NOTE: Again I've been fortunate to have had the assistance of several beta readers whose help has been invaluable. As Seven said in the episode "Killing Game" : "Be generous to Claude; without him, my voice is empty." The same may be said of beta readers. Thank you all.
Copyright 1998 by NODA
*We'll Always Have Ste. Claire*
Captain Miller was crawling through a rather bizarre tunnel on his hands and knees. He knew he should have questioned how it'd been constructed, given the odd nature of its appearance, but he had a rather distracting view before him: the French woman's derri�re. He tried not to think about the way her hips were swaying as she crawled before him in tight black pants.
"You're different from the girls back home," he stated with a bit of a chuckle. "At least a girl I was seeing back home." *No shit,* Miller thought to himself. The image of Betty Anderson crawling through a dirty access tunnel in war-torn France was absurd. He almost laughed at the mental vision he had of the perfectly coifed blonde crawling before him as Katrine did now, dressed in a blue cotton dress, stockings, high heels. Betty had great legs. The thought of the seams of her stockings in a perfect line down the backs of her legs drove him mad even now. Suddenly he wondered what Katrine would look like in a dress, stockings caressing her long legs. He'd only seen her in pants, another odd convention. The other women he'd encountered since his arrival in France wore dresses; she was the only one he'd seen dressed in trousers. Other than the rather abrupt blonde woman with Katrine.
"Does that bother you?" Janeway asked, looking back at the man behind her. Her neural interface had been deactivated along with Seven's; she felt a little odd talking to Chakotay as Captain Miller. It was as if he were two separate people. Physically he was still her First Officer, the man who sat next to her on the bridge, but his speech was different. Chakotay had a soft voice where as Miller was louder, more forceful. More like Janeway had imagined Chakotay to be when he'd been a captain in the Maquis. He also had taken to using the slang of the era; she'd found herself repressing a smile hearing him refer to her as a "gal."
"Nope, just not used to it, that's all," Miller commented, continuing to follow her.
Janeway remembered her first sight of her crew as she and Seven had emerged from the Jefferies tube into the restaurant. She was relieved to see them all right, but concerned at the continued ignorance of their true identities. Things were heating up in the streets. If she didn't end this and get "her" people back soon, it would be too late. Stepping before Miller, she looked at him for a long moment, searching his eyes to see if there were a hint of recognition she could work with. Nothing. Other than a small smile at her frank assessment, Miller didn't know her. But that hadn't stopped him from arguing with her. He'd stormed into the restaurant, presumably *her* restaurant, and starting issuing orders. Stating that the Americans were there now, so she could go back to being a hostess. Chakotay's condescending attitude almost made her reprimand him with a sharp, "Commander," when she realized it wasn't him. It was Miller making those statements, but it was hard to remember that when they were coming from Chakotay's mouth.
Finally he had agreed that they both needed to go on the mission to plant explosives in the Nazi's stronghold.
"So, you have a girl back home then?" Janeway asked as she opened the door of the current tunnel, heading for the hatch of another.
"Well, not a steady one," Miller admitted. "But I was seeing a girl occasionally before I shipped out."
"What's she like?" Janeway continued to question as she keyed the code into the next doorway. For some reason she wanted to know what type of woman appealed to him. Even if he *weren't* Chakotay, some of his preferences might still be influencing Miller. It was almost like being granted access to a hidden part of his personality.
"Not like you," Miller responded. Janeway couldn't help but laugh. "I didn't mean that the way it sounded!" Miller quickly interjected. "I only meant that you're different. She's taller than you. Blonde hair, always wears. . ."
"Always wears dresses." Janeway finished for him. "I do own some dresses, Miller," she said, crawling into the next access tunnel. "But they aren't appropriate for this type of work."
"And you're a little more gung-ho than she is, too."
Janeway shook her head, laughing again. "Gung-ho? I suppose I am when it comes to my people's safety." It really was too bad Tom wasn't aware of his role in this simulation, Janeway thought. He'd be reveling in the "twentieth-centuryness" of it all: the slang, the attitudes, the clothing. She didn't have the same appreciation at the moment. Her ship was crawling with Hirogen and holographic soldiers; she didn't have the luxury of a bout of nostalgia.
"I'm the same way with my men. There's not a day goes by that I don't think to myself I gotta get 'em back safely. Even if I die trying." Miller's voice had taken on an emotional quality. Janeway knew how he felt. The irony of this situation hadn't escaped her: she the resistance fighter in the original Maquis, he the captain entrusted with the lives of his troops. She wished she could share this observation with Chakotay, but she'd have to wait until this was over; he wasn't here right now.
"We're going to be entering some caves, " Janeway warned him, "and there's some eccentric people who live there. Don't be alarmed." Miller nodded to her to continue on.
Again he'd been struck by the alien nature of the tunnels. Not only what they were made of, but the way things seemed so different from one entrance to the other. Almost as if he were traveling between worlds. Katrine seemed to take it in stride, so perhaps this wasn't all that unusual for France. How did he know? He'd never been out of Indiana before he'd enlisted. But things couldn't be that different here, could they?
They rounded a bend in the rocks and came across some. . .some. . .he didn't know *what* they were, beyond hideous. He'd heard of secret German genetic experiments but had never witnessed their outcome. It was no wonder the citizens of Ste. Claire kept these "people" down in the caves. Katrine started to walk towards the disheveled group as Miller reached out a hand to stop her.
"It's okay," she reassured him. "I've dealt with them before; they won't hurt me." Janeway gave him a small smile as she practically pried his fingers from her upper arm. He couldn't make out the words they spoke, but it didn't sound like any language he'd ever heard before.
"Guess my French is a little rusty, " he replied sarcastically, waiting for an explanation when she returned to him. Janeway didn't offer one as she saw one of the Klingons toss Miller a skin flask.
"Don't drink it," she warned. "It's twice as strong as whiskey." Suddenly she was incredibly close, almost wrapping her arms around him as she removed his back pack. He could smell the faint scent of perfume and soap as she almost whispered in his ear, "I'll be right back." Watching her disappear beyond the rock face, he decided something twice as strong as whiskey sounded pretty good!
*********
Janeway had found the holodeck access panel, and received an update from the doctor. It was going to be tougher than she thought. If only Chakotay's interface had been disabled as well, they'd be able to talk openly about plans to retake the ship. As it was, she had to formulate a plan and make it seem plausible to a twentieth century mind. So far, he'd bought most of her explanations with her catch-all "secret Nazi science" excuse, but once they were off the holodecks, roaming the corridors of the ship in search of sickbay, she didn't know how well the pretense would hold up. She had to give Miller credit, though. She didn't know if she would be capable of following him on faith alone.
Janeway hadn't missed the look in Miller's eyes when she reached around him for the pack. She needed no further evidence that he was reacting to her as a woman. Unfortunately, she was reacting to him as well. She knew Chakotay had feelings for her, but he never displayed them as openly as Miller had moments ago. That honest expression of desire on Chakotay's face left her a little shaken. Janeway focused once again on the task at hand. She couldn't afford to be distracted by him, especially now.
Returning to the Klingon encampment, Janeway was surprised to see Miller standing near the fire with them. She supposed it would have been rather odd for him to remain apart, waiting for her, but it was obvious he was uncomfortable in their presence. His smile of relief at her reappearance confirmed her suspicions.
"Let's go," she said, nodding her head in the direction they'd come. Miller didn't have to be asked twice as he followed her back into the tunnel.
Janeway outlined the strategy as Miller listened intently. Some of the terms she used he'd never heard before, but he followed her instructions. They were working on separate procedures when Miller heard her softly swear to herself.
"Damn, there's a force field around sickbay. We're going to have to disable it first."
"Force field?" he questioned.
"More Nazi technology," she answered. "Set the charges for five minutes," Janeway instructed, then headed down the tunnel once more.
When the door to this tunnel opened they were in a structure of some kind. Miller didn't even bother to ask her about the unusual appearance of the building, knowing she'd offer him something vague about Nazi technology again. When this was over, they were going to have to have a long talk.
As they rounded a bend in the hallway, they encountered even more victims of the Nazi's experiments. These were even worse than the ones Katrine had called "Klingons." This complex must be one of their hospitals, he reasoned. The reprehensible nature of their experiments the reason Katrine seemed so intent on destroying it.
There was one lone "man" at a console of some sort, but Katrine had waved him aside with her gun, giving him to Miller to guard. He kept his gun trained on giant before him, but glanced over at Katrine as well. How did she know how to use this "Nazi technology" if she wasn't one of them? A simple club owner with that kind of knowledge? She was obviously a spy, but for whom?
"Got it!" she cried just as Nazi reinforcements showed up. "Come on!" she cried to Miller, grabbing him by the sleeve of his jacket. Katrine took a bullet in the leg trying to escape, but managed to keep moving down the corridor. "Keep going!" she cried. "I'm right behind you!"
Miller rounded a corner and found some cover, turning around to fire back at Katrine's pursuers. "Get down!" he cried, firing a round into the men who'd escaped the blast of dynamite he and Katrine had set. Miller managed to incapacitate the men that were their immediate danger. Running from his cover, he caught Katrine as she was about to collapse to the floor. "How do we get out of here?" he asked, half dragging, half carrying her.
"Next intersection. To the left," she panted, her exertions leaving her breathless. They managed to get in through the hatch, just as another wave of Nazis flooded the corridor.
Janeway collapsed on Miller, still trying to catch her breath. "We've got to keep moving. We have to get back to Ste. Claire."
"Not before I have a look at that wound, Katrine," Miller said.
"It can wait," Janeway grunted, trying to push past him.
Miller gently but firmly held her in place as he removed his knife and cut away the blood-soaked material of her pants. Janeway clenched her hands and bit her lip as he lightly probed the wound.
"It's hard to tell with the lighting in here, but it doesn't seem to be bleeding much, which is good, but I don't see an exit hole, and that's bad. You're going to have to have that bullet taken out, and soon."
"Right after we free Ste. Claire," she said, trying to get up again. Miller pushed her back into a half-lying position. "You can save the world in a minute. Right now I'm going to try and bandage your leg." He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, folding it several times before tied it around her leg. Miller noticed Katrine's blush as he brushed the inside of her thigh, tying off the bandanna. Or maybe it was a flush of fever starting. All he knew was he was grateful for the low light in the tunnel, otherwise Katrine would have detected more than just a blush as a sign of his interest in her.
He placed his hand on her forehead. "You're warm," he pronounced. "You've probably got a fever starting."
"I'm warm because we've been running," Janeway said tersely. "Help me up. We've got to keep moving." This time Miller didn't argue.
Again Katrine was presenting him with an enticing view as she made her way past him to lead the way back to the village. They hadn't gone far when Katrine's leg gave out on her. Falling to the floor, she clutched at her leg, blood already seeping through his bandage.
"You've got to rest, Katrine," Miller said.
"We're almost there," Janeway said through clenched teeth. "Can't stop now." Miller watched her pull herself up by sheer determination alone. He had to admit, spy or not, this woman had guts. Hell, he couldn't imagine some of his men handling a gun shot wound as well as she was. It's no wonder she was the leader of the resistance in this village.
"Is that the door?" Miller asked, noticing a blinking light not much further ahead.
"Yes," Janeway breathed, relief was evident in her voice. "I think once I can stand, I won't have so much trouble with this leg." Miller knew it was false hope. She would only be putting pressure on another part of her injured leg.
Janeway tried to push the hatch open, but didn't have the strength. Miller joined her effort and the door swung open. But the sight wasn't what either of them had expected. Instead of the interior of the *Coeur de Lion*, Janeway and Miller found themselves on the other side of Ste. Claire, behind enemy lines.
*********
"I must have taken a wrong turn," Janeway said, still staring at the scene before her, wondering how she could have miscalculated their location. The actual holodeck wasn't that large, perhaps that's how they ended up on the other side. Mentally, she tried to re-trace her steps, trying to think where she could have made the mistake, but she wasn't thinking clearly. The throbbing in her leg had increased, occupying her attention at the moment. The area around the wound felt like it was on fire, but fortunately she couldn't feel the bullet. Such a crude method of trying to kill someone, she thought to herself angrily, but it was effective.
Just then she felt Miller grab her around the waist, pulling her to the ground with him. "Quiet!" he hissed in her ear as an open jeep filled with Nazi soldiers roared past, followed by two covered trucks carrying even more troops.
"We've got to get out of here!" Miller whispered again. "Any ideas where we can hide?"
Janeway didn't have a clue. This was Katrine's town, not hers. She looked up and down the street before settling on a building that hadn't been destroyed by recent bombings. "This way," she said, heading down the now deserted cobblestone street.
"We shouldn't be out in the open," Miller warned. "Is there a back way to where you're heading?"
"I don't know," Janeway confessed. "I usually use the front door," she said, hoping it keep him from questioning her further on the geography of Ste. Claire.
"Stick to the shadows, then. Anytime you have to cross into the light, go as fast as you can. At least you're wearing dark clothes, that should help."
Janeway tried to quell her growing irritation with Miller. He was treating her like a child! Telling her how to move throughout the streets to avoid detection! What would he say if she told him she'd had Starfleet stealth training that would put his pitiful skills to shame? Miller was only reacting like the Human male of the mid-twentieth century that he was, she realized. She couldn't hardly fault him. Still, it was damn hard taking that attitude in stride when he seemed more like Chakotay to her than some farm boy from Indiana. And how about that for coincidence? That they should be from the same state? Well, she and Miller were. She couldn't start talking about her memories of Indiana when they were four centuries apart, besides the fact she was supposed to have been raised in France. Still, it was ironic. Just one more of the strange coincidences that had plagued her since she "woke up" in occupied France.
"What's wrong?" Miller asked, whispering again as she stopped moving forward.
"I thought I heard something," she whispered back. Both froze as the sound came again. A can rolling down a street, coming from an alley. Janeway pulled her pistol, grasping it with both hands, ready to fire. She heard another sound and was about to shoot when a cat came running around the corner of the building. Janeway fell back against the half-collapsed limestone wall, blowing out a lung-full of air. Looking up at Miller, she saw he too was exhaling. He nodded to her to keep going.
Only one more block. One more pool of moonlight to cross before she was at the building she'd picked out as their hiding place. Taking a deep breath, Janeway hobbled as fast as she could through the patch of light. Miller waited a moment, to make sure she hadn't been spotted, then joined her.
There was a lone wooden door, on the first level, but no windows; they were on the second story. Janeway put her shoulder to the scared surface of the heavy door, but couldn't budge it. She hoped it was only weighty, not locked. "Miller!" she cried in a loud whisper. "Give me a hand with this door!"
He returned from around the corner where he'd been scouting their location. "I didn't see any more soldiers, they must all be fighting on the other side of town."
"Which is where we should be," Janeway said with a grunt as the door finally creaked on rusty hinges.
"Should we try the tunnels again?" Miller asked, once they were inside the building. Janeway thought of the Hirogen and Nazis roaming the corridors of *Voyager*. At the moment, they probably had a better chance of getting to the resistance fighters if they stayed on the holodeck.
At the thought of her crew, Janeway looked at Chakotay. Why hadn't his neural implant been deactivated? She'd seen the explosion herself, what had gone wrong? Would Harry know she hadn't been successful and initiate another plan to end this simulation? She watched Miller as he perused the room they now occupied.
"What was this place? " he asked, pulling a lighter from his pocket. As the meager flame illuminated a small portion of the vast building, Janeway spotted a keg.
"An old winery," she ventured. Apparently it hadn't been in service for some time as the floor was covered with dust, and when she walked, she heard the sound of glass crunching beneath her feet.
"At least we won't go thirsty," Miller commented, pulling a cork from one of kegs. "Ugh," he said, backing up from the barrel. "It's turned to vinegar. I hope it isn't all that way."
"You can find out later," Janeway said. "Right now we need to get to the second story so we can see what's going on out there." Miller lit his lighter again, scanning the perimeter of the room looking for a staircase, but all he found was a rickety ladder.
"Are you going to make it up that?" he asked, nodding at the ladder. "You could stay down here, I'll let you know what I see."
"I can make it," Janeway said, limping to where he was standing.
"You can hardly make it across the room! How do you expect to climb a ladder? Especially one that's about to fall apart?"
"Let me worry about that," she said, grasping the rungs, taking a deep breath. She'd made it half-way up when she stopped to catch her breath. She was getting dizzy, which was more of a deterrent at the moment than her leg.
"Katrine? Are you okay?" Miller asked, holding his lighter high to see her face. Even in the diminished light he could see how pale she was. Janeway started to sway, but he was beneath her in a second, catching her before she fell.
"Fine," she said, noticing his hand was firmly planted on her rump. Gathering her strength, she managed the next few steps, pulling herself onto the floor of the second story. There was a little more light on the upper level as moonlight streamed in through the dust-clouded windows. Empty for the most part, there was more debris, and a cistern in one far corner.
"How's things look?" Miller asked as he poked his head up through the floor.
"Not bad," she said moving towards a window overlooking the main street. At least we should have some water," she said, indicating the cistern.
"We should wash your leg up," Miller said, joining her at the window. Using his jacket sleeve, he wiped a small circle in the dirt. "Still looks pretty quiet out there."
"Which means our people are probably getting hit pretty hard," Janeway observed. "We can't stay here. We have to find a way to join them," she said, striding away from the window as best she could.
"And how do you propose we do that? We get anywhere within visual range of the Nazis, we'll be dead before we know what hit us. How much help will we be to our people then?"
Janeway knew he was right, but she couldn't just sit here, while her crew was fighting for their lives. If only she didn't have that damn bullet in her leg!
"You're right, Miller. We need a plan."
Janeway wished she'd had a better look at the map she'd shown Miller back in *The Coeur de Lion*. She had no idea what their position was in relation to the resistance. Or how the streets of Ste. Claire were arranged. She was as lost as he was, perhaps even more so. He'd probably at least had time to study a map before his company advanced on the village. Should she just admit who she really was, that she didn't have a clue where they were and hope he didn't think her delusional? No, he'd probably rationalize her explanation in a way his twentieth century mind could comprehend: he'd think she was in league with the Nazis. Better to try and bluff her way through, she decided.
"The first thing we need to do is clean that wound better," Miller stated firmly. Janeway was about to argue, but closed her mouth. He was right, it *did* need cleaning besides, the diversion would give her a little more time to think about what they were going to do.
"Come sit over here in the light, " Miller commanded, pointing to the pool of moonlight pouring in the broken window at the back of the building. "This isn't much better than the lighting in your tunnels," he commented as he sliced away more of the material of her pants. Even in the poor light he could make out the inflamed redness around the bullet hole.
"Gods, Katrine, that's got to hurt like hell." Janeway's head snapped up. *Gods?* she thought. Only Chakotay ever used that expression. Was his true personality starting to surface? Had Harry been able to disable the transmitters? Her hopes were dashed with his next words.
"My field dressings aren't the best," he said with a small smile, "but they'll do, I suppose." Miller crossed to the cistern, looking for something he might use as a basin to rinse the now blood-soaked bandanna in. Riffling around the trash near the water receptacle, he found part of a small keg, which he dipped into the half-full cistern. He took a drink as well, trying to determine whether he should give some to Katrine or not. If it were bad, he didn't want her drinking it. It was somewhat brackish, but it seemed safe. Spotting half of a broken wine bottle that would serve as a make-shift cup, Miller cleaned it as best he could before filling it with the lukewarm water.
"Drink this," he said, handing her the water. "Careful of the edges, though."
"Ugh! This is awful!" She complained.
"Still, you need to drink plenty of fluids. Unless you'd rather have wine? I've heard it's like water to the French."
"Not this French," she said, taking another sip of the water. "Besides I need to keep a clear head."
"Well, you're right about that," he agreed. He didn't want to tell her that it was a very real possibility she wouldn't have a clear head if she developed a fever. "Still," he said, "the alcohol would help sterilize this wound." Gently Miller swiped at her injury. Even with his careful ministrations the hole in her thigh started bleeding again. Janeway sucked in a breath as he washed her leg, but said nothing.
"Sorry," he said. "I'll be done soon."
"I know," Janeway managed through clenched teeth.
Miller noticed the blood seeping from the wound was no longer bright red, but rather it had turned dark, almost black. It wasn't a good sign. He stood, heading for the ladder.
"Where are you going?" she demanded.
"Just to see if I can find some of that wine. I'll be right back," he assured her.
Janeway lay her head back on the now empty backpack and closed her eyes. Just a few minutes rest, she thought. Then she'd be able to think clearer.
*********