Tuvok consulted his sensors and responded quickly.
"One. Coordinates one-seven-one mark four-three."
Chakotay acknowledged this with a brief nod of his head.
"That's where I'm going."
The little Maquis ship pitched into the heart of the plasma storm as a bright white flash streaked across the viewscreen. It illuminated the command centre briefly. B'Elanna blinked rapidly as her eyes tried to adjust to the darkness that followed.
"Plasma storm density increasing by 14 percent...20...25..." came the cool voice of Tuvok from the gloom.
"Hold on!" called Chakotay, as he gripped the sides of the helm to brace for the impact.
The crash of storm sent the ship rocking and pitching on its sides. But there was something more comforting about having the ship tossed about by the plasma than by the firepower of the Cardassians. Torres struggled to maintain her balance at her station, feeling like any moment now she was going to be thrown across the cabin.
"The Cardassian ship is not reducing power. They're following us in," Tuvok noted without a trace of surprise.
"Gul Evek must be feeling daring today," Chakotay commented grimly, showing the surprise that Tuvok lacked.
The Cardassian ship, not having the advantage of the small size of the Maquis vessel, clumsily mimicked Chakotay's path through the storm. A stream of angry plasma caught its nacelle, sending it off-course; damaged.
Tuvok turned to face Chakotay.
"They're sending out a distress signal on all Cardassian frequencies."
Torres wondered at the stupidity of the Gul who would risk his ship and crew so obviously for the sake of a handful of rebels. She brought a fist down on her panel with disgust, causing Chakotay to turn towards her.
"Evek was a fool to take a ship that size into the Badlands," she said, by way of explanation.
"*Anyone* is a fool to take a ship into the Badlands," he reminded her, fully prepared to take on that role for their safety.
Torres smiled, she couldn't help it. Trust Chakotay to find something to say to lighten things after such a close call. She bit back a retort.
Their moment of levity over Chakotay returned his attention to the helm.
"Can you plot a course through these plasma fields Mr. Tuvok?"
"The storm activity is typically widespread in this vicinity," stated Tuvok. After a moment of searching, he added, "I can plot a course but I am afraid it will require an indirect route."
"We're in no hurry," Chakotay said, stating the obvious.
B'Elanna's head snapped up to peer at him. Was he trying to make some kind of a joke? Or was that a slam against her for the state of the engines? As she caught his eyes, twinkling slightly, Torres relaxed. He was just having a bit of fun with Tuvok.
Groaning softly, Chakotay stood up stiffly. He stretched his arms up over his head to touch the ceiling. She wondered if his back still bothered him. She wouldn't doubt it if his back was sore after being hunched over the helm for so long, even without the old injury.
B'Elanna went into action at her station calling out damage reports and instructions to other parts of the ship. Now that the fight was over, it was time for the cleanup to begin. Even as she spoke into the ship's communications she was untangling a mess of cables coiled at her feet. Some of the others appeared to assist with the damage control and she sent them off to various stations for repairs.
As he squeezed past her Chakotay clapped Torres on the back startling her. She broke off the cables for a moment to turn her attention to him. Perhaps noting her alarm, Chakotay gave her a reassuring smile and then a thumbs up. He looked about to speak but thought better of it as she blushed and turned away. Just a moment ago she'd thought he might be critical and here he was giving her a compliment. Would she ever lose that sense of inadequacy she felt when things broke down? Chakotay didn't blame her for the engine failure. Chakotay had never blamed her for engineering woes.
To cover her embarrassment she tried to engage him in conversation.
"I've heard Starfleet's commissioned a new Intrepid-class ship." She looked at him for a reaction but his back was turned to her. She added, "With bioneural circuitry to maneuver through plasma storms."
Chakotay was at the back of the command centre putting out a fire in one of the panels. While he'd acknowledged her first statement, something about her tone made him twist around. She knew that he, too, had heard the rumours of this new Starfleet vessel. She'd heard enough of them to believe that at least part of the information must be true. And no one had her ear to the ground more than Torres in the shipyards of the DMZ.
"We'll find a new place to hide," he said with a slight grin. One fire out, he moved along to the next damaged panel, taking mental notes of what would need replaced when they reached their outpost. It was a like a ritual for him, after the fight.
"You ever think about what'll happen if they catch us?" Torres asked after a pause. This was the first time anyone had broached the subject since they'd intercepted the warrant for his arrest. He hesitated with his response. Torres knew he had thought about it, how could he not? But she doubted he would share those thoughts with her.
"My great-grandfather had a saying," Chakotay told her. With her head half inside the open panel by the engineering console B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "Don't look back."
Torres twisted out of the panel, the broken cable still in hand, to look at him. He was serious, but then his face broke into a genuine smile. Maybe there was something to all these sayings after all. She decided not to press him on Starfleet right now. If the rumours were true they'd find out soon enough. She continued with her cables and he returned to his damage inventory.
"Curious." Tuvok's voice interrupted the silence of the cabin. "We have just passed through some kind of coherent tetryon beam."
Torres caught the worried expression that flickered across Chakotay's face before it returned to its usual neutral mask. All they needed to deal with now was some new kind of Cardassian weapon. Or even, she thought, some new kind of Starfleet technology.
"Source?" asked Chakotay as he made his way back to the front by the weapons station.
"Unknown," was Tuvok's not very comforting reply.
Torres remained close behind Chakotay, peering around his large frame to try to get a glimpse of Tuvok's data. There wasn't really enough space for the three of them at the computer console, so she found her view obstructed.
"Now there appears to be a massive displacement wave moving toward us," Tuvok informed them.
Torres's eyes narrowed with irritation at not being able to see the data properly, and having to listen to that Vulcan's damned unemotional voice. Just once she'd like to see him slam the side of the ship with a fist, or kick the computer frame in irritation. Briefly she wondered if he would do it for her if she asked him. Probably not. Probably no logical reason to do so.
"Another storm?" asked Chakotay, hopefully.
He turned his attention to the viewscreen where there was no evidence of another plasma storm in sight. It wouldn't be the first time that Chakotay preferred using his eyes over the technical data produced by the computers.
"It is not a plasma phenomenon," Tuvok said. "The computer is unable to identify it."
Chakotay went back to examining the figures on the computer.
"Put it onscreen," he ordered finally.
The sight of the wave caused Chakotay to pull back slightly, knocking into Torres who'd remained directly behind him. The two of them stared at the phenomenon in awe for a few seconds until Tuvok's voice brought them back to reality.
"At current speeds it is going to intercept us in less than 30 seconds."
Intercept us and destroy us, was what Tuvok really meant.
Chakotay moved swiftly to return to the helm from the weapons console. He immediately pulled them off their current course, but the ship was slow to respond.
"Anything left in those impulse generators B'Elanna?"
Torres had been almost as quick to get back to her engineering console, nearly tripping over the damaged cable. Hell, there was damaged equipment in bits and pieces everywhere.
"We'll find out," she replied smoothly, with more confidence than she truly felt.
"It is still exceeding our speed," was Tuvok's contribution.
"Maximum power!" cried Chakotay, alarmed.
"You've got it!" Torres shot back, wondering what trick she might have up her sleeve to get them out of this. Or maybe her tricks were all used up.
"The wave is continuing to accelerate. It will intercept us in eight seconds...five..." Tuvok counted down, but neither Chakotay nor Torres were listening anymore.
B'Elanna tried to maintain some of the composure that came so easily to that damn Vulcan as she watched the wave's approach on the viewscreen. She clenched her hands into fists to ensure they would not shake and betray her fear. Chakotay slowly turned around to look at her just as the wave engulfed the ship. Their eyes locked. In that shortest of seconds Torres saw her life as it had begun when the Maquis accepted her into their group. How many times had she cheated death with them in the last few years? One too many now.
She heard Chakotay say, as surely as if he'd spoken aloud,
"Sometimes we walk down the most unexpected paths. Don't look back."
There would be no looking back. Her life as she had come to know it was now over.
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