(no subject)

[pook41]

Title: Pawns part 2

Author: Pook

Fandom: Star Trek: Voyager
Rating: R Adult
Summary: A Janeway POV story. ‘There is no escape …’

Character/Pairing: Janeway/Chakotay
Spoilers: None
Warnings: It started out as PID [pinkies in danger] story but other than a little violence at the start it’s really not that bad –  Gilly – you’ll be okay

Author’s Notes: Any coincidence to recent events north of Oz [Iran vs British sailors/marines] is well… a coincidence and if you believe that then I have some nice tropical beachfront land in Marree that you can have for a song…

Prompt Number for fic101: list 2 – 35 - need

Disclaimer: CBS/Paramount owns everything. No infringement intended.

Date: 21/4/07

 

~~~*~~~

 

I feel like an animal in an old style zoo cage who’s gone stir crazy, walking back and forth around their enclosure in the same way endlessly. I’m only concentrating on slowly keeping moving. 

 

I don’t even notice the door open. The Nibat enter, grab me then frog march me out of my cell. I’m shivering still. I put back on my captain’s mask back on and prepare to tell these idiots the truth for the umpteenth time.

 

I hardly notice that I’m marched past the interrogation room and further down the corridor. What’s happening now? I have no idea. My mind is a blank.

 

We turn into a room and for the first time I meet a female Nibat. Without my combadge, I can’t understand what the guards are saying to the woman but after a short exchange they guards leave and we’re left alone.

 

The female yanks my arm and leads me towards a door at the back of the room. With some trepidation, I open the door only to let go of the breath I’m holding. It’s a bathroom. The woman gestures for me to have a shower. I open the glass door and step in. My hands are so numb from the cold that I find it hard to turn on the taps.

 

After a few seconds I’m standing under a hot shower, finally thawing out. I just stand still for a few seconds enjoying the hot water flowing over my tired and sore body. I make use of the soap provided and quickly wash myself before once again allowing the hot, almost scalding water to warm me.

 

I hadn’t noticed the woman leaving but she returns with a towel and all my uniform. She gestures for me to come out and get dressed.

 

My uniform appears to have been cleaned and even my boots are shiny. An ugly purple-green bruise covers my ribs and side and it’s still causing me a twinge or two as I put on my singlet and skivvy. On the counter are my rank pins and I place them proudly onto the skivvy. When I’m finished getting dressed, I feel warm and for the first time in a while I feel comfortable and almost normal again.

 

The woman passes me a brush to do my hair and I use the mirror to check my appearance. I’m a little shocked at how gaunt I look which is made worse by the dark circles under my eyes. The lack of sleep and inadequate food are so evident.

 

The woman grabs my arm and sits me on a stool. She opens a bag and begins to apply some make up to cover up the effects of my treatment. When she’s finished, I look at my reflection in the mirror to see the perfect camouflage job. I can’t see the lines at all now. I don’t have time to admire her skill because she grabs my arm and walks me out of the door into the waiting arms of my three friendly goons and I’m marched into another room.

 

It’s a media centre with bright lights, teleprompters, large computer screens, and cameras.

 

On the screen is a tactical map of the area that we were captured in. The Nibat have put their spin on the story showing the shuttle inside Nibat space. It’s a fabrication but from my many interrogations, the NRG won’t believe anything that I say.

 

A door opens and my interrogator enters. He walks straight up to me and puts my combadge onto my chest. His fingers linger on my breast for longer than necessary. 

 

Bastard! My check twitches in anger.

 

“Captain, how nice to see you again.”

 

I don’t see any point in wasting my time by answering him. He hands me a padd that I read and I almost laugh. It’s pure silliness. I shake my head, not to say no but more to laugh at the sheer absurdity of the whole statement.

 

“I thought so.” The man nods to someone over my shoulder.

 

A door opens and all my crew are led in. They look tired but otherwise seem okay. They’re forced on their knees and NRG guards stand behind them, their blasters pointed at my men’s heads.

 

“On the padd, is the speech you will give in five minutes to the people of Nibat and beyond.”

 

I looked at him incredulously. It’s a pack of lies and propaganda. It’s full of perceived wrongs against Nibat and how they were standing up for themselves now. Nobody on Voyager will believe this crock of shit.

 

My crew fills me with admiration. They’re stoic in spite of having a blaster pointed at them. This is all an inane propaganda stunt. The C&I manual says you do whatever you can to survive up to a point. In the end, the decision is an easy one.

 

“You have thirty seconds until …”

 

“Don’t bother. I’ll do it.” I glance at my crew, who have relaxed knowing that I’m going to do the damned show.

 

I follow the man over to the front of the stage. The director allows me one run through reading from the teleprompter before doing the broadcast. For the show, I use the most unemotional tone that I can, droning through the statement. As I reach up with the electronic pointer to indicate our position on the tactical map, I have to stifle a wince. I’m not sure how successful I am, my ribs are still causing me trouble and I don’t want to alarm Chakotay any more than he will already be.

 

The director says cut and it’s over. Part of me is disappointed in myself for doing the broadcast but I know I had to do it and I’m relieved that it’s over.

 

“Captain, this way.”

 

The goons grip my arm and walk me to another room. It’s a studio dressed up to look like a living room, complete with couches, a vidscreen and what looks like some form of a board game on a table. There’s a plate of food and drink on it as well.

 

“Captain, you and your crew will now act out some little friendly scenes for the cameras.”

 

Amazed, I blink. He’s going to make us play house in yet another publicity stunt. I’m tempted to refuse but Tom and the others are then marched into the room.

 

“Two of your men and you will sit down, drink and eat, talk and look happy and relaxed.” He looks at my crew. “You will be monitored. All of you will be punished if you talk to each other about anything other then the weather, sports or your music tastes. Is that understood?”

 

“Yes.” His tone leaves me in no doubt that he means every word of his threat. I’m not going to challenge him over it.

 

“Good. Let’s get started.”

 

Tom, Vorik, and I are led on to the stage and sit down. For the next five minutes, we’re filmed as we chat about the relative merits of the various Risan erotic lyrical forms. I’m amazed that Vorik knows several of the more risqué ones. He’s not your average Vulcan.

 

When the director says he has enough, I watch as the guards take away Tom and Vorik and replace them with Mike and Ken. The food and drink are replaced. Magazines are placed on the table and the game board is moved slightly. They want to give the impression that we’re being filmed at different times.

 

I’m told to move to a different seat and we start again. Ken, Mike and I talk about some fun times they’ve had with Chakotay. I’ve had little contact with Ken on Voyager and find talking to him a great deal of fun despite the setting. Ken’s a character with many funny stories and along with Mike, a lot of those involve embarrassing moments for Chakotay that I didn’t know about. When we get out of this mess, I plan to quiz Chakotay more about them.

 

The men have been watching me closely as much as they can in the glare of the cameras, looking for any signs of mistreatment. I don’t have to put on a fake smile, the stories and the ditties are funny. I hope that my joining in the lively banter and laughing, as I normally would, has allayed any fears they have. It hasn’t been a picnic but it’s not the worst thing that has ever happened to me.

 

The Nibat probably don’t realize the favour they’ve done for me. Just before they came to take here, my resolve was slipping. I was so tired, freezing, sore, and starving but now that I know my shipmates are at least looking well, my spirits are raised and some of the tiredness has disappeared.

 

The director says he’s has enough for the broadcast and the studio lights turn off.

 

My interrogator comes on to the stage to gloat. “Thank you for your cooperation, Captain.”

 

I scoff to myself. How could I not cooperate? He gave me little choice when he threatened my men and I did it to protect them and not for the Nibat.

 

The top Nibat smiles like he’s won. “Take them away.”

 

I have one last look at Tom and the others. With a slight nod and a little smile I try and convey that I’ll be all right and give them reassurance as well before I’m led away.

 

Back in my cell, my guards make me strip completely out of my uniform again, leaving me naked and getting cold again. Another guard comes in and leaves a new dry blanket and a meal. I’m amazed also because there’s no sign of the puddles from the bucket of water being thrown over me. Well, I’m not one to look at a gift horse in the mouth so I wrap the dry blanket around myself and eat my meal. If the reward for my cooperation is a dry blanket, a meal, and a clean cell then I’m not worried. I only hope the men are given the same reward.

 

Making use of their apparent goodwill, I prop myself up against the wall and close my eyes, hoping to get a few hours sleep before they change their mind. Once again, my last thoughts are for Chakotay. He’ll understand that I was threatened and had to make the broadcast.

 

I imagine his large welcoming arms wrapping around me, drawing me to a long hug. His soft voice will sing my name as he strokes my back and kisses my head. Sighing contentedly imagining my head resting against his chest, I hear the strong rhythm of his heart that beats for me just as mine does for him. Even in my thoughts, Chakotay makes me feel safe, secure, and more loved than I could ever think possible and with that, I drift off to sleep.

 

 

 

In the end, I don’t get that much sleep because they start the cycles of interrogation again, sometimes with the same Nibat and sometimes not. They’ve even resorted to the good cop, bad cop routine where one thug threatens to really torture me, have his men have their way with me then kill me and every thing in between while the other one tries to reason with me and the ‘bad’ cop. I have to work very hard not to smile. They aren’t very good at it because, unlike the Cardassians, the Nibat seemed unwilling to go through with their threats. I had no such illusions with the Cardassians. They’d meant what they said and had no qualms about carrying out their threats which they’d done with a great deal of pleasure.

 

They’re trying to make me slip up to say that I was spying for Millan and all the other things that they think I’ve done. But I don’t slip and they get frustrated and return me to my cell and the whole process starts again.

 

It’s become a game for me now. I think of ways they’ll try and trip me up and then turn their own logic against them, with a counter argument. It’s a little bit dangerous but it’s really my only way of resisting of them. I’m naked, cold, hungry, tired, and still sore but my brain is still functioning.

 

 

 

When the door swings open for another round of pleasant conversation, I’m walking around my tiny cell trying to get my legs moving. The cold is starting to affect me badly. Everything is stiff, and I can’t feel my feet, but more worryingly is that I can’t remember when I felt them last.

 

The guards don’t leer at me that much anymore. My hair is a mess and I smell bad. I must look very unattractive. That’s okay with me. I’ve lost all track of time and have no idea how long it’s been since I had my last shower when they filmed the broadcast but it must be several days for me to smell this bad.

 

The guards have to drag me now. I can’t seem to make my feet move properly. To my surprise, I’m not led into the interrogation room but to the bathroom. The same female Nibat soldier is waiting and gestures for me to have a shower.

 

I sigh, thinking it probably means another newscast appearance. Not wasting any time, I grab onto the sink counter and hobble over to the cubicle, cherishing the hot water as it flows over me, warming my body up. I use the toiletries provided to wash my hair and clean my body. I pass the soap over the now almost faded bruise by my ribs. They’re still tender and hurt whenever I move my arms too much or breathe too deeply.

 

I’m more worried about my feet as I still can’t feel my toes. I sit on the floor of the cubicle, the hot water running over me, gently rubbing my toes trying to get the circulation back into them.

 

The guard turns off the water and throws me a towel as I stand up. My feet feel better but I have very bad pins and needles in my toes now. In the back of mind, I have a feeling it may be the beginnings of frostbite but I hope not. It’s like walking on shards of glass as I gingerly step out of the shower and dry myself. After I put on my uniform, I’m warm again.

 

The guards enter the bathroom, grip my arms, and then lead me away. Again, I’m surprised because we go down a long corridor and get into the lift. The change of routine has taken my mind off my painful toes. I don’t know what it all means, I’m too tired.

 

The lift stops and we exit. It’s a shuttle port. There are many people milling around, including reporters with vidcameras and bright lights.

 

I’m stopped as we approach the throng of people and I squint from the lights shining in my face, almost blinding me as they film me. Thankfully, they soon shift over towards the direction of the lift. I turn my head to see Tom, Mike, Vorik, and Ken walk toward me and I’m very pleased.

 

The media throng parts and the Nibat president walks towards me. He has a scraggily beard and his eyes are very close together and sunken giving him an almost comical appearance. He doesn’t look like a president; he looks more like a janitor.

 

He smiles at us then launches straight into a non-stop, long anti-Millan tirade, full of not so veiled threats and unbelievable accusations. All the while he’s making his speech, his face lights up with a childish grin with every derogatory and inflammatory statement like he’s a boy been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

 

But what is frightening is that he believes every word he saying. He’s completely and utterly mad. For the first time, I genuinely fear for our lives. One look at the guards around us and I can tell he’s whipping them all up in to a fervour. I quickly look at my crew and we all feel the same way. We tense up, unsure of what’s happening. We dare not move. Any spark could send them off.

 

I realize I underestimated this small man. He understands his audience, the times in which he lives and the politics, and is able to tap into the prevailing mood of his planet, be very popular with the masses and  exploit them for his own ends. He’s the perfect politician, because what’s happening at the moment also happens to be insane. 

 

He’s winding up his speech and then he points to me. The cameras look to where he’s pointing. “See, they don’t respect motherhood. This woman should be at home looking after her husband and children, not committing acts of war on innocent peace loving Nibat!”

 

The crowd erupts in screams of approval.

 

I glare back at him. I’m not getting into a verbal stoush with this madman. It would be a waste of time.

 

My worst fears are realized when I feel a blaster in the middle of my back and I see the president put his hand on his own weapon. This is it. I think the president is going to kill us himself. He has as much bloodlust as the guards around us.

 

I square my shoulders. If I’m going to die, I’m not going to beg for my life. I picture Chakotay in my mind and my heart fills with equal parts of joy and sadness. I hope he’s not watching this live. He’ll have been going though hell all the time I’ve been here and to see me now might be too much. I don’t think I could bear watching if this was happening to him.

 

The blaster is pushed further into my back and I hear the voice of my interrogator whisper in my ear, “Smile. Be nice. Thank him for our hospitality. If you want to get off this flight deck alive and go home.”

 

A quick look at Ken and the others and I see they’ve received the same message. If we play along one more time, we may be all right. I nod to agree and so do the men.

 

President Hammoud stops in front of me and waves his arms to quieten the mob. “Quiet!” He smiles at me, waiting for the crowd to stop. “Because the Great Seer’s birthday in to two days time, I am pardoning these Godless invaders.”

 

Somehow I don’t find his words reassuring. Only a minute ago he was calling for our blood. I know what I’m expected to say but my stomach still churns saying these lies. “On behalf of my men and I, we are grateful for your planet’s forgiveness.” I won’t tell them that my toes are still tingling painfully or that I haven’t had a proper meal or slept in days. “You were kind to us and we were very well looked after. Thank you very much."

 

“I hope you’ve enjoyed your enforced holiday.” Hammoud smiles at his own joke, basking in his triumph. "As a gift to the Millan, I announce their freedom and their return to the people of Millan and their allies," Hammoud says, then turns around to face the waiting cameras, still gloating.

 

As soon as the cameras are off us, the guards grab our arms. We’re led up the ramp onto a shuttle, and I’m taken into a room that only has a chair in it. The guard leaves me alone and I make for the chair just, more hobbling then walking. My adrenaline has hidden how painful my feet are because I don’t know how I walked from the flight deck to the shuttle.

 

Sitting in the chair gives me some relief and when I feel the thrust of the engines during take off, I’m happy to be off that God forsaken planet. When I get back, I’m going to break off trade negotiations with the Millan if Chakotay hasn’t already done so and just leave this whole system behind us. They can have their stupid games of one-upmanship and sabre rattling.

 

All I want to do is go home, to Voyager and to Chakotay.

 

The throb of the deck plates changes as the shuttle goes to warp and I close my eyes to rest. In the back of my mind, I wonder if the Nibat could be as cruel as the Cardassians had been. Justin had told me that when he’d been captured, he was told that some of the prisoners had believed the Cardassians when they’d told them they were being exchanged for Cardassians POWs but in reality they were never seen again. Justin had heard that they’d been spaced.

 

I’m only relieved to be sitting down and to be off the Nibat home world. I’ll celebrate, if that’s the right word, when all four of my crew and I are safely back on Voyager and not a minute before.

 

 

 

 

The throb of deck plating changes again as the shuttle dropped out of warp and then stops all together. The shuttle is at a dead stop. The door opens and the guards grab me by the arms and half drag-half carry me into what looks like a mess hall. All the while, I’m biting my lip from the pain in my feet.

 

In the mess hall, there are dining tables and chairs, condiments on the tables but no one is eating. The only people in the room are Tom, Vorik, Mike, and Ayala and their guards. Their looks of relief turn to anger as I limp over to them but they’re disciplined enough to keep quiet. I smile weakly, trying to show them that I’m okay.

 

There’s a flash of a ship dropping out of warp through the viewport. Tom’s smiling. He knows that ship’s beautiful lines from any distance. It’s the Delta Flyer in all her glory closing in on the shuttle. She slows to thrusters and then matches the shuttle’s drift. There’s no warning, just the familiar soft buzzing sounds of the transporter beam as we’re dematerialized.

 

We rematerialize on the crew deck of the Flyer and immediately I feel the little ship turn and dart away at warp. Hands grab me just as I’m about to collapse but this time they’re gentle and help me sit down.

 

“Tuvok to Janeway.”

 

“Go ahead, Tuvok.” I squint in pain. My feet feel like they’re on fire.

 

“ETA to Voyager is ten minutes. Do any of you require immediate medical assistance?”

 

I look at my crew but they seem okay. I know I need to see the Doctor but I can wait. “We’re fine…”

 

“Excuse me, Captain. You’re not.”

 

“Lieutenant Paris?”

 

“It’s the captain, Sir.”

 

“Tuvok, it’s nothing life threatening. Just get us back to Voyager, old friend.”

 

“Aye, Captain.”

 

I squeeze Tom’s arm reassuring him. He wants to help but I know I can wait ten minutes more. I don’t know if they’ve been through the same routine that I’ve been through. “Rest. All of you.”

 

Tom is the last to sit down. The medic in him wants to help but I can see the fatigue in his eyes and in all the others.

 

I tap my combadge. “Computer, time?”

 

“Ship’s time is 1514 hours.”

 

“Mr. Tuvok will debrief you tomorrow at 1100, then three days leave…” I’m stopped from saying anything more because my ship comes into view. “Thank the Spirits!” I say softly. There were times when I’ thought I’d never see my home again.

 

“Captain, stand by for transport directly to Sickbay.”

 

I struggle to stand up and Tom and Mike hang onto an elbow each, helping me to stay upright.

 

A moment later, we rematerialize in the safety of my ship.

 

The look of worry on the Doctor’s face is obvious.

 

“Gentlemen, help the captain on to the biobed. Mr Paris, are you injured?”

 

“No.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes. I’ll be fine.”

 

“Check the others while I attend to the captain.”

 

The emotions of the last …. I stop and laugh to myself when I realize I have no idea how long we were held. “Doctor, how long were we held for?”

 

“Fifteen days, Captain.”

 

“Fifteen?” Fifteen days. I can’t believe it. “Fifteen.”

 

“Yes, Captain.”

 

I had no idea that so much time had passed. Pinching my nose, I close my eyes. The effort of holding myself together, resisting, never giving in and just surviving has drained me completely. I’m beyond any exhaustion that I’ve ever felt before. My fingers rub my eyes and I stifle a yawn but it’s useless to fight the bone numbing fatigue I feel. The Doctor hovers over me but I switch off and let my mind wander.

 

 

 

 Slowly, I become aware of voices around me. I must’ve nodded off.

 

“…be fine. She wasn’t tortured physically.”

 

“Was she … hmm … was she …?”

 

“No, Commander, she wasn’t raped. But she has three cracked ribs that weren’t treated at all, moderate malnutrition, sleep deprivation and a case of mild frostbite on her toes.”

 

Oh, God. What a living nightmare! Chakotay must have been distraught. He couldn’t even say the word. He knows very well what can happen in prisons.

 

My hand reaches towards the sound of Chakotay’s voice as I blink open my eyes. The light is too bright and it takes a few seconds before my vision clears. “Chakotay …” Even I can hear how croaky and weak my voice is and how desperately I need a drink of water.

 

He smiles. His large hand wraps around mine. “Kathryn…”

 

All the tension of the last fortnight is written on the lines of his face and in his timbre of his voice.

 

“Water…”

 

“Doctor?”

 

“I’ll get it.”

 

My thumb rubs against his as he squeezes my hand. His dark orbs look right through me. He’s searching me, ensuring I’m indeed all right and at the same time he’s giving me his love.

 

“Captain, can you sit up?” The Doctor has returned.

 

I nod, and they both help me sit up. For the first time in a long while I don’t feel any pain. My ribs aren’t aching and it doesn’t feel like I’ve been walking over broken glass. I gladly drink the cool liquid.

 

“The ship?” Business first.

 

“Captain, we’re orbiting Millan. Trade negotiations stopped when you were captured.”

 

“Pull every one out. I want to leave as soon as we can.”

 

Chakotay gives me a questioning look. We can live without their spare parts. Does he think I’m running away? “No. I’m not running away. I’ve just had enough of both of them.”

 

“Aye, Captain.”

 

“Tom and the others?” This question is directed at the Doctor

 

“They’re fine. They were well treated. They had nothing that required my attention and have been released to rest.”

 

I’m relieved beyond words. “And me?” I’m worried about my toes. There’s no pain, just an odd sensation.

 

“Cracked ribs, mild frostbite, dehydration, and a case of moderate malnutrition. I’ve healed the first two. A hypospray, keep drinking water and several good meals will fix the other two.”

 

“My toes?” I remember reading somewhere that people can still feel their amputated limbs.

 

“They’re all there. It will take a few hours for the numbness to fade.”

 

Relief again. “Can I go?”

 

“Yes, and you’re off duty for the next three days after your debrief.”

 

“Fine, Doctor.” I know I need the rest when I don’t fight him.

 

I order a site-to-site transport and a moment later Chakotay and I are standing in our living room.

 

Straight away, we close the distance between us and embrace. Strong, comforting arms surround me. My head snuggles into his broad chest. His heart beat is strong and soothing. No words are spoken.

 

Soon the stress of it all overwhelms me. A single tear falls from my face then another and another until I’m sobbing uncontrollably, letting it all out. I cling to Chakotay. My hands clutch at his uniform jacket as I bury my face into his chest.

 

This is what kept me going.

 

Him. This. Everything we are. 

 

Chakotay is my anchor. My rock. My life.

 

And he nearly lost me. He holds me even tighter as I cry into his chest and a reassuring hand rubs my back.

 

I don’t know how long we stand there holding onto each other, not saying a word.

 

Eventually, I stop crying.

 

Chakotay’s soft fingers reach up and brush away my tears then he cups my face.

 

I barely hear the words of his sacred prayer of thanks.

 

“Spirits! Kathryn, I was so scared I’d lost you.”

 

His voice chokes with emotion and the look of love on his face as his thumbs strokes my cheeks brings fresh tears to my eyes.

 

“I know.”

 

We kiss tenderly, softly, languidly, savouring the moment and holding on to each other, thinking of what we might’ve lost.

 

I feel him pull away, his look of regret plain to see.

 

“I’ve got to go back up to the bridge.”

 

I can tell he’d rather stay here but duty calls. “I understand.”

 

“You’re exhausted. Go to sleep. I’ll be back soon.”

 

While I go into our bedroom to undress and change into my nightclothes, Chakotay gets me a glass of water.

 

I wait for him to return. After he sets the glass by my side of the bed, I take his hands in mine. “Thank you.”

 

He raises an eyebrow.

 

“You saved me.”

 

“Me?”

 

“Thinking of you helped me through the worst of it.”

 

“I’m sorry I took so …”

 

I put a finger to his soft lips to stop him. “Don’t. Please.” Guilt is something I know a lot about and I don’t want him feeling that sometimes destructive emotion when nothing was his fault.

 

“I love you, my Angry Warrior. You and our love gave me the strength to hang on.”

 

“I love you.” Chakotay kisses my fingertips softly.  “I’ll be back.”

 

“I know.” I climb into a bed.

 

He stops at the door and turns for a final look.

 

The corners of my mouth quiver into the beginnings of a grin. “When you get back, you can tell me all about the Maslin’s beach nudist sanctuary and the wet celery.”

 

His shocked look of embarrassment is quickly replaced by a dimpled smile then an evil look. I laugh when I  hear him muttering about killing Ken as he leaves.

 

Punching the pillow, I hunker down and get comfortable. It feels a little strange not to be cold but I close my eyes and as usual, my last thoughts are of Chakotay before I drift off to sleep.

 

~~~*~~~